“She’s in Denver?”
“Well … yes. Of course.”
“How do you know I’m for sure still thinking about moving back to Denver?”
My relationship with Fisher was much better when there was a good twelve hundred miles between us. Going back to Denver would magnify everything again.
“Because you love Rose and me and you miss us. And did you hear me say midwife?”
It was a great opportunity.
“I’ll talk with her. No promises. How’s … Rose?”
“She’s fine. I guess a few of her students are driving her crazier than normal. She’s thinking it might be time to look for a new position, something in high school.”
“That’s probably smart. How’s …” I worked my way to my real question. Not that I didn’t care about Rose. “Fisher?”
“Oh, Fisher … I don’t know. I mean. He’s upset that he’s still in a cast. Upset that he can’t sleep. Upset that he can’t remember the people who work for him or anything else about his job. But if I’m reading between the lines correctly, he’s upset that he can’t remember the woman living with him. And I feel so incredibly bad for Angie. She’s considering taking a new job in pharmaceutical sales because it involves traveling, and she thinks it might be good for her and Fisher to have some separation. She’s hoping absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I gotta be honest with you, I’m not sure he’ll miss her. And it’s not her. It’s him. He’s hating life at the moment. Drinking more. Smiling less. Rose and I feel like enablers more than friends when we stop by to see him. It’s like he’s dying for an excuse to drink. And he knows Angie won’t drink with us because she’s too busy researching memory loss and a million ways to bring it back. It’s all very awkward.”
“Is he seeing a therapist?”
“No.” Rory laughed. “Angie is, but Fisher won’t. Not yet. He doesn’t feel comfortable talking to a stranger about a bunch of other strangers. His words.”
“Sounds about right. Well, everyone needs to let him find his own way through this. If he doesn’t want help, you can’t force it on him. And maybe Angie’s right. Giving him space might help. Stress doesn’t help the healing process, and his brain needs to heal.”
“Yeah, Rose and I told her to take the job, but Fisher’s family isn’t so sure. They think her job should be getting Fisher to fall in love with her again. But unrequited love is very hard on the heart.”
I nodded to myself. “Yes. It is.”
“Call me after you talk to Holly. That’s the midwife. Holly Dillon.”
“I will. And thanks. It does sound like the perfect opportunity, even if I’m not looking forward to moving again.”
“I know. Talk soon, sweetie.”
The phone interview with Holly went well. Perfect, in fact. Breaking my year lease wasn’t the ideal way to manage my money, but I took the loss, rented a small U-Haul trailer to pull behind my car, and drove to Denver over the course of three days and two nights.
What I didn’t expect to find was Rory, Rose, and Fisher sitting on Rory’s and Rose’s front porch when I arrived around dinnertime. My nerves did stupid things along with my heart and the butterflies in my tummy. He didn’t remember me. Why did I act like a naked student on the first day of school?
“She’s home!” Rory set her wine aside and ran toward me.
“Hi.” I hugged her when she did her attempted tackle move on me.
“How was the drive?”
I sighed, blowing my hair out of my face. “Long.”
“Hungry?”
“Starving,” I said.
“Let’s eat first then we’ll unload your stuff. I made chili and cornbread muffins.”
“Sounds amazing.” I followed her toward the porch.
“Hey, girlie girl.” Rose stood and hugged me. “So good to see you.”
“You too.”
“I’m just going to pop the muffins back in the oven for a bit to warm up.” Rory opened the front door.
“I’ll get the table set.” Rose followed her.
The door shut, then it was just us.
“Hi.” I smiled. It was difficult to approximate the proper size of a smile to give Fisher. Nothing too exuberant. Nothing too pitiful like I felt bad that he was in a cast and suffering from anxiety … maybe even on the verge of alcoholism as his favorite coping mechanism.
“Welcome home. And congratulations on your new job.”
“Thanks. I hear you’re recovering well.”
He grunted a laugh before taking a pull of his beer. “Who told you that?”
“Rory.”
“I’m recovering. Well? Not so sure about that.”
“Where’s Angie?”
“My fiancée?”
On a nervous laugh, I nodded. “Um … yeah.”
He shrugged. “Not sure. I said something to piss her off again. So she left. She’ll return. She always does.”
“Well…” I leaned against the corner pillar of the porch “…you sound like a bundle of joy. I can’t imagine why she’d leave your cheeriness.”
That brought a tiny grin to his face, and he slowly shook his head before scratching the back of his neck. “She’s fine. Really. A beautiful stranger. I was clearly a lucky man.”