“Alright,” said Patrick in a way that Ginny knew she had lost a battle. He picked up his coffee and sat next to Ginny.
Buster walked over to Sam, rubbed up against her leg and headed over towards the back door. She stopped scrambling eggs long enough to let him out. Buster went out and up into his backyard abode.
“You two had a good time?” asked Sam.
“Pretty good. Didn’t catch a damn thing, but we had a good run. We walked most of the way home,” said Patrick.
“He gonna last much longer?” asked Sam.
“I don’t know. Buster might last years or go tomorrow. He tried to shift at one point, because I think he wanted to talk, but he couldn’t,” said Patrick. “I had an uncle who went the same way. Over the years, he shifted back less and less until one day he just couldn’t.”
“Will he when he dies?” asked Sam.
“I have no idea. Once again, some do and some don’t. Even seen a few go the other way,” said Patrick.
“Me too,” said Ginny. She thought about her cousins that had died young and two of them were curled up nose to tail on their own beds.
“Well, here’s yer breakfasts,” said Sam as she put platters of eggs, bacon, sausages, fried potatoes and toast down in front of them. “I’m gonna take Buster’s out to him.” She walked out the door with a plate filled with eggs and sausages.
Ginny and Patrick dug into the food. Once the door was closed, Ginny turned to Patrick. “How long does he really have?” she asked.
“Hon, I’d be surprised if he makes it to tomorrow morning. We ran maybe two miles and it literally took us the rest of the night to walk back. If I’m guessing right, he’s close to 100 years old. Maybe older. Not in the best of health either. He has a smell about him when he pants. Not sure if it is just bad teeth or something else. I went to Buster’s room before we went out for a run and there are WWI & II medals in one box. There are some old black and white photos of him and a couple of people. All dressed in 1930’s style clothing,” said Patrick.
“How did you manage to go to his room?” asked Ginny.
“I just flat out asked Sam. I wanted to know who I was running with, and I was curious if I knew his family. I don’t. I didn’t pry much further, but it looks like it was Canada rather than Montana he was from,” said Patrick.
“Why do you say that?” asked Ginny.
“Because there was a maple leaf flag in a couple of pictures. People went back and forth all the time before 2001. Especially, where there was more forest than farms,” he finished.
“That’s true. My grammy came from up there. She was born in Alberta,” said Ginny. She finished the last of her toast and pushed her plate forward.
Patrick took both of their plates to the sink. He looked out the window and saw Sam sitting next to Buster as he ate. “She’s gonna miss him when he goes,” he said.
“Yeah. She was up worrying about him just like me,” said Ginny.
“Not worried about me?” Patrick teased.
“No, you can take care of yourself. Buster’s an old wolf. Besides, the bed was too damn empty,” said Ginny.
Patrick smiled and got them some more coffee. “So, how’s the head?” he asked.
“Better. No more ringing in my ears and my nose doesn’t feel like it is going to fall off if I sneeze. The ankle still feels like a wreck and hurts,” she finished up.
Sam came back in with an empty place and after putting it in the sink she pulled apple cinnamon muffins out of the oven. “Nearly forgot about these!” she said.
“That’s what I was smelling,” said Patrick. “Glad they didn’t burn.”
“Nope, and you can have one after it’s cooled,” Sam said popping them out onto a cooling rack. “Buster ate well. He’s sleeping now,” she said as she pulled another pan out of the oven.
“Good. I’m going to take Ginny back up to our room. You need any help?” asked Patrick.
“Nah, don’t forget to take two of those muffins,” said Sam as she popped two new pans of muffins into the oven.
Patrick took the muffins on a place and he and Ginny left the kitchen. When they got to the stairs, he stopped Ginny. After setting aside the crutches and muffins, he picked her up and carried her upstairs.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said as he put her on the bed.
“No, but I wanted to. Back in a second with the crutches and muffins,” he said.
Ginny had barely had time to get comfortable, when Patrick came back into the room. He curled up on the bed with her and they ate their muffins.
*
“Peter, you need to sister that joint,” called George from across the basement.
“I see that, I need to measure it first though,” said Peter. He didn’t mind George supervising, but today he couldn’t move fast enough to please him. Cal was upstairs trimming up broken floor boards.
“Alright. Sorry, I’m just getting anxious. Ginny is due back soon and I want both houses done before she gets back,” said George.
“Do you think she’ll go for the idea?” asked Peter.
“I don’t know. Angie still hasn’t really gone for the idea either. She’s just hmmming and hawing. I’m just afraid that if I ever shift here, that I’ll go through the floor again,” said George.
“Don’t blame you one bit. No way to know that the floor joists were water damaged. Hell, that one over there might have gone with just Angie’s weight,” said Peter pointing to a repair over by the corner of the basement.
“Well, we’ll just have to hold our breaths and hope that both of them go for the idea of switching houses. It’ll give Ginny and Patrick a bit of privacy and I can keep an iron fist on the three pups,” said George.
“Those three are a handful,” Peter said. Sara is a one pup wrecking ball and Joe and Ivan do whatever she tells them too.”
“They sure do,” said George. He handed Peter the piece of lumber he’d just cut to sister the joint.