Sally: Autumn Storms (F&L Story #4)

Sally: Part 34

Part 34

“Is that Wil?” Sally asked, grabbing the phone from her brother. She nearly smashed his nose with the damn thing when she saw that the call had ended. She pressed redial, but Richard snatched it from her.

“Don't be a pest,” he said. “He'll be at the farm, waiting on you. Now, let's go.”

“What did he say? Is he okay? Is he in trouble?” she badgered, following her brother on his heels out the door. “Well, tell me something, you jerk!”

Richard grinned. “No. I like tormenting you.”

Sally screeched at him and balled her fists. She had no choice but to trail after him and Hannah. Sage and Carey left earlier, saying they'd stop by in the morning to check on her and help take care of her animals, like they did that morning. She wasn't an invalid! And she didn't need a babysitter. Her whole family was acting like she couldn't even tie her own shoelaces. Wish for some compassion, and this was what she got.

She wanted to tar and feather the whole lot of them.

Thirty-seven years old, and her brother still treated her like a baby. When she spotted his Towncar in the parking lot, she hurried past and then tapped her foot on the pavement as she waited for the old man to catch up.

Getting back to the farm was like riding with a blind, deaf, illiterate fool. Richard drove ten miles under the speed limit – even in the parking lot! – and squinted at every road sign between the hospital and her driveway. A city taxi sat idling next to the house when they finally arrived. The driver, a tall, African-American dude with a tattoo covering his whole left arm, exited the car as Richard parked...coming to a stop so slowly and precisely, Sally wanted to dive over the front seat and shove her fist down on the brake pedal.

She tugged on the backseat door several times. It didn't budge. She unlocked it. Still nothing. “Richard! Do you have the damn child locks on?!”

He peered at her through the rear view mirror and winked. Sally vaulted over the seat then, climbed over him – he grunted and cried out in pain when her elbow jabbed him in the throat – and exited out of his door. “Dumbass,” she muttered, rushing to the house.

“Sally!”

Wilson bolted off the front porch steps, racing toward her at full speed. He caught her up, pressing her face into his chest and hugging her so tightly, she had trouble breathing, but she didn't care. He was here. Her eyes ached with unshed tears. Then he was kissing her.

He kissed her mouth and her cheeks and her nose and her eyelids, sprinkling his tokens of love all over her, and she did the same. “Oh, sweetheart, you're so pale,” he murmured. “And cold. You're shaking.”

“I'm just so glad you're here,” she said, shining her love and happiness up into his eyes. “I was so afraid you would do something stupid.”

“Like get arrested?” he replied with a grim smile.

“Yes, like that.” She backed away from him and shoved her index finger in his chest, so happy to see him and so furious at him at the same time. “What were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all? If it weren't for Richard, you might still be rotting in that jail cell, and then what do you think would have happened? Is this how you want to start our marriage? Or is this one of those things where you'll tell our grandchildren about the day you proposed? I swear, Wil--”

A shrill whistle cut her off. The taxi driver yelled, “Yo, pal! The meter's running! I ain't got all day.”

Wilson's face turned beet red. “Um...I'm a little low on cash. Could you...?” He avoided her eyes and swallowed thickly. Oh, Wil...