Freedom

by Faith Potts

  Smirking, I step around him. Golly, this guy is fun to be around.

  The sweaty towel smacks into my back as I walk away.

  || ~* || ~* || ~* ||

  As I’m getting ready to leave work for the evening, I snatch up my bag and jacket from the break room and head out the back door. I walk down the sidewalk outside the therapy wing, toward the area where employees park. I’m so consumed with thoughts of what I’ll have for supper that I nearly miss James standing outside the main entrance.

  He’s off to the side—phone in hand and drawstring bag on his back—muttering under his breath. I can’t help noticing that he’s wearing jeans, meaning he changed after our session. If this guy doesn’t start going out in public with his prosthesis visible once warm weather arrives, my bossy side is going to want to intervene.

  “Is something wrong?” I ask, shouldering my purse as I stop beside him. “You look kinda frustrated.”

  “Ahh, it’s not that bad.” He pockets his phone and runs his hand through his hair. “Brian just has to work late and can’t come pick me up like we’d planned.”

  “Oh, not a problem. I can take you home.”

  I can tell by the look on his face that he really wants to turn me down, but he doesn’t. He considers it for a second instead, and then gives me that one-eyed squint that looks painful. “You don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.” I smile, trying to look convincing. I’m so bad at this. “It’s right on the way. I do have to stop at Walmart first, though. Do you mind?”

  || ~* || ~* || ~* ||

  I’m in the chips aisle fifteen minutes later, trying to decide between Doritos and Salt & Vinegar, when a sit-and-shop putts toward me from the right. I step back out of the way for the person to pass. However, instead of steering on past me or stopping to grab an item, the little cart approaches and stops dead in front of me.

  “James!” I laugh at his smirk of satisfaction. “What on earth are you doing?”

  “Shopping, what else?” He grins, cutting the motorized cart in such a tight circle I’m afraid it will flip, and heads back the way he came.

  Selecting a bag of chips at random, I hurry to catch up to him. I find him at the end of the aisle, attempting to back the sit-and-shop out of the display of baking supplies he somehow rammed into.

  “Are you sure you’re qualified to drive that thing?” I smile politely to an older lady who’s walking by, a mask of concern on her face.

  “It says it’s for ‘shoppers with disabilities who have challenged mobility.’ I’m pretty sure I fit the criteria.”

  I roll my eyes, speedwalking to keep up with him as he leaves the food section and starts toward the baby clothes. Why, I’ll never know. “I meant, do you know what you’re doing? And good grief, if we’re going to keep up this speed, I should get to ride.”

  He grins at me over his shoulder and shakes his head. “Nope, sorry.”

  “But I’m like…really tired.” I might as well have fun with this, too.

  No answer. He rounds the corner and side-swipes a stack of diapers, leaving it wobbling in his wake. The steering wheel should have driving directions etched into it. I reach out to steady them, then run to catch up, dodging a woman with a cart full of kids and dog food.

  “Really, really tired,” I repeat when I come alongside him. I drop my chips, cereal, and dish soap into the basket. “I mean, c’mon. If I pass out of exhaustion, how will you get home?”

  “I’ll take your keys and leave you here for the manager to deal with.” Grinning wickedly, he presses the forward button and zips to a few yards ahead of me.

  Okay, so that was a really good comeback. I better have something equally as challenging to throw his way or I’m doomed to a life of shame. I trail along as he heads through the household section. “What if I…accidentally left my keys in the ladies’ room? You can’t go get them, and if you asked someone else to, they’re never going to believe you.”

  “Pathetic, Miss Lorance. Beyond pathetic. But fine, you win. Will you quit whining if I let you ride in my basket?”

  Easier than I expected. “Deal.” Spotting a bin of cheap throw pillows a few yards ahead, I sprint over to it and grab an armload.

  The low whirring of the battery-powered gizmo alerts me of his nearing presence. “Now what?”

  I turn around and dump five or six glittery pillows into the front of the cart. I hop up into the metal basket without a second’s hesitation and let my feet hang over the front. “Away with us, my footman.”

  “As you wish, fair maiden.”

  Pleased that he remembers that conversation, I smile to myself at the inside joke and nestle down in my mobile cocoon as James navigates the dishes aisle. Not the best choice of route considering his driving skills—or lack of.

  “Oh, great. Did I really say that again? Out loud? I’ll learn to mind my mouth someday. Maybe. Not exactly top priority, if you know what I mean.”

  “It’s really okay.” To be honest, his slip-ups are kind of cute. But right now my mind is too stuck on the words out loud. Does he mean to imply that he thinks these things other times than when he says them?

  We’re approaching the front of the store—after I spent ten minutes convincing James that I really needed to get home before midnight—when the sit-and-shop slows to a crawl.

  I lean back against my pillows and yawn. “Not funny, chauffeur.”

  “It’s, uh, not a joke.”

  Sitting up, I turn around and peek through the pillows to inspect his driving. He has the forward button pressed completely and yet we’re hardly moving.

  I make a face. “Well, this is just swell.”

  “No one says that anymore.”

  “Whatever. This is lame. I could crawl faster than this.”

  “I could crawl faster than this,” James throws back, giving me a dark look that I don’t quite believe.

  I squint and lean closer, trying to see the battery level. “We probably killed the battery.”

  “I think it’s only supposed to have one rider. And we all know who was here first…” He pins me with what’s probably supposed to be a menacing glare. But I’m not bothered by it.

  I prop my chin on the edge of the basket near the controls and glare right back. “Who has time for details? Point is, it’s dying.”

  “Point is, it’s dead.” He releases the button and we stop completely. “How about you get out, take all your blingy merchandise with you, and go check out? I’ll try to limp this thing back to the chargers.”

  I laugh and oblige. “Fine.” Hopping down to the floor, I gather up my things from underneath the throws. Then James helps me, and we squish the pillows onto a nearby shelf.

  I hold the last one in place and nod for him to get a move on. “Run before they all fall.”

  He putts a few yards ahead—at a very slow rate. “You forget my horse is dying,” he grumbles, setting his real foot on the floor to push himself ahead and better his getaway.

  Oh heavens… I abandon the fragile placement of the borrowed pillows and take off for the checkout line. “I’ll be there as quick as I can!”

  I rush through the self-check line with my three items—plus an impulsive candy purchase. I’m borderline afraid that James will be hauled off to jail for some misdemeanor before I get back to where I left him.

  Bag in hand, I speed-walk to the doors. James is sitting on a bench near where the sit-and-shops are kept on the chargers.

  He spots me and stands, wobbling before he’s all the way erect. He grabs for the back of the bench for stability, and I don’t miss the way he drops his gaze and pauses for a moment.

  Caught between wanting to ask if he’s okay or just ignore it and save him any embarrassment, I walk on toward him, smiling when I get closer. “Looks like you made it.”

  “Barely,” he scoffs, falling in step beside me as we pass through the automatic sliding doors. “Let me take that.”

  He reaches for the plastic shopping bag, but I shake
my head and don’t relent. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

  Ignoring me, he wiggles the bag from my hand and keeps walking.

  I snicker and let him have it. It was a rather sweet gesture.

  After crossing the main road around the outskirts of the parking lot, we start down the first row of cars. At this time of the evening, there aren’t many people on this end. I sprint over to the parking curbs and hop up onto the first one. One foot in front of the other, I balance the length of it and then jump to the next.

  James walks alongside me as I continue my childish exercise. “You’re such a kid sometimes,” he mutters, shaking his head and grinning.

  I stop and squint at him in the falling dusk. “That wasn’t meant to be a compliment, was it?”

  “Um…” He lets my single shopping bag slide down to his elbow and lifts his hand to rub his chin. “I think I’m going to plead the fifth here, in an attempt to stay on your good side.”

  “Who said you were ever on my good side, Semper Fi?”

  He laughs outright at that. “Oh, now I see how it is.”

  I laugh with him and then point down to the curb I’m balancing on. “Come on; do it with me. Maybe that’ll up your status on my scale.”

  He shakes his head, the grin quickly diminishing. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “Sure it is.” I set my most encouraging smile in place and face him. “It’ll be good for your balance.”

  Sighing, James steps over to the curb next to me. “Always the therapist, huh?”

  “Of course.” I grin and take the shopping bag from his arm. “Come on.”

  Exhaling noisily, he steps onto the raised concrete, good leg first. Once atop it, he wobbles, and I resist the instinct to lay my hand on his arm. But he’s okay. He needs to know he can do this. “Ready?”

  “I guess.” He nods for me to turn on around. “Let’s go.”

  “All right.” I start down the barrier, much slower than I was walking before. “Hold onto my shoulder if you need to.”

  The words are no sooner out of my mouth than his hand appears on my shoulder. I grin, knowing he can’t see me—and not minding the arrangement.

  We inch down the length of the first curb, but he’s more or less scooting his feet along instead of actually taking steps as I’d had in mind when I suggested the endeavor.

  When we’re both off the end of the curb, I step up onto the next one and turn to face James. “Let’s try something different this time. Place your hand on my shoulder as I face you, and then you’ll have to take real steps and keep up with me.”

  A few inches below me with the added height difference, he doesn’t speak for a minute. He only stares up at me thoughtfully, as a car horn blares on the other side of the store and a mother with three kids straggles by.

  Then, finally, “Do you really think this will help?”

  I nod slowly; I wasn’t expecting him to become so serious over it. “Yeah, I really do.”

  “Then I guess I’m in.” He winks and steps up onto the curb in front of me.

  With James’s hand resting on my shoulder, I start walking backward as he works at keeping up and staying steady. I take a couple quick steps and then slow back down, just trying to mix him up and make him work at it and pay attention. A time or two, he latches onto me, and I stop to let him regain control. But for the most part, I’m quite impressed with how well he’s progressing.

  Once, I nearly lose my footing, and he has to grab hold of me instead. We both laugh at the irony.

  When we come to the end of the curbs, I realize we passed my truck long ago. I start chuckling, noting how absorbed we were.

  “What now?” James asks, stepping down to the ground next to me.

  Amused, I point to the truck. “We went a little farther than we intended, I think.”

  He just smiles as we start back down the parking lot. “Thank you, Alex.”

  “What?”

  “You really care, and it makes a difference in the way you treat people. I may not act like it, but I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

  Suddenly uncomfortable and unable to take the compliment, I glance down. “That almost sounds like a goodbye speech.”

  “No…not by a long shot.”

  He says it like he means it, like he doesn’t plan to walk out of my life like others have. I catch myself smiling at him when he’s not even looking—and I almost choke.

  What do you think you’re doing, Alex?

  || ~* || ~* || ~* ||

  || James

  I chuckle to myself as I climb into the passenger seat of Alex’s old pickup. The girl couldn’t take a compliment if she tried—which she doesn’t. Since she can’t just smile or thank me when I try to let her know how special she is, I wonder what she would do if I outright told her that I think she’s beautiful.

  Not that I’ve thought about it.

  I cut my eyes in her direction as she navigates the parking lot with one hand on the wheel and the other propped on the door panel. She really is pretty, even more so when she’s being herself and not thinking about others’ judgement.

  Alex looks my way, smirking when she catches me watching her. “What do you say to some ice cream before I take you home?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Dairy Queen is en route.” She rolls to a stop at the traffic light, tapping a finger on the wheel.

  “Dairy Queen is not ice cream.”

  The tapping stops and the eyes that were previously focused on the red light roll toward me. “Excuse me? A girl offers you ice cream and you complain about her choice of restaurant?”

  Grinning, I settle back in the seat. This girl is entirely too much fun to be around. “I wasn’t going to let you pay for it.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure.” She pins me with a sparkling-eyed glare that suggests she’s anything but convinced of my sincerity. “Only because you feel bad now.”

  Honk!

  A horn blares from the car behind us, and Alex literally jumps and lets out the wimpiest yelp I’ve ever heard. Coloring red, she gases it through the light while I try not to die from lack of oxygen as a result of laughing so hard.

  Dairy Queen is at the next light, and when we pull up to the drive-thru, Alex still hasn’t spoken to me or looked my way after the light incident.

  She brakes just behind a car full of teenagers who are trying to place an order for twenty blizzards, while assuring the poor employee that they’ll be back later with the rest of the money.

  Alex finally looks my way, the cutest smirk on her face. “Stop cackling before you require CPR. It wasn’t that funny.”

  I grin back, glad I didn’t make her mad. “Oh, wasn’t it?”

  She rolls her eyes and nods toward the building. “Will you come to church on Sunday if I buy your ice cream?”

  This chick is preposterous. “Oh, so now you’re going to treat me like a toddler?”

  “Whatever works.”

  “I was already planning on attending, Miss Lorance. You might want to make that offer to those kids, instead.”

  Chapter Ten || Alex

  On my way home from work on Friday evening, I stop by Joe and Gloria’s. I need some godly advice, and this is the best place I know of to get it.

  Ever since that hour spent goofing off at Walmart with James three days ago, my thoughts have been muddled. One minute I can’t stop smiling, replaying those moments in my mind. Then the next, I want to cry for no apparent reason.

  Pulling up in front of my aunt and uncle’s modest home, I park the truck and hop out onto the warm pavement. Late February, and it already feels like springtime.

  I wander over to where Uncle Joe is reclining in the swing on the porch, glass of lemonade in hand. Probably taking a break after spending much of the day planning the fundraiser, which is coming up in a few weeks.

  Without a word, I take a seat beside him, falling into the methodical rhythm of the swing. Sometimes words aren’t as necessary as we like to think.<
br />
  “Something on your mind, Lexie?” he asks after a moment.

  I nod and rest my head against the swing’s back. “James. He confuses me.”

  He snickers and drapes his arm behind my shoulders. “Care to elaborate?”

  I briefly explain our Dairy Queen and Walmart venture, with the buggy ride and balancing on the curbs. I leave out the minor detail about how I didn’t mind that James held onto my shoulder. That’s much too personal to share, even with Uncle Joe.

  Besides, he’s probably seeing right through all of this without me spilling my guts.

  “I think I know what part of it is. I’m afraid you’re viewing that young man as your project,” Uncle Joe says, his voice tender but convicting. “Like a hurt puppy that you’ll take care of until it’s better, or a little bird that needs you only until it can fly on its own again. You’re trying to care without caring so much that it’ll hurt.”

  My brow furrows as I consider his words. Am I considering James a project? That sounds so distant, nothing like the friendship of sorts that’s been growing between us for the past couple weeks.

  “It’s like you’re also trying to protect yourself from forming an attachment, since the length of his stay here is uncertain.”

  I lean forward and prop my elbows on my knees. That’s way too close to true for me to disregard. “So…if I am thinking of him that way… I mean, I don’t think I am intentionally, but maybe I am without knowing it.” I feel my uncle’s arm slide around my shoulders and I sit up to face him. “But what if I don’t want to view him that way? How do I change?”

  He smiles, tugging me closer. “You can’t change it entirely, Lexie Lou. I see a piece of your heart peeking out each time you’re around someone who needs help. Compassion is in your heart; helping people is who you are inside.” He quiets for a moment and then adds, “I haven’t seen that in you so much since the ordeal with Drake. James is good for you; he’s bringing you back around to us.”