“I said no. There’s no way. We haven’t even sat down and figured out how much we’re in the hole for yet. We still owe the subs and Dave. And we may also still owe the bank.”
“But Rob, just listen…”
“Damn it, Phoebe!” Rob stood and punched his chair, sending it flying across the floor and crashing against the window.
Phoebe jumped back. “What’swrongwith you?”
“With me?” It was his turn to yell. “I won’t add more fuel to this fire. You have to let go!”
“How can you say that?” Phoebe backed away, her jaw trembling with anger. This was their chance to right the ship, to save the house. What was the matter with him that he wouldn’t even consider it?
“Don’t ask me again. I will go to the bank with you tomorrow and we will sit down and sort this mess out, but I will not put one more cent into that money pit.”
Phoebe snatched her purse from the couch and stormed out of his office. This was their only chance, and he was going to kill it. She thought of what her grandma Elsie had said a few nights ago. About a good marriage being the only home you needed.
This was Phoebe’s vision. For all of them. If Rob couldn’t see what she saw, then maybe there was no hope for any future at all.
Olivia
Jake’s new position at the Audubon Center didn’t allow much sick leave or vacation time, and already he’d burned through all of it. The director, Tim Setterlin, had kindly offered to hold his position until he was “back on his feet,” so to speak, but it was unpaid. Already, Olivia could sense the unrest Jake was feeling. The first hospital bill had arrived in the mail that she’d picked up for him the day before.
“How on earth are you going to pay that?” she’d wondered aloud. His insurance for his new job would cover some, but the bill was in the tens of thousands.
It was a rainy day, the first in as long as Olivia could remember. Normally she would’ve welcomed the sweet, clean showers; it had been so hot that summer, and God knew they needed it. But the weather made the cottage feel even more cramped than it already was, and they were all on edge.
“I’ve got some savings,” Jake said, a little defensively. Then, “Maybe Tim will let me do some work from home. I feel well enough to do desk work,” he insisted, as he hobbled through the house. But Jake’s position as educational director was more hands-on. It required him to be in the field, working the nature center, giving tours. Aside from grant writing, which he’dalready said was done in the off-season, there wasn’t much desk work to do.
Olivia had her own work woes. Ben’s show was a week away. The entire morning had been spent in the studio helping Marge wrap his pieces for shipment in giant sheets of Bubble Wrap, cardboard panels, and foam cases. Then each one was slipped into its own wooden crate and stapled together. It was precision work, and her fingers ached. A truck was arriving later that afternoon to pick them up for transport. Luci was sitting at the table making a watercolor. Olivia had had to cancel her speech therapy session, but really what was the point in her going? She still had not spoken.
“Careful,” Olivia warned as Jake swung a crutch sharply around the edge of the couch. He did that sometimes, swept too far or hopped too long. Already he’d slipped once on a wet spot of hardwood floor in the kitchen and tripped on a throw rug. Both times she’d been the one to cry out when he did, imagining the metal pins shifting inside his screwed-together leg, but he’d righted himself and shaken his head, saying, “All good!”
Now Buster raised one eyebrow as he watched the base of Jake’s crutches approaching. Buster was as trained as a therapy dog could be; his classes had involved exposure to wheelchairs, ramps, crutches, and medical devices of all kinds. He’d not once batted an eye. But since Jake had mistakenly pinned his tail with a crutch on the first day home, he was not having that again. As Jake approached, he hopped up on all fours and skittered away. Jake halted, with a look of dismay. “Buster. Buddy. Come on.” Olivia turned her attention back to the cupboard. Frankly, she couldn’t watch any of them anymore.
Behind her, Jake gave up on making it out to the kitchen. Instead, he pivoted to the couch and flopped down, grimacing. Ithad been like this lately. He was less patient and less ginger with himself, and it made for some painful outbursts.
“I’m starving,” Jake said to no one in particular. “I want to make a sandwich, but I don’t want to get in your way out there. And I don’t want to ask you to make it for me.”
“Babe, I’ll make it.”
But when she looked in the cupboard for bread, she realized they were out.
“Shit.” Luci glanced up from her painting project. “Sorry, baby.”
“What’s wrong?” Jake asked.
“We’re out of bread.”
He peered over the back of the couch. “Tell me what you need and I’ll make a list.”
Olivia chuckled. “WhatIneed?” They were all living together, at least for now.
“Sorry. You know what I mean.” He was sorry, but he was also frustrated. Jake hated sitting still, and he hated not being useful. All through their relationship it had been he who’d done much of the caretaking. Showing up with flowers for Luci. Changing the oil in her car. Clearing out a corner of the studio with Ben, so that she had a place to work. “Not quite a room of your own, but you get the picture…” She focused on the memory now, used it as fuel.
“I have bagels. How about an egg and cheese bagel?”
Jake sighed. “Only if you and Luci want them, too. I’m not that hungry anymore.”
She knew he was. But she also knew he hated to be a burden.
