If she heard it, she ignored it. She shrugged. “Dumb, huh? Jesse insisted on teaching me how to shoot, some, and showed me a few basic self-defense moves, but that’s about it. I know I took a risk. It worked out okay, but I’ll sure think twice about trying that again.”
She was so damned reasonable about it that he was frustrated in venting his unreasonable ire. He had to tell himself again that it was none of his business. On the other hand, if she landed herself in the hospital, he’d be in a touchy situation, so he’d rather she stayed hale and hearty. That made it very much his business.
“I can teach you more,” he said.
“You can barely move.”
The accurate assessment pissed him off even more because it was so true. “I’m better today than I was yesterday. I don’t have to be in great shape to show you how to disable someone.”
“We’ll see,” she said, but he got the feeling the noncommittal reply meant she had no intention of following through.
Yes, they would see.
Having someone else in the house was an ongoing irritant, like hearing a mosquito buzzing but not being able to locate it to smash. Regardless of that, over the next few days Bo found them settling into a kind of routine. She didn’t go into town on the weekends, so she spent most of those two days working on her tech-writing projects, and doing her regular stuff with Tricks.
She didn’t put in any time at the station, but she heard plenty from both Jesse and Daina about the Emily/Kyle situation. The judge had conveniently—and probably deliberately—been out of touch, so Kyle’s bail hadn’t been set until Saturday afternoon, meaning Emily had time to do whatever she wanted to do. What she wanted to do was file for divorce (which she had), get a restraining order against Kyle to keep him away from her and her family (which she had also done), and pack up Kyle’s clothes and personal effects and take them to his father’s house (which she’d also done, with Jesse’s presence to make sure all went well). Emily was acting with a purpose, getting things done and forging ahead.
The entire Gooding family was occupied in trash-talking Emily and her family. Her uncle on her daddy’s side, Harold Patterson, owned the barbershop and of course the barbershop was a hotbed of gossip. The Emily/Kyle scandal was going hot and heavy, with half the town taking sides as Bo had known would happen. Most of them were on Emily’s side because Warren Gooding had never endeared himself to anyone, but there were a few who thought Emily was being a bitch.
From Daina came the information that Mrs. Gooding had been in and said that she suspected Emily was running around on Kyle. Also from Daina was the report that the whole bakery incident had started because Emily found out Kyle was cheating on her and told him to get out.
There was going to be bad blood over this for a long time to come, Bo thought. She might have to arrange a police presence at athletic games and such, anywhere members of both families might come into contact with each other.
But that would remain to be seen; maybe Kyle would move away. Emily might meet someone, and she could be the one who moved. Life happened. Bo had enough on her plate at the moment without looking for more.
The weather cooperated by turning sunny, if still cool, so she and Tricks had their long walks and plenty of playing. Spring was finally showing signs of coming to stay, and just in time; she and everyone else had had all of winter they could stand. The trees spent the weekend exploding in buds, as if they knew something humans didn’t. The air was filled with a kind of vibrancy as if every plant was humming with activity.
Morgan wasn’t a demanding patient. He didn’t ask for anything extra, and he wasn’t exactly a patient. He didn’t have much strength and he still hadn’t attempted the stairs, but he could get himself to the bathroom for his needs, take a shower without aid, and she kind of got a kick watching his laser focus as he watched her approach with the morning’s first cup of coffee for him. He stared at that cup as if willing it into his hand. He was walking around more. He slept, he read, he watched some TV but not much. On Sunday afternoon, for the first time he went outside, onto the concrete slab porch. He moved one of the chairs into the sunshine, where he sat for a while.
That threw Tricks into a tizzy. Someone was outside who could throw the ball for her, even if that someone wasn’t Bo, but she wasn’t outside to take advantage. She went from window to window, to the door, got her tennis ball and went to Bo, then back to the door. She dropped the ball and barked, then picked up the ball and started the whole rotation again.
Bo was trying to work, and knew how relentless Tricks could be in getting her way. Giving in would be a tactical mistake. She checked the clock, but it wasn’t quite time to take Tricks out so she said, “No,” and kept working.
Tricks trotted over and butted her leg.
“No.” This time she said it sternly, and raised a warning finger. Tricks huffed, dropped the ball, but gave up for the moment and curled on the rug by the desk to pout.
That was all Bo needed, for Tricks to give up for just a minute so she wouldn’t think she’d won. She let a couple of minutes lapse, saved her work, then stood up and said, “Let’s go outside.”
Tricks jumped up, grabbed her ball, and raced to the door. She was dancing with excitement, whirling with her feet patting up and down.
A couple of days of rest and the application of ice packs to her right shoulder had done wonders, and Bo was able to throw the ball without pain. As soon as she stepped outside, she wound up and let it go, and Tricks took off in joyful pursuit.