Chapter 20: The Workbench

I made the call from the passenger seat of his truck before we were out of the parking lot.

The coordinator picked up on the second ring.

"This is Willa Draper," I said. "My primary contact is Abel Barrett. Please take my mother's name off that line."

"Ms. Draper, she was very clear that..."

"She can visit, and she can sit in the family lounge."

"She cannot sign for me, she cannot speak for me, and she is not paying for anything."

"Understood."

"Thank you."

I hung up.

My hand was steady, and I noticed that.

"Primary contact," Abel said, eyes on the road. "I'm not sure I've ever been promoted before."

"It comes with no pay."

"It comes with a very good view."

He drove us back to his house, and he pulled into the driveway, and he did not get out.

His hands were tight on the wheel.

"What is it?"

"I have a free lie left this week," he said. "And I don't want to use it on you."

"Then don't."

"My scan was this morning too. Same floor. Different doctor."

My heart gave one hard beat.

"Abel."

"It's clear." His voice cracked on it.

"I didn't tell you in the lobby because it was your day, and I wasn't going to take it from you."

I put both my hands over my mouth.

Then I was across the seat and on his lap with the steering wheel against my back.

I was laughing and sobbing into his beard.

"You're an idiot," I said. "You sat there and watched me cry over a muffin."

"It was a very good muffin."

"You're clear."

"I'm clear." He held my face in both hands. "Come inside."

We didn't make it to the bedroom.

He took me through the side door into the workshop instead.

The light was gold and low through the dusty windows, and the air smelled of cedar and machine oil.

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