"Thanks." I looked to my shoes.

"Hey," he called. I looked up and he put his fist to his chest. "No one is dying on Pilot Petros watch."

I laughed despite myself. "Only an idiot would allow you to fly a helicopter."

"One thing I've learned being on this job, brother . . ." He pushed the curtain open, revealing the busy happenings of a full E. R. on a Friday night in Atlanta. " . . . The world is fucking full of them."

I had given Everly Anne many numbers in our time together, but the most important number I had in her absence, was an address to a cabin in the middle of an overgrown field. I knocked and stepped away from the door, looking around, wondering if anyone even lived here, anymore. Rustling sounded from around the back of the house, and I cautiously wandered my way over, calling for the name on my paper.

"Oh!" A salt-n-pepper haired woman placed her hand on her chest as she saw me. "I didn't hear anyone."

"I knocked."

"I've been picking my tomatoes all morning. Come, come." She waved me over to a long line of vines and kept on picking, tossing bright red tomatoes in her basket as I looked at my paper.

"I'm looking for a man named Wiley? He had a daughter named Merriam?"

She paused for a moment. "Yes, well, Wiley was my brother. I'm in charge of the house now."

"I know his-well-your cousin. Everly."

She looked up to me, wide eyed. "She's still alive?"

"Yes ma'am. She lives in New York."

The woman slumped to her knees, wiping her dirty hand on a paisley apron. "Well, I guess that man knew what he was doing after all."

"Timothy?" I guessed.

Her eyes turned hard. "Yes. That man."

I smiled. "Don't worry. I'm not much of a fan of him myself."

"Who could be? I mean . . ." She sighed. "He used to be a kind man. He used to be downright charming. Yes, I said it, charming. But that was all . . . before."

"Before Everly's mom died," I nodded. "Your niece."

"I never much got along with Merriam. She was a very head-strong young lady and an even harder-headed woman." She waved her hand at me, scooting further down the vines as she started picking tomatoes again. "But I am sorry for everything that happened to her. It was a damn tragedy after all they had gone through to get married. I'm sorry-who the heck are you, again?"

I smiled. She looked a bit like Everly when she squinted. "I'm Callum Andrew Trovatto. Everly is my girlfriend."

"So why aren't you asking Everly about all this stuff?"

"Dr. Brighton is not a fan of her being in love. I guess I'm interested in knowing why."

"Hum," she nodded. "He moved her away from you, too, did he?"

"He made me move away from her."

"Well," she laughed, "Callum Andrew, he is a ruthless man who cares about nothing except that little girl. So quit while you're ahead."

"Sorry?"

"I said quit-"

"No," I began, "what did you say about Everly?"

"He adores that child beyond all sense. Do you not know this?"

"It's a little hard to tell, honestly. He makes her life miserable."

"No," she shook her head, "he makes her life possible. You know how many times that kid nearly killed herself with that . . . whatever the heck it was called . . . falling down all the time, sunburns from the pool that needed hospitalization. Fevers, OH the fevers! It was nonstop. Did she ever go brain dead?"

"No ma'am. Everly is fine. Smart. Vibrant."