Magnolia by Kristi Cook Page B

anything like that, but that doesn’t make the surgery any less scary.” I’d listened to my parents talk about it during dinner—they’d used the word “craniotomy,” which sounded terrifying.
    â€œI know, but modern medicine is pretty amazing. And just think, for the surgeons who do it every day, it’s routine stuff.”
    â€œThere’s nothing routine about cutting open my sister’s head.” My stomach lurches at the thought, and I push it away, burying it deeply. I won’t think about that right now—I can’t.
    â€œShe’s like a sister to me, too,” Ryder says quietly. “I always envied you that, you know? A sibling. Do you have any idea how quiet it is at Magnolia Landing when you Caffertys aren’t there? Dad’s always in his office working, and Mom . . .” He trails off, his cheeks coloring slightly. “Well, Mom’s busy planning the rest of my life. Anyway, Nan’ll come through this.”
    â€œI hope you’re right.”
    He bumps my shoulder with his side. “Hey, I’m always right. Right?”
    I can’t help it—a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “You always think you are, that’s for sure.”
    He looks up at the sky, appearing thoughtful for a moment before returning his gaze to me. “Why don’t you walk back to the house with me and let me drive you home.”
    â€œNah, I’ve got a kayak. I left it down at the creek.”
    â€œThat’s okay. I’ll bring it over tomorrow or something. It’s getting dark. You shouldn’t be out on the water alone.”
    â€œSeriously? I grew up on that creek.”
    â€œAll the same, I’d feel better if you let me drive you home.”
    I have no idea why—he knows I’m perfectly capable of getting myself home. Still, I relent. “Fine,” I say. Because, honestly, I’m not relishing the idea of paddling home in the dark, not in the mental state I’m in. “But I’m not ready to go, not just yet.”
    â€œNo rush.”
    â€œThanks.” I lean back, resting on my elbows as I gaze up at the sky. A few stars are just beginning to dot the sky, faint twinkles of light on the violet-hued canvas above. I let out a long sigh. “Do you ever think about next year—about living somewhere else? I mean, even if it’s just Oxford, it’s going to be so different.”
    He just shrugs. Then, “I don’t think about it too much, I guess. Senior year just started.”
    â€œI know, but still. And what about our parents? Just imagineyour mom and dad all alone in that big house. I don’t know. . . . It just makes me sad, I guess.”
    â€œSo . . . live at home,” he suggests.
    â€œYeah, I don’t think so. Anyway, that’s not what I meant. Just that . . . everything is about to change. And now this, with Nan . . .”
    He swallows hard. “She’s going to be fine.”
    â€œSo everyone keeps saying.” Despite the heat, a chill runs down my spine. I sit up, wrapping my arms around my knees.
    â€œLook,” he says, pointing toward the sky. “Right there—that’s Venus. Just above and to the right of the moon. See it?”
    I release my knees and brace my hands against the ground as I gaze up at the spot he’s indicating—at what looks like a bright, twinkling star. “That’s Venus? You sure?”
    He nods. “And see that, up higher and off to the left? That’s Saturn.”
    â€œCool,” I say. “You were always good with that stuff—stars and planets.” He’d spent our entire childhood pointing out constellations in the night sky that I could never quite make out—things that were supposed to look like bears or dragons or what have you. To me they were just . . . stars.
    For a moment we just sit there silently,