Epilogue I

Epilogue I

Ashley

“You’re healing so well,Ashley. I suspect you’re going to do great in PT next week. Your scans show the bone is right where it should be and according to Corey, you’ve been resting as you should. He even mentioned a new hobby,” Dr. Pointe said as he looked over my folder.

He’d been very positive since my first post-surgery visit. We were heading into the next phase of the treatment plan now that my cast was gone. He’d only sawed it off at the start of this appointment, but I felt leagues better already.

“I’ve been knitting. What started as a way to keep busy has really become one of my favorite things to do.”

“Well, that’s good. You’re still going to have plenty of time to do it too. We have to take it slow and steady to get you fully back on your feet. That means not jumping right into things. Don’t pack those needles up just yet.”

I shook my head. “Not a chance.”

He went over the plans for the next several weeks, including the PT schedule I would follow and some proper care instructions now that my leg was exposed. It included cleaning the surgery wound and instructions to use my crutches or chair to get around still, though crutches were preferred now.

“Let’s get you upright some more. You’ll feel better the more balance you get back.”

We left his office with a load of knowledge and high spirits. Though admittedly, the high spirits were in part to where we were headed next.

Daddy left me on a bench near the elevators as he went back down to the truck. I watched people mill around the hospital as I waited.

Thankfully, it didn’t take him long. When the elevator opened to him holding a large bag over his shoulder like Santa, I threw my head back, laughing. It garnered a few odd stares, but the minute he kissed my laughter quiet, I think people understood.

“You ready for this? They’re going to love it,” Daddy asked.

I nodded as I rose up on my crutches. “Let’s go see.”

We got back in the elevator. Instead of going down, we went up two floors from the doctor’s office. After exiting, we followed the arrows around the corner to the nurse’s station.

A couple of women stared at us curiously as we approached. One asked, “Can we help you, gentlemen?”

I shared a smile with Daddy then turned to answer her. “Hi, yes you can. A doctor friend of ours mentioned there was always a short supply of blankets and hats for babies in the NICU and Pediatric area. Since I’ve been healing from a broken leg, I took up knitting. We brought some of our creations for the babies. I hope that’s ok.”

Their cautious stares turned friendly. They rushed over to look at what we’d brought. When Daddy opened the bag, they all gasped.

“You’ve been busy,” an older woman with a kind smile said. “There are so many in here.”

“Yes ma’am, there is. And we made various sizes too. Blankets are at the bottom.” I leaned into Daddy as we watched them fawn over the goodies.

When one of them pulled out her phone and demanded a picture, we didn’t turn her down. They seemed more than eager to capture the shot.

It wasn’t until days later that we figured out why. The picture of us smiling and holding up blankets and hats while standing with the nurses had gone viral. Someone had found out our names and knew about my military service. People recognized the ranch we worked on thanks to Ean’s support of the market.

Comments poured in on every social media outlet stating they wanted to come support us. Veterans, LGBT cowboys, and supporting NICU babies apparently did it for people. It meant we had lots to prepare for the next market, and I was more than looking forward to it.

My knitting was purely for me to give away but knowing it had brought more attention to the ranch, to the men I called family now, made me feel good.