Like Arrows (Cedar Tree #6) (39 page)

M
al

"Is she okay?"

Kim blessedly fell asleep about an hour into her treatment and Chrissy, who's been a constant for her, sent Kerry and I to grab a coffee and a bite. We're in the coffee shop in the lobby and Kerry's eyes look troubled.

"She will be. She's been weakened a lot by the aggressive simultaneous protocol but that's just her body—her will is strong. I think what's mostly troubling her now, other than the obvious, is how she'll readjust once she gets back home. She'll probably need something to put her teeth into—she doesn't strike me as someone who does well sitting still."

Kerry tilts her head to the side as she regards me, her eyes every so often trailing over my now hairless head. "You love her."

I look at her, lifting an eyebrow. "You're her friend and were witness to my less than stellar start with her, which is why I won't tell you it's none of your business, but yes, I do. "

The small smile tugging at her mouth gives me another indication of her feistiness. Not that I doubted that, after she about took my head off the first time we met. "So are you gonna do something about it?" she challenges.

"You're pushing, Kerry, but I'll give you this one too because I know you're only looking out for her. I'm planning to let her get settled into her life, to let her get her feet back under her and then when the time is right, yes, I will 'do something about it.' "

"You're an idiot, Malachi Whitetail." She totally surprises me with that and it must show, because she starts laughing when she sees my expression. "Well, you are. I've been with the two of you for a little over an hour now and I can see from the wistful, longing glances she sends you that she doesn't want to do any settling unless it has you in it. The girl is as eager as she is anxious about the prospect of 'getting her life back.' I'm thinking she doesn't want it unless it has you permanently cemented in it."

I lean back in my chair, considering her words. Is that true? Is the anxiety I've felt coming off her these last few days about us? That would constitute a change of plans—a welcome one if you ask me.

Kerry gets up from the table. "Just hitting the ladies' before we head back." She leans down as she passes me, surprising me with a kiss on my head. "You did that for her. You are officially and completely forgiven for being a douche in the beginning." Without looking at me, she struts off, tossing her hair over her shoulder and leaving me chuckling in my coffee. Feisty all right.

"Did you bring the bucket?" Kim wants to know when we get back to the room, just as Chrissy is putting a wet washcloth against Kim's forehead and with a small smile, carries off the evidence of Kim's miserable state. Leaving Kerry to sit with her, I follow Chrissy down the hall.

"Should I be worried about that? I mean, she's been sick quite a lot, and from what I understand it doesn't happen to everyone the way it used to."

"Nah, it may not be the standard anymore, but it's still quite common. She just seems to have a particularly queasy stomach. We've given her something for the nausea every time, it just doesn't seem to help her as much as we'd like it to," she says with a smile. "I'm gonna miss her."

"I'm sure she'll miss you too." I give her shoulder a squeeze, grateful for the great care she's given Kim and return to the room.

-

T
urning the truck in the direction of Cortez, I glance over at Kim. She’s looking out the window with a big smile on her face, despite the bucket wedged between her knees. "How are you doing?"

"Great," she declares, "and if it weren't for the miserable state of my body, I'd say perfect. But my headspace is fabulous, despite what my intermittent puking may suggest."

"Good," I approve as I quickly run the backs of my fingers over her cheek before turning my attention back on the road. "I bet a 'fabulous headspace' will outlast an upset stomach any day."

Deciding to test the good mood she's in, I broach the topic of Kerry and my conversation earlier. No time like the present. "So I asked you this morning what you were thinking about so hard, but I never did get an answer—what's on your mind?" I feel her eyes assessing me as her hands fiddle with the handle of the bucket.

"Just...you know? Stuff. I mean, we've been kind of shielded from the outside world this past while and I just don't know where to go from here." Her voice sounds uncertain and although she hasn't specifically said so, I have a pretty good feeling she's referring to us and not just speaking in general terms.

"From here we go home. Your home, if you'll have me, or I'll just kidnap you to my apartment. We'll start each day with a plan. Small ones at first, but bigger ones when you're ready. As long as each day is started with you in my arms, there's nothing we can't accomplish."

The silence beside me is a little disconcerting, so when I spot a wide section of shoulder, I pull the car off the road and face her. "Am I going too fast for you?"

Her snort and chuckle are a relief when she has tears running down her cheeks. "Too fast? No. I just freak out when I find how deep you are able to get into my head." She grabs the tissues I hand her, wipes her face and blows her nose. "I'll have you," she says simply. "And I'd love to make plans with you, every day." She leans in, but before she reached my lips, her body redirects itself over the bucket, heaving helplessly.

Bucket emptied at the side of the road and Kim cleaned up, we're back on the road when she suddenly starts laughing. "That was the height of romance, back there," she says with a hiccup.

"I don't do romance," I tell her. "I just say it like it is."

She tries to put on a straight face, failing miserably.

"Well, honey, if that's the case, then judging from your words and actions, you were born a poet. All that's missing is the poofy-sleeved shirt and the feathered cap."

The growl that visual elicits from me is a trigger for Kim to start chuckling again. And as I turn down the road with Kim's little cottage at the end, and big gangly dog likely waiting impatiently, I feel light and completely happy.

"I have been to the end of the earth,

I have been to the end of the waters,

I have been to the end of the sky,

I have been to the end of the mountains,

I have found none that are not my friends."

~ Navajo

K
im

"What are these?"

I hold up a collection of turbans tied in complicated knots and a stack of cotton beanies in every color of the rainbow. Arlene snorts and Emma throws her a dirty look, but as usual, Arlene is decidedly unimpressed.

"Woman can't sit still," she starts, "so for lack of any grandbabies to traumatize for life with her creations, she's focused her 'crafting' on you."

We've just been back here a day and the first night in my own bed, but this time with Mal beside me was the best night I ever had. Even if all we did was spoon, since I wasn't feeling all that frisky. Yet. Caleb and Katie popped in quickly last night to welcome me home, but stayed only the length of a cup of coffee. Apparently Arlene had intended to sit on the doorstep until she could see us coming around the corner, but Seb put his foot down and threatened to lock her out if she even tried. As usual, Arlene bends to no one, except to Seb. Albeit grudgingly.

This morning Emma, who is a tad more...insightful, called first to see if it was okay for them to pop by. She had something for me I might need. Still feeling a little blech, but I realize there's no time like the present to crawl out of our little 'secure' bubble, so I tell her any time is good for me.

"They're wraps. For your head," Emma adds in explanation. She takes one from my lap and with a few tugs has it firmly on my head. With a smiling Mal and the girls looking on, I head to the mirror on the wall by the front door. It looks good. A little Mediterranean, with the deep red Bougainville flowers sharply outlined against the sky-blue background. It's smooth against my head but with the ends tied in a jaunty tail to the side, trailing over my shoulder.

"What do you think?" I turn to Mal, my hands inadvertently going to touch the ends of the shawl to fiddle.

"You look fantastic," he smiles. "A bit mysterious like those fifties starlets. The colors make your whole face light up."

I smile my appreciation before turning to Arlene, who immediately makes me laugh with her facial expression. "Okay, okay. So I can see she looks good in them," she says more to Emma than to me, "but I still think to get our girl here back in fighting shape, she would've been better served with one of your peach pies."

I barely hear Emma's shocked "Arlene!" as I dart past—still half laughing—to get to the bathroom.

"Sorry," Arlene says sheepishly when I walk back in, cleaned up and proudly donning my new shawl to Emma's obvious delight.

I first walk over to Arlene, hug her and whisper in her ear, "Thanks for a good healthy laugh." Then I turn to Emma, sit down next to her on the couch, put my arm around her and my head on her shoulder. "And thank you for making me feel pretty, even while hanging over the toilet."

They stayed long enough to have me try on every shawl, each a little different then the next, and the cute little sporty beanies.

When they're gone, Mal walks me to the bedroom for a nap. I pull open the bottom drawer of my dresser where I keep odds and ends to put the turbans in when my hand encounters something. When I pull what feels like a book out, I see it’s actually a sketchpad.

“What’s this?” I ask Mal, when he reaches for it.

“Just some scribbles.” He looks a bit unsure when he sees me flipping it open.

“You mind?” I don’t want to be presumptuous, but curiosity has me looking at the drawings before he even responds.

“Go right ahead,” he says with a smirk.

The first drawing is one of a beautiful baby. If I’m not mistaken, it’s his nephew Mattias. The next are sketches of animal life. Beautiful drawings of mountain lions and eagles. Detailed and focused on the heads, with the bodies fading away. It isn’t until I get to the second half that I recognize Boo in some of his drawings. Suddenly I’m staring into my own eyes. My hair still long and luscious, my eyes clear and healthy. It’s so beautiful, it brings tears to my eyes. Turning to look at him, I see he is studying me intently.

“When did you do these?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “That first one there I sketched after the first time I showed up here with Drew.”

I look at him incredulously. The drawing was done with such feeling, it takes me aback. “But—“

“I know, crazy right?” he smiles. “I think part of  me recognized you would be important in my life even then.” Bending down to pick me up under my arms, he turns with me to the bed and tucks me in.

I reach out to pull him down and place a hand on his jaw. “I want to hang them up,” I tell him.

He is silent for a moment, looking me in the eyes. “Okay.”

He leans in and kisses me softly. “Love you, Kimeo.”

“Me too, so much,” I tell him.

M
al

While Kim was in the bathroom earlier, I had a chance to talk to Arlene about giving notice for the apartment above the diner and she smiled big.

"Neil started packing your shit up as soon as he came back last week. He's just waiting for your okay so he can move it out and move his stuff in. No notice needed."

Well I'll be damned. I'm still considering whether to be angry for the kid's cocky actions or slap him on the back for his foresight, when Kim walks back in. Good to see that despite her almost pallid complexion, her eyes are sparkling today.

A few hours later, with Kim having a nap in the bedroom, I open the door to Neil, whom I called a while ago, letting him in. He's wearing a knit beanie pulled down over his ears and looks like he's dressed for winter.

"What's with the hat, man? It's eighty-five degrees outside—hardly cold enough to wear that thing."

"Shut up. You guys could've warned me my ears stick out. I look like Dumbo. This is the only way I can hide them until my hair grows in again," he grumbles.

"Are you shitting me? You walked around like that for two weeks and you never complained, what brought this on?"

"I don't make it a habit to stare in the mirror if I can help it first of all, and secondly, damn Arlene decided to point it out last week when I walked into the diner. Fucking Kendra was there and she thought it was funny. She told me she always thought Dumbo was cute. Fucking hell. I went straight into the bathroom to have a good look. Man, they're out to there!" He waves his hands about an arm length away from his head in overly dramatic fashion.

I shake my head. "You're an idiot, kid—you should star in a daytime soap with all the drama. If a girl says she thinks the animal you were just compared to is cute, she's basically saying you're cute. Dimwit. And why does this conversation remind me of elementary school?"

"Cute is the absolute last thing I want that particular woman to think when she thinks of me," he bellyaches, confirming my prior suspicions. "And would you quit calling me kid? You're barely ten years older than I am. It's not helping." He stomps off outside to grab the first of the boxes he hauled over from his truck. I rush after him to open the garage door to stick them in there for the time being. At least until I have a chance to let Kim know I'm officially moving in. As of right now.