Page 9 of A Fighting Chance

I snap my head up again to look at him—still upside down—and watch him turn and walk down the hallway. My head is spinning now. Maybe I have a concussion from falling off the bed. Although if I have to guess, that fall wasn’t nearly far enough to cause one.

I sit up and grab the edge of the bed, pulling myself up the rest of the way before I finally stand. I stretch and yawn and stretch some more. My phone is somewhere in the sea of blankets and I begin feeling for it. Eight thirty-six A.M. isn’t exactly thesleeping inI’d hoped for, but it’ll have to do.

After putting on an appropriate amount of clothing to be in the presence of strangers who apparently live here now, I descend to the kitchen and make a beeline for the coffee pot. Only after a cup is in my hand do I make it over to the kitchen table where Nan and Paw are seated.

Nan stands first, looking me over with a small smile. “Hi, baby,” she says, putting her small arms around me and squeezing me in a tight hug.

I hug her back with a smile, realizing I’ve missed her so much more than I thought. “Hi, Nan.”

She smells like lavender and I inhale deep breaths against her silky gray hair. She has it pulled back in her signature long braid. I hear Paw clear his throat rather loudly behind me and that’s my hint.

I turn to him and he stands from his chair, arms out. I lean into his embrace, my head against his chest. Paw is a big man—a sturdy man. Over six feet tall, wide and well-built. Not gym muscles, but the kind you earn from working the land, from mending fences, and raising cattle. His hugs have always been a comfort to me, a safe haven. He releases me and I take a seat between them. I notice Gentry at the other end, a book in his hand.

A book? Weird.

It’s tilted just enough that I can’t see the front and it makes me even more curious about it.

“Harper is just outside on the porch,” Nan says, pointing toward the back door.

I glance in the direction and nod my head.

“She’s been so sad, baby,” Nan says with a sigh, worry all over her face. Her eyes look heavy with ache.

I put my hand on her shoulder and give her a smile. “She’s always been strong, and we can help her. She’ll get through this.” I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’ll go check on her.” I walk to the back door and push it open, looking left and right until I find my sister sitting on the back-porch swing.

She’s looking off into the distance, her vision seemingly unfocused. I approach gingerly, so as not to disturb any deep train of thought, and take a seat next to her, matching the slow stride of the swing and falling into sway with her. It remains quiet for a few more moments until I hear her clear her throat.

“Do you think we only get one love?” she asks me.

In truth, I have no idea how to answer. I’m not sure I’ve ever been in love. Or maybe I have been.

I fell in love once, but he didn’t love me back. So, I had to convince myself I didn’t love him.

Because is it really love if only one person feels it?

I inhale a deep breath. “I don’t think so. I think we get another chance at it,” I say, hopeful I’m saying the right things, the things she needs to hear.

“What if I don’t?” she asks, tears brimming her eyes.

I keep my voice calm, tranquil. “I think if second chances didn’t exist, there would be a lot of lonely people. A lot of people unloved. I know of plenty who’ve been in love more than once. You will, too. Of course, you will love again—if you want.”

She considers my words and her eyes refocus as she turns to me. “I’m glad you’re here,” she tells me, smiling. It’s small and brittle, as if at any moment it will crumble into pieces and fall from her face.

Her lips tremble slightly, and I reach for her. I feel her begin to cry into my shoulder and I stroke her hair. I’m sure there will be more of this and I prepare myself for the coming days. I’m sure she needs it.

It’s part of healing. You have to cry it out. All the pain and hurt bottled up inside has to flow from you. Correction, it has tofallfrom you. Like a great rainstorm. Bellowing thunder and lightning so bright your whole world changes color for a few moments. A downpour that floods, destroys, and cleanses. It’s the only way to let go of what’s inside you.

“Me too,” I say, smiling back at her.

She stands from the swing and I catch her by the arm.

“Wait a minute,” I say. “One question. Who the heck is Gentry?”

She laughs. “Oh, Gentry manages the farm for Nan and Paw. Once it started to be too much for us, they hired Gentry. He’s so great. Everyone here likes him, and he does a great job.”

I don’t like him,I remind myself.

“Okay, but what’s he doing sleeping in the guest room of the house?” I ask, still confused.