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“I CAN,” MARI SAID. “Every day. I can go to his house after work, make sure he eats, and I can make dinner for Squeak and his brother. I’ll stay every afternoon and make sure Travis settles for the night.” She gave her cousin an earnest look. “I could use Pam’s car. She won’t be driving it again until after the baby’s born. Right?”
He nodded.
“I can go there right now.”
Sage’s expression conveyed both bewilderment and respect. “That’s very generous of you, Mari.” It seemed she wanted to say more, but she refrained. She glanced at Jonathan.
“It’s a good idea,” he said.
Someone knocked on the back door. He went to open it.
Shawna stepped inside, a cardboard box in her arms. She set it on the butcher block before swooping in to hug Sage. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry this happened. Soon as I heard the news, I rushed home to cook up a batch of my chicken soup.” She stood back. “I wanted to drop it off at Travis’s place, but Viv just called. She brought a casserole over, but the front door is locked, and she didn’t want to disturb him by knocking. Do you have a key?”
Sage shook her head, fresh worry in her eyes. “I’ll call Spence. Maybe he has one.” She hurried to her office.
In the ensuing silence, Mari said, “I’m going there now. I can bring the soup.”
Shawna’s eyebrows soared. “Well. That’s so good of you. Something gave me the impression you’re afraid of Travis.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“It was the situation,” Jonathan said in a protective tone. “And it’s Mari’s business.”
Shawna looked contrite. “You’re right. I’m sorry to pry. Sometimes I’m too curious for my own good.”
Sage returned. “Spence doesn’t have a key, but he thinks Travis keeps one under the doormat. Travis hardly ever locks his door, and he isn’t answering his cell.”
“He could be asleep,” Jonathan said, his mellow voice seeking to reassure them all.
“Can you drive me back to your house?” Mari asked him. “I’ll get Pam’s car and head out there.”
“I’ll follow you,” he said. “Make sure everything’s okay.”
“Thank you both,” Sage said. “I’ll finish the cleaning.”
“Can I help clean?” Shawna asked. “I’m too keyed up to write anymore today. Give me a mop and bucket, girlfriend.”
The tense atmosphere lightened when Sage laughed; relief softened her face. “How can I refuse such a generous offer?”
***
WHEN THEY ARRIVED AT the Redfoxes’ house, Mari rushed to her room to change out of her work clothes while Jonathan brought his wife up to date on the situation.
Pam insisted on assembling a boxful of items for Mari to take with her. “Get that down comforter from the hall closet, Jonathan. And the humidifier.”
Mari helped Jonathan load everything into Pam’s SUV. “Have you ever driven one of these before?” he asked.
“I know how to drive a car.” She was eager to sit behind the wheel; she missed the sense of control and freedom that came with having a car.
“You’ll follow me. I’m betting you don’t know how to get to his place.”
“Not in a car in broad daylight anyway,” she said.
“Sassy. I like this new attitude of yours, cousin.”
As she tailed Jonathan’s pickup truck out of town, she reflected on her bold impulse. She’d jumped at the chance to help Travis. Why? She felt sorry for him, for one, and a sense of obligation. Sage was right. His year hadn’t exactly kicked off on a high note. That was Mari’s fault. She hadn’t apologized for hurting him. This would be the perfect opportunity. That’s all.
They didn’t have far to go. About a mile south of town, Jonathan turned onto a road leading west towards the Crazy Mountains. Two miles farther, he turned left onto an unpaved road.
Melted snow puddles flooded sections of the road, a road that seemed to stretch for miles. Mud splattered the car windows and sucked at the tires. Jonathan steered his truck in a zigzag, avoiding the deepest puddles, and Mari followed his lead, her teeth rattling, hands clenching the steering wheel. By the time she swung into the wide drive in front of a large barn, her nerves were almost shot.
She clambered from the car on shaky limbs. Jonathan strode over and took her elbow in a steadying grip. “You okay?”
After finding her balance, she nodded. “I hope the soup didn’t spill.”
It hadn’t; Shawna had the foresight to tape the lid to the pot.
Each carrying a box, Jonathan and Mari navigated the muddy path leading to a small log cabin set back in a cluster of cottonwood trees about thirty feet from the barn.
The cabin looked old. She wondered if an early settler had built it. The only things of recent construction appeared to be the front porch steps. The porch itself sagged at the ends.
A brown paper bag sat on a bench beside the door. Jonathan peeked inside. “Viv’s casserole.” He set his box down, and Mari did the same. He lifted the doormat. His shoulders relaxed. “Key’s here. Unlock the door. I’ll call Spence to tell him.”
She picked up the old-fashioned key, inserted it into the lock and pushed down the handle that appeared formed from a horseshoe. The door opened on rusty hinges, the screak sounding loud in the quiet cabin.
The dim interior was cold and a little damp. She searched for a switch on the wall near the door, finding none. A floor lamp stood next to a couch. She shuffled towards it, worried she might trip over something. She found the pull cord and gave it a yank. Light infiltrated the room, and Mari took inventory of the surroundings.
Half the room was a living area with a long, brown leather couch, coffee table and two stuffed armchairs. A tall bookcase stood on one side of a stone fireplace, an accent table on the other, made of the same rough-hewn fir as the coffee table. It held a lamp surrounded by several framed photos. Curtains made of a heavy green and gold-patterned material blocked the wide window next to the front door.
The only other window in the room perched above the kitchen sink. To her surprise, the small kitchen had modern appliances: a gas stove and a refrigerator. A microwave sat on the narrow laminate counter next to the sink. A rectangular kitchen table in knotty pine with six matching chairs took up most of the space in that part of the room.
Other than a few braided rugs, the wood plank floor was bare but clean. Mari lifted her eyes to the exposed rafters. Time and the smoke from countless fires had darkened the pine to a rich amber hue.
Two closed doors cut into the far wall. The bedroom, she guessed. And a bathroom.
The cabin was small, but it appeared to have everything a person needed. She liked that there wasn’t a television. It must be nice sitting in one of those cozy-looking armchairs and reading a book while burning logs crackled and sizzled in the fireplace.
Jonathan strode into the room. He shivered. “I’ll get a fire started.”
“I’ll bring in the boxes.”
She carried the boxes to the kitchen table to unpack. Besides milk, orange juice and a bag of apples, Pam had thrown in two boxes of tissue, a bottle of cough syrup, and a bottle of aspirin. Mari put the perishables in the fridge, careful to make as little noise as possible, although she didn’t hear a sound from behind the closed doors.
She found an electrical outlet behind the microwave, plugged in the crock pot and set the heat on low. Her curious gaze landed on a coffee mug and spoon in the kitchen sink and then a prescription bottle on the adjacent counter. She picked it up and scanned the label. Pain medication.
A pamphlet caught her eye. It appeared to be instructions from the hospital on treating a broken leg. She read through the bulleted information. Keep the leg elevated, above the heart. Put ice packs around the cast to reduce the swelling. She frowned; she didn’t know you could put ice packs on a cast. Reading further, it was clear Travis needed to keep his leg elevated and iced for at least three days until the swelling went down and the pain lessened.
She turned her head to look at the closed doors, then towards her cousin. The fire was burning strong now, gradually dispersing a pleasant heat into the cabin. Jonathan placed a black metal and mesh fire screen in front of the grate before coming to stand beside her.
Without a word, she showed him the bottle of pills. He shook his head. “Just one of those will knock him out for hours. Let’s check on him.”
He walked to the door closest to the kitchen and rapped his knuckles on the knotty wood panel. Not hearing a response, he opened the door. Mari stood behind him and peeked around his tall frame to scan the dim interior.
Her eyes affixed on the man lying flat on his back on a queen-sized bed tucked between two windows. He was asleep, his mouth parted slightly, his breathing heavy and labored and interspersed with rough snores. There wasn’t a blanket covering him. He wore a grey tee shirt and a pair of weathered jeans, the denim cut up to the knee on his left leg, revealing a blue fiberglass cast. The injured leg lay propped on one pillow; bare toes peeked from the open end of the cast that encased most of his foot. His other foot was bare too. As her gaze traveled over him, she noticed the shivers racking his lean frame.
“He’s cold.” She scooted around Jonathan and shoved the door against the wall. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for a blanket other than the one Travis was lying on.
A pine wardrobe stood beside the door. A matching low dresser with a mirror occupied the adjacent wall. In the opposite corner, a stuffed armchair sat near the window, a plaid wool throw draped across the back. Mari fetched it and approached the bed on tiptoes, worried she’d wake Travis. Then she noticed the bags of frozen vegetables propped against either side of the cast. Only they were no longer frozen.
A wave of tenderness washed over her. The poor man. There should have been someone with him all day to ensure his leg stayed iced. Why had he locked the door?
She set the blanket down and scooped up the bags. She shot a glance at Jonathan, who still stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, a puzzling expression on his usually placid face.
“Can you put these in the freezer?” she asked. “See if there’s anything else in there we can use as ice packs until these refreeze. The leg needs to stay iced to bring down the swelling.”
With a solemn nod, he stepped closer to take the bags.
“Oh, bring the comforter with you too,” she said. “It’s on the kitchen table.”
When he returned, she was plumping up the two pillows she’d found on the floor beside a pair of crutches that appeared to have been carelessly—or angrily?—tossed aside. “We need to add one more pillow under his leg,” she whispered. “Then put one under his head.” Her sigh carried frustration. “He’s supposed to keep the leg higher than his heart, but his cold is making it hard for him to breathe. He needs a pillow under his head too.”
“Good thing he’s out cold,” Jonathan said. He placed the items he carried on the nightstand. “Found one icepack and a bag of tater tots. Will that do?”
She choked on a laugh. “We’ll make it work.”
Travis made a groaning sound when Jonathan lifted his leg with careful motions, but his eyes remained closed. She stacked the pillow on top of the bottom one, then nodded. The groan was louder when Jonathan lifted Travis’s head and shoulders. With swift but gentle motions, she pushed another pillow in place.
After Jonathan arranged the frozen items around the cast, Mari shook out the comforter. She settled it over Travis, tucking it around his feet first before pulling it upwards to cover him up to his neck. Satisfied, she stood looking down at him.
His cheeks and jaw were scruffy with beard growth a darker shade than his honey-blond hair. Purplish, puffy shadows underscored his closed eyes. His forehead furrowed in a frown, his eyelids twitching as if he were having a bad dream.
She rested her palm on his forehead, a light touch. The heat of his skin transferred to hers, sending a tingling warmth into her veins. A soft gasp parted her lips when the twitching stopped and his head lifted a little, pushing into her palm as if seeking comfort. Startled by his reaction to her touch and the strange feelings it stirred within her, she snatched her hand away.
“He doesn’t have a fever.” Her eyes flitted across the bed to meet Jonathan’s and caught that same puzzling expression before he masked it.
“Good. I hope it’s just a cold.” He nodded towards the door, signaling they return to the other room.
Once there, he closed the bedroom door. “I’ll head out now,” he said in his normal voice. “Keep your cell phone on. I’ll stop by the barn and let the Farris brothers know you’re here, and that you’ll make some dinner for them.” His gaze narrowed. “How long do you think you’ll stay?”
“Until he wakes and has some soup?”
“Wish we knew when he took that pain killer, and if he only took one. He might be asleep for hours.”
“I can wait.” The hint of defiance in her voice startled her. “I have nothing else to do.”
Jonathan put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “You’re a good person, Mari Jones.”
He left before she found a reply.