Page 62 of Marry Me Tomorrow

I study her for a moment, gauging her energy. “Well,” I say finally, “if you’re determined to pitch in, you could grab some waters and pass them out to the volunteers. It’s going to be a long day, and I’m sure everyone will appreciate it.”

Jenny’s face brightens, and she gives a small nod. “I can do that.”

I watch her walk toward the lodge, her steps a little slower than usual but still purposeful.

The way she holds herself, even now, fills me with a quiet awe. This woman—my wife—is the kind of person who can’t help but focus on others.

Turning back to the group, I clap my hands together. “Alright, let’s get to it.”

Chapter 28

Jenny

After the volunteers get their directions from Margot and Trent, they spring into action. The energy on the marina grounds is bustling yet focused, with voices calling out instructions and the rhythmic sounds of debris being cleared. I make my way around, handing water bottles out to the players.

“Thanks, ma’am,” one of them says, his forehead glistening with sweat as he pauses to take the bottle. The genuine gratitude in his voice catches me off guard. I’m the one genuinely grateful for their help.

As I move from one group to the next, offering a smile or quick words of thanks, I can’t help but be in awe at how much is being accomplished. They really do work well as a team. I’d love to see them in action on the football field one day.

Trent hangs up his phone and walks over to me. “Just got off the phone with Mr. Newman. He’s checking on his boat again. I feel like my phones been ringing off the hook since the tornado—boat owners making sure their boats survived. Thankfully, Mr. Newman’s one of the lucky ones.”

“That’s good,” I say, my voice heavy with exhaustion.

Trent steps closer, his hands gently gripping my arms. “How are you holding up? You look worn out. Why don’t you head up to the studio apartment and rest for a bit?”

I nod, glancing around at the volunteers still hard at work. “That actually sounds like a good plan.” I make my way up to the small studio apartment that Trent and I will be calling home for the foreseeable future. I can’t imagine it will be a short timeframe to get the house relivable, considering how long it took Trent to build it in the first place. As I close the door behind me, the sounds of the cleanup fade to a dull hum.

The space is modest but cozy—just enough for the essentials. Trent brought over a few of my surviving belongings and added some of his own, blending our lives into this temporary shared space. I lay down on our bed, my head throbbing. I’m amazed that passing out water bottles has drained me this much. I close my eyes and drift into sleep.

I wake up to a soft knocking at the door. I slowly get out of bed and open the door.

“Jenny!” My grandpa’s voice is thick with emotion. “I was so worried about you!” He glances up at my stitches. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay, Grandpa,” I say, giving him a small hug. “Come on in.”

“Trent told me where to find you,” Henry says as he takes a seat by the table. “I wanted to check on you, but I won’t stay long. You need your rest.”

I pull up a chair next to him. “I’m doing fine, Grandpa. Really. The marina took a hit, but we’re already making good progress on repairs. We have a great group of volunteers helping us out.”

“I haven’t been worried about the marina,” he says, taking one of my hands. “I’ve been worried sick about you. You’ve been on my mind every second since the tornado. Trent’s been giving me updates, but it’s not the same as hearing your voice, sweat pea.”

“I know, Grandpa. But now you know you don’t have to worry about me,” I reassure him, trying to keep the exhaustion out of my voice. “Trent has been so wonderful. I don’t know how he’s been managing everything, but he’s been organizing, making calls, keeping everyone calm. And he’s been making sure I don’t overdo things now that I’m out of the hospital. He’s . . . amazing.”

Henry lets out a soft sigh, the kind that says he doesn’t have to worry quite as much. “I always knew he was a good egg. Sounds like he’s proving me right.”

“He is,” I say, my voice soft. “And how are you? I was worried about you too.”

“Now, don’t you be worrying about me,” he says, squeezing my hand. “I’m an old man, you know. This isn’t my first tornado.”

I grin and squeeze his hand back. “I’ll always worry about you, Grandpa. No matter how old you get.”

Henry laughs at that. “I love you, sweet pea.”

“I love you too.”

We talk for only a few minutes longer before he stands, readying to leave. “Now that I’ve seen you with my own two eyes and know Trent is taking care of you, I feel much better.” He kisses me on the cheek. “Now, get some rest.”

“I will,” I say.

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