Page 9 of Buddy System

Eight

Levi

Skyler hasthe nerve to wink at my wife and say, “My pleasure!”

I fight the urge to kick him under the table. A trip to Honeybee Hollow sounds really good though, so I’m trying to be on my best behavior. I know that logically, staying here over the Fourth would be bad for me…and therefore bad for Brooke.

Just then, a car with a super-loud engine goes vrooming by out front, and I cringe at the noise. At least the stupid thing didn’t backfire. We can’t leave soon enough if it’s as idyllic as he claims.

Skyler’s eyes light up. He adds, “Levi, you should also bring your combat uniform. People like it when anyone in the service or honorably discharged wears theirs to the celebration. It helps remind folks that this country was founded on blood, sweat, and tears.”

I’ll comply with taking the clothes, but I’m not sure about wearing them. I’m about to say that I’llthinkabout it when Brooke exclaims, “Ooh, I love a man in uniform!”

Well, I’m not letting Skyler get all of the attention.

It takes us all of the next day to finalize our plans and do stuff like having our mail held and whatnot since the length of our visit is up in the air. Brooke even hired a neighbor kid to water her flowers. We’ve decided to take our car and caravan down there with Skyler. Brooke and I will have to share the driving so my body doesn’t cramp up on me and cause a problem. Who am I kidding? She’ll do most of the driving. I can change the seat position around as we head down there if I’m the passenger. It would just be my luck to be driving and have my foot go numb on me.

We’re almost packed up and ready to go early the following day when Brooke zips back into the house. When she returns, my jaw drops. “Why are you bringing that?” I ask her.

“You haven’t touched your guitar since we got back, and I hate to see it gathering dust. I thought maybe you’d like to play it again,” she tells me with a beautiful, optimistic smile. She carefully places the case and a beat-up leather satchel full of my music onto the back seat.

“Humph. Maybe,” I grumble. I haven’t exactly felt like singing or writing any music lately. Maybe something will change. I’m sure not going to tell her to put it back when she looks so hopeful. I know I’ve been an insufferable grump, and I need to make an effort. “Okay, yeah. It sounds like a good idea. Ready to go?”

On the drive down, I try not to fidget and look too uncomfortable, but Brooke has a sixth sense about when I need to stand up or stretch. About an hour into the trip, she says, “Honey, would you give Skyler a call and tell him to stop at the next place where I can use a restroom?” Sly, Brooke. I know she’s doing this so I can move around. It’s one of the things I love about her. She’s always been careful of my feelings without being super-obvious about it.

Skyler seems relieved too. I’ve noticed that he does exercises for his arm and shoulder a couple times a day. Yesterday, while we were packing and planning, he would stand up and start moving around in repetitive patterns like it was completely normal behavior. He had small barbells he’d brought to build up his muscles again too. We haven’t spoken about our injuries much at all. Fine with me. I’ve noticed a look of strain on his face more than once, though, and Brooke has been careful not to ask him to lift anything heavy. His hand is pretty stiff, and his arm doesn’t seem to straighten out completely. I wonder if that will fix itself eventually. I bet he isn’t lugging around hundred-pound sacks of topsoil anymore for his parents’ customers.

We take lots of breaks after that and find a great little country café where we stop for lunch. They advertise their peach pie as the best in the country, so even though we’re all stuffed, we have to sample it. And oh, man, is it ever delicious. What a treat.

After lunch, my mood is so good, I offer to take over the driving for a while, and Brooke thinks about her answer with a shrewd look on her face before she says, “Sure, but promise me you’ll speak up as soon as you start to feel any pain or need to get up and move around, okay?” She knows if she says no, it will make me feel useless. I try to look as upbeat as possible, but I doubt I’m fooling her much.

“I will.” I probably won’t. I know how I’m built too.

It feels good to be back in the driver’s seat for a while, but that joy wears off in about twenty minutes when my ass starts to go dead, and my leg wants to twitch. My hip is throbbing, but I don’t say a word. I squirm around as much as I can and still drive as I ignore a pointed look from Brooke. Pretty soon she asks, “You doing alright? Be honest.”

I sigh and tell her in a grumpy voice, “Call Skyler and tell him to pull off at the next available stop. I’ll keep it together until then.” I think better of my attitude and add, “Thanks, babe.”The next ten minutes are pure torture trying to hold my body still enough to manage the gas pedal and brake. I’ve learned my lesson. I can barely get out from behind the wheel to let Brooke drive, even though she’s there to support me and hands me my cane immediately.

She looks at me with love and whispers, “You did really well, Levi.” Then she plants a big kiss on my lips and helps me into the passenger seat after I’ve had a good, long stretch. When she gets back into the car she suggests, “Why don’t you take a pain pill? That was a lot for you.” No recrimination and no I-told-you-so. I love this woman to death.

Chapter

Nine

Brooke

The closer weget to our destination, the more scenic it is. I wasn’t aware of how much I needed to relax and see beautiful surroundings. It was easier to look around while Levi was driving, but he was in terrible pain, and it took all the fun out of rubbernecking. I couldn’t wait to get the poor guy comfortable again. He took something after that and conked out, so that was a relief. I hate to watch him suffer. At least after taking his pill there was no question about him driving again. I wonder how Skyler is feeling since we haven’t stopped in quite a while, but I don’t want to disturb Levi by calling him. I have to trust Skyler to stop when he needs to.

I know we’re getting close because the road signs proudly proclaim that we’re approaching “Honeybee Hollow: The Best Small Town in America.” The town pride the residents have is not only cute, it’s impressive. I can’t wait to see the place.

Skyler leads us through the middle of town, so I nudge Levi awake and tell him, “Honey, we’re here. You want to see the town? It’s really pretty.”

Levi blinks his eyes open, looking spaced out for a moment until what I told him registers, then he raises his seatback, stretches, and looks around with a grin. “Wow. Skyler was right. This place is gorgeous.” The shops along Main Street are colorful and trendy, and everything seems fresh and clean with plenty of flower boxes beneath shop windows. American flags are everywhere, underscoring the town’s sense of pride and patriotism. I wonder how many of the shoppers on the sidewalks live here and who is a tourist. I see folks of all ages.

As we pass through town, I take note of places I want to come back to visit. Eventually, we exit the commercial district and turn down a country road where huge trees make a shady arch over us. Skyler slows down and then stops to allow a small herd of deer to nonchalantly cross the road. After they pass and we’re on our way again, Skyler stops at a couple of mailboxes and fishes a thick pile of mail out of one of them. He turns right, and we follow a gravel driveway that goes on for quite a distance. The drive ends at a roundabout, and I’m not at all surprised to see a flagpole in the center of it where Old Glory ripples in a light breeze. We pull up in front of a gorgeous, large white house that has the most fantastic landscaping around it I’ve ever seen—trees, shrubs and flowers of all sorts of textures and colors. I can’t identify most of them, but everything is bursting with vitality, and the sight makes us both smile. The house itself has an old-fashioned wrap-around porch with several rockers and a swing. Hanging baskets full of flowering plants adorn the porch here and there. The house looks like it’s ready for a huge family or a party. Skyler pulls his truck around one side of the house where he opens a garage door remotely and then waves us in to park alongside him. The garage is spacious enough for several vehicles and is sparkling clean. One end is full of yard equipment of all kinds, including a tractor mower. I certainly didn’t expect this. When he said “farmhouse,” I was picturing something worndown and simple. This place belongs on the cover ofSouthern Living Magazine.

“Are you doing okay?” Skyler asks Levi as my husband ungracefully extracts himself from the car. “I figured you’d call if you needed another stop.”

Levi laughs good naturedly and says, “I’m fine. I just woke up when we hit town, actually. Pretty place!”

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