“You know having to take medicine for seizures isn’t a sign of weakness, right?” Jack resumed wiping down the machines.
“Yeah. Sometimes I know that.” But sometimes, the lie won. The feeling that he wasn’t good enough, the hunger for something more out of life told him that even his strength wasn’t enough.
“Well, it’s true. Having a medical condition and having to take meds for it is its own kind of strength. I bet you had to overcome a lot to own that truck of yours.”
“You got that right. I had my first seizure after an accident in the Army. Did you know it takes eight years seizure-free before you can get a commercial driver’s license?”
Jack tossed the dirty rag he’d been using into a laundry bin. “I knew it was difficult. I didn’t know it was that long.”
Sammy sat on the weight bench with a thump. “I threw all that hard work away.” Might as well come clean with the whole thing. “In the distraction of getting my truck, starting my new job at Turnquist, and managing the paperwork…I wasn’t taking my meds regularly.” A gnawing began in his stomach. “The doctor can’t say one way or another, but I likely had a seizure coming down the hill that day. I’ve never told anyone this, but I briefly blacked out, right before I saw the Williams’s Prius.”
Jack began racking the weights. “That’s some heavy burden to carry. Probably doesn’t help that you nearly died a second time that day.”
“I don’t remember much of the rest of the accident. Comes to me in dreams sometimes.”
“I get that,” Jack said. “There are some things you just can’t shake. I lost a buddy back when I was a paratrooper. Still have bad dreams sometimes.”
Sammy hefted the barbells Seth had left behind, their weight cradled against his chest making him stagger a step. “At least you can still get into a helicopter. I’m having a hard time getting back into the driver’s seat. I’m cleared for regular driving, but I just can’t bring myself to do it.”
“You wouldn’t be human if it didn’t still bother you sometimes.”
Sammy absorbed the words as he put the barbells into their place. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Only maybe?” Jack smiled. “I know I’m right, man. Trust me on this.” Jack grabbed the rest of the rags, now soaked with the smell of hospital disinfectant, and threw them into the laundry basket to get washed by the night shift. “It took me a long time to get back into that helicopter. Even now I have moments sometimes.”
“Okay, wise guy. Tell me how I’m supposed to buy a new truck when I can’t even get myself to sit behind the steering wheel without breaking into a cold sweat?”
Jack walked in front of him toward the door. “What do you mean, buy a new truck?”
“I have the check from the insurance company for my totaled lumber rig still hanging on my refrigerator door. Can’t bring myself to cash it.” He stuffed his ice-cold hands into his pockets.
Ahead, Jack stopped and turned around. His gaze searched Sammy’s face. “You’ve been through a lot. You can give yourself a break.”
“I guess.” Sammy shrugged.
Jack met his eye. “But who says you have to spend that money on a new truck? Just a thought.” Jack clapped Sammy on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Give yourself some grace.”
The little nudges to cash that check drummed on his brain.
What if he didn’t spend the money on a new truck but on something else entirely?
Sammy walked to his bike in the lot. He threw his leg over and kicked the kickstand up into place, eager to get moving. As he pedaled out of the lot, the sun broke through the clouds, its rays warming his face.
He might not ever get back into a semitruck, but that insurance money could do a lot of good around town.
four
Maybe this would work after all. Robin tucked a leg under her on the couch in her grandparents’ living room. A gas fire crackled in the faux fireplace set in the wall.
As long as she didn’t look too closely at the photos of her parents and brothers lining the mantelpiece, she could pretend it didn’t ache in her gut every time she thought about them.
Instead, she sat looking over her new idea notebook. She’d sketched out some loose ideas for cakes that would be easy for the bakery to carry—things that were simple to make and decorate. She could even train Bella and Wendy to do some of them. She’d included a few more difficult designs as well. Those she would have to handle, but she could charge more. She especially liked a red-and-purple-themed three-tiered cake she’d drawn near the end.
It seemed her plan to bring cakes to Deep Haven was off to a good start. Beside her, the phone rang. Grandma Elaine’s number popped up on caller ID.
“How is the Florida life?” She pictured her grandparents strolling down the beach, arm in arm. She knew for a fact that her grandma had packed more than one Hawaiian-style shirt to wear, plus matching shorts for Grandpa. She bet they turned heads everywhere they went.
“To be honest, we’re loving the sunshine, but your grandpa can’t keep himself out of the kitchen.” Her grandma laughed. Robin pictured the little head shake she always did when describing her husband’s antics. “There’s a lemon tree in the backyard, and he’s developing new ideas for lemon-infused breads.”
