Until Harmony (Until Her 4)

“Congrats, honey. I’m proud of you,” Dad says, and my heart gets warm.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Love you. Come see your old man soon.”

“I will, and I love you too,” I murmur then listen to the phone being jostled.

“I knew you’d get it!” Mom shouts, coming back on the line.

“Mom,” I laugh, following Dizzy as he heads farther into the park with his nose to the ground.

“Stop it. I get to be excited. You’re finally moving home. Are you going to stay with us while you search for a house? Please say yes, please?” She asks question after question without taking a second to breathe, making me laugh again.

“I think I’ll stay here until I find a place in town.”

“You could have your old room back.”

“I love you and Dad, Mom, but no way. Anytime I’m home, Dad turns the clock back and I’m suddenly sixteen again, having a curfew and asking for permission to go out with friends.”

“I could talk to him,” she insists, making me smile. Mom has been talking to my dad about giving us girls space to become women since we turned thirteen, and it’s never worked.

“I’d rather not move more than once,” I say softly so I don’t hurt her feelings. “Besides, before you know it, I’ll be around so much you’ll be sick of me.”

“I’d never be sick of you.” She huffs, and I know she’s annoyed she didn’t get her way. “When do you start your job?”

“Probably three weeks or so. I need to give Dr. Brandsaw a few weeks’ notice to make sure he’s able to find a replacement.” I work as a nursing assistant at a small clinic here in Nashville, and I’ve been there since starting school. Dr. Brandsaw has been great about working around my school schedule and giving me whatever time I need off. I just don’t know how he will feel when I tell him that I won’t be working with him any longer, now that I’ve graduated. My long-term goal is to work as an ER nurse, and unfortunately, I won’t be able to do that if I stay with him, which means it’s time to move on to the next chapter in my life.

“So I have to wait an entire month, if not longer, for you to move home,” she says, sounding disappointed.

“The time will fly by, and in the meantime, you can help me find a house. I just sent Michelle a message letting her know I’m ready to start looking. I want to find somewhere with a backyard so I can put in a doggy door for Dizzy. That way, if I’m working, he doesn’t have to stay inside.”

“I can help you with that,” she replies, sounding excited once again. “They’re building some new townhomes just down the road from us. They look nice. Maybe we can check them out next weekend.”

“That sounds good,” I agree, even though I’m not sure about living in a townhome. After spending years in apartment complexes, it would be nice not to share a wall with anyone. There is nothing more annoying than hearing people going at it when your sex life is non-existent, or people fighting nonstop.

“What kind of house are you looking for?” Mom questions as Dizzy finally finds the perfect spot to take care of business.

“I don’t have a huge budget, but I want something with at least two bedrooms, so if I have company, they have a place to sleep. And a backyard for Dizzy.”

“I’m sure we will find the perfect place, and if you need your dad and me to loan you some money, w—”

“No. Mom,” I cut her off before she can finish her sentence. My parents paid for my schooling. I never had to worry about that, which was a relief, but I don’t want to live off them forever. I want to make my own way in the world. It’s something that is really important to me.

“You’re just like your father, so darn hardheaded,” she grumbles, and I smile, taking that as a compliment. “So what are you doing for the rest of the day?”

“Right now, I’m taking Dizzy for a walk, and I might see if Willow wants to get dinner tonight, and maybe see a movie.”

“You girls have fun, and I expect to see you this weekend. I love you.”

“Love you too.” I hang up after she does then dial my sister.

“Hey,” she answers, sounding half asleep.

“Are you sleeping?” I ask, wondering how that’s possible when she’s supposed to be at work.

“Yeah, I’m sick. I think I have the flu.”

“Do you need me to bring you anything?”

“I just want to sleep,” she mumbles, and I laugh.

“I’ll bring you over some soup in a few hours.”

“You don’t need to do that,” she mumbles then continues. “But if you insist, can you make it hot sour soup from Pot Stickers?”