Page 27 of Inherited Light
“Oh, the plot thickens,” he said in his best detective voice.
I let the door shut on his insanity and climbed back in my truck. It was a little after three, which meant I had plenty of time to go see Cinn and still make the deck designs tonight for Cat. I grabbed my phone from the center console and dialed the number of a friend, praying he would answer.
“Lawton’s Lawn Service,” my buddy answered. “What can I help you with?”
“It’s Lorenzo, Law,” I said interrupting his spiel. “I need a favor.”
“What’s new?” he asked, his laughter raucous at his own joke. “I’m always doing you a favor.”
“Maybe, but I’m always buying you beer, so we’re even.”
“Oh, there’s beer? What do ya need?” he asked, eager as ever to help. Law liked his beer, but he was a good guy who would do anything to help a friend.
“Do you have plans late tomorrow afternoon?” I asked and he snorted.
“Yes, my plans involve drinking beer and listening to baseball.”
“Can you do it on a lawnmower?” I asked and he laughed in my ear.
“You want me to mow someone’s yard now?” he asked, his tone telling me he was confused.
“Actually, I need a weed whip. I have to repair a wheelchair ramp for a friend. I’m going to need to get under the ramp to shore it up for a few weeks until I can build her a new one. I want it cleaned out and cleared of any snakes before I start crawling around under there.”
“I think you have the wrong number. You want Shaun’s Snake Removal.” He made the name up on the fly and I laughed.
“I’m not saying there are snakes. I just want to be sure before I climb under there and end up bit. Her lawn could use a mow, too. I’ll pay you, time and a half since it’s a last-minute job.”
“You can pay me with a case of beer and the satisfaction of helping someone in need. Good enough?”
“More than good enough, Law,” I said, giving him the address. I gave him a few more specifics and then hung up the phone.
He was only one of several people I needed to convince to come help me tomorrow, so I spent another half an hour in the truck, calling friends and lining up helpers for tomorrow afternoon. When I finished with my calls, I set the phone back in the center console and cranked the engine over. I couldn’t put it off any longer. It was time to be a man and own up to my mistakes.
It felt like déjà vu as I stood on their doorstep and knocked on the door. This time there was only one woof and then footsteps hurrying toward me. The footfalls were too heavy to be Cinn, which meant my brother-in-law would be the one to peer out at me when the door opened. As suspected, he held the door and I noted the expression on his face. It was resigned with a heavy dose of sadness.
“Hi, Lorenzo,” he greeted me, holding the door open. “Come on in. She’s playing in the basement.”
I stepped in, and when he closed the door, I could hear the plaintive cries of a bassoon from below my feet. I hung my head and groaned. “When we were kids she always played the bassoon when she was sad.”
Foster motioned for me to take a seat, but I stayed standing. “She’ll get over it, if you give her time.”
I stuck my hands in my back pockets, trying to decide what to do. Poopsie hopped over to me, suddenly interested in the new visitor. I gave her some attention and then stood. “I’ve got something for her, but I’ll come back another day. Tell her I stopped by and I’m sorry. If she wants she can call me, but if she’s settled down, I don’t want to bother her.”
I turned to leave and he grabbed the crook of my elbow, halting me in place. “All you did was point out her insecurities, Lorenzo. She walks around here half the time trying to push me away because she thinks it will hurt less when I leave, which I’m not, by the way. You should understand, this medication they put her on has some side effects. One of them is mood swings and emotional lability. It won’t last forever, but she’s on a high dose right now to reduce the swelling in her esophagus and stomach, so it doesn’t impair her breathing. Her stomach and esophagus were swollen to the point the doctor was considering keeping her in the hospital to monitor her breathing. The only reason he didn’t is her amazing lung capacity from playing instruments. She has to sleep sitting straight up, because if she lays down, her stomach could push on her diaphragm and cut off her ability to breathe during the night. It means on top of the fact she’s on the medication that makes her emotional and keeps her from sleeping, she’s constantly scared of dying. Hopefully she won’t need such a high dose of prednisone after a few more days. She’ll start the medication she used to take once the doctor feels he has this flare under control.”
“I see. I had no idea it was compromising her breathing. I can’t believe you agreed to bring her home and didn’t insist on the hospital stay.”
He shrugged. “It’s not like she gave me much choice in the matter. I have emergency oxygen here in case she goes downhill, but as you can hear, her breathing is fine. She can’t play if she can’t breathe.”
I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. “You’re right, I’m sorry. You’re telling me I shouldn’t be a jerk and call her on anything, even if it’s true?”
“You weren’t being a jerk,” Cinn said from the doorway to the kitchen. I hadn’t noticed she quit playing as I was talking to Foster. “I was behaving like a child and needed a swift kick. I’m sorry for yelling at you.”
I strode toward her and she ran to me, letting me cradle her. I could practically swallow her tiny body in my arms and it was only then I realized how much weight she had lost the last year.
“I still shouldn’t have said it the way I did. I wanted to help you see the truth, but didn’t go about it the right way.”
She rested her hand on my chest. “I know what the truth is. Foster isn’t going to leave me the way Josh did. In my moments of clarity, I understand, but in my emotional moments of guilt, I wonder why he stays.”
