“That’s not my style,” I say with a shake of my head.
“Yeah, I have to disagree with you, Janice,” Hannah says shooting her a curt look. She pushes her glasses higher up her nose, almost hiding her thick, dark brows. “Just talk to him about it,” she says with a comforting smile. “Whatever feels right for you. No need to go in all guns blazing.”
***
That night, all I can think about is what will happen when I see Sam on Monday. Three likely scenarios run through my mind.
He pulls me into his arms and kisses me until I’m breathless;
He tells me he just wants to be friends, breaking my heart; or
He tells me he thinks it’s best we stop spending time together and breaks my heart in the process.
So, I have a thirty-three and a third percent chance of coming out of this with my heart intact. I’m not a huge fan of those odds.
If Sam does have feelings for me, then what next? Will he be a resident in the home long-term? If so, will our relationship be able to become more physical in time, or if it can’t, will we be trapped in the friend zone? If he recovers quickly, will he want to stay in Willow Creek or will he move back to the city? He has no house here, no job, no family. I might be the only thing keeping him in town. A man with such potential—would it be fair to hold him back?
There are so many possibilities, so many unknowns.I need to stop getting ahead of myself. If Sam and I start to get serious then it will have to move slowly. We’ll just have to deal with it, day by day. Fingers crossed Kathleen will be okay with it.
All of this is hypothetical, though.
To distract myself, I sit at my desk and turn on my laptop. I resist the urge to open Facebook and go straight to Word and open my WIP.
When I think about writing more of Brandon and Ally’s story, my brain seizes up. I’m not in the right headspace.
Mrs Ferguson had her beau, her knight in shining armour, at one point in her life. She had to bury her husband and continue on. As far as I’m concerned, it ended far too soon.But are you ever really ready to lose a loved one?
I take Janice’s advice and channel my emotions into my words. These words may not ever see the light of day, and truthfully, I don’t care. Something deep inside me is driving me to express what’s going on in my heart and in my head. I owe it to Mrs Ferguson, almost as a mark of respect. In a small amount of time, she had an impact on me.
Tears flow as I write about how crushed I was to hear of her sudden passing. How devastated I was to discover that her family had abandoned her in her final years.
When my head hits the pillow later that evening, in silent prayer I remember Mrs Ferguson, but take comfort at the thought of her being reunited with her man.