"No problem. So do I."
They scurried off to bathrooms. Eagle, Sarah and Wynter got Obi into the car. With hugs and kisses, they parted.
Obi dozed on the way home. His pill had about worn off, but the wine was keeping him mellow. He had a shower when he got home. Sarah got him a pill and Eagle helped him to bed.
"We're staying," Eagle informed him. "Sarah's going home to pack, and we'll bunk here."
"I'm fine. Really."
"You don't look fine. You look like hell. If you haven't noticed, he got a few licks in on your face. You look like you tried to stop a truck."
"Great. I'm gonna look like a cage fighter on Sunday."
"Get someone in to cover for you."
"Maybe Dad will. They'll be here tomorrow evening."
"When were you planning to tell me that?"
"I thought they'd call."
"I'll call and ask him. You shouldn't be worrying about that, right now. In fact, if you don't have anything important to do, you should stay home tomorrow."
"I have all kinds of important things to do."
"That Clive and Mrs. Bannister can help with. You need a second priest. I don't know why they haven't gotten someone in to help you. The congregation has grown a lot in the last few years."
"I'm fine."
Eagle gave him a bland look, shaking his head. "Go to sleep, gimpy."
"Yeah. Yeah. You aren't the boss of me," he mumbled and fell asleep.
Eagle made sure the alarm clock was off, and placed a call to their father as soon as he was downstairs. Their father was happy to take the services for Obi. Eagle's next call was to Clive, who promised to call Mrs. Bannister.
"We've got it. Nothing pressing on the calendar tomorrow. We already took care of it. I've got some people coming by to give estimates on the roof, but I can handle that. Bids have to go before the church committee anyway, so they can decide who to use."
"Bureaucracy," Eagle snorted, shaking his head.
"Could be worse. It could be government bureaucracy."
"True. Thanks."
"No worries."
"Night, Blood."
"Goodnight."
Clive dropped Frankie off at home, around 9:00. Her mother had decided she didn't need an overnight visitor, so the sisters opened another bottle of wine. They invited Clive, but he didn't want to intrude. He offered to drop by and take them to the hospital the following day. Giving them both a hug, he left.
"He's so nice!" Frankie said, hopping up and down.
"They all are. I don't know what I'd have done without Obi. He's been such a good friend—which I really need."
"He's as hot as his brother," Frankie said, nudging her sister with her elbow.
"Yes, he's good looking."
"He's kind. Has a good job. Has his own home. You could do worse, Sis!"
"And have. So much worse. I don't need romance right now. I need a friend."
"Don't lock him in that box too tightly. You might need a friend now, that won't always be the case."
"I know. And you're right." She got very quiet, gazing into the bottom of her wine glass as she swirled the ruby liquid.
"Is Emily coming?" Frankie asked as she splashed more wine in her glass.
"I don't know. I didn't even know you were coming. I suppose I should call and ask."
"I tried reaching her before I left, to ask her travel plans. She didn't answer. I left some messages." She shrugged.
Emily had always been flighty. As a much younger sister, she had never been as close to her older sisters, as they were to one another. Not quite twenty, she was still trying to finish her college degree. Having taken a gap year, she was a sophomore at Columbia University.
"I guess we'll find out, if she's standing on the doorstep."
Yawning, Wynter stretched.
"We need to go to bed," Frankie said. "I'm beat. After the wine, the day's catching up with me."
"Me, too. What serves as a bed at the hospital, is the single most uncomfortable thing I've ever slept on. I would have been more comfortable on the floor."
"I know what you mean."
They washed their glasses and headed to bed. Hugging one another at the top of the stairs, they bid goodnight.
Obi's parents arrived at noon the next day. Obi was up, but sitting on the couch. Eagle answered the door, greeting their parents with hugs and kisses. When their mother saw Obi, she rushed to the couch, checking his forehead for a fever.
"Is he all right?" she asked Eagle.
"I'm fine, Mom. I promise. Just a little bruised up," Obi murmured.
"You look like you tried to stop a truck—with your face!" she stated. "I'll make you some soup."
"I don't need soup, Mom."
She stomped away, toward the kitchen.
"Mother! I don't—" the door to the kitchen swung shut. He knew she'd never hear him, or pretend she didn't.
"How are you, really?" his father asked, taking a seat on the coffee table.
"I'm okay, bruised and battered. Not serious."
"You're sure?"
"Yes. I appreciate you taking the services. I can't talk a lot without my throat hurting, and I can't move very well. Sir put me in this sling, which makes everything more challenging."
©Dellani Oakes 2023
No comments:
Post a Comment