a body healthy that’s permanently lost half its mobility. And that’s more than perseverance. It’s also courage. Courage ain’t pretty or easy, and it’s not like in the movies. It’s like the song says. It’s a cold and broken hallelujah.’”
“In the song, it’s love that’s a cold and broken hallelujah,” she said. “Not courage.”
He tugged her hair. “Same difference. Remember when you tried to do that weekend orientation field trip thing the college hosted?”
She’d come home early and fast on that as well, but Elaine and Les had been quick to reassure her that it was just too soon to be away for a whole weekend.
“A bunch of people in a new environment, new stuff to learn…” He shrugged. “It's totally okay to have a spotter for a while."
He was acting like everything was okay. It wasn’t such a big deal. She knew it was. Yet she found the energy to respond, to feel less weighted down by what had happened, enough to engage in the conversation, wipe away the tears herself.
She frowned. "A spotter?"
"Someone to go with you to the campus. Sit with you in the class, or maybe just hang around nearby, like in the courtyard. Someone you can touch base with if things get to be too much." A half smile touched his mouth. “Like having a therapy dog. Minus the tail and floppy ears.”
She laid her hand on the chain he’d put around her wrist. "Like this. A touchstone."
It had startled her when he’d done that. But it had helped, the pressure of those links. Yet that, too, reminded her she’d failed. Even when he’d given her a tool to help.
“I’m sorry,” she said, telling him that.
His expression became slightly harder, but not in a mean way. She knew what mean looked like. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You think football players win their first game just because they have all the right equipment? No. It takes skill and practice. The equipment just helps them keep getting back on the field. Now, how about a spotter? Nothing wrong with having that. A few weeks down the road, you'll tell me to stay home, that you've got this."
Surprise rippled through her. "You’d be my spotter? What about the store?"
"Your classes are three nights a week,” he said. “Amanda can help cover the store mid-afternoon until the six o’clock closing, and Mom will pitch in when she can’t. All we need is someone to watch the register and answer basic questions. I’ll have my cell and they can text if something comes up they don’t know. "
She frowned. “Johnny knows the farm end of things better. Maybe he should cover instead of Amanda.”
“Yeah. But Amanda needs the money for that pharmacy tech certification she’s doing.”
"I know that," she said quickly. Too quickly. "I was just thinking…Johnny also needs some extra money."
"So he does.” Johnny Hill, one of the many Hills in their county, including the family who had once owned Thomas and Marcus’s house, regularly helped out at the store. “But he isn't as pretty,” Rory noted. “People might not buy as much, or be as forgiving if he doesn’t know stuff off the top of his head like we do."
Her eyes narrowed. She’d picked up the skillet to move it back on the burner, and set it back down on the stove with more force than intended. She jumped at the noise. Darting a glance his way, she saw his eyes were twinkling.
Slowly, she turned to face him. "You said that to tease me."
He did that more often now at the store. Kept her smiling, sometimes even getting her to tease him back, though it still startled her when she did it, like discovering a room in her house she hadn’t even known was there.
"She'd actually be good in the store,” Rory pointed out. “I wasn’t teasing about that.”
"No. The pretty part."
"Yeah. On that I was maybe teasing you.” He cocked his head. “It got you riled. A riled woman has a special light to her. My dad used to say that to my mom when she was getting worked up. It usually made her smile. Unless his timing was off, in which case she might swing a skillet like that at his head."
"Hmph." She moved to the sink, lifted the bottle of dish liquid.
"Don't—”
But she’d already pivoted and squirted it, a strong blue stream that hit him mid-chest and could penetrate his shirt like cold fingers.
She’d done it so quickly, her impulsiveness hit her a beat