| |
Valerie regretted telling Damon he should leave. She hadn’t wanted to take him away from his ranch for any longer and had started to feel embarrassed about soaking his shirt with her tears, but now loneliness seeped into her being from every pore as she wandered aimlessly around the house, touching things that had been special to Martha, like the woven grass bowl that she’d brought back from a trip to somewhere on the African continent. Valerie wasn’t sure exactly where she’d gone, but she had loved the experience and cultures she’d interacted with and had told Valerie stories as a teenager.
Wandering back into the kitchen—why did the kitchen seem to always have the biggest draw for sad souls?—Valerie put water in the kettle and set it on the stove to make more tea. It was nearing her bedtime, but she highly doubted that she would find sleep anytime soon.
Gus watched her from his position on the couch, resting his head on his front paws, but his eyes were intent as they tracked her movements. She imagined he was scared, not understanding what had happened, just knowing there had been a lot of commotion, and now his owner wasn’t here.
She dug in the cabinets until she found a box of small dog biscuits, which she took a handful of, and went to sit beside Gus.
“Hey, buddy, it’s going to be alright.” As if he could understand her. As if she really knew it was going to be alright. Tears welled up and a painful lump clutched at her throat, prohibiting her from saying anything further to the dog as he tentatively took the treats she offered.
Across from her were several stacked boxes—the Christmas decorations that Martha had brought out and they hadn’t gotten around to putting up. Valerie sniffed and stood. She would decorate the house beautifully for Martha’s return. Because Martha would get better and come back home, soon. She had to believe that. The thought that her aunt, who she’d come to get to know and love again and appreciate for her kookiness, wouldn’t come home was too much to bear, and she shoved the thought away vehemently. Her aunt would get better and come home. And she would make sure that the place was decorated beautifully and the animals were ready for the Nativity when she did.
Nodding firmly to herself, Valerie looked around the boxes for one that was labeled tree and then realized that Martha probably had never purchased a fake tree that she kept hidden away in the attic with the ornaments and instead probably opted for a real tree to decorate. Yes, Valerie remembered her saying something along the lines of wanting the spirit of the tree there to celebrate the Christmas holiday with them when Valerie was little. She smiled faintly as she remembered her father rolling his gaze to the ceiling at his sister’s words. Yes, Martha had always been a bit odd. It had embarrassed Valerie as a youth, but now she appreciated the unboxed thinking her aunt did. No one could say she wasn’t her own woman.
She would have to ask for Damon’s help with the tree, but determination surged through her, and she found a box with tinsel and strands of lights neatly packed away. She would set up the house for Martha’s return and, hopefully, Damon would help her get a tree soon too.
Valerie blinked bleary eyes, trying to remember where she was as she slowly sat up. The phone rang, shrill and insistent, and she stumbled from the couch, a blanket falling to the floor and Gus hopping off to follow her.
“Hello?” Her voice was scratchy and she swallowed, trying to moisten it. Her eyes were still blurry from sleep—or lack of it—and she couldn’t tell what time it was.
“Hello, is this Martha Overburg’s niece?” The voice on the phone was female, and the tone gave nothing away. Valerie felt her stomach flip with uncertainty, and she gripped the kitchen countertop for support.
“Yes, I’m Valerie.” She waited, trying not to blurt out her questions of how Martha was and if she was even...no, she couldn’t think like that. She had to wait and see what the report was.
“Okay, Valerie. If you’ll wait just a moment, I have someone who wants to speak with you.”
Dread made her knees weak, and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the countertop so hard she thought she felt a nail break. Was it a doctor the lady was getting? Someone to tell her that her aunt...she shook her head hard enough that her braid slapped her face, though she hardly felt it. No, her aunt was tough, and she couldn’t let herself think this way.
“Valerie?” A tired voice came on the line.
Tears poured down her cheeks, and she sunk to the floor, putting her back to the kitchen cabinets. “Martha!”
“My goodness, child, you sound stressed. I’m sorry I put you through that.”
“No, no, please just tell me how you are.” Her voice turned to a whisper. “I was so worried about you.” Gus had walked over and used his nose to push her arm up so he could tuck himself against her side.
“The doctor says you saved my life, that I wouldn’t have made it had I been alone.”
Valerie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stem the flow of emotion. Seeing her aunt like that felt like it had left scars on her heart, and she swallowed, willing herself to breathe calmly and not allow Martha to hear her pain or fear.
“I’m just glad you’re okay.” It came out closer to a whisper than she would have liked, but that would have to do for now. At least she wasn’t crying anymore.
“I am,” Martha agreed, sending relief rocking through Valerie like a tidal wave. “The doctor wants to keep me a few more days, and even though I’d much rather just come home, I think he makes a good point about needing to watch my head.” Her voice turned wry. “I’m kooky enough as it is. Anymore so, and I don’t think anyone would talk to me.”
Valerie laughed, glad that her aunt was able to make jokes.
Trying to keep the mood light, though for whatever reason—probably lack of sleep—she wanted to burst into tears again, Valerie said, “Gus slept on top of my head all night, and he’s looking intently at the phone, so I think he’d like me to convey that he can’t wait for you to be home.”
This time, Martha was the one to chuckle. “It’s been less than a week, and you’re already becoming more like me.”
Valerie groaned. Yes, that was something similar to what her aunt would say.
Voices sounded on the other end, but Valerie couldn’t make out the words. Martha replied, “Yes, I will, just a minute.” When she came back on the line, she sighed. “Sorry, sweetie, they want to run another scan on me and then they demand I get some rest. I can’t wait to get home. These people are bossy.”
“Do as they say and get better quickly. Call me when you can and let me know when I should come get you.”
“I will. Bye.”
Valerie had the urge to say I love you, but she ended with, “Bye.”
Valerie hung up the phone and looked down at Gus. His big brown eyes looked right back, as if he were trying to understand what was going on around him.
“Your owner will be back soon,” she promised and smiled at the knowledge that Martha would be okay and would be coming home within a few days.
Pushing herself to her feet, she checked the old clock as she set the phone back on its charger. Nine in the morning. She’d gotten about four hours of sleep.
“Guess it’s time to go take care of the animals,” she told Gus. “But before that, I should make some coffee. Maybe I can even get some work in with the animals that are going to be in the Nativity.” She figured that was ambitious, but she also wanted to show Martha she’d gotten work done while she was gone.
As she tiredly watched the coffee percolate, the phone rang. Her heart pounded at the sound, and she had to remind herself that Martha was okay and, if the doctors already planned to let her go in a couple of days, that she had to be showing a lot of good signs.
Taking a breath, Valerie answered, “Hello?”
“Valerie,” Damon’s deep voice greeted her. “I wanted to check on you and see if you need anything.”
Would any of her colleagues from her old job or the few friends she’d had back there have bothered to check on her? She didn’t think so, and she hoped she could convey her appreciation without sounding sappy.
“It’s good to hear from you. Thank you so much for calling, Damon.” She took a breath. “I heard from Martha this morning. She’s going to be okay.”
“Thank God,” he murmured.
“Very much,” she agreed. “She’ll be able to come home in a few days.”
“That’s great news.” He paused. “Would you like some help taking care of the farm?”
She wanted to say yes, to have him there, but she couldn’t pull him from his own work. “No, that’s okay. I want to take the opportunity to prove I’m as tough and able as a woman nearing her sixties.”
He laughed. “No doubt you are. Just make sure to call if you do end up needing anything. I’m glad Martha is doing better.”
“Me too. Thank you again for checking.”
“Anytime.”
They hung up, and she got her cup of coffee, readying herself for the work ahead.