120 days... by M. Stratton Page A

different equipment and what he would need to either fix it, or get it ready to see if Sam wanted to sell it off for a profit. There was also a lot of crap that could just be thrown out. Having a good idea on what was in the barn, he went over to the garage searching for garbage cans and cleaning supplies. Dumping everything he needed into a can, he put it on a cart and started back toward the shed.
    “What’s your hurry?” the raspy voice of Edward Willbanks said from the porch of his room. “Racing around so you miss the little things does more harm than good.”
    Because of the Hodgkin’s disease and emphysema, Edward moved slowly. It was a joke he used all the time because before the disease, he was always running around between work and family, never taking the time to sit back and enjoy the day.
    Ethan slowed down. “I’ve got something I need to accomplish today. Sometimes I need the physical labor to calm the mind.”
    Nodding, Edward smiled at him. “I wonder why you need the physical labor.” He held a hand up to stop Ethan from speaking. “Now, son, don’t get your pants in a wad. We’ve all been there; sometimes that’s all you can do. Go on now, try to calm your mind.”
    “Yeah, thanks . . .” Ethan turned and continued walking to the shed. The last thing he wanted was everyone analyzing why he was there and what he was doing. Of course, that brought Sam back into his mind and how soul deep, he felt he was changing. He wondered where she fit into everything.
    Hours later, Ethan stepped outside and squinted up at the location of the sun, which was higher in the sky than he thought it should have been. Rolling his shoulders, he tried to release the tension which had built up in them. The trash pile right outside the door was getting so large he was going to have to start moving it somewhere else if he wasn’t going to end up trapped in there.
    “Here,” a soft voice called from behind him. “Phil said you were working over here and could probably use some water and maybe something to eat by now.”
    “Thanks, Tracy,” Ethan said to the young cook. “You didn’t have to come all the way out here to deliver it to me.”
    “It’s no problem. I’ve finished making lunch.” She looked around at the junk. “Exactly what are you doing?”
    “Sam wants to turn this place into a gym for the guests. I decided today would be a good day to start on it.”
    “Isn’t it your day off?” Tracy narrowed her eyes at him.
    “Yes, but I didn’t have anything else to do, so I figured I might as well start on it.”
    “That’s all fine and dandy, but you don’t want to miss out on life while you’re so focused on work. You should use your day off to do something you want to do.”
    “But this is what I wanted to do.”
    She looked at him for a moment, tilting her head to the side studying him. “Are you sure?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, but turned around and left him standing there, the condensation from the water bottle dripping down his hand while he thought about what she’d said, what everyone had been saying to him.
    Was this really what he wanted to be doing? Why was he working so hard, so focused on this project that he felt like if he didn’t get it done that day, it would never be done.
    No, he thought, this isn’t what I want to be doing today. What I really want is an answer on why Sam brushed me off last night, why she wouldn’t take the time to talk to me.
    Ripping the cap off the water, he chugged it down before tossing it in the garbage can. Using the back of his hand, he wiped off his mouth as he stalked toward the main house where Sam could usually be found that time of day. He didn’t care if it was during business hours. He wanted answers and wasn’t going to settle for anything less than her honesty.
    He barged into her office without knocking and quickly turned and slammed the door shut when she wasn’t in there. The kitchen was also empty, along with the