Page 72 of Homestead

“Yeah. But the bed is too… too soft. I need to lie on the floor.”

“The floor? Are you sure?” I’m twisting my hands together nervously as he nods.

I don’t like this. At all. But this is entirely the wrong time to argue. So I quickly spread out an old blanket on the floor of the bedroom and help him limp over.

I grab his pillow while he’s lowering himself with slow, stiff movements, then fit it under his head as he stretches out with a long groan.

He keeps his legs bent up, breathing raggedly, staring up at the ceiling.

“Is this all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

He’s not fine. There’s no way in the world this is fine.

He’s falling apart, and now so am I.

“Has something like this happened to your back before?” I ask him after he’s managed to even out his breathing.

He moistens his lips. “Yeah.”

“And lying on the floor helped it?”

“It’s better than a soft bed.”

“Okay.” I grab a crocheted throw blanket and drape it over him, worried he’s going to get too cool in just his underwear. “Do you need anything else?”

“I’m okay. I just need to lie here for a while.”

“How long did it take to feel better last time?” I ask, almost shaking in nerves about hearing the answer.

He hesitates for a long time before he admits, “Took a couple of days.”

Shit.

That’s what I was afraid of.

What the hell are we going to do?

The only way we can manage all the work at this time of year is for both of us to be in top form. If Jimmy is down for the count, it’s all going to rest on me.

And I’ve never been strong or competent or experienced at any of this stuff. Jimmy must be out of his mind with worry over how I’m going to handle it all.

He doesn’t even trust me to stay safe on my own. He’ll never be able to trust me to handle all his chores on top of mine.

I don’t even trust myself.

All that bombards me as I stare down at him. I manage to swallow down my panic enough to murmur, “Okay. We’ll do the best we can.”

When I glance at him again, his eyes are open and resting on my face. I have no idea what he’s thinking.

“I’ll probably be okay tomorrow,” he finally mumbles.

“Maybe so. Let’s just take it as it comes. I’m going to get you some water. You haven’t drunk much today, so you need to. Then you just rest, and I can take care of everything for the rest of the day.”

He licks his lips again, his eyes never leaving my face. “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. I know how to do all the chores for the animals. I’ll put up your gardening stuff, and we can figure out what to do about that tomorrow.”

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