By the time Jules woke up Saturday morning, she had made up her mind. She did not waste much time carrying her plan out. She had eaten her lunch and Duncan had fallen asleep for his afternoon nap. She gathered up her phone and headphones and headed out the door for her daily walk. The spring air was crisp and clean, and felt almost dewy, regardless of the bright sun shining down.

The next several weeks dragged by slow, and painfully for Jules. She started getting up earlier in the mornings to work out and make a healthy breakfast. All of the lifting, pushing, and caring for Duncan that she did was wearing out her mind more than anything else. She tried to set aside time each day to take a walk while Duncan was sleeping in the afternoons. She always looked forward to this time to let her mind wind down and relax, but it wasn't always enough.

Jules and Greta climbed on furniture and reached up to pull the streamers and balloons down. They laughed at each other while teasing about needing longer arms.
"Take that," Greta wrapped a long, pink streamer around Jules' face.
"Hey now!" Jules laughed and floundered from her perch on the back of the couch. She tried to free her eye-sight.
"Hey, Jules?" Miles called out from Duncan's bedroom.
"Yeah?"
"Do you have your grandpa's meds in there?"
"Oh, yeah. They're in the kitchen. I'll grab them real quick."

The next two days passed by in a blur for Jules. Her dad flew out Saturday afternoon, and Miles took his place at the hospital with Duncan. Duncan was speaking more, and was able to begin physical therapy.
Sunday morning rolled around bright and sunny. Jules got up and dressed herself in a blue skirt and gray sweater with boots and leggings underneath. She pulled the sleeves down over her arms consciously, and pulled the collar up around her neck. Her skin was still crossed with bright red scars, and tender to the touch. She didn't want anybody asking questions.

The thunder rumbled on, and still Jules cried uncontrollably. It was all too much.
"Jules!"
She lifted her head, panting. It was a man's voice calling out to her above the sound of the rain. She listened intently, praying that it wasn't Martin. Maybe it was her dad? She couldn't be sure. She heard her name again, a little closer this time. It definitely wasn't her dad.
"Jules, where are you?"

Jules dragged herself into bed sometime after 10pm. She grinned in the dark while her mind ran back over her evening with Angus and Miles. Angus had obviously had something mischievous up his sleeve, and kept trying to covertly give Miles a certain humorous look. Jules laughed out loud when she remembered how many times Miles looked distressed. At one point he actually ran out of the room while she tried not to laugh. Angus was such a tease.

Miles and Jules walked along the hallway together inside the hospital. He held her backpack for her, as usual.
"I could get used to this," Jules muttered to herself.
"Hmm? I didn't catch what you said."
"Oh," Jules blushed, realizing she had said that out loud. "I was just saying I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to this." She looked down at her feet.
Miles hit the elevator button. "I hope you won't have to get used to it. You'll be taking him home before you know it."
"On boy." Jules smacked her forehead.

By the end of my first day of teaching the following week, the ball seemed years ago, a distant memory buried under an avalanche of paperwork, schedules, lesson plans, grading, and assignments. Had it not been for Devorah Erren’s insufferable boasting to the other girls about the ball (she being the only one of the class whose parents had allowed her to attend) I might not have thought of it at all.
By the middle of the week, however, my thoughts had turned to the upcoming festival that I was to attend with Mira and her family.

Minutes had turned to hours, and Martin was still stretched out on his cot in the corner of the little hospital room. Jules took a peek at him. He was sound asleep, his black hair making his face look even more pale than it already was. She noted the dark circles forming around his eyelids with a bit of concern. He had never been able to handle stress very well, and this was the worst she had seen him. If he wasn't careful to rest he'd need a caretaker, too. She heard a sigh from behind her, and turned her attention back towards the hospital bed. She spoke softly. "Margaret?"

Jules was up bright and early Monday morning. She sang while she made waffles and homemade syrup. The sun was shining brightly through the windows. The first buds of spring would soon be making their appearance in the rose bushes in the backyard.
"Jules?"
"Follow your nose!"
"Mm, I thought I smelled something delicious. How sweet of you to get up early and make me breakfast, Chickadee." He patted her on the cheek.
"My pleasure, Grandad. I set the breakfast table already, and I only have two or three waffles left before I'm finished."