Page 48 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

You know what… you can just stand there and watch me cry until I’m a dry husk of an empty human. How about that?

“I don’t think there’s anything else you can do, Jan, but thank you.” I blinked past her, eyes landing on my car. One thing I had decided to do was spend part of the house money on a new car. I’d walk in with cash—maybe to the same guy who’d given me the brush off two months ago—and stop worrying that my old faithful Honda was going to bite the dust in the middle of the highway.

“Well, you did the right thing, you know. You’d have made a little more money with the other offer, but the Mitchells are going to love that house. Their agent told me about the letter. I think it’s incredibly sweet. Normally we only get letters as an attempt to sway a buyer into favoring an offer. In my entirecareer, I don’t think I’ve had a seller send one simply as a thank you.” She pulled the bottle from under her arm and grinned at the label. “Guess I’ll have a double bottle celebration tonight.”

“Pour a glass for me,” I halfheartedly joked, thinking this was the end of things and I could escape.

“Of course I will!” She looked at me now with a new glint in her eyes. Any hint of sympathy was gone. I could usually tell when people wanted something from me.

“Great,” I said quickly, trying to move around her. She touched my upper arm to stop me.

“Mind if we get a photo? You know I love to have client pictures!” Jan loved social media. She plastered her clients, along with house shots and motivational sayings, all over every platform. I wasn’t going to be her moment for the ‘gram’ today. She also had a giant push pin board back at her office. Hundreds of happy smiles. Couples holding keys, standing in front of new homes while they held her giant ‘sold’ sign. The second I’d seen that display, I decided I never wanted to be pinned to it.

“I’m not dressed for a photo,” I tried to let her down gently. It was true. I’d come to the closing wearing running clothes with my hair pulled into a messy bun. This wasn’t something I wanted to dress up for, like it was some momentous event.

“Who cares about that!” She waved me off. “It’s for posterity’s sake. I’ve even brought the sold sign!” She darted to our right, pulling the white and red eyesore from behind two leather chairs. I hadn’t even seen it hiding there. She came at me with it, nearly dropping the dark green, wine bottle in the process.

“No, I’d rather not,” I said sharply this time.

My cold response sobered her again.

Jan’s gaze locked with mine, eyes narrowing. “Oh, well. I won’t force you then.”

“Thanks for understanding,” I said flatly.

“I guess this is goodbye and good luck then, Nelly. I’m sure things are going to be great for you.” Her voice was neutral now, until she gave herself a little shake as if shifting her work persona back into place. “But if you ever find yourself looking for a home in Tacoma, you know where to find me! Tell your friends!”

She turned and swiftly moved back into the conference room.

As I pushed out into the too-warm air, laughter filtered outside after me. Jan and the others were all simply happy to have closed another deal. It wasn’t their life shifting like quicksand beneath them.

When I was in my shitty car, with its rumbling, protesting engine cranked, I pulled out the letter and read it.

The couple had found out the baby was a girl. They were so excited to raise her in a house with history and character. They’d fill the built-in bookshelves with children’s books and toys. The backyard oak was just right for a tire swing. They were building their own memories, writing their own life story, between the walls before mine had even properly been exorcised.

“Dammit,” I growled, slamming my hands into the steering wheel.Why had everything fallen apart?

My phone began ringing persistently. I’d had it on silent mode during closing, so the sheer fact the cell was blasting its telltale melody now told me who was calling. I’d changed the settings recently so calls from Serenity House always came through, day or night, whether ‘do not disturb’ mode was engaged or not.

Fumbling for my purse and pulling out the phone, I smashed the answer icon.

“Hello,” I said quickly, pulse pounding.

Grandpa had been getting weaker by the day. They’d transitioned him to a new wing of Serenity last week. He wasgetting round the clock help now. Palliative care, they’d called it. Every moment, I wondered whenthecall would come.

“Is this Nelly Shaw?” The voice on the other line was calm, collected.

“Yes,” I managed, voice cracking.

“Hi, Nelly. I’m Nurse Meredith, I work with Doctor Jameson. He’s been into see your grandfather at the request of the night shift nurse. The log shows someone called you yesterday also. They told you about the morphine drip?”

“Yes, that’s right.”Just say it! Say the horrible thing! Say it so I can break apart completely!

“His pain responded well to the 10 mg every four hours, but he began to experience gastrointestinal distress along with severe nausea. It had a sedative effect on him as well, which isn’t uncommon. When a patient voices the desire to be alert, the way your grandfather has, we prefer to try alternatives.”

“Grandpa wants to be awake as much as possible,” I confirmed.Did he get to see my grandmother at all today? Was he alone in that room, with only machines beeping and stupid sitcoms on the small television to keep him company?

“Exactly. That, combined with the morphine side effects, has prompted the doctor to shift your grandfather to Dilaudid. Hopefully, he’ll be more comfortable as well as alert.” The nurse spoke smoothly, clinically. Not an iota of feeling in any syllable uttered. I hadn’t met this nurse in person yet, and I didn’t particularly want to. Everyone else had been amazing at Serenity House though, so I reminded myself not to judge this nurse after one phone call.