Page 18 of Geordie

Her arms fold over her chest, waiting for a response that she knows I have no rebuttal for, but I try anyway. “Lochlan would have taken the next plane out if he’d known I was in the hospital. It’s a critical time for Kenzie. She needs him more than I do. I was planning to call him today.”

Layla cuts her eyes to my ankle, then raises her hands in supplication. “Okay, I’ve said my piece. I know what the two of you are like when you’ve made up your minds about something, so please work it out. Let me know if you need anything.”

Before I hear the click of the door, my desk phone rings. The caller ID says Lochlan. I steel myself, then snatch the phone off its cradle. “How are you this fine day, cousin?” Maybe that will calm him a bit.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had an accident, you pigheaded bastard?”

I lean back into the comfort of my chair to weather the conversation. “I’m doing fine today; thank you for asking.”

“Layla said your injuries were serious enough for a two-day hospital stay. And while you were lounging on your back all day long, you couldn’t call me?”

“The doctors were under some misguided notion I had a concussion.”

“How did they form that conclusion?”

“I might have hit my head and was unconscious for a time, so their over-cautious staff wanted to observe me for a few days. I thought it was prudent to stay in the hospital for a nice rest. The nurses were pretty, and the food was almost edible.”

“I can be there by tomorrow morning. I talked to Kenzie, and she’s okay with me spending a week with you until I’m convinced you’re fine.”

I can’t help it, I’m ready to laugh at this role reversal. All my life I’ve been taking care of Lochlan. This is his guilt ruling his head for the antics and the drama he’s put me through for the last thirty years. Now that he’s learned how to care for someone, thanks to that saint, Kenzie, he’s overcompensating with me.

“I wouldn’t advise that, Cousin. I’ve been following Kenzie’s progress online; this is a critical time for her. You need to stay where you are. If I really need you, I’ll call. If I’m truly having problems, I’ll fly to Edinburgh and subject myself to Granda’s parenting skills.”

A deep chuckle comes through the phone. It’s the first time since we started this conversation that he sounds like himself. “If it gets bad enough for you to live with Granda, then I know you’re dying. Once he gets you back under his control, he’ll think the best thing for you is to go on a hunt with him and his cronies. I can hear him now: ‘Hunting beasts in the fresh air will cure all your ills, laddie’,” he says in Granda’s voice.

I shake my head and join him in his laughter, missing my best friend and cousin. “Seriously, I’m fine,” I say, even if it’s only to reassure myself.

“Should I give you my prepared lecture on the evils of dirt biking and that you’re too old to be tearing around like a teenager?”

“Ah, no, you can save that for when you see me. By the way, when will I see the lovely Kenzie again?”

“We have a break in the schedule at the end of the month; we’ll be home then. I’d like to discuss the last phase of the Catriona project with you in person and decide which restaurants to award the last remaining spaces. Have we received any interesting applications?”

I tap my fingers on the desk, wondering if I should confess my negligence in supervising Catriona. “To tell you the truth, Cousin, my mind hasn’t been on Catriona. The manager we hired is doing an excellent job. There have been very few problems that needed my attention.”

“Good, we’ll talk about that when I’m there as well. Kenzie and I are about to leave for dinner with some sponsors. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“There’s no need. I can take care of myself.”

“Why? Are you denying me the joy of speaking to my cousin so I can inquire about his health?”

“I’m hanging up now,” giving him a half-hearted warning. This conversation has gone on long enough; any longer and he might get it into his head to play the hero or the savior. I can’t have him flying out here a head of schedule. “Kiss Kenzie for me and tell her I miss her.”

I place the receiver back on its cradle. There’s a twinge of pain in my ankle, so I reach for the bottle of pain medication that I have in my pocket. Water is in the drinks cabinet across the room. I pull myself up to take the short journey across the office. For economy, I grab one crutch to hobble over to retrieve the water from the mini fridge. I twist off the cap from the bottle, throw the two tablets in my mouth and chase it with cold water. I’m facing the wall with the massive picture display and memorabilia of Lochlan and Kenzie. Their happy, smiling faces looking back at me triggers an unexpected wave of sadness. I’ve been experiencing more of these episodes lately and I’m not sure why.

There’s a tapping at the door. Why is Layla waiting for an invitation to come in? None of us are big on etiquette. We all have an open-door policy. If you need to see someone, you just walk into their office.

William pokes his head in. His hair is a little shaggier and his two-day-old beard is now four days, but his wide grin is the same. “The scary lady in the red sweater said you were available. I was at my ex’s place to pick up my kid for the day and I thought I’d stop by.”

I don’t know what’s more surprising, William stopping by the winery to see me or that he has a kid. We’re friends, but we don’t hang out other than riding together or maybe a beer after. His presence seems out of place here.

“I couldn’t leave my kid in the car, not with the current child protection laws. Even if I left her there for a few minutes, she’d escape to explore her surroundings. Can I bring her in so you can meet her? She’ll be quiet while we talk; you won’t even know she’s here.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say, ambling toward the desk to land back in my chair. Saying hi to a surly teenager will be the highlight of my day. I lift my foot back onto the chair to ease the throbbing.

William turns around. “Come on,” he says, like he’s trying to convince a kitten to come out from under a bed. “Hurry up, we don’t have all day,” he encourages, pushing the door open, and a little girl no more than four years old walks in with dark curls bouncing, wide blue eyes, and the kind of cute that you see in commercials.

“Emmy, this is daddy’s friend Geordie.” She sidles up to me, eyes filled with curiosity. Her tiny hand stretches out to pet my leg. “Owie, Orie.”

---