“Oh, caveman. Sexy.” Jade leaned over and kissed her husband.
“Mind bleach.” Jason gruffed as he took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Okay, it's settled. Doc, tell Sage to call in. Joseph or Anubis, I don’t care who, get the details from Jewell and fill him in. Sorry for interrupting your day, Jeremiah.”
“Glad I could help. When you have that lady in hand, I’d be willing to work with her, either here or via video.”
“Perfect,” Jewell said before the line went dead. Then she made sure the call had disconnected and the conference was still secure. “We’re good.”
“Okay, on to the staff meeting …” Jason put his glasses back on and picked up his tablet.
3
Sage Browning slowed as he turned off the highway into Hollister. He’d been staying in a small cabin at the edge of town as he worked with the professionals Guardian had brought in to help him with his stuttering. He smiled ruefully. Doc Wheeler, or Jeremiah as he’d asked Sage to call him, had also worked on his brain a bit. The doctor helped Sage rewire some ways of thinking and such. Sage knew he had baggage, but just how much he was carrying around and why he was hefting the load was illuminating.
Sage full-out smiled at that thought. Look at him go. Illuminating. He said the word out loud, albeit slowly. And he could say any other word he wanted to say. He pulled up in front of the diner. He’d left the Marshall ranch before lunch was served, preferring to grab one of Ciera or Gen’s lunch specials before meeting with Jeremiah.
He’d been through so many damn diagnostic tests at the beginning of his stay that he knew just how those lab rats felt, but finally, they had a diagnosis of why he was stuttering. He put the truck into Park in front of the diner and leaned back, staring out the windshield without seeing much of anything. He’d been diagnosed with a psychogenic speech disorder. Which was a long way to say that a psychological process problem caused his stuttering. A mental problem. When they told him that, he landed in an emotional dumpster fire. After spending almost two years watching his momma lose her fight to live and Gus dwindle into a vegetable, he didn’t doubt he’d landed one or two issues. Having it confirmed sucked.
But Jeremiah explained it to him, and together with two different speech pathologists and some really neat electronic devices, he had overcome most of his problems. It hadn’t been easy, but he went all in and worked hard even when it seemed like the things they were asking him to do were stupid.
“You going to go in, or are you going to continue daydreaming?” Ken Zorn asked from the slatted boardwalk in front of Gen’s diner.
Sage smiled and opened his truck’s door. He left the keys in the ignition, something his hometown of Bienvenu and Hollister had in common. There weren’t any thieves around. Everyone knew everything that happened and who did what to whom. “Ken, how are you?” His speech was slower than everyone else’s, or so it seemed to him, but no one mentioned it.
“Having a damn good day. Caught some yahoo from Colorado going over a hundred miles an hour on the highway this morning. Reckless driving and drunk to boot. I called down to Belle, and we got him stopped. You should have seen how pissed that guy was that he ran over that spike strip. He ended up taking a swing at one of the Butte County deputies. They were happy to take the paperwork on for the asshole. I wrote up my statement and headed back up here.”
Sage opened the diner door, and they stepped in. “Hey, Ken, Sage,” Zeke Johnson said from his corner table. His wife Stephanie sat beside him. “Come sit with us.” Zeke motioned to the vacant bench seat. Sage glanced around, noting that almost all the other seats were taken. He nodded and headed over with Ken behind him. “Smells good. What’s cooking?” Sage asked as he slid into the booth.
“Pot roast, mashed potatoes, roasted carrots, and apple crumble.”
“Ah, Corry’s cooking,” Ken said as he slid into the seat.
“Yep.” Stephanie smiled. “I saw you flying like a bat out of hell past the turn-off this morning, Ken. Everything okay?”
“It is. I was telling Sage about some idiot.” Ken launched into the explanation again as Sage glanced around the diner. The small town was so similar to Bienvenu, Louisiana. He needed to stop by and see Beau and Evangeline before too long. He called Beau about once a month and Smoke about once a week. Lord, that assassin would be in his face wanting an update if he didn’t. He was a hell of a friend. One of the best people on the planet. It was nice. Having people in your corner. Guardian had made all that possible.
Sage watched as Clay Thompson walked out of the kitchen and headed their way. The kid was working two jobs. Barback at the Bit and Spur on Friday and Saturday nights and bussing tables at the diner during the week. He was a good kid. A hard worker, and Sage enjoyed his company Sunday nights playing cards with him, his dad Mitch, and his Grampa Chester. They’d both been living in the small cottages for about the same amount of time. Sage was supposed to be temporary, whereas the Thompsons seemed to be settling well in the community.
He shook Clay’s hand as he passed by, ordered his lunch, and enjoyed the easy comradery. When he was done, he glanced at his watch and excused himself. He laid down a ten-dollar bill and the tip, then headed out into the summer heat. Not that heat in South Dakota was as oppressive as in Plaquemines Parish. No, if you splashed a bucket or three of water on yourself and stood in the midday sun, you might get an idea of the humidity where he’d grown up.
He wandered across the street and waved at Allison, who was behind the counter at the small general store. Her momma was making bread, and the delicious aroma hung in the air. It was damn good sourdough. After his weekly chat with Jeremiah, he’d pick up a loaf on the way back to his truck.
He strolled down the boardwalk and trudged through the dirt between the buildings before hopping back on the boardwalk in front of Jeremiah’s building. The little town was in a growing phase, and several buildings were in the process of being built or remodeled. It was good to see the town thriving.
Going around to the back entrance, he opened the door to see Jeremiah standing at the counter reading a medical file. He glanced up. “Right on time.”
Sage glanced at his watch. “I’m fifteen minutes early.”
“Which, for you, is right on time.” Jeremiah smiled. “Come on in.”
Sage followed Jeremiah to his office and dropped into the comfy leather chair he always sat in. Jeremiah sat across from him.
“So, how was last week?”
“No problems. No, that’s not true. I had a rough time with the word triangle for some reason.”
“Some reason?” Jeremiah leaned back.
Sage chuckled. “I was trying to figure out a cut on one of the pieces of lumber on a project. I’m helping one of the foster kid’s out at Drake’s build. I needed it to be an exact match for the one already in place. I suck at math, and I screwed up the cut. Twice. I couldn’t reach the triangle and asked Ben to pass it to me. The entire sentence was a hard hit. I mean, it was like I was transported back in time to when I first showed up. As soon as I realized what I was doing, I used the methods I’d learned. But it was a reminder that I’m a work in progress.”