Being Neighborly

by Carey Heywood

  When she does, she takes my hand in both of hers and presses it to her cheek. “Beau.”

  “Hey,” I rasp.

  “Are you thirsty?”

  I nod and she releases my hand to get me water. I only take a few sips before shaking my head to let her know I’m done. Then her hands grasp mine again.

  “I’m sorry I fell asleep before.”

  She squeezes my hand and kisses it. “You need your rest.”

  “I feel weak,” I grumble.

  For a moment, she looks as though she might cry. “Shh.”

  “I do,” I argue.

  One of her hands comes up to push hair back from my forehead. “Just give it time. The doctor said you’re going to be just fine.”

  “What about my foot?”

  “You might be unsteady but you should be able to walk, and since it’s your left foot, drive an automatic. He said something about needing to lift your leg higher when you walk since you won’t be able to lift your toes.”

  I rub my thumb back and forth across the back of her hand. “How are you?”

  She gulps, dropping her forehead onto our joined hands, her body shaking.

  “Get up here,” I plead.

  She shakes her head.

  “Dammit, Bethany. Get up here.” I just about beg.

  She slowly climbs up onto my bed and tucks herself against me. Sleep finds us both not long after. When the nurse comes back around to check on me again, Bethany doesn’t wake. The nurse takes pity on me and doesn’t make a fuss about her sleeping on the bed with me. After she leaves, sleep eludes me. Each time I wake, I’m not as weak. Relieved to be feeling like myself again, I just want to go home.

  Bethany wakes first the next morning, her sleepy stretching against me waking me as well. I’m sitting up comfortably the next time a nurse comes to check on me. The doctor visits me not long after. He’s pleased my strength seems to be returning and has me stand next to the bed. After he seems happy I won’t keel over, he okays the removal of my catheter. Thankfully, Bethany steps out of the room for that.

  The mind is a curious thing. No matter how many times my foot and leg have been poked and probed, I’m still surprised the first time I go to put weight on it that I can’t feel it. If Dr. Vanson hadn’t caught me, I would have fallen on my face. There’s just nothing there, no pins and needles, no soreness, nothing.

  I’ve delivered a couple of foals in my days, and I’m pretty sure my first steps weren’t that far off from theirs. I am motivated though, not wanting to piss myself in front of Bethany is inducement enough for me to figure it out.

  Hobbling over to the bathroom takes some getting used to. Getting to shower and brush my teeth makes it worth it. Bethany brought some sweats I was able to change into. It’s hard to feel manly taking small uncertain steps with your ass peeking out from a hospital gown.

  The next day, I still haven’t regained feeling in my foot, but it hasn’t stopped me from walking though. Reminding myself to lift my left leg higher is taking time. I’ve tripped more than once, dragging my toes since I can’t lift them. I should be able to go home today.

  I’ve got doctor’s orders not to walk in the woods in shorts and sneakers again and a prescription for an EpiPen to carry on me. No matter what, if I ever get bit again, I’ll still need to go to the hospital, but with the EpiPen, the hope is my reaction won’t be as extreme.

  It all makes sense to me, including the follow up appointment with a physical therapist to get fitted with a brace for my ankle. The brace should help keep me from rolling my ankle if I step weirdly. I’m working with the assumption that what’s happened to my foot is for good. Either way, there’s a farm I need to get back to whether my foot works or not.

  I hate to see Bethany so anxious. Being in the hospital, and her being here with me made our feelings for each other pretty clear. I’d like her to be in my future and am moving forward with that goal in mind. She wants the same thing, but I know she’s also worrying herself sick over me; I see it with every touch and every glance. I haven’t said anything yet, but I need to before she drives me crazy.

  She checks on me when I’m sleeping; worries about me working the farm, and tenses up at the mention of me driving. I respect that she doesn’t want anything bad to happen to me. Problem is, I need her to be my woman, not my mother.

  Chapter Six

  “I’ll be fine,” I grumble.

  Bethany glances at her suitcase and back at me. She canceled a trip to go to Florida and visit her parents when I got bit by that snake. I’ve been out of the hospital for a week now and convinced her I was well enough for her to reschedule her trip. Now that she’s supposed to leave tomorrow, she’s having second thoughts about leaving me.

  What happened was scary. Life goes on. I limp now; it sucks, but it could have been so much worse. I’d rather move on at this point. The hovering, the babying, and her nonstop nervous energy around me needs to stop, for both of our sakes. She moved out here to get away from the city and relax. She’s unfortunately doing the exact opposite of that.

  “What if you come with me?”

  Arching a brow at her, I groan. “It’s just a week.”

  She tries not to pout. Thank God I think she’s gorgeous and it comes off more cute than annoying. I should be thrilled she cares about me enough to want to take care of me. I’m just not that guy. Call me old fashioned but I want to take care of her or bare minimum meet her halfway.

  “I know,” she grumbles.

  I snake my arm around her waist and pull her into my lap. With that pout, those plump lips of hers are too much of a temptation to not sample.

  “Just think of how much I’ll miss you while you’re gone,” I tease, my hands full of one very fine ass.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” she breathlessly confesses against my lips.

  Figuring any argument to that is futile, I opt to give her a sendoff kiss she won’t forget anytime soon.

  I start to stand about to pull her up with me, but she slides off my lap before I can. A month ago, she wouldn’t have done that and it burns. I avoid her eyes, tense from her unspoken declaration of my inadequacies. Did she think I was going to stumble with her in my arms, or worse, that I was going to drop her all together?

  She goes to grab her suitcase but I stop her, my hand on hers. Our eyes, hers more brown than green, wage a silent struggle in which she relents and lets me win. I’m extra careful as I carry her bag so I don’t drag my toes and trip by mistake. We’re both tightlipped as we make our way out to my truck.

  The tension in the truck lessens when she reaches for my hand. Lifting her hand to my mouth, I hold her gaze as my lips caress her knuckles. When her mouth falls open, I have to shift in my seat as my body reacts. She’s been handling me with kid gloves since I got out of the hospital. My guess is she’s scared it’ll hurt me. Not something you want your woman thinking about you when it comes to sex.

  It’s a bit of a haul to the airport, but these days I’m more relaxed in my truck than anywhere else. You can’t trip if you aren’t walking and I don’t look like a gimp when I’m driving. We’re almost at the airport when I sense her tensing up.

  Trying to keep her mind from worrying about me, I give her hand a squeeze. “Promise not to get into any trouble.”

  She huffs, “I’m more worried about you.”

  “I’m a big boy, darling.” I pull up to the curb. “Don’t you worry about me.”

  She gives me a shaky smile before we both get out. I hold up my hand to stop her from grabbing her suitcase from the back. It’s already bad enough I’m dropping her off at the curb and not walking her in. Carefully, I set it down in front of her and pull the handle up for her.

  Her eyes soften, and I pull her to me for one long goodbye kiss. When my mouth leaves hers, she stumbles slightly as she steps back, my hands lock onto her waist to steady her. She presses her fingers to her lips, her cheeks flushing prettily.

  “I’ll call you when I land.”
The husky lilt to her voice makes me want to kiss her stupid all over again.

  Watching her walk away from me is harder than I thought it would be. It’s just a week, I remind myself. We’ve fallen into this undefined relationship so easily. Dinners turned into overnights that became days that evolved into weeks of being together. Am I what she wants because there’s nothing else better around? She’s only had a taste of country living. Will it still be as idyllic after she’s had a chance to be back in a city again?

  “It’s time for you to move along, son.” A police officer gestures to my truck.

  “Yes, sir.” I nod before glancing at the doors Bethany disappeared through one last time.

  It’s a tossup between overthinking things and blasting some tunes on the way back to the farm. I opt for Metallica. I’ve been in my head enough already. The drive back is strangely invigorating. When I get back to the farm, I’ve almost forgotten about my foot, until I stumble and it all comes back to me.

  I’m still jacked up; what in the hell can a girl like Bethany see in me now? I’m never going to be a rich man; that’s not the point of the farm. I’m no slouch, but now with my foot, I can’t even guarantee I can walk across a flat service without tripping. I’m an embarrassment. Maybe she’ll figure out that she’d be better off without me.

  “Take Bethany to the airport?” Bess asks as I slowly make my way to the main house.

  “I did.”

  “You gonna sulk the whole time she’s gone?”

  Frowning at her, I reply, “I might.”

  She makes a face at me. “Don’t make me take you over my knee.”

  I laugh at her idle threat. “You never spanked me when I was a kid. Why would you start now?”

  “To get your head out of your butt.”

  Gripping the railing tightly as I work my way up the stairs, I say, “My head is not up my ass.”

  Her head twists, as she looks around her. “Language, Beau, what if one of the kids was around.”

  “I don’t curse around kids, Bess.”

  She pats my cheek as I near her. “Cause you’re a sweet boy. Please try and remember that and not get so annoyed at that nice girl for worrying over you.”

  Leaning against the frame of the front door, I glance back at her. “I already have a mother, two counting you. I don’t need another one.”

  “Did Bethany ever tell you she was engaged once?”

  My mind races as I turn fully to face her. “Excuse me?”

  She sinks onto one of the rocking chairs and folds her hands across her lap. “It probably isn’t my place to even tell you that, but just know I think you’re being too hard on that sweet girl when all she is doing is worrying over you.”

  “What happened to her fiancé?”

  “I think you should ask Bethany to tell you.”

  Groaning, I turn back toward the house, pulling open the door. Problem is if Bethany wanted to tell me what she clearly told Bess, she would’ve already done it. Does she trust Bess more than me? I had thought we were moving toward something long term. If she has another guy waiting in the wings, maybe she’s toying with me.

  I don’t like that one bit.

  There’s some paperwork I need to take care of for a couple upcoming deliveries. It is the one aspect of the farm no one hassles me about doing since I’ve come home from the hospital.

  That night, instead of having dinner at the main house, I see my parents. The whole point of them living in the far cabin is for them to not have to deal with the day-to-day worries of running the farm. Since I got bit, my mom has been spending more time at my cabin and the main house to keep an eye on me. I tried to tell her, just as I told Bethany and Bess, that I am fine. Doesn’t stop her from needing to take care of me.

  I’ve finally convinced her that I’ll live so she’s back fulltime at their cabin. Now when I go see them, I take my truck the whole way. Any walking I do in the woods, which isn’t much, is in long pants and boots. My days of walking in shorts and sneakers are over. That’s more in my head than anything else. I have the EpiPen on me at all times, so in theory, if I were to get bit by another snake, or hell, have a similar allergic reaction to anything, I should be all right if I use it.

  My nose tells me before I get to the cabin that we’re grilling tonight. The cabin my parents live in does not have electricity. My mom cooks on the wood stove in the winter months and my dad mans the charcoal grill. The pond behind my parents’ cabin is loaded with fish for grilling.

  I skip the front door and walk straight to the back porch where I assume my folks will be. My mom is setting the table while my father is tending the grill.

  “Hey, Mama,” I greet, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  She pulls me in for a hug. “How are you feeling?”

  Shrugging, I lift my foot. “Still no feeling, but I’m getting better walking around on it.”

  My father comes over to pat me on the back. “That’s good to hear.”

  “How are you doing, Pops?”

  “Better than most so I can’t complain.”

  It’s not in his nature to complain. He’s a simple man. He’d rather cut off a limb than complain. Unfortunately, because of that, it had taken almost losing him to a heart attack for the rest of us to realize he was overdoing it.

  “Pity Bethany couldn’t join us,” my mother adds, looking at the three place settings on the table.

  “I dropped her off at the airport earlier today,” I explain, then pull my phone out of my pocket to see if she’s called. Her flight should be landing soon.

  “How are the fruit trees looking this year?” my dad asks, glancing at my mom.

  He knows we purposefully keep him out of the loop so he has no excuse to worry. “I’m not happy with a couple of the pear trees. I’m not sure what it is, but some of the branches are looking diseased. I’ve been treating them, but if I don’t see improvement in the next week or so, I’m cutting them down.”

  “That would be a shame.” My mother frowns.

  “I could take a look at them if you’d like,” my dad offers.

  I glance at my mother before looking back at him. “Nah, I’ve got this covered, Dad.”

  The orchard is probably the prettiest part of the farm, especially when all the fruit trees are in bloom. I spent my childhood climbing those trees and agree with my mom; it would be a shame to lose a couple. It’ll be even worse to lose all of them. I love those trees. Do some of my best thinking under their boughs. There’s a better chance than not I’ll end up in the orchard tonight to process what Bess told me.

  I haven’t even decided if I’ll ask Bethany about it when she calls. Part of me is not even sure I want to talk to her. I slip my phone out again to see if she’s called. An emotion I can’t define, that’s somewhere between relief and frustration when I see she hasn’t, fills me. Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I focus on spending time with my parents instead. We’ve finished the main course and my mom is about to serve the cake I brought with me when my phone rings.

  “It’s okay, son. You can take it,” my dad says after witnessing my hesitation to answer it.

  After pressing accept, I hold the phone to my ear. “Hello.”

  I push back from the table and slowly make my way down to the pond.

  “I just landed. I’m still on the plane. There’s another plane at the gate we’re supposed to pull up to so we’re just sitting on the runway until it moves.”

  “How was your flight?”

  “Good until now,” she grumbles.

  “Are your parents picking you up from the airport?”

  “My mom is. Oh, we’re moving.”

  “That’s good.” I hesitate, knowing now is not the time but my curiosity gets the better of me. “Why didn’t you tell me you were engaged?”

  Her gasp is clear through the phone. “How did you—”

  “Bess told me,” I cut her off.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “One you trusted
Bess with but not me.”

  “It’s not something I like to talk about.”

  A firefly lights up not far from where I stand, painfully reminding me of the night we laughed and chased them behind her house.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Beau—” she starts.

  “I hope you have a nice visit with your parents, Bethany. I should go now.”

  “I see.”

  “Goodbye.”

  I end the call after I hear her subdued voice in return.

  “Bye,” she whispers.

  Chapter Seven

  “You want me to what?”

  “You heard me,” I groan.

  “Why can’t you pick her up? She’s expecting you.”

  Bethany and I haven’t spoken since the call where I asked her about her engagement. She’d called a couple times but I ignored them. I wasn’t prepared to deal with what she had to say.

  “I just can’t.”

  Bess stands, wiping her hands on her apron. “This behavior is not the Beau I know.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I stand firm.

  “When I told you about her fiancé, it wasn’t for you to push her away. It was to explain why she was acting the way she was.”

  “Your plan backfired, Bess. All it did was make me question why she never told me about this guy. What? Does he want her back?” I snap.

  “I can see now it was a mistake to say anything at all, but just so you know, her fiancé passed away two months before they were supposed to get married.”

  “He what?”

  “You heard me,” she throws my own words back in my face.

  Here I was acting all jealous and insecure over a ghost. “I’m an asshole.”

  She doesn’t even fuss at me for swearing. “Sometimes.”

  “I won’t be needing you to pick her up from the airport.”

  “I figured as much.”

  Hell, I’ve made a big mess out of everything. First, I pushed Bethany away for caring about me. Now, I’ve distanced myself even more because I don’t feel good enough for her. It’s about time I got over my shit and started acting like a man worthy of the attention Bethany was giving me.