As I drive through the country roads, Vanessa opens her window slightly. If she weren't here, I would gun the engine and see if I could knock any of them out of the bed of the truck. But since she is here I suppose I have to behave myself. It's just a brother thing. What can I say?
Finally we head into the middle of the small town, near those old buildings that cluster around the county courthouse. It's not much of a town, but it's enough. A grocery store, a hardware store, a hospital and a few schools. About nineteen churches, if I remember correctly. Just the basic stuff that you need to keep a town going, no frills.
But since it's the county seat, we do have a really nice hospital. That's a relief. We never needed it for much except for the occasional broken bone, and that time Hank gave Stan a concussion by dropping him on his head, like boys do. But now it seems like a hospital gives us a little peace of mind. Now that we have so much more to protect, that is.
I drive us to the top of the parking garage and stop, yanking the parking brake. Turning to Vanessa, I'm happy to see that she is at least halfway smiling.
“You ready?”
“You bet I am,” she sighs.
Chapter 22
Vanessa
I fill out the paperwork, my hands shaking as I hold the pen I borrowed from the receptionist. It's got a big fluffy troll head on the end of it, and the p
ink hair waves back and forth every time I write.
“Geez, I don't have any of this," I mutter. “I can guess what my weight used to be, but my own doctor? I mean, last time I went to the doctor it was just to the college health clinic for a regular exam.”
“Just fill in what you know,” Charlie says reassuringly.
“But insurance?” I whisper, alarmed. “I don't have any of that. I mean… I guess I sort of forgot?”
“We will pay for it,” he says like it's no big deal.
“No, seriously,” I insist. “It's a lot. It's probably thousands and thousands of dollars. Like a whole lot.”
He glances over at Stan and the other guys. I have to bite back a giggle, seeing how ridiculous they look taking up half the chairs in this tiny waiting room, sitting there like a bunch of giant farmers, spilling over the sides of the dainty chairs. Another mother and her newborn sit way on the other side of the room, sending us confused and startled glances, pretending not to stare.
“What's the problem?” Stan asks with his voice low, leaning forward.
“Vanessa thinks were poor,” Charlie chuckles. “She wants to know how we’re going to pay for this.”
Stan pauses for a second, tipping his head as though confused.
“Is that true? Do you think we’re poor?”
“Well, I mean… you’re farmers, right? I mean I wouldn't want to presume…”
I look at each of them as they glance at each other, rolling their eyes. Hank starts chuckling first, trying to bury his chin in his chest. His shoulders shake as he laughs.
And then it becomes infectious. Tim and Tom start, then Stan, then Charlie too.
“What is so funny?” I pout. “Hey! Are you guys laughing at me? What is so damn funny?”
They seem to laugh for long time, long enough that the other mother in the waiting room and the receptionist both shoot us dirty looks.
“Knock it off!” I huff. “Will somebody please tell me what's going on?”
Charlie takes the pen from me and the clipboard. Under insurance he writes his own name, and phone number. Then he hands me the clipboard back.
“Whatever you need,” he says reassuringly, his eyes glittering with amusement and tenderness at the same time. “We are here for you. But just so you know, Vanessa, we are not poor. Far from it.”
“It's really sweet that you thought so, though,” Tom pipes in. “It actually makes it all kind of better, right?”
“Oh, totally,” Tim agrees. “You thought we were broke, and wanted us anyway? That's amazing!”