By Your Side(59)

“I’m fine. It’s fine.”

Jeff put his hands in the air. “Push me back up. It’s your turn, Lisa.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I said. Surely a guy who just had a head injury shouldn’t take this risk.

“You’re ruining the fun,” he said.

I tried to think if anyone had ever said no to Jeff’s exploits before his accident. He was always suggesting crazy adventures and we always went along, my anxiety in tow.

“I’ll push you on the swing,” I suggested again.

“After one more trip with Lisa.”

And it went exactly like he wanted. First the trip down the hill, me standing at the top, my worry keeping them safe, then him and his wheelchair on the specially designed swing.

I could tell he was tired but it took another ten minutes for me to convince him we should head back.

“This is the most fun I’ve had in a while,” he said as we wheeled him back toward his room. “I don’t want it to end.”

“It’s not your last day of fun, Jeff,” I said. “There will be many more. You need to take it easy.”

“Yes, Mommy,” he said, but reached back and patted my hand.

I had felt like his mom for the last hour and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like being the one who had to speak reason, but someone needed to.

We made it back to his room, and delivered him back to his real mom and left.





CHAPTER 40


My mom was waiting in my room when I arrived home.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked.

She tilted her head, inspecting the side of my forehead. “What happened?”

“What?” I reached up and felt a swollen bump from where Jeff and I had collided. “Oh. Wheelchair games gone wrong. Where are Dad and Owen?”

“Indoor golf.”

“Is Owen mad at me? I haven’t had much time with him this week.”

“He’ll be fine. How are you, Autumn?”

“I’m okay.” Then decided to be honest because I knew she could tell. “A bit overstressed lately.”

“I thought so. Maybe it’s time to take a break. Take a couple of days off the hospital and friends and school. Just decompress at home.”

It did sound good, but it wouldn’t get me out of my head.

“You’ve been taking your medication, right?”

“Yes.” I couldn’t imagine how much worse I might feel without it right now. “I think most of this stuff is situational, and I’m hoping that when Jeff is out of the hospital things will feel right again.”

“You’re questioning your feelings for him?”

“I’m questioning everything.”

“There’s nothing wrong with thinking things through. But it’s important to make the decision that’s right for you.”

“He’s in the hospital.”

She smiled. “I know. And that makes you feel guilty. But regardless, you have to live your life, not his.”

“I know. Thanks, Mom.”

I unlaced my shoes and was stepping out of them as she headed for the door. “Oh,” I called after her. “Have you seen a book? Hamlet? I left it in the kitchen the day before yesterday.”

“I think it’s still there.”

“Thanks.” I kicked my shoes into my closet and went to the kitchen in my socked feet. The book sat on the counter and I picked it up. Almost out of habit now, I flipped through the pages, looking for the letter. It wasn’t there. I flipped through them again, not producing a different result.

“Mom!” This wasn’t good. I searched the countertops. There was a pile of mail next to the phone and I looked through it but couldn’t find anything. I scanned the floor under the cabinets, even pulled out the trash can and started digging through it.

My mom came into the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“There was a letter. I’m missing a letter.”

“Calm down. We’ll find it. What did it look like?”

“Like a letter. A long white envelope with writing on it.” My hand met the slimy remains of macaroni and cheese. I shook it off and turned on the sink, washing my hands with soap. I needed an empty bag so that I could transfer the trash over. I headed for the pantry.

“Did it have a stamp on it?”

I stopped and slowly turned to look at my mom’s worried face.

“Yes . . . why?”

“I thought you were looking for a letter. Like a piece of paper with writing on it.”

“No . . . so did you see it?”

“I sent it.”

“You what?”

“It was just sitting there on the counter addressed and ready to go. I thought maybe one of Owen’s friends or one of your friends needed it mailed.”

“No, it was in the book.”

She lowered her brows. “No, it wasn’t in a book. Just on the counter.”

It must’ve slipped out. “Oh no. He’s going to kill me.”

“Who’s going to kill you?”

“When did you mail it? Yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“It was only going to Salt Lake. Do you think it got there yet?”