Page 27 of Hidden Nature

“No job too small,” Theo said. “Need your toilet fixed and your plumber can’t make it on a Sunday afternoon? We’re there.”

“Well, shit. All right then.”

“Yes!” Theo shot out a hand. “Partners?”

“Make it legal,” Nash said as they shook over the old door.

“Can do. The Fix-It Brothers of Heron’s Rest.”

Nash started to laugh, then considered. “The Fix-It Brothers. That works.”

“And so do we.”

For Sloan, Day Two brought progress, and comfort with it. With the faithful Mop, she walked her snowy path by the lake. And effortfully added ten more steps.

She accepted the need to rest by the fire until her breath stopped whistling and her legs felt solid again. Instead of cereal, she scrambled a single egg, added a slice of toast, and managed just over half of both.

A slow, easy sun salutation frustrated her when she couldn’t, simply couldn’t push her own body into a plank. She lay a few minutes, face down with limbs trembling. Rolling over, she tried a standard sit-up, and failed.

Staring at the ceiling, now she let herself do what she hadn’t allowed since she’d walked into the mini-mart.

She let herself wallow, let herself cry.

As if he understood, Mop wandered in, lay down beside her.

When she finished, she found herself surprised. She felt better, maybe a little bit cleared out. She indulged herself, lay stroking the dog, drawing in that unrestricted love.

“Okay, okay. We’ll save that for another day. We’re not there yet.”

She compensated with ten minutes of easy floor stretches.

“Better than yesterday, right?” She hugged the dog, and held there another moment. “Let’s go update the spreadsheet.”

Doing just that gave her a sense of satisfaction. When her phone signaled a FaceTime request from Joel, she felt a leap of joy.

When she saw his face on-screen, heard his voice, she realized just how much she’d needed that connection with her life.

“Hey, sis. Wanted to wish you Happy Thanksgiving. Tomorrow’s Crazy Day for us.”

“You’ll love every minute.”

“Can’t deny it.”

She heard the sounds of birds, saw the Chesapeake Bay and the gulls swooping. And yearned.

“How’re you doing?” he asked her.

“Good. Really. A lot better.”

“You don’t look half bad.”

“Thanks. My days include at least three outside walks, and yesterday I—wait for it—curled two pounds! And started crocheting a scarf.”

“You what now?”

“Two pounds curling.”

He tilted his head, gave her that look. “Yay. You’re crocheting? Like my granny?”

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