Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Weatherman cringed at the retching sounds coming from the bathroom. It was impossible not to, as the small cottage didn’t allow much privacy. His mom’s house sported two bedrooms with a single bathroom between them, a living space, and an eat-in kitchen. The yard wasn’t particularly spacious either, but that cut down on maintenance. Most of it was covered with raised garden boxes filled with flowers or vegetables, and the yard itself wasn’t much more than pathways through them. This was what his mom had always wanted—a neat, nice house with lots of things growing around it.

“Mom, you need help?” he called out.

“I’m fine, sweetie. I’ll be out in a minute.”

He pressed his lips together as the toilet flushed. Chemo fucking sucked. Three infusions in the last three weeks, and this was her reaction every time. What would the next three do? The daily radiation had four more weeks to go, then more scans, more hospital time, more infection risks, more of everything.

He wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. His mom had worked hard all her life to provide for the both of them. Many times she’d had to take on a second job to make ends meet, yet his memories were happy full ones. All the chapter books they read before bedtime on school nights, board games every Thursday evening with the neighbors, Saturday afternoons at the children’s museum, swim meets and soccer games at the Y, hanging at the pool in the summer with the other kids who lived in the apartment complex. Everything his mom did involved him, and he would forever be grateful to her for her sacrifices in raising him.

Natalie came out of the bathroom. She’d taken the time to comb what was left of her bobbed brown hair and wash her face, but she was still in the long zipped-up bathrobe she’d put on that morning. It was almost noon. It was rare that she would still be in pajamas at this hour, as the woman was a powerhouse when it came to working. “I don’t know what’s got into me. I’m just so tired.”

He looked at his mom’s pink scalp showing through the brittle strands. “Chemo, Mom. It’s the chemo working.”

“Well, I wish it would go faster and get rid of this mess. I got things to do. Cain’t be lyin’ around in bed all day.”

His heart pinged. “It’s okay to take some time off, Mom. You’ve earned it.”

She shuffled over to the sofa and sat down with a groan. “Never thought I’d be sittin’ on my butt so much in my life. I feel useless.”

Weatherman couldn’t help the chuckle. “You’ve never been useless, Mom. Why don’t you watch one of those romance movies you like so much. Hell, you can binge all day. No one to stop you.”

Natalie sighed and propped her feet on the coffee table. “If I’m gonna sit here and indulge myself, I might as well get something done. Hand me that basket over yonder. The one with my stitchin’ in it.”

Weatherman lifted a large round basket filled with cloth, colored threads, and other sewing and knitting implements. Some things never changed. His mother worked a lot with fiber arts, and seldom had he ever seen her without a project in her hands. “Cross-stitching? What are you making?”

“Just finishin’ up stuff I hadn’t gotten ’round to doin’. Might as well make my time productive.”

She picked up a white square mounted in a hoop and poked through a box of needles. “You go take care of your business. Emma said she’d come by tonight and bring me some food from that new place downtown. The one where some old diner used to be.”

Weatherman smiled. He’d heard all about the Smoky Mountain Bistro from Dodge. Apparently, he had a thing going with the owner. Good for him. It was about time his friend found a worthy woman to be with.

Thoughts of the new hairdresser he met a few weeks ago at Tambre’s place came unbidden to his mind. Prickly attitude and sporting a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas, he wondered how such an unpleasant person could work in as social an environment as a salon.

Opal. Opal was her name.

Weatherman donned his cut, settling the material at his back as if putting on armor. He didn’t wear it at the TV station, but otherwise, he always had it on, declaring his membership. “I’m gonna check on a couple local jobs. Might talk to Chief Wilson and see if the rangers have any openings. I’ll go by Table and Lori’s for a bit before I head off to Knoxville.”

Natalie picked up a card of green thread and unwound a length. “I don’t like the idea of you out fightin’ fires or lookin’ for poachers.”

“It’s what I trained for, Mom. Both areas. I got all the certificates, and it pays well. Most of the time, I’ll be sprucing up campsites and walking trails. Not all that glamorous, but I have to do something.”

Her fingers trembled as she poked the end of the thread at the eye. Weatherman held his breath and willed it to go in. He was wary of helping her too much. His mother was a proud woman and needed to keep as much of her dignity as she could. There would be a time soon when she would have to give in and let people help her. Until then, he’d let her thread her own needles.

Thankfully, the thin green line was on target. Natalie relaxed when she saw her success. “There now. All done. Well, git on with yourself. You’re burnin’ daylight.”

Weatherman smiled as he leaned down and kissed his mother’s forehead. “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too, son.”