Page 14 of A Dream for Daphne

“Abe,” his mother said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d answer.”

“Getting ready to mow a lawn.”

His mother laughed. “You love doing that. That’s when we knew you’d be taking over your father’s business.”

“I do enjoy it,” he said. “I’d rather be riding a tractor than a desk any day.”

“Your father always said that too,” his mother said.

It still caused a knife in his chest to hear his mother say those things.

Kurt Cooke shouldn’t have died so suddenly at a young age, but he wouldn’t have wanted to suffer either.

“He did,” Abe said. “How are you doing? You don’t normally call me during the day. Everything okay?”

“I wanted to let you know I finished with my last physical therapy appointment. I’m free.”

He laughed. “Good for you,” he said.

His mother had gotten into an accident and broken her pelvis. It was a long recovery and he went to stay and help her for two months in early spring.

She wanted to kick him out sooner, but he refused.

Thankfully it was the slower time of the year for him and he was lucky enough to have Easton volunteer to keep everything going.

“I keep you updated so you don’t think I can’t take care of myself.”

Carrie Cooke could never be accused of being someone who couldn’t take care of herself.

“I know you’re fine. I’m surprised you even continued with your PT. I expected you to self-diagnose that you were ready to go.”

His mother laughed. “I had a few moments where I was going to but then feared you’d fly back here and give me shit in person.”

“I would have,” he said. “With Easton right next to me.”

His mother sighed. “My boys. You always stuck together.”

He smiled. “Now he’s got someone else he can give shit to. Or more like she’s giving it to him.”

“I’m so happy for him. He deserves that in life. I can’t wait to meet Laurel in person.”

He knew his mother had talked to Laurel and met her over video.

“You’ll love her. And she feeds me.”

“You should do something nice for her in return,” his mother said.

“I’ve offered to take them out to dinner,” he said. “Easton doesn’t want me cooking for him.”

“He’s probably afraid you’re going to make a salad.”

His mother was laughing and he let out a little gag. He was never going to live down the fact that he’d once put together a salad of wilted lettuce and other rotten veggies and ate it before he knew it was bad.

He could barely look at lettuce the same now. At least not that spring mix kind with all the colors in it.

“He knows better. Laurel eats salads all the time and she laughs when I look away from them.”

“You need to find that for yourself,” his mother said.

---