It's a Wonderful Knife Read Free Page B

the breeze.
    Not one of my best moments.
    â€œI’ve got you.”
    He had both arms around me and was about to lift me onto the ground. Was he kidding? Now, Ty was a hunk, more than six feet tall, and studly, but he wasn’t immune to hernias.
    â€œWhoa, cowboy! I don’t want to visit you in the hospital. I can do it. Just let me get my bearings.”
    Antoinette Chloe laughed. “Get out backward. That’s what I sometimes do. Or maybe we can get you a plastic milk crate as a step.”
    I could just see myself balancing on that.
    As my jeans billowed out, I slowly turned around, putting my good, booted foot on the ground first.
    â€œWait! I have a plastic bag to put over your sock,” ACB said, going around to the driver’s side, pulling out our takeout garbage from a plastic bag, and tossing the trash in the back of the van.
    She hurried to my side, her flip-flops flopping.
    With one foot on the ground and the other still on the running board, she scrunched up the plastic bag, lifted my foot, and pulled the bag on. Then she tied the handles around my cast.
    â€œPerfect,” she said.
    The scent of onions from ACB’s onion rings order wafted up from the bag.
    â€œThanks, Antoinette Chloe,” I replied. “Great idea.” And it was.
    â€œNeed help getting that leg down from the van?” Ty asked.
    â€œI can do it.” I just didn’t want to fall.
    Slowly I got my foot onto the ground. With Ty’s help, I turned around and hobbled a couple of steps away from the van. It was then I noticed that the plastic bag on my foot was as slippery as a greased banana.
    As I floundered, Ty gripped my arm.
    He was like that. As a friend, not only did he stop me from falling, but he steadied me.
    ACB was on my other side. She wasn’t everyone’s cup of hot chocolate, but she was the whipped cream of my life.
    Just ahead was the long sidewalk that led to the Big House. Someone, probably either Max or Clyde, had shoveled and sanded the sidewalk. Just after that, the front stairs loomed ahead.
    Remembering my fall, I sighed. Suddenly my ribs hurt even more when I breathed and my ankle throbbed to the tune of “Jingle Bells.”
    I just had to keep my mind occupied and not think of my fall.
    Which reminded me . . . “You know, guys, I have crutches in the van somewhere. I should be getting used to them.”
    â€œI’ll get ’em!” ACB said, dropping my arm.
    â€œUh . . . okay.” Off she went, and I debated whether Ty could handle all of me.
    Ha!
    I felt his arm go around my waist and my parka,then compress. The couple of times that he’d had his arm around me, I was always wearing a puffy coat.
    What a waste.
    â€œHow’re you doing, Trixie?”
    â€œOkay. But this sidewalk seems endless, and the plastic bag is really slippery. I don’t want to fall again.”
    â€œDon’t worry. I’ve got you.”
    It was time for the stairs, and, holding onto the icy railing, I lifted my good foot. Then the plastic-bagged foot.
    Ty was giving my butt a boost, adding extra incentive for me to take my time and relish the experience.
    The stairs were easy, but when I opened the door, Blondie came running and dashed between us.
    Ty chuckled. “Looks like Blondie needs to use the snow. I should have let her out, but while you were at the hospital I got a call and had to direct traffic in town.”
    Two more steps brought me inside, and I slid my coat off, then the bag and my wet sock, and tried to put my jeans together.
    I needed duct tape, but that was in my kitchen drawer.
    Sinking into a recliner, I put an afghan over my legs and yanked the handle back.
    Relief.
    â€œWhat happened in town that you had to direct traffic?” I asked.
    â€œSylvia Thistle got her husband’s Silverado stuck in a snowbank again. She was plowing out their driveway, and a deer jumped across her path. She yankedthe