“And we help our neighbors. That’s what we do.” Muriel nods to herself as if passing her verdict.
Even when our neighbor is an angry, mean old man?
I hold my breath, waiting for Roy to spit on the idea of my aid, so I can bow out gracefully.
But for once, he isn’t arguing with Muriel, his shrewd gaze watching me intently.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jonah strolls in just after seven p.m. as I’m shoveling the last piece of chicken into my mouth.
“Couldn’t wait for me?” He tosses his baseball cap on the hook.
“No. I was hungry.” And irritated that he landed forty minutes ago but took this long to make his way home, despite my two texts to tell him dinner was ready.
; He leans in to kiss me. “Good day?”
My nose catches a hint of campfire smoke. “Horrible day. Possibly the worst day I’ve had since moving here.”
Jonah scrubs his hands in the sink and listens as I give him details.
“How bad is it? Have you heard anything?”
“Muriel called about an hour ago.” After all their bickering and posturing, she practically chased the ambulance to the hospital in Palmer. “They’re keeping him overnight, but he’s doing better than expected. I mean, he has three cracked ribs, a fractured collarbone, his arm is broken in two places, plus he has a mild concussion and bruising all over his body. But it could have been way worse. You wouldn’t believe the pile of wood that fell on top of him.”
“Barely a scrape, then. When shit like that happens, people die.” Jonah settles onto the bar stool beside me. He frowns at the TV where the news broadcasts footage of the wildfire he’s been fighting daily down in the Kenai Peninsula. They’re already claiming it could become one of the most expensive forest fires in the entire country this year, if they don’t contain it.
“So, what’s goin’ on with his livestock, then? They gonna fend for themselves until he’s home?” He picks a piece of chicken off his plate with his fingers and shoves it into his mouth, as if too starved for basic table manners.
“That’s the best part! Guess who Muriel tasked with the responsibility of taking care of his twelve goats and flock of chickens, beginning at six p.m. sharp tomorrow night? While Roy supervises, of course,” I add bitterly. Toby and Teddy are covering until then, at least.
Jonah’s face twists with disbelief. “Why didn’t you say no?” I catch the accusation in his tone, as if it’s somehow my fault I’ve gotten myself into his predicament.
“How could I? Muriel’s all ‘help thy neighbor’ and the guy was literally lying on the ground, bleeding.”
“Why isn’t Muriel doin’ it, then?”
“Are you kidding?” I snort. “The two of them in the same room is like mixing a vat of bleach and vinegar.” The toxic fumes are enough to choke anyone within a mile radius.
Jonah shakes his head. “You still should have said no. That asshole would have said no. He did, remember? When we tried to get him to take Zeke.”
“Yeah, well, I’d like to think I’m better than Roy.”
“You are better. Nicer, smarter … A helluva lot prettier.” He leans in and plants a quick kiss against my jawline. “Also, a huge sucker.”
“I’m not milking his goats,” I say with more defiance than I feel.
“You told Muriel that?” Jonah’s eyes twinkle with amusement, knowing full well that I haven’t.
“He has one good arm. He can do it.” Though the instructive YouTube video that I watched earlier suggests otherwise. “Or you could do it, if you come with me tomorrow night.”
Jonah is already shaking his head before I even finish speaking.
“Come on! I don’t want to go there alone!”
“Look at that!” He jabs his fork in the air at the TV screen. “There’s no rain anywhere in the forecast and every day gets worse. I’m lucky I got home when I did tonight. There are hundreds of people on the ground, fighting this. They’re there around the clock.”