Page 72 of Seeds of Christmas
She immediately goes into protocol mode. “We can’t skip it. We’re already behind?—”
“Rhi, look at your ankle.”
She looks. I watch her face as she takes in the swelling, the discoloration, the way she can’t even flex her foot without wincing.
“I could stay here and you could go?—”
“Absolutely not.” The words come out sharper than I mean them to. “I’m not leaving you alone after yesterday. What if something happens? What if you need help and I’m miles away?”
“I’ll be fine?—”
“You said that yesterday right before you fell through ice.” I soften my voice. “Besides, I’m not going out there by myself. That’s how people end up as cautionary tales in wilderness safety videos. ‘Local idiot freezes to death because he thought he could handle solo data collection.’”
“But the data?—”
“Can wait one day. Or we can interpolate. Professor Bam will understand.” I lean back, watching her. I can see the war happening in her head—the need to follow the plan versus the reality of her injury. “Besides, when’s the last time you just took a day off?”
“I don’t take days off.”
“I know. That’s the problem. AND, it’s Christmas Eve, most of America has the day off today.”
She’s quiet for a heartbeat, and I can practically hear her mental list-making. Pros and cons. Risk assessment. Contingency planning.
“Okay,” she says finally, and I can tell how hard that word is for her to say. “One day off.”
Victory.
I grin at her. “Look at you, being spontaneous.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I stand, start clearing our breakfast dishes. “So what does Rhiannon Pierce do on an unplanned day off? Writes in her planner? Sets goals for the week?”
“I don’t always—” She stops herself. “Okay, yes. Usually.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“I don’t have a plan. That’s the whole point of a day off.”
“You’re going to make a plan for your day off, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
“Fine. Probably.” She’s trying not to smile. “But it’ll be a very relaxed, spontaneous plan.”
“Right. A spontaneous plan. That makes total sense.”
“It does!”
“If you say so.” I’m grinning now. “Just promise me whatever this spontaneous plan is, it involves you staying off that ankle.”
“I promise.”
“Good.” I grab the dish towel. “Because if you try to go hiking on that thing, I’m going to have to physically restrain you. And that’ll be awkward for both of us.”
“Is that a threat?”
