Misadventure

63

Harry's POV

"Harry, I need to talk to you about something." Holly fidgeted with her bracelet as she spoke. She was nervous about something. "Do you have a minute?"

"What's going on?" I began to panic on the inside. "Did something bad happen?"

"No, it's nothing like that. Well, no new bad thing has happened." She looked up into my eyes. "I want your opinion about something. I have an idea, but I need to get your approval first."

I gulped. "Please just say it. You're making me nervous."

"Right." She shook her head, blushing. "They're going to release your Dad from the hospital soon. Very soon."

"I know that."

"He's going to need a lot of help though. He's going to need someone with him around the clock. He'll need help walking. He'll need someone to make sure he doesn't fall. He'll need help bathing, cooking, cleaning..."

"I can help with all of that," I insisted. "School is almost over. I'll be home all summer vacation."

"You're a dear for wanting to help him. And I have no doubt you'd do a great job." She twiddled her thumbs. "It's just... your Dad wouldn't want that. He wouldn't want you to feel obligated."

I frowned. "Somebody has to."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Harry, I think it would be best if I move into the house in Manchester. That way I could help look after him," she told me. "It would be a blow to his dignity to have his son taking care of him, rather than the other way around."

"There's nothing wrong with needing help, though," I argued.

"100 percent, I agree. But I'm trying to put myself in his shoes. He wouldn't want you to be the one doing it."

I knew she was right. I respected her decision, because it was made with his best interest in mind.

But there was still one piece of the puzzle that wasn't quite fitting.

"What about the farm?" I asked.

She sighed. "I'm going to lose it, Harry. I simply can't afford it anymore. It's only a matter of time before the bank takes the property."

My stomach dropped to my toes. I thought back to when Dad drove to stay with her, helping plant corn. This was like the cranberry-crisis all over again. The crops had already been planted, but she had no means of harvesting.

No harvesting: no money.

No money: no farm.

...fudge.

My first instinct was to offer to help. But corn picking season wouldn't be until autumn. I'd be back in school by then.

I didn't know much about agriculture, but I was fairly certain you couldn't flood a cornfield like you could with cranberries, and wait for them to float to conveniently to the top. Corn picking had to be way more time consuming, and time was one thing a college student rarely had extra of.

"Let's not worry about that right now," she told me. Her lipglossed-lips curved into a small, tight smile. "Let's go see your father, yeah?"

****

"The other car-"

"I know," Dad said. "The police came and spoke to me this morning asking for a statement for the report. It was a couple of college age boys, drunk and high."

"You spoke to the police?" I asked, my heart hammering in my chest. "What else did they say to you?"

"They asked if I remembered anything from the accident." He shrugged. "Gave me some information about the other driver. He's been arrested. There's going to be a trial in October."