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My voice is deeper than usual when I tell her, “Eat the donuts. I like you just the way you are.”
I straighten then, knowing I can’t rush this. I can’t move too fast, or I’ll scare her. But damn, I’m still putting my intentions on the table. I want her to know exactly what will be happening between us. “And by the way, I am marrying you, Evie.”
The phone on her desk rings, breaking the spell between us. She blinks and looks around like she’s surprised to be at work. Pretty soon, she’ll be my bride. She’ll wear my ring and carry my babies. She’ll only work if she wants to. Not because she has to.
“I need to…” She clears her throat and shakes her head before reaching for the phone. She fumbles with it twice before she manages to answer.
I leave her to her work even though what I really want to do is spend my time watching her. I remind myself for the millionth time not to frighten her. It’s not in my nature to be patient or go slow, but for her, I’ll be anything she needs.
Slipping behind the desk while she’s distracted, I open the door to the back office. My mom is in the tiny cubicle that Dr. Cash calls a laboratory, and Martha is taking her blood in a vial.
“Almost done,” she reassures my mom.
The Maple Farm made a nice donation to this place a while back, enough that Cash could afford a bigger office. But he and I both know that people around here are slow to accept change. It’s better to stay in the same tiny office and keep seeing patients here. So, he took the money and invested in new machines and updated the lab equipment. It’s a tiny way to give back to a town that’s given me and my brother so much.
I reach for Mom’s other hand, the one that’s not getting lab work and give it a tiny squeeze. She’s never liked needles. Up until the multiple sclerosis diagnosis, I thought she was invincible. I’d never seen her get so much as a cold.
She gives me a soft smile laced with affection. I came to her and her husband when I was twelve, angry at the world and scared of every good thing. Distrustful too. Not unlike my beautiful girl at the desk.
After that, more of us started coming to the Maple Farm. Pretty soon, the Maples had a brood of five to look after. Four rambunctious boys and one scrawny little girl. Together, the seven of us made a family, and we were happy. Until Dad passed.
Martha finishes the bloodwork and nods. “Y’all can go to room three.”
Mom starts her motorized wheelchair, the one I insisted on getting her last year. But Martha calls my name.
I turn and brace myself. She’s probably wanting me to leave the new receptionist alone. She feels protective over Evie, that much is obvious.
“I need a favor,” Martha says. She’s keeping her voice quiet, and I don’t know why. Everyone knows there are barely any secrets in Courage County.
My voice is quiet too but laced with steel. “If you're asking me to leave her alone, the answer is no.”
Martha doesn’t even blink. “She'll be renting the space above my garage.”
Her words make me scowl. That’s not how it should be. She should be in my house, under my roof so I can take care of her every need. “The apartment?”
Martha looks around and lowers her voice even more. “I think she's in a bad way, and I want to get her in the place sooner rather than later.”
“What can I do?” I hate that I can’t be taking care of her yet. If I had my way, I’d toss her over my shoulder and drag her to the courthouse right now. I’d put my ring on her finger and demand she come live with me so I can spoil her all the time.
“The place is pretty much ready for her. I've been fixing it up for her. Painting it and everything, but something is going on with the shower. Can you check it tomorrow morning?” Martha must have been working on it by herself. Her husband is a disabled veteran, and he can’t climb those stairs to the apartment.
I nod. I don’t like that Evie will be living away from me but at least, she’ll be living in the same town. Rumor is she’s renting a little hotel room in the next town. “I'll get it done.”
* * *
Tarps are covering the carpet of the apartment. The smell of the new carpet and paint mix together, reminding me of all the care that Martha put into the place. I hope my girl doesn’t get too attached to the apartment. I plan to have her living with me before long.
I slip my boots off in the small entryway and step around a ladder with a paint tray. I’m running about four hours late thanks to a bull that got loose. It took me and my brother, Noah, far too long to track down the stubborn animal.
In the tiny bathroom, there’s another ladder with more paint. The ceilings in this place are about nine feet. It was originally supposed to be a huge workshop space above the garage for Hank. But he came back from his service in a wheelchair, so I guess now they’ll rent it out.
I hate the idea that Martha has been scaling up these tall, wobbly ladders and painting the place. It has to be painful for her. She’s already had one knee replacement.
I navigate around the ladder and set my toolbox on it. As soon as I figure out the plumbing issue, I’ll finish the painting for Martha. It shouldn’t take me too long to do both tasks.
Reaching for the shower spigot, I flick it on. Nothing happens for a long ten seconds. There’s only a horrible racket in the pipes then the water pours from the faucet in a sudden, forceful burst.
I reach for it and the damn thing breaks off in my hand. Water shoots at me and soaks my t-shirt. Sighing, I reach for my toolbox to grab a set of pliers to shut it off. Except that I forgot about the paint tray on top of the ladder.
