obviously past the usual age to enter college was starting out fresh.
Sometimes a fresh start was the only way... Turned out Gran’s idea to get her out of Shelter Valley after the fire had been the best thing for her....
“Hell, no,” Nonnie said. “I mean, heck, no. Trying to clean up my act a bit now that I’m getting closer to meeting my Maker.”
“Why’d he leave, then?”
“’Cording to him, he hasn’t left. He’s just here because I blackmailed him into coming. I was hoping he’d get interested in something completely different, new. Safer. But no, not my Mark. He’s got himself enrolled to study safety engineering so he can go back to Bierly and implement newfangled ‘protocols’ for keeping folks as safe as possible under the circumstances.” Nonnie’s opinion of Mark’s plan was obvious from the sarcastic way she pronounced the word protocols.
“You don’t think he should go back?”
“You ever been in a gasification plant?”
“No.”
“They’re filled with chemicals. Dangerous chemicals. Can’t tell you how many times Mark’s come home burning with frustration because one or another of his crew ended up in the bathhouse.”
“Bathhouse?”
“The shower they put them under when they’ve been exposed to contaminated substances.”
Addy had sporadic memories of the aftermath of the fire. Mostly pain-filled ones.
“I’ve got to get back to wor—what I was doing.” Addy made her excuses and turned to go out the way she’d come, adding, “I’m home almost all the time, and will be, except when I’m in class. If you ever need anything, let me know. I’ll leave my number here on the counter. And you can always just knock on the wall. I won’t take so long to respond next time.”
“You got a second before you go?” The woman sounded tired. Dangerously tired.
“Of course.”
“Could you help me into that chair?” Nonnie nodded toward the blue flowered recliner that exactly matched the one in her own living room.
Addy was at her side in an instant, and where she would have steadied the woman, Nonnie just had her hold on to her arm while she slid herself from one chair to the other.
“I can handle my own weight.” The woman’s words were more sigh than sentence. Addy had a feeling she could have handled the woman’s weight, too. By herself. Nonnie couldn’t weigh more than eighty pounds.
Eyes closed, the woman’s features relaxed, providing her with a glimpse of the beauty she must have been in her younger years.
Remembering Gran during her last year, when the emphysema had taken most of her air away, Addy figured Nonnie was already asleep, and crept back softly toward the door.
“Mark’s on a job interview.”
She turned. “What?”
“Darn fool’s set on working in spite of the living expenses he’s getting. Didn’t want you to think he just up and leaves me.”
“The thought never entered my mind.” Surprisingly, in spite of Addy’s natural distrust of mankind, it hadn’t. Something to ponder later. Maybe. Nonnie’s eyes were still closed. Addy reached the door. Pulled the latch.
“Thank you.”
The barely discernible words followed her home.
CHAPTER SIX
HE GOT THE JOB. Both of them, actually. One was a work-from-home thing—doing small-unit repairs for the local hardware/electronics store. The second was just outside of town at the cactus jelly plant, working as a part-time floating shift supervisor. The position was perfect as it allowed him to work various shifts throughout the week, based on his school schedule. Cooking cactus plants was vastly different from cooking coal, but production theories and processes—and the machines used to run assembly lines—were surprisingly similar.
Still, his job was not to oversee cactus, or jelly, but to oversee people—the line workers who actually ran the machinery and created the product. He would oversee scheduling and deal with performance issues.
He’d pump gas or clean toilets if he had to—both jobs he’d done before—as long as he had work.
Both jobs, and the close proximity of his temporary home to campus, allowed enough flexibility that he could tend to Nonnie if an occasion arose. Enough flexibility that he could check in on her throughout the day. There wasn’t anyone else to keep an eye on her for him. They weren’t in Bierly anymore.
And when he’d tentatively suggested hiring someone to come in, he’d received another nursing home threat. If she was going to be treated like an invalid, she might as well live like one, she’d said. Or something to that effect.
The threat hadn’t gotten to him as much as the tears, though. He’d seen her eyes well up before she’d blinked them away. His insistence