Dale trekked back into the living room. “Marissa... Marissa... Oh, you mean the Schneider girl? She teaches yoga? Huh. They still taking the class?”
“Nope. Claire hated it.” With a glass in one hand and a prescription bottle in the other, Sally pivoted around the kitchen counter. “Marissa got on some odd hot yoga bandwagon. Claire said it made her too sweaty. And Libby didn’t want to do it without Claire.” She handed Reed a pill and the water, then stood there until he had no choice but to swallow it. She stacked pillows under Reed’s cast for the eighth time, propping his aching foot up. “Reed, you need to wiggle your toes.”
He gripped the edge of the cushion. No way he was putting his foot in more agony.
“Come on, now. Wiggle those toes. Don’t make me call the doctor.”
“Fine.” Reed concentrated until the big toe moved. A flash of heat spread through his torso, and a bead of sweat dripped down his temple past his ear.
“Good job!” Sally said. “Keep moving them whenever you think of it. You’ll heal faster.”
Dale hustled to the kitchen—the living room, kitchen and dining room were one large open space—and rummaged through a drawer. “His suitcase is unpacked. Should I stop at the store? Get some groceries?” Paper in hand, he returned to stand next to Sally and clicked a pen. “Tell me what he needs.”
“Crackers, soda, things that are easy on the stomach. Doubt he’ll want much to eat today. I’m sure he’ll have more of an appetite tomorrow.”
Reed ground his teeth together. Why were they talking about him as if he weren’t there?
“Reed?” Sally leaned over him. “We’re going to the store. What can we get you?”
His head swam. “My phone and laptop.”
She laughed. “You don’t need those. You need to rest. I meant, what kind of food do you like—snacks, soda, fruit? We’ll get it for you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Oh, hush. There’s no stopping us. Help us make up this list, and we’ll get out of your hair for a while so you can sleep.”
Dale cleared his throat. “I’ll get your phone and your laptop.”
“He shouldn’t be working.” Sally narrowed her eyes at Dale.
“The man needs his electronics.” Dale disappeared again.
Reed’s neck relaxed. Dale had just gone up a notch in his book.
“Let’s start with produce. Bananas? Apples? Watermelon?” Sally hashed out a grocery list at least fifty items too long, but she kept naming off foods and wouldn’t listen to Reed’s objections.
Dale dragged the coffee table closer to the couch, plugged in Reed’s laptop and set his phone on the table. “Need any help before we take off?”
Reed shook his head.
“Take a nap,” Sally said. “And keep wiggling those toes.”
She walked to the front door with Dale at her heels. They kept up a steady stream of conversation all the way out. Reed moved his toes once more. Broke out in another sweat at the effort. Then he stared at the vaulted wooden ceiling.
Trapped.
In more ways than one.
The car ride from the hospital to the cottage had been agonizing. Every bump, every turn, every tap on the breaks ignited his leg. The jolting wheelchair ride up the ramp to the cabin had sent him to level nine on the pain scale. And moving him to the couch? He might be stuck in this exact position for two weeks, because he was not going through that torture again.
“Yoo-hoo.” Claire sailed in through the front door. “I’ve got the blocks.”
“You just missed them.” Reed twisted his neck to watch her. She wore a white T-shirt with I Love My Zoo in black letters. He pointed at her face. “The bruise under your eye is turning purple.”
“Yeah, I try to coordinate my injuries with my clothes. Less need for makeup.” She swiped her hand down the air in front of her lavender running shorts. “You like?”
He did like. And he’d smile but his leg tortured him. The painkillers could not kick in soon enough.
“I’m not sure what Aunt Sally wants with these.” Claire held a large paper bag with blue foam peeking out and a bundle of hangers. “But I’ve learned not to ask questions. The woman is a master. Hey, does your dad know you were released this morning? I didn’t even think to call him. Should I call him now?”
“No!” The word came out sharper than he intended. “I mean, no, it’s Monday, right? He’s at work. I’ll call him later.”
“Yes, it’s Monday.” A quizzical look flashed across her face, but she brightened. “Okay. So I’m sure Jake’s told you the latest wedding drama.”
Jake hadn’t, but Reed wasn’t ready to admit it. He’d play along. “What’s Libby take on it?”
Claire plopped into the tan chair kitty-corner from the couch. “Let’s say the idea of a cake-only reception didn’t go well.”
“Why only cake?” He had no experience with weddings or much of anything besides his job and the parks in the Chicago vicinity. His mountain bike had seen them all. How long would it be until he could ride again?
“Uncle Joe’s Restaurant is closed indefinitely. Every other hall is booked. The church is too. So their options have dwindled.” She rubbed her arm, concern in her eyes.
“What are they going to do?”
“I’m not sure. Libby and I spent so much time getting all the details perfect—it will be hard for her to let go.”
Reed’s cell phone rang. His boss. “Claire, do you mind if I take this?”
“Of course not! I’ll finish sweeping the deck and give you some privacy. I’ve got to take off for work in a little bit anyway.”
Before he answered, Reed admired her as she disappeared outside. The phone rang again.
Boss. Phone. Right.
“Reed here.”
“Hey, how far have you made it?” John’s hearty voice was the healthy dose of normal Reed needed. Fifteen years older than Reed, John Dalton was more a mentor and friend than boss. “You must be in Minnesota by now, or wait, North Dakota.”
“Change in plans.” Reed winced as he shifted to sit up. “Get this. A tornado roared through town Friday night. No wedding. And no Alaska.”
“What? Why?”
“Broken leg. I’m hanging out in Lake Endwell a week or so. Just until I’m out of the wheelchair.”
“Wheelchair?” John sucked in a throaty breath. “I can’t believe it. Everyone else okay?”
“Yeah, I heard the town got hit pretty hard, though, so I’m going to do what I can to help organize crews until I get back. You have any leads for this area?”
“I’ll look into it.” Papers shuffled in the background. “How are things with your dad?”
“As awkward as usual.”
“Sorry. For what it’s worth, I give you credit. Maybe you’ll work it out while you’re there.”
“I doubt it.” Reed flexed his fingers. “You might as well have Cranston send me the monthly reports. Oh, and the forms he told me about. It’ll give me a chance to get familiar with the new position. If I’m stuck on the couch, I want to be doing something.”