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“Frankie.” Jo sank into her embrace and breathed her in, her lips trembling as the familiar scents of hay, horses, and lumber—home—enveloped her.
Frankie, now sixty-five years old, was Earl’s oldest friend and a retired veterinarian. She was also the woman who’d stepped in twenty years ago when Jo’s mother had abandoned her, leaving her in Earl’s care. Having never known her father, Jo had been left at Lone Oaks Crossing with Earl when she was seven years old, and Frankie had always been more like a mother to her than her biological mother had ever been.
If looks were anything to go by, Frankie hadn’t changed much over the past few years. Brown hair mussed, cheeks dirt-streaked, and jeans and T-shirt well-worn, Frankie was still as laid-back and real as ever. She’d never stood on ceremony and never bit her tongue—especially when it came to Earl.
Jo hugged her tighter. “H-how is he?”
“He’s okay. They’ve run some tests and the doctor will have more information for us tomorrow.” Her hand smoothed over Jo’s hair, her whisper tickling Jo’s ear. “He’s been asking for you.”
Jo turned her head, rested her opposite cheek on Frankie’s shoulder, and studied Earl’s features. “He’s able to talk?”
“Some,” she said softly. “He gestures to get across the rest.” Frankie’s chest vibrated slightly against Jo, an amused tone tinging her voice. “His mind’s working good, though. He managed to give a male nurse the finger when the guy had trouble sticking a needle in his vein for the IV.”
A grin sprang to Jo’s lips despite the lump in her throat. “Leave it to Earl. He never did like having to lean on others for help.” She slipped out of Frankie’s arms and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for staying here with him. I’m usually not able to answer my phone at work, and I didn’t realize the hospital was c—”
“Girl, what’d you get into?” Frowning, Frankie gently gripped Jo’s chin with two fingers and lifted her face, tilting her head one way then the other. “You’re bleeding.”
“I was.” Jo stepped back and tugged the jacket collar higher against her chin. “It’s stopped now and it’s not important.” She looked at Earl, her throat constricting. “Are we allowed to stay here with him tonight?”
“One of us can. But I don’t think either of us should.”
Jo glanced at Frankie in surprise.
“The nurse will be in around nine tonight to give him another round of meds,” Frankie said. “She told me he probably won’t crack open an eyelid after that until sometime tomorrow afternoon, and after the day we’ve had, I’m wore slap out,” Frankie said. “And you look like you need a better night’s sleep than a hard-backed chair and frequent vital check interruptions would provide.”
“I’d like to stay with him.”
“Then stay tomorrow night.” Frankie jerked her chin toward Earl’s motionless form. “He needs his rest, too, tonight. And he’s more likely to be alert tomorrow. That’ll give you a chance to go home, clean yourself up, and get a decent night’s rest.”
Jo nodded. “You’re still practical as always, I see.”
“Yep.” Frankie, her eyes heavy and tired, smiled. “Sit with him ’til your nerves settle, then come on back to the farm. Fall’s creeping in and it’s cool out. I’ll get a fire started in the pit, and we’ll sit around it a while, give you a chance to relax under those stars I’m sure you’ve been missing.”
“Thank you, Frankie.”
“Don’t stay too long,” she said over her shoulder as she walked out of the room. “Earl needs his rest.”
Jo stood still for a moment, visually scanning Earl, his wiry seventy-three-year-old physique draped with a sheet, an IV leading to the back of his thick-veined hand and a nasal cannula, providing oxygen, positioned in his nostrils. Deep creases bracketed his chapped down-turned lips and heavy crow’s feet fanned out from each of his closed eyelids.
The months since she’d last seen him had changed him; his body showed his age more than it ever had. Nine years ago, she’d known, even at eighteen, that Earl’s many years of hardship and long days of training horses on the farm were taking a toll on his health, which made her decision to abandon her short-lived career in training thoroughbreds all the more difficult.
She’d loved training—she truly had—but the dark side of racing, of gambling a horse’s life for money, had eventually been too painful for her to continue.
Pursuing a career in teaching had felt like the perfect next step. Training was teaching at its core, which was one of the reasons she’d loved it so much. She also knew firsthand how challenging life could be as a child without a sense of security, safety, and encouragement—an experience she wanted to diminish as much as possible for other children who might be suffering as she had in the months after her mother had abandoned her. Earl, Frankie, and the tranquility of Lone Oaks Crossing had transformed her life for the better over the years and she wanted to do the same for others. But in order to transition into teaching, she’d need a college degree—something that couldn’t be had in the little town of Lone Oaks—which meant packing up and moving away.
Earl had taken it hard. He’d homeschooled her at her request during the last two years of her high school career in order to mentor her in the sport they both loved, fully expecting her to partner with him and operate a joint training venture after she graduated high school. And when a thoroughbred she’d helped Earl train won the Derby a month prior to her high school graduation, Earl’s excitement over the new business he’d proposed had only intensified.
Her own excitement, however, had diminished after witnessing the horrors of racing first-hand. From that point on, she could not, in good conscience, continue participating in the sport. It had been painful breaking the news to Earl, and even more painful for Earl to accept. He’d argued against her new career path, pointing out her natural talent at training, stressing how rare her gift was and how much he needed her at Lone Oaks Crossing. Jo had expected her choice to leave home to be difficult for him given the way her mother—his daughter—had abandoned them both years prior with no word since. But to his credit, he’d eventually accepted her decision, wished her well, and supported her move.
Now, seeing him like this, she regretted leaving him—and Lone Oaks Crossing—more than ever.
Jo walked over to the bed and sat in the chair beside it. Reluctant to disturb him, but needing the physical reassurance of touch, she reached out, smoothed her fingers over the back of his hand, then curled her hand gently around his, cradling his palm.
His mouth parted and a faint groan escaped his lips.
She leaned closer and brought her face to his, her mouth near his ear. “I’m here, Earl,” she whispered. “I’ve come home.”
Another hoarse moan rose from his chest; then his wrinkled eyelids lifted, one after the other, and his eyes focused on her face. His chest lifted as his mouth opened wider, pulling in air.
