Page 34 of Quinn

Years of waiting tables in college helped Eloise balance two mugs of coffee as she knocked on Danny’s door. He’d missed breakfast, and even Gray had abandoned his post at the kitchen door to follow Danny upstairs.

“Come in.” Danny sat cross-legged on his bed, one hand absently stroking Gray’s head while the other held a letter. She could only assume it was the letter Aunt Eileen had mentioned yesterday. The dog’s tail thumped against the quilt in greeting.

“Thought you might need this.” She set his coffee on the nightstand, noting the VA seal on the letterhead. “Mind if I join you?”

He waved at the chair by the window. “Just shove the clothes to one side. I need to do laundry anyhow.”

Though she would have preferred to gather up all the clothes and take then down and toss them into the washing machine, she was more worried about her brother than his clothes and opted to do as he said. When he didn’t say anything, she braved asking a question. “Anything important?”

“Just more bureaucracy.” He took a sip of coffee, but his usual morning appreciation of her brewing skills was absent.

“Your therapy?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Was that like a little pregnant? She didn’t dare tease, he didn’t look in the mood.

“Just some paperwork about my disability rating.” He folded the letter carefully. “They do reviews sometimes. Could explain the hang-up with my therapy here.”

“What kind of review?”

“The kind where they decide if you’re as broken as you used to be.” His attempt at a laugh fell flat. “Apparently, I’m doing better.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Sure.”

“No offense, but that doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“It could also mean that they’ll cut my benefits because clearly I don’t need as much support anymore.” He took another sip of coffee.

“By support, you mean financial benefits.”

He nodded.

Now she understood. Danny didn’t like depending on the government for a disability benefit any more than he liked depending on her. The expectation was that some day, hopefully sooner than later, he’d be able to handle the day-to-day stress of holding down a job, but they both knew he wasn’t there yet. Not even here.

“Maybe I can get Uncle Sean to teach me how to milk a cow.”

His tart remark wasn’t a question. “This isn’t a dairy farm.”

“Well then, I have even more to learn, don’t I?” His tone left her more worried than she’d been when she knocked on the door.

She perched on the edge of his bed. “Danny…”

“I guess I could become a ranch hand. Can’t be too hard to learn to rope cattle.” Though his words held less sarcasm than before, she knew he wasn’t being serious.

“Danny.”

“Or maybe sheep herding. Gray could teach me.”

The dog’s tail thumped faster at hearing his name, but Eloise noticed how tightly Danny gripped his coffee mug.

“The Farradays don’t have sheep either.” She tried matching his light tone.

“Horses then.” He fiddled with the edge of the envelope. “Hannah’s always talking about her therapy program.”

“You’ve talked to Hannah?”

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