Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Taking out my phone, I scrambled to hook that up. The moment I did, Scottie’s screen came alive, and he logged on to whatever site he’d been dying to access. He quickly settled into a spot on the couch.
I turned to Lorraine. “Doesn’t take much to please him, huh?”
Rather than respond, she grabbed her coat. “Do you have any questions before I leave, hon?”
She’s leaving already? I blinked. “Well, you haven’t given me any instructions. I thought we would sit down so you could tell me what he needs, what he likes to eat…stuff like that.”
“I made a hair appointment thinking you’d be here a half hour ago, so I do need to rush out for now,” she said. “I’m already late, and I don’t want to lose my spot. But there’s not too much to talk about in terms of what to feed him. Wayne used to make him this one kind of chicken. It was our mother’s recipe. It’s the only thing Scottie will eat, but it has to be made very specifically. I’ve written down the instructions for you over there on the counter, and I left you with enough for tonight in a Tupperware in the fridge. Made those cutlets a couple days ago. You’ll have to make more for tomorrow, though.”
I swallowed. I wasn’t the greatest cook to begin with, let alone making chicken from scratch for a picky eater. Lord, help me. This was going to be a disaster. I’d been counting on the idea of being able to order takeout, at least for the first few days until I got my crap together. Guess that won’t be happening. “He doesn’t eat anything else?”
“Only eats that chicken for dinner. And his dessert needs to be lined up just so.” She lifted a photo. “I printed this so you can see how it’s done and also wrote it down on this sticky.”
She handed me the image of a napkin with cookies and other treats arranged in a linear pattern.
“What happens if things aren’t lined up correctly?”
“He gets upset, tosses everything on the floor.”
“Okay.” I gulped. “Well...if the chicken is his dinner, what does he eat during the day?”
“Either more of the same chicken or just crackers and pretzels. His main meal is dinner.”
“That doesn’t sound very healthy.” I frowned. “No vegetables?”
“You could try, but I’ve never had any luck. He spits them out.”
I sighed, turning to where Scottie was sitting on the couch, rocking back and forth as he blasted something on YouTube. At least he was content for the time being.
“Anyway, like I said, I’m late for my appointment. First time I’ve had a chance to go since I’ve been staying with Scottie. I’m sure you noticed my roots. You good?”
This woman could not flee the premises fast enough.
“I think so, but can I call you if I have any questions?”
“Of course, sweetheart. Don’t hesitate. I’ll always be around. I live just a few miles down the road.”
I blew out a breath. “Okay.”
Before I could say another thing, Lorraine was gone. It felt like a boulder had been placed on my chest.
Feeling lost, I stood in the middle of the house and looked around as jumbled sounds rang out from Scottie’s electronics. He must have had three different things playing on as many devices.
The décor in here was dark, from the paneling on the walls to the wrinkled, brown leather furniture. There were only two bedrooms in the one-level, log-cabin-style home. I peeked into one of them and immediately recognized it as Scottie’s. There were picture schedules hung up and tons of stickers of cartoon characters I didn’t recognize littering the walls, along with one framed picture of Elton John. Odd.
I smiled at a photo up on the bureau of Scottie with his brother, Brad. My Brad. Looking up at the ceiling, I spoke to my dead fiancé. “I know you would do the same for me. I love you, and I promise to keep him safe until I can find him a good home.”
As if someone up above wanted to challenge me on that, I looked through the doorway into the living room and saw Scottie standing on top of the end table by the couch. The table was dainty, and I doubted it could sustain his weight for very long.
I ran out into the living room. “Whoa! You might want to get down from there, buddy!”
He ignored me. Because he didn’t talk, I couldn’t ask him why he’d decided to do that.
About a minute later, he finally jumped down onto the floor, which caused the entire house to shake. Thankfully, he appeared unscathed. If he’d broken his ankle or something, that would have absolutely sucked. I wiped the sweat off my forehead.
Once Scottie had settled into his seat on the couch again, I went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. There wasn’t much inside: the Tupperware that contained the chicken and a few large jugs of cranberry juice. I had to assume that was Scottie’s favorite drink.