Be honest.

Before she could argue any more, the man pushed Cricket out of the X-ray lab and headed down the hall. “We’ll go back to the emergency room, and the doctor will be here soon to discuss the next step.”

“Is it broken?” Jennie Sue asked.

“The lab tech will read it, and then the doctor will talk to you,” he said as he got Cricket into her original cubicle and helped her up onto the narrow bed. “Need a blanket?”

“Yes, please,” Cricket moaned.

“Can you give her something for the pain?” Jennie Sue asked.

“Not right now. The doctor . . . Oh, here he is now. Ask him.”

An older man with a round face, a wide nose, and snow-white hair cut close to his head gently rolled the sheet away from Cricket’s leg. “Let’s see what we’ve got here. I checked the picture and there’s no broken bones, which means a nasty sprain that’s going to keep you off your feet for three to six weeks. For the first week, you’ll keep it propped up and only get up to go to the bathroom—on crutches.”

Cricket sucked air through her teeth several times when he pressed on the ankle. Jennie Sue grabbed her hand and held it.

Cricket tried to jerk it away, and Jennie Sue leaned down and whispered, “We’re civil friends, remember?” Did that subcategory of friends mean that the friendship ended when they left the hospital, or did she have to do more for Cricket? And how was it different from acquaintances?

Jennie Sue was still mulling over the type of friendship she wanted with Cricket when the doctor’s deep voice jerked her back to the room.

“Ice. Twenty minutes on and twenty minutes off, three times in the morning, afternoon, and evening,” he said. “Second week you can move around the house on crutches, but you can’t put the foot on the ground. I’ll see you at the end of that week and we’ll talk about a walking boot.”

“I have to work,” Cricket moaned.

“Not for the next three weeks, and then only part-time until I release you,” he said sternly, and then looked over at Jennie Sue. “I understand you are her sister. Can I trust you to make her follow my instructions?”

“She’s not really—” Cricket snapped.

Jennie Sue squeezed her hand hard. “This time I get to be the boss, so don’t argue with me. How much longer will we be here, Doc? And will you please write a prescription for pain medicine? She’s an old bear when she’s hurting.” Jennie Sue talked fast to keep Cricket from saying another word.

“Where do you want me to call the prescriptions in to?” the doctor asked.

“A pharmacy here in Sweetwater that’s open on Sundays, since our little drugstore is closed,” Jennie Sue answered. “Can we get crutches there?”

“We’ll give her some and I’ll tell the nurse to call this in to City Drug. Know where that is? And you’ll see to it that she makes a follow-up appointment?”

“Yes, sir, I will be sure.” Jennie Sue nodded.

“Okay, then, I’ll see you in my office in a couple of weeks,” he said on his way out the door. “Someone will be in to wheel you out to your vehicle in a few minutes.”

“You are not my sister!” Cricket hissed.

“A civil friend doesn’t act like a full-fledged bitch,” Jennie Sue said. “Let’s just get you home and comfortable so you can start that regimen with an ice pack.”

A woman came through the curtain with a syringe in one hand and a set of metal crutches in the other. “Doc has ordered a pain shot to help until you get your meds started. Hip or arm?”

“Arm,” Cricket answered.

“It wears off quickly, so go ahead and take a pill as soon as you can with food. Here’s your crutches. Tuck them tightly under your arms, and don’t put your hurt foot on the ground. We’ll get you in the wheelchair and roll you out to the car.” She looked over at Jennie Sue. “You can go get the vehicle and I’ll roll her out to it.”

Cricket was barely in the chair when another woman arrived with a sheaf of papers. “You’ll need to sign these. We’ll bill your insurance and then send a bill with the balance due to the address on your driver’s license.”

Cricket signed all the places where she was told and glanced over at Jennie Sue. “I sprained the other ankle five years ago. I know what to do. Just take me home and then leave me alone.”

“Sisters. You don’t get to pick ’em, and there’s nothing you can do about what you get when they arrive. So which of you is oldest?” the administrator asked.

“I am,” Jennie Sue said. “By ten months.”

“Then I guess you’ve got the God-given right to be the boss,” the woman said. “Let’s get you out to your car.”

Forty-five minutes later they’d been to the drugstore, picked up the medicine, and Jennie Sue was parking the truck in front of a small white frame house. It looked like a picture from Mabel’s kitchen calendar with the deep-red crape myrtle bushes blooming all around it. On one end of the porch a swing, wide enough for three or four people, moved gently in the afternoon breeze. On the other end, two bright-red metal lawn chairs, like what Mabel and Frank had on their porch, beckoned for folks to come sit a spell and visit.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” Rick rubbed a hand over his face as he came outside. When Cricket got out of the truck and tucked the crutches under her arm, he hurried to her side. “What happened?”

“I fell. Jennie Sue took me to the hospital. It’s a sprain and I’m fine.” She started toward the house with Jennie Sue on one side and Rick behind her to catch her if she fell. “What are we going to do? I can’t work for at least three weeks and maybe six. And you need help with the crops.” Tears began to rush down her cheeks and drip onto her shirt.

“Stop worryin’ about all that. We’ll survive,” Rick answered as she made her way up three steps to the porch.

Jennie Sue wiped away Cricket’s tears with the tail of her T-shirt. “I’ll make her an omelet and some pancakes if you’ll get an ice pack ready. She’s got to eat to take a pill.”

“You are not my sister. You’re only my civil friend, and that don’t mean you get to waltz into my house and take over,” Cricket fumed.

“Sister?” Rick looked from one to the other again.

“She lied and said she was my sister so she could come back into the emergency room with me. Now she’s been bossing me worse than you do.” Cricket eased down into a worn recliner when she made it into the house. She popped up the footrest and leaned back. “That pain shot is starting to wear off, and it’s throbbin’ again.”

“Civil friend?” Rick raised a dark eyebrow toward Jennie Sue.

“Friendship comes in degrees. Civil friend is a step below barely friend, but only a step up from not at all and almost hate,” she explained.

“I see.” He grinned. “Well, thank you for taking her and bringing her home. I can handle it from here. I’ll make her some food after I give you a ride home.”

“No, it’s starting to hurt and I need to eat,” Cricket said. “Fix me a peanut butter sandwich or hand me a tomato and I’ll eat it like an apple. I want a pain pill. Why did you tell them you were the oldest?” Cricket asked.

“Show me the kitchen and I’ll make her a quick meal,” Jennie Sue told Rick and then turned her attention back to Cricket. “I was always the oldest in the class, and you were one of the youngest ones. Didn’t we all have to line up according to age in the first grade? We were the brackets. I was jealous of your braids and the freckles across your nose. Frank said that freckles were where angels kissed a person, and I wanted them. I loved your hair, and Mama wouldn’t ever let me have braids.”

“You remember that?” Cricket asked.

“Yep, now how do you like your omelet?”

“With bacon, tomatoes, peppers, and lots of cheese. And Rick . . .” Tears started down Cricket’s cheeks again. “I’m so sorry . . . What are we going to do for real? I can’t help with the crops.”