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“The best part is I’ve got the small-business loan completely paid off, and I’ve been doubling up on my student loan payments. I’m really making headway on getting out of debt.”
My silly eyes heat, and I almost start to cry again. “You’re doing so well.”
Her brow furrows, and she reaches over, taking the steeper out of my mug. “Rocky, that’s not something to cry about. What’s the matter?”
Shaking my head, I look down at my mug. “I’m just so happy for you.”
Her lips tighten, and she takes the strainer out of her mug, watching me closely as she sips her tea.
Inhaling a shaky breath, I do the same. Then I pull back quickly. “This is good!”
“It’s the quality of the tea leaves and the flowers. Oh, and the metal steeper. I had no idea how much of a difference it makes compared to those paper tea bags you get at the grocery store. My goodness.” She shakes her head like it’s a travesty.
I take another sip, and I don’t know if it’s the warmth of the liquid or the relief of finding my sister okay and thriving… Or if it’s because I just drove almost eight hours today after not really sleeping for three days… Or if it’s my broken heart. “I’m so tired, sis. Would you be offended if I went to bed?”
“Come on.” She stands, placing our mugs on the table and taking my hand. I let her lead me back to my new and improved room, and she gives me another hug, stroking the back of my head. “You just curl up and sleep now. We can talk about everything tomorrow. Okay?”
I nod, feeling like I’m eleven years old again. She goes to the door, and I toe off my shoes. I don’t even remove my jeans. As soon as I hit the mattress, I’m asleep.
“Now hold its little head like this.” I’m standing beside my sister with my arms over a five-gallon fish tank filled with blankets and a heating pad as she holds the head of a kitten so tiny it’s little eyes aren’t even open yet. It’s the size of my palm.
“I’m afraid I’m going to hurt it,” I whisper.
My hands shake, and my heart is beating too fast.
“You’re not. Now come on, we need to get this done, so I can do the other one.” I watch as she uses a Q-tip to swab the tiny thing’s eyes with antibiotics. “When I found Binky, the fleas were just eating her alive. I cleaned her up, and she’s been growing like a weed ever since.”
She takes the kitten from me and puts it back in its chenille-blanket cocoon inside the incubator. Then she takes a teeny black kitten and hands it to me. I watch as she repeats the process. “I almost couldn’t see Midnight, it was so dark. You know, I think the lord just brings them to me. He knows I’ll help them.”
Placing the small animal back in the incubator, she closes the lid and watches them. “They’re too much work for the shelters to keep them.” Straightening, she heads for the door of her small shed. “We’ll have to feed them again in about four hours. Every week I get to add an hour between feedings. When I first found them, it was every two!”
I hesitate a moment, watching the little creatures bob their tiny heads before burrowing down and falling asleep again. “They’re
so cute.”
“They’re so strong.” She waits for me at the door, and I walk slowly to where she’s standing. “I learn so much from them. It’s so healing.”
I follow her out to where two bikes are waiting near the gate.
“How do you know how to do all of this?”
“YouTube.” She throws a leg over her bike, and I do the same.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’m not. You can find out how to do just about anything on YouTube. It’s amazing. I even got some tips on making my Airbnb listing more desirable.”
She pedals faster, and I pump to keep up. So far, since I got up this morning, after a quick breakfast of yogurt and fruit… and coffee. I insisted she let me make coffee, and we’ve been making the kitten rounds… or cat rounds. We fed all ten of the cats that live at Ms. Hazel’s sprawling old place. These neonatal kittens are new, but Renée insists they’re not as much work as they seem.
“Can we go out to the beach now?” I call from behind her.
“Just for a little while. I have to work a shift at the store this afternoon.”
“Why are you working at the store if you make almost 20K a month with Airbnb?”
Her laugh floats back to me on the salt breeze. “I don’t make that much every month. That’s only in the summertime. Once Labor Day passes, it all dies down.”
We pedal down the familiar lanes, past towering oak trees with their black trunks and dark green leaves hanging low over the roads. We bump over wooden bridges and quiet two-lane highways. It’s just like we used to do as kids, running to the beach to spend the day.
