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Opal Hammond rode in the passenger seat of Gerty’s truck, her sister-in-law silent. That suited Opal just fine, because she didn’t want to talk about how she’d been wrong.
Her ribs had healed up nicely, but she had been overdoing things. The doctor had told her to slow down—again—and if there was anything Opal liked less than disgusting blue cheese dressing, it was being told to slow down.
She’d finished medical school faster than ninety percent of people who went into the profession, simply to prove she could. And she had.
And now you’re burnt out at age twenty-nine, she thought.
“Mike picked up your birthday cake,” Gerty said, glancing over to Opal.
She finally uncinched her arms from around her midsection and released the breath that felt like it had been trapped inside for the past hour. “Thank you,” she said. “For having him do that.” She drew in a new, cleansing breath. “Thank you for driving me.”
“Of course.” Gerty’s hands finally released their chokehold on the steering wheel too. “I know this is really hard for you, Opal. I’m?—”
“If you apologize to me, I’m going to go the rest of the day without speaking to you.”
Gerty clamped her lips closed and tightened her grip on the wheel again.
Opal sighed, trying to get her shoulders to go down. She couldn’t believe her life had been impacted so strongly by getting kicked in the ribs. She’d seen patients like this too, but she’d never had to go home with them after they came into the ER. She never saw most of her patients again, and she simply didn’t know the hours, days, weeks, and months that they had to continue to deal with their injuries.
And that was another problem—Opal didn’t feel injured. Until she did, and then she had to sit down, gasping for breath.
“Just because I got hurt on your farm does not make you responsible,” Opal said in a softer, kinder voice.
“I feel bad.”
“I know, but you don’t need to.”
“Tag texts me about you constantly.” Gerty looked over to her again, her face a perfect mask of anxiety. They’d had heated conversations about Taggart Crow too, thank you very much. Opal didn’t shy away from hard things, situations, or conversations, which made her avoidance of one gorgeous, strong, tall, handsome Taggart Crow doubly confusing.
“I am going to talk to him,” Opal said. It wasn’t like she’d given him the silent treatment or anything. They talked all the time, as Tag lived in a cabin on Gerty’s farm, and Opal lived in the farmhouse with her, Mike, and their ten-month-old baby, West.
“You are? What are you going to say?”
Opal had plenty to say, but she simply shook her head and said, “I don’t know. What time is it?” She looked at her phone, though her eyes had caught on the clock on the dashboard too. “I have time for a nap before dinner.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes now too, hoping Gerty would just let Tag drop.
She did, as Opal suspected she would, as Gerty wasn’t the most eloquent woman ever. She said what had to be said, and she took care of business, voiced her opinion on things, and ran her household perfectly. But she wouldn’t hound Opal about her unrequited crush on Tag, nor did she tell Opal much of what the man said to her.
He too had been apologetic to the point of annoyance over the past few months, and he’d been dancing around her with one of two expressions on his face since. He either wore a look of longing that quickly turned to something harder, or he painted guilt over his handsome features. Opal didn’t want either. She wanted to be treated like she was normal, because she was.
People got kicked by horses. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, and if she’d stop trying to prove herself useful to someone by helping with feeding the horses or lifting West when someone else could get him, then she wouldn’t be back on “slow down mode.”
Gerty navigated them back to the farm, and Opal slid from the truck as normal. She automatically looked down the lane to the barn. She didn’t see Tag, and she found herself searching the surrounding fields and area for him. They’d just gotten their winter wheat in the ground a couple of weeks ago, and he was probably out babysitting that.
He also did a lot of work with the horses that Gerty found and brought back to the farm. She couldn’t stand the mistreatment of equines, and she spent a lot of time in rescue groups and forums, making sure horses didn’t have to suffer needlessly.
When she brought them back here, she tended to them a lot, but so did Tag. Someone usually had to break the horses again, or at least teach them to be less wary, more forgiving, and how to trust people again.
Both he and Gerty were very good at it, and Opal loved watching both of them work. She didn’t even understand herself, so she couldn’t possibly deal with a horse, but Gerty seemed to speak their language.
Gerty also knew herself completely, and Opal’s mood worsened as she entered the farmhouse ahead of her best friend in the world. She couldn’t think badly of Gerty, and she didn’t. She just wished she had half of the woman’s wisdom.
Funny that Opal had the advanced degree, but Gerty possessed all the wisdom Opal wished she did.
“Are you going to lie down then?” Gerty asked as she shrugged out of her coat. Somewhere in the house, West squealed in delight. Gerty’s daddy had come to watch him that day for Opal’s appointment, and Boone’s laughter filled the house, covering the baby’s voice.
Opal turned back to Gerty, so many pieces inside her cracking. They broke, bent, bubbled up, and tears filled her eyes. She rushed at Gerty and hugged her. “I’m sorry I’m so mean at the appointments.”
