Page 82 of You're So Vine
“I thought Ava could hang out here today,” I say. “Maybe give Shelby a hand with … whatever she’s got on?”
“Did someone say my name?”
Shelby’s walking toward us, carrying what looks like … I don’t know, a straw voodoo doll?
“It’s a corn dolly!” She waves it at us. “I made it!”
Ava says what I’m thinking. “Why?”
Shelby looks down fondly at the doll in her hand. It’s very basic, with two straight out arms and no face. I guess love is in the eye of the beholder.
“Mom used to make corn dollies at this time of year,” she says. “She used to do a whole Fall display, with straw bales and wreaths and fairy lights. Made the vineyard look so pretty.”
“She did all that for our wedding,” Nate reminds her. “I hope you’re not going to ask her to do it all over again?”
Shelby’s not listening. She’s lost in the warm fuzzy world of nostalgia. I wish she’d snap out of it. All this talk of Lee is the last thing I need. Last thing Avaneeds.
“Mom even made a scarecrow one year that looked just like Cam.”
Goddammit.
“How did she make it look like Cam?” says Ava.
I can’t tell if she’s amused or irked.
“It was tall with bushy hair,” says Shelby. “And it was wearing a flannel shirt.”
“That describes one in every three men around here,” says Nate, who is definitely irked. Maybe he’s on edge, worried about Ava. Or maybe he’s put out that no one’s made a scarecrow that looks like him. I mean, it’s quite an honor.
Shelby waves her creation at Ava. “Do you want to help me make more dollies?”
Seeing Ava’s face, she adds, “Or you could arrange some pumpkins?”
“Corn husks it is,” says Ava. “Lead me to them.”
I watch her walk off with Shelby. I know rustic crafts wasn’t how she expected to spend the morning, but I’m glad she’ll have company.
I turn to see Nate giving me a hard stare.
“Doc definitely hasn’t called?” he says. “There’s nothing you two are keeping from us?”
“Nothing,” I try to assure him.
“Because you’ve got a track record of making promises around secrets.”
Man, Nate is wound up tight this morning. I could take offense at his tone, but I understand where he’s coming from. And he’s right.
“Doc hasn’t called,” I say. “We know nothing. I swear.”
Nate rubs his hand over his hair. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I’ve had both my parents in my ear all day every day since this started. Somehow, they’re convinced I’m the one who should be in control of the situation. I’m starting to think Shelby and I should skip town and start a new life under assumed names.”
“It’s okay, man,” I say. “This is tough.”
Nate takes a deep breath, blows it out. “Mom and Dad—Dad especially, no surprise—keep talking about what we should do if Ava has got multiple sclerosis. I know they want to reassure themselves she’ll be looked after no matter what, but it’s grinding me down. The only thing worse than feeling useless is feeling afraid and useless. I almost wish Ava had got something obviously bad. You know, like gangrene. Or Ebola. Then at least we’d know by now.”
What can I say? I’m totally with him. Not knowing sucks balls.
“Guys?”
