The Journey Collection

Hospitals do their best to be nice places. They keep the lobbies scrubbed, arrange leather furniture around fake hearths, and add little gardens to their walkways, but it is all still largely for the visitors. The cafés with their warm-coffee smells at the entrance, the small gift shops with fuzzy bears and big red hearts, and the fountains full of wishful pennies don't do anything for the people inside. Just like everyone else, I'd stopped to grab a snack before facing whatever lie upstairs. People latch onto anything that allows them to forget the pain and misery while paying their respect. Everyone wants a distraction. No one chooses to think about what is going on a few floors above their heads. The patients are the ones who have to live with the buzz of bright fluorescent lights, the sanitized and sterile smell, and the constant hum of electronics. That is why no one likes hospitals. When a patient is there for the long haul, they are left staring at a white wall with their

There was a beautiful blue butterfly on the porch railing. I wanted to capture it and put it in a glass jar, even though I shouldn't. Daddy always told me that rubbing the powder off a butterfly's wings made it impossible for them to fly. I didn't want to hurt the thing; I just wanted to look at it a little longer. And as soon as I walked up the porch, it would fly off, and I would never see it again. The butterfly flew away, as predicted, and I had only made it up the first step. With the slight distraction gone, I was free to focus on other things. I had a mission in mind now that Miranda was home. Through the screen door, I could hear her rustling around in the kitchen like a raccoon. Honestly, there were some days where she wasn't so bad. They were just buried underneath all of the other days where everything she did annoyed me. She had her face stuck behind the fridge door, and I waited-patiently-for her to pull her head out. I had no doubt she

This was the last place I wanted to be, but I had questions about the work I was doing for Jack on his ranch, and just because his life had stopped, didn't mean mine could. Someone had to keep his cattle and land watered, or he'd have far bigger issues than just Sarah when his ranch met its demise. My parents had thought it was a good idea for me to use this as an excuse to come check on Jack and Sarah. My mom had even sent me with a plate of food because she knew Jack wouldn't have eaten. That's what women in this town did. They fed people. A lady had a baby, they got casseroles. Someone got married, they catered the reception. Funeral-food. It was some Southern tradition that had passed from generation to generation, and I doubted I would ever understand it. But it did give me a reason to show up the day after the second tragedy of Jack's life fell on his shoulders. I didn't have a clue where he might be. I imagined in whatever waiting room was closest to Sarah, but this was

Before I drove out to Laredo, I decided to stop by Cross Acres to locate Jack. It was possible that one of his ranch hands knew where he was if he weren't on the ranch. When I turned down his gravel driveway, I passed the ornate wrought-iron gates that were always dripping with vines and colorful flowers. I'd asked once who kept them up, and Jack told me that was Sarah's doing. I wondered if Randi would take care of them in her sister's absence. I breathed a sigh of relief when I found Jack's F-350 parked in the circle in front of the farmhouse. At the very least, it meant I didn't have to make the forty-five-minute trip to Laredo or traipse all over town to track him down. Instead of pulling into the drive behind him, I parked in front of the barn next to what appeared to be Austin's truck. I hopped out of the cab, wondering what my brother was doing here at seven in the morning. I knew he'd been spending a ton of time with Randi, but this was early even for them. And

The next morning a new physical therapist came for her first visit. The first of many. And I knew the moment I saw her that I would hate every single one. She just looked severe. There wasn't a soft edge to the woman, and when she opened her mouth, she only confirmed my suspicion. "Hey, Sarah. I'm Karen." She had a tight red bun perched at the crown of her head, and her nose was as straight as her thin lips. Frankly, she was a bit scary. "I'm not going to like this, am I?" I didn't mean to sound ornery right off the bat, but she could have given me a little friendlier introduction, one that consisted of more than four words. Her green eyes met mine, and her pupils were tiny. The way she looked through me sent a shiver up my spine. "Not if you're looking for an easy fix." Well, that was pointed. "But if you're serious about the possibility of regaining mobility, then you'll suck it up and put in the work." Karen gave me the once over, and apparently didn't seem