TOMMY
a dozen times before she picked up.
“Hey, this is Bailey.”
Heart pounding, I opened my mouth to respond, but she spoke over me.
“Sorry I can’t pick up right now, but if you leave me a message, I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” There was a pause. “All right, ’bye.” And then the tone sounded.
My first instinct was to hang up, my mind reverting to the notion that what we needed was a good, long talk—in person. But then I cast up how many weeks had gone by since we last spoke, and how many weeks were likely to go by before I could return to the Mailboat. Would I even make it back before the end of the summer? If not, was I willing to let all winter pass without speaking to her?
“Hey, Bailey,” I said, my voice feeling scratchy and uncertain. “How ya doin’? Haven’t heard from you in a while.” I paused. Was I rambling? What was I supposed to say? “I hope you’re okay. I think we’ve got some things to talk about. Call me…. Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”
I hung up. Laid my phone in my lap and stared at it. Would she call me later? Or would she go on ignoring me? I guess I’d forced the question at this point. If she never returned my call, then she was, in fact, ignoring me on purpose.
From the kitchen came the sound of the door opening and closing. Keys jangling. “Yoo-hoo! Tommy, you ready for PT?” It was Nancy.
Physical therapy. The current bane of my existence. I’d met my cheerful young therapist at the local clinic for the first time yesterday, and I wasn’t sure how we were supposed to get along—not when she celebrated all my gains in mobility as if I were a toddler again. At my age, I didn’t appreciate getting sent back to square one.
I glanced at the calendar on the opposite wall. July fifteenth. School started in a month and a half, and Bailey’s hours would be drastically cut back. In eight weeks, marine mail delivery would end, and she’d be more likely to be scheduled on other boats besides mine, her specialized skill set no longer a determining factor. We’d have fewer chances to talk.
Setting my jaw, I threw back the covers and eased my legs out of the bed. The ache in my side was still there, despite the meds.
Nancy appeared in the doorway. Her name tag from Blackpoint Estate, the historic house where she was a tour guide, was still pinned to her blouse. Seeing me upright, she stopped and folded her arms. “Well, look at you!” She smiled with pleasure.
I waved to the hallway, where she had parked the walker the hospital had saddled me with. “Well, grab my contraption.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” She turned to shuffle it into my room.
I wasn’t going to lie here the whole rest of the summer. One way or another, I was making it back to the Mailboat. I was not letting Bailey drift away from me.