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“Later,” Logan hollers, disappearing into the backyard.
Once I’m inside and my trash is thrown away, I kick off my athletic shoes and head for the laundry room. There’s always a load to wash, and tonight is no different. I toss towels and washcloths into the machine and grab a bottle of water from the fridge as I pass. My evenings are usually spent reviewing plays and working on the next week’s goals or filling out paperwork I hadn’t gotten to yet for the day job.
I flip on the television and grab my bag, pulling out the workout schedule for the next few days and make a few tweaks. My team is scheduled for lifting three days a week before practice and I love to add in a few fun elements, when possible, to keep things on the lighter side. One thing I discovered about high school kids is they rarely take things as seriously as we’d like, and their attention span can be pretty short. So throwing in some fun exercises every now and again does us all good.
At ten o’clock, my phone rings. Smiling, I reach for the device and tap the screen without confirming my suspicion. I’m ninety-nine-percent certain I know who it is. She calls like clockwork, always around this time of night, after she’s put her kids to bed.
“How’s my favorite sister?”
“She’s good. Drinking a glass of wine on the back deck and watching a storm roll in. How’s my favorite little brother?”
I drop my ink pen and kick my feet up onto the coffee table to get comfortable. “Not too bad.”
“No hot date? It’s Friday night, you know.”
Grinning, I slide my left arm behind my head and lean against the couch cushion. “If I was on a hot date, I wouldn’t be answering your call.”
“Good to know,” she mumbles, “and let’s get back to the part about it being Friday night and you’re at home. Why are you there?”
“Because this is where I live,” I deadpan, the corner of my mouth curling upward.
“Yes, I know, smart-ass, but you won’t meet a woman sitting on your couch.”
Sighing, I realize too late I should have let the call go to voice mail. “Why did you call again? Just to give me a hard time?”
“Always. That’s my job as your big sister.”
“How are my nephews?” I ask, looking for a subject change.
“Rowdy,” she insists, taking a deep breath. “Hagen has basketball camp this week, and Rogan is taking swim lessons.”
My nephews are nine and six and packed full of energy. They definitely keep my sister, Loree, and her husband, Kenton, on their toes. The more activities they keep them involved in, the better it is for their sanity, or so they say.
“Bring them back to Pine Village soon. I’ll take them fishing at Bluff Preserves,” I offer, recalling how we fished and camped last summer for a weekend. The boys loved it.
“I’ve already talked to Kenton about planning a trip home soon. Is there a time that works best?”
“Fall is football season,” I remind her, even though I know she’s well aware. Once school starts next week and the first game hits Friday night, my life belongs to the grid iron. Six days a week, I’ll be at the school, my ass on the sidelines with my team.
“I thought the boys would like to see a game.”
“That’d be pretty cool, but you know how it is. The weather will start to get cold sooner rather than later.” I don’t mind the cold Wisconsin weather, but I know my sister does. That’s why she moved to Arizona after college with Kenton. He was offered a job out west and they jumped at the opportunity to relocate.
“Our blood is much too thin for the likes of your winters, which is why we’re looking into first of September.”
Shocked, I find myself asking, “Wow, really?”
Loree chuckles through the phone line. “Yes, really. The boys have a five-day break over Labor Day weekend for teacher planning, and we’re tossing around the idea of coming to see you. I’ll have to check on cabins in the area, but if we can find one available on short notice, I think it’s a done deal.”
“I got your cabin. Logan still has the one on the lake and no longer uses it for a seasonal rental,” I tell my sister.
“We’ll rent it,” she insists. “Why don’t you make sure it’s available before I book flights.”
“Done, but I’m certain it’ll be fine. He only uses it when he’s trying to hide from his ex-wife and looking to fish in peace,” I say. My sister has heard all about Logan and Shay’s marriage, as well as their divorce. Nothing I told her was a secret, especially when Logan’s dad died and left the business to both of them. If Mr. Johnson knew his son and wife would be divorced in less than a year after he passed, I’m sure he wouldn’t have added her name to everything.
Fortunately for Logan, the cabin was his grandfather’s and left to him long before he and Shay married. Otherwise, I’m sure she would have clawed her talons into that too and refused to let go.
“Why doesn’t he use it for a rental anymore? I thought it brought good money in,” she asks curiously.
