There Are No Words

Chapter 22A

Jenny

Later in the morning I can't say I'm sorry to see Candace leaving, her white Jeep bouncing back down our gravel driveway. I don't know where she's going, or if she plans to return but I hope the answers are somewhere far, far away, and never. Childish, and maybe unfair of me to think that way about someone I don't even know. Candace may very well be a great person.

I have no interest in wishing Candace and Walker a life of happiness together, however. There may be another woman out there who can look at the guy they love, in the arms of someone else, and feel content in knowing that at least he's happy.

Call me immature or selfish, but I'm not that woman.

I've been pea-green with envy and steaming mad with frustration all weekend. Looking out the window, I watch Cian's truck leave their house. Walker is sitting in the cab next to him and I can see their fishing gear in the bed. Candace turns right at the end of our drive, but the boys are going left. I wonder what that means. Why isn't she going with them?

Argh.

"Who cares?" I think to myself, getting all worked up again. How dare Walker invite her home with him?

Yeah, yeah, I know.

I know. I know. I KNOW.

Let's be serious, though. I'm all lathered up in a tizzy, and I would rather temper tantrum my way around this cabin than admit Walker has every right to do whatever he pleases with whomever he pleases.

I'm acting like a two-year-old and that's how I want to stay at this moment, thank you very much. When I feel a wet nose nudge my hand I look down.

Poor Sage. She has no idea what's wrong with me. She's following me around the house trying to figure out why I'm all over the place and how she can help.

I sigh and feel guilty for doing this to her. I sit down on the couch to rub Sage's back.

"It o-k, Sage," I coo. "Mommy lose mind today. Big, bad, mean, very gor...gor...ge...ous mariiine-stealing thief make me jealous. Try take...Walker a...way. You believe?" I ask, talking to Sage in goofy aphasia-broken, toddler-ease, as if she can answer me.

Sage whines in response and puts her paw on my lap. Then she stands up and licks my face.

"I know. I...sorr...I sorry. Good Sage. Good gir...girl."

Sage goes over to her toy pile and brings me back her Frisbee. I take a deep breath and look at her happy face. She drops the Frisbee at my feet and sits down, looking up at me while her tongue hangs out of her mouth. I rub her ears.

"Ok. Go out-side. Go " I say, standing up.

Sage wags her tail excitedly, and picks up her Frisbee. She stands by the door, while I grab a sweater and then let her out into our back yard.

When Uncle Artair was working with me to recover my speech, we tried Melodic Intonation Therapy for a time. In a nutshell, I used singing to help my brain learn to talk again. The right side of the brain is responsible for music and singing, while the left side is responsible for speech. Since my injury is on my left side, I'm unable to speak like before the accident, but I can still sing like a champ.

Consequently, I'm right in the middle of belting out the words to the Cranberries' song, "Zombie", nodding my head in time with the tune of it while throwing the Frisbee around, when Sage's ears go up and her body turns at attention towards the front of my cabin. A dust cloud rises from the gravel drive before my house and I hear a door shut on the other side of the building. I don't know who could be coming. My cousin and Kim are picking things up at the store, and the boys are out fishing. Trying to calm my nerves, I keep singing "Zombie" to myself, while keeping Sage close by and ready to pounce.