Page 17 of Remembering You
Flinging the door open, he slid the bag into the backseat.
“Do you think you’ll be able to start working tomorrow?” he asked, starting up the car. “I’d love to have the help, but…” he gestured again at my crutches. “If you need to rest, we can work something else out. Take a couple extra days—”
“Tomorrow is great,” I interrupted. I needed to work. Not only for the money, but if I had to sit around all day tomorrow, I’d go crazy. “I don’t have to start any classes until next week, and then, it’s only three days a week.”
He nodded. “Okay. You’ll let me know though if you’re in any pain or need to go home early?”
I held up my hand, and crossed a finger over my heart. “I promise.”
I turned around, peeking into the bag in the backseat to see what he bought for me. There, sitting on top of the carton of eggs was my crisp ten-dollar bill. I snatched it out of the bag and held it up to him. “I’m not keeping this.”
Jim rolled his eyes, but his smile softened the gesture. “Oh come on, it’s a few groceries.”
“Jim—”
“Stop distracting me. I’m driving here.” He flicked on his turn signal and took a right out of the parking lot.
“Fine. But as soon as you’re out from behind that wheel, I’m giving you this money back!”
His grin tilted higher. “I’d like to see you try.”
His smile was more than just panty-melting. It was heart-melting and I felt my mouth go dry as he flicked a quick glance in my direction before bringing his eyes back to the road. My heart fluttered against my ribcage and I hitched my breath. “That sounds like a challenge.” I reached into my purse and pulled out a pink highlighter and scribbled a little heart on the front of the bill.
“A challenge foryou, maybe. Not so much for me.” He winked so quickly that if I’d blinked, I would have missed it.
I cracked my knuckles. “Oh, it’s on, Tripp.”
* * *
Marty was just pullinginto her driveway after the pedicure as Yvonne pulled up, parking behind her. She climbed out, opening her trunk and lifted a cage and a large cardboard box out from the back of her car.
Marty rushed over to her, her boots crunching against the snow-covered pavement and grabbed the cage off the ground.
“Thank you again for doing this,” Yvonne said, pushing her blonde hair behind one ear. “Even in the fifteen minutes I was home gathering the supplies, Gatsby had his paws up on the counter, trying to reach the shoebox. That dang nose of his.” She laughed.
“Aw, I’m happy to help,” Marty said. “He’s a cute little guy. Maybe I’ll even keep him.”
Yvonne’s eyes brightened with that statement. “Oh yeah? A turtle foster fail. That might be a first for the Maple Grove Animal Rescue.”
Marty shrugged. “I’ve been wanting a pet. Well, I’ve been wanting adog, to be honest. But maybe this little guy is a good start.”
Yvonne lifted the cardboard box onto her hip and shut the trunk. “Well, let’s get him inside from this cold. His reptilian heart can’t take much more of it. I don’t even know what he was doing out on the sidewalk today.”
“Maybe someone is looking for him?” Marty offered, unlocking her front door and holding it open for Yvonne.
She pressed her lips together in thought. “Maybe. But I sort of doubt it. He doesn’t seem all that used to being handled like a pet turtle would. But it’s definitely too cold to release him back into nature without knowing where his home or habitat is.”
“Then it’s settled,” Marty said, setting the cage on a side table in her kitchen for now. “He’ll live with me. At least until the spring.”
“Maybe he’ll warm up to you and not want to leave,” Yvonne offered as she pulled out a heat lamp, plugging it in and clipping it to the edge of the aquarium. Or… terrarium? Cage. Clipping it to his cage.
“Anything I should know about caring for him?”
Yvonne described in detail the different lamps, how and what to feed him, how to clean the cage and keep the water clean and fresh. “And as I said,” she said, finishing up, “Steve and I will come by daily for this week to administer his antibiotics and check on his leg and shell. Shell injuries can be pretty touch and go, so if something happens and he…” she faded off, swallowing. “If he doesn’t make it, it’s not your fault.”
Just the thought of this little one passing away made Marty’s throat tighten. She leaned down, pressing her face against the glass as the turtle poked his head out of the shell, stretching out his front leg and scraping the glass. “We’re going to do everything we can to make sure that doesn’t happen to Bolt.”
“Bolt?” Yvonne laughed. “Good name. It suits him.”
