When Summer Comes (Whiskey Creek #3)(35)
Author: Brenda Novak

Startled by the edge in her voice, everyone looked up, including Kyle. She’d sounded far too impassioned, but she couldn’t stem the emotions that threatened to come bubbling out of her. For some reason, she wasn’t really enjoying this morning. She had too much on her mind. She just wanted to get back to Levi.

“I’ve got to go.” She hurried to her car and pulled out of the parking lot before anyone could catch up with her. She wanted to return to the farmhouse, but she drove to her parents’ instead.

* * *

“Mom?” Callie let herself in the front door and stood in the entry.

“There you are!” Her mother rolled down a hallway that had recently been widened to accommodate her wheelchair. “Too bad your father’s not home. He’s been asking if I’ve heard from you.”

Boone Vanetta sold life insurance. Although Callie had a fifty-fifty chance of finding him at home on any given day, his truck wasn’t parked in its usual spot out by the flagpole. Callie guessed he was at his office in town. At sixty-six he still worked but he’d gone part-time since her mother’s health had begun to deteriorate. Fortunately, he was the only State Farm agent in Whiskey Creek and had a very loyal clientele.

“You’ve been so quiet lately.” Her mother didn’t sound pleased; her next few words explained why. “It seems like you hardly ever call.”

The guilt Callie was already feeling became more intense. She checked in fairly regularly, but she’d meant to do it more often. She’d just been so preoccupied after Levi arrived. And Diana’s pointed questions made it hard to lie—about anything. Since being diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver, Callie had squirmed through every conversation.

Forcing a smile despite the anxiety slamming through her like a million gallons of rushing water, she bent to kiss her mother’s cheek. She hated seeing Diana in a wheelchair. A relatively new addition to their lives, it was proof that her mother would have more difficulties to face as her own disease progressed. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy.”

“At the studio?” The chair’s motor whined. “I thought you were taking the summer off. That’s what you said when you moved out to the farm. That’s why I thought we’d see more of you.”

“I’m still helping at Reflections when I can. I have my garden and some other photography to keep up with. And it’s taking time and effort to put the farm to rights.” She considered mentioning Levi. She had to tell her parents about him, too. But she figured she’d save that for later. She had more pressing news.

“I hate to sell that place,” her mother said. “I loved growing up there.”

Callie adjusted her purse strap. “Maybe we should keep it.” She came back to that again and again, even though the amount of care a farm required didn’t make owning one very practical for someone who didn’t plan to work it. And what would her parents do with the property after she was gone? They’d just have to sell it. So why not do it now?

“It’ll be smarter to liquidate. Then we’ll have the money we need for our retirement, and you’ll inherit the rest.” Her mother rolled back a few inches to take a good look at her. “You’ve lost weight.”

Callie cleared her throat. “A few pounds.”

“Come on. Some homemade lasagna will fatten you up.”

“But it’s not even noon yet.” And there was no way that was on her diet.

Her mother was already rolling into the other room. “Then you can take some home with you.”

Reluctantly, Callie followed Diana into the kitchen and sat at the table. She wanted to tell her mother what she’d come to say, to get it off her chest, but she didn’t know how to start. “You been feeling okay?” she asked instead.

“About the same.” Her mother maneuvered around the kitchen with surprising dexterity.

“How’s dad been managing his diabetes?”

“His glucose numbers haven’t been as good as they should be.” She tossed Callie an exasperated grin. “I think he’s sneaking sweets.”

If he was eating her lasagna, he was getting plenty of carbohydrates without sneaking sweets.

“He doesn’t seem willing to change his diet as much as the doctor says he should,” her mother complained.

More likely, Diana was cooking the way she’d always cooked. But she didn’t see the correlation.

“He needs to stick with lean proteins and vegetables,” Callie said. “That’s what you need to make for him, okay? Not pasta or potatoes or breads.”

“When you get as old as we are, you deserve some enjoyment out of life,” she said, slightly insulted.

But they had to take care of themselves since Callie likely wouldn’t be around to do it. “So…” She hesitated, trying to decide how to segue into her diagnosis.

“What?” Her mother gave her a strange look.

“I came by today because—” she could hear her pulse thumping in her ears, which was as annoying as it was distracting “—there’s something I need to tell you.”

An expression of alarm settled on her mother’s face, but the sound of a car pulling up outside distracted both of them.

“Oh, good. Your father’s here.”

Callie wiped sweaty palms on her denim shorts. “What’s he doing home so early?”

“He’s taking me to get my hair done.” She checked the clock. “We’ve only got fifteen minutes before we have to leave.”

Of course. Her mother had a standing appointment with Lola Leidecker at Shearwood Forest every Friday. How could Callie have forgotten? Fifteen minutes wouldn’t give Diana enough time to recover from the blow she was about to be dealt. Once she broke the news, Callie doubted her mother would feel up to leaving the house.

“Callie?” Her father came through the garage door bellowing her name.

“Hi, Pop.” Obviously, he’d seen her SUV out front. She hugged him but he was so eager to talk he barely squeezed her in return.

“What’s this I hear about you taking in some drifter?” he demanded.

Her mother’s eyebrows immediately assumed their “I’m displeased” position. “I hope that isn’t what you were about to tell me,” she said. “You haven’t taken in a stranger, have you? You know better than that!”

“He needs help,” she hedged.