Page 59 of The Sea-Mist Cottage Inn
“Of course.” Since Ned was clearly angry at the people who were his actual caregivers, I asked him, “Will you show me up to your house, Daddy Ned?”
I heard Erin gasp at the name and wondered if Jessie didn’t call him that anymore.
“Happy to, lass,” her father said—and turned a look on his daughter like she was Nurse Ratched and he’d finally gotten one over on her.
“Go home, Wanda,” Erin barked at the nurse. “You are extremely fired.”
Wanda looked like she wanted to say something back, but she thought better of it and only nodded. “My backpack’s upstairs.”
“I’ll send my friend here down with it.” Erin looked at me, and I nodded.
We got Ned up to the apartment and settled into bed. I made an effort not to gawk at the surroundings, but I couldn’t help noticing that Erin had packed most of her father’s belongings from the moderately-sized house I remembered into this two-bedroom apartment.
Erin checked his feet, which were filthy and bloody. When she went to get the first-aid supplies, she gestured that I should follow. So I said goodbye to Daddy Ned, got a kiss on the cheek and a “There’s a good lass” (Ned is a Bluster native and I don’t think ever saw Ireland, but he enjoys calling younger people ‘lads’ and ‘lasses’), and followed Erin out of the room.
“Thank you,” she said when we were in the cramped living room. “Where did you find him?”
“Behind Roman’s shop, in the alley. He hadn’t gotten far.”
“He’d been gone three hours, Len. Almost from the time I left for lunch. Wanda didn’t let me know he was missing. I got back and they were both gone. Even then, I thought she’d taken him to the park. He likes the park.Three hours! I had to call her to find out what was going on. Who knows what could have happened!”
My concern for the nurse was greatly diminished by that account of her neglect, but my concern for my friend throbbed. Without thinking if she’d abide it, I put my arm around her shoulders and drew her close.
She cringed at my first touch, but then softened and set her head on my shoulder. At that sign of friendship, I nearly fell into sobs. I hadn’t comprehended how much I’d hurt not to have Erin’s friendship until I got it back again.
I maintained enough composure to say, “He’s okay. And everybody in town would have looked out for him. It wouldn’thave been much longer before somebody else saw him and helped.”
“Three hours!” she said again, clearly near tears of her own.
“I know.”
Erin sighed, and her arms came around my waist. For a while, we stood there, arm in arm, giving each other comfort.
The way friends do.
TWENTY-THREE: Risk Assessment
“It was pretty cool,” Wyatt told Roman. “Bailey hung with me a lot and made sure I knew where I was going, and I sat with her and her friends at lunch. They’re cool, I think.”
He used tongs to flip a steak on the grill and looked up at Roman to make sure he’d done it right.
While the guys were doing the apparently manly parts of dinner prep, I was setting the table. I’d already made rolls and two salads—potato and leafy green—and brewed up a batch of sweet tea.
I stayed quiet and listened in on their confab, a combination of Wyatt recounting the story of his first day (which I’d heard in the car) and Roman teaching him how to grill steaks.
Those two were working together to navigate the terrain of their relationship. What they were now or would become to each other, it was too early to say, but a mutual affection had blossomed between them, and a mutual respect.
I was trying to be attentive but not overbearing. I felt the need to pay attention because Roman and I were still figuring our relationship out, and I didn’t want Wyatt to get pulled into that in the wrong ways. If Roman and I really took, if this was a long-term kind of serious, then he would come to stand in the place where a father stood. But I didn’t know if Wyatt would want that, or when he might want it. I needed to be vigilant and make sure Roman didn’t cross a boundary Wyatt needed—and conversely, I needed to make sure Wyatt didn’t throw up any boundaries that got between Roman and me—or if he did, I needed to understand why.
So I was paying attention but trying not to get in their way. In case you’re wondering, parenting babies is soooo mucheasier than parenting teenagers. The nights are still sleepless, but the problems of babies have actually correct answers. With teenagers, it’s nothing but guesses in every direction.
Roman nodded at the grill. “You tell me. How’s it look?”
After a moment’s study of the steak, Wyatt said, “I think it looks good. The crust thing you were talking about is kinda gold.”
“That’s right. Good job. Better flip the other steaks before they cook past that point.”
As Wyatt flipped, Roman asked, “Any teachers make a good first impression?”
