“Baby steps,” he echoed.
“You need to use your napkin.”
“Of course, since I missed my mouth with every bite.” He reached for the napkin, managed to grip it with clumsy fingers and swiped for his mouth.
But ended up getting only his cheek.
“Here, let me help.” She placed her hand over his, helped him move the napkin to his mouth. Her fingers tingled as she met his gaze, and she jerked her hand away. “That’s better. Okay, let’s get you out of that chair.”
“Please.” The vulnerability in his voice tugged at her.
She locked the wheels. “You can use the chair, table and me for support.”
Using mostly the table and chair, he pushed up. Once standing, he held on to her arm as she walked him toward the balance ball. His feet made awkward, uncoordinated movements, slapping heavily against the floor. Every few steps, he swayed a bit. But at least he stepped onto the mat she’d put down in case of falls, without catching his toe on it.
“Why won’t my feet obey?” he grumbled.
“Don’t worry, you’re doing fine. Now, whatever you do, don’t just plop down on the ball. It will throw you just like that bull did. Just ease down onto it.”
“I’m not sure I can balance enough to do that and I don’t think you’re big enough to support me while I do it.”
“That’s where this comes in.” She gestured to the trapeze support hanging from the ceiling above the ball. “Grab it, and use your arm strength to ease down and stay balanced.”
He grabbed the bar, took a deep breath and lowered himself. Slow and precise, he sank onto the ball.
“You don’t have to let go today if you don’t think you’re ready.”
“I was ready yesterday.” He let go of the bar, rocked to the right, then the left, and managed to right himself. But then he swayed left again.
Lexie grabbed his shoulders, trying to steady him. But his weight was too much. He flipped off the ball, taking her with him. They landed on the mat, him on his back, her sprawled sideways beside him.
“You okay?” She rose up.
He covered his face with both hands, his shoulders shaking.
Watching a full-grown man cry, even silently, always did her in. “I’m sorry. I should have made you hang on to the bar. Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” He moved his hands. Laughing, not crying. “That was fun. Can we do it again?”
“No.” She lay down on her back, blowing out a relieved sigh. Tension eased as his deep laughter continued.
A knock sounded at the door and it opened as Audrey stepped in. “Oh dear, is everything okay?”
“I’m fine, Mom. The balance ball bucked me off.” He roared with laughter. “I used to ride bulls and now I can’t even ride a hoppity-hop without taking my therapist out, too.”
Audrey looked worried, but Clint’s amusement proved contagious. She chuckled. “Okay, then, I’ll leave you two to it.” The door shut.
“I forgot about hoppity-hops.” She couldn’t stay serious any longer and joined in his laughter. Until she didn’t hear him anymore and looked over at him.
Tears trickled into the dark hair at his temple. But not from laughter.
She looked away, closed her eyes and prayed silently for his comfort and peace.
He heaved a big breath, swiped at his eyes and said, “Okay, pity party over. But I’m not sure if I can get up.”
“Roll onto your side.”
He followed her instructions.
“Now use your hands and arms to push your upper body up first.” She helped him position correctly and leveraged her weight against him for support. “Great. Put your top knee forward, then get on your hands and knees. Now crawl over to the chair at the table and slowly push up from the seat of it.”
“Oh, that’s humiliating.” His tone dripped with sarcasm.
“There will be times I’m not here and you’ll need to get from one place to the other,” she reminded him. “Would you rather have to call your mom every time?”
With a sigh, he crawled over to the chair and did as she directed.
“Don’t ever try to pull up on the back of the chair or on the table, since they might tip over.” She helped him ease into the chair. “How about we play cards?”
“Just give me a minute, then I’ll go for another ride.”
“Only if you hold on to the trapeze bar. Period.”
“We’ll see.” He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “For the record, I don’t cry.”
“What happens in the therapy room stays in the therapy room,” she said gently. “But for the record, the part of your brain you injured controls emotion. And you’ve been through a lot.” His dad’s death was still fresh for him, and he’d lost two years of his life, including the birth of a new niece. “You’re entitled to a good pity party crying binge.”
“No, thank you. I think I’m ready to ride the ball again.”
“Once you get stronger and your balance improves, you can push yourself. But for now, let’s take it slow and easy. I’ll only allow you to try the ball again if you promise to hold on to the trapeze.”
“Yes, Sarge.” He made an awkward salute.
But despite his tears earlier, Lexie felt encouraged. His determination would drive him to recovery. And his mood had been more upbeat than she’d expected. All she had to do was make sure he didn’t drive himself into the ground.
Chapter Five
Day two of therapy was two thirds over and lunch had been a mess. With more beans on the table than in Clint’s growling stomach. But Lexie insisted he was doing great. Did she only say that because it was her job? He certainly didn’t feel great. He felt uncoordinated, incapable, disjointed, inept.
Powerless.
Was this how Dad had felt? Would he gradually get worse and worse like his father had?
Today’s accomplishment: he’d learned Lexie was equally a dog person, since she’d shown up wearing scrubs scattered with different breeds.
And she was very patient and good at sensing when he needed a break. They’d spent the bulk of the afternoon with him seated at the kitchen table between her and Mom, poring over photo albums.
“This was when Charlee was born. That little darling sure loves her Uncle Clint.” He tried to focus on the photo Mom was showing him. The hairless, toothless infant looked much like Cooper had as a newborn. Brain injury or no, how could he have forgotten his niece’s birth?
“Hey, everybody.” Carly hurried in.
“I didn’t even hear the door,” Mom said, standing up. “Want supper?”
“No, I can’t stay long. Just wanted to see how your therapy’s going.”
“I’m pleased with the progress Clint made today.” Lexie smiled.
“Wow, progress on the second day,” Carly remarked, kissing his cheek. “Gotta go. But I’ll be able to come over tomorrow night and spend some time with my little bro. So do me a favor, Lexie, don’t work him too hard.”
“I have a feeling I’ll be trying to put his brakes on through the entire month.”
“Uncle Clint.” A small voice came from the hallway as a young boy stepped into sight.
“Cooper!” Carly gasped. “I told you to stay in the car.”
Cooper? A foot taller than Clint remembered. And two years older. His towhead gone. Darker hair with a few sun-lightened streaks. How could this be?
“But I wanted to see Uncle Clint.”
“Where’s your sister?” Carly demanded, starting for the door.
“I brought her in with me.” Cooper stepped aside to reveal a toddler standing behind him.
“Cooper, please go to the car.” Carly scooped up her daughter. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Clint.”
Seeing grown-up Cooper in pictures and grown-up Cooper in person were two
entirely different things. And Charlee, out of the womb and walking, blew his mind.
“No.” The word ripped from Clint. “Don’t go.”
“See, Uncle Clint wants to see me, too,” Cooper said, darting toward him. “Don’t you?” The youngster frowned. “Or do you even remember me?”
“I do remember.” Clint reached for him. “A younger version of you.”
Cooper plowed into him. Good thing he was sitting down.
“Careful, Cooper. Remember I told you Uncle Clint hurt his head. He gets off balance easy, so you can’t be rough with him.”
“It’s okay since I was sitting.” His arms came around his nephew. He may be taller and older, but this felt the same. Smelled the same. Sweat and dirt, with a hint of shampoo, no longer baby scented.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Uncle Clint.”
“Me, too.”
The toddler ran over to him and clambered up in his lap. “Uncle Squint.”
He chuckled at the mispronunciation.
Carly grinned. “That’s what she’s always called you.”
“I like it.” Charlee. The last time he’d seen her in person, she was still in Carly’s stomach. It made his head hurt. And his heart.
Cooper pulled away from him, staring with rounded eyes. “Why are you crying, Uncle Clint?”
“Remember I told you, he might be weird.” Carly winced, obviously regretting her choice of words.
Clint chuckled again. Weird and surreal, that fit.
“But I’ve never seen Uncle Clint cry. Ever. Not even when Grandpa died.”
That stole the breath out of his lungs. But at least he remembered. He’d cried all right. Just not in front of anyone.
“I think we should go,” Carly hedged.
“No. Please. Don’t take them,” he rasped, managing a smile. “I’m crying because I missed y’all.” Missed two years to be exact. “And I’m happy to see you again.” Even though he’d never seen Charlee. That he could remember anyway.
“Lexie, what do you think?” Carly looked to her for confirmation.
“I think it’s a great idea for Clint to spend time with people who love him.”
“Okay. I guess we’ve got a few hours before Bible study tonight,” his sister said.
Clint hadn’t even realized it was Wednesday. Would he ever get to the point where he could go to church? Keep a schedule?
“Just what the doctor ordered.” He buried his nose in Charlee’s fine downy hair. Baby shampoo and powder filled his senses. Worry-free innocence soothed his troubled soul.
“How come you’re in a wheelchair, Uncle Clint?” Cooper piped up.
“Your uncle Clint hurt the part of his brain that controls his balance, so it’s hard for him to stand and walk right now.” Lexie explained, making it sound like it was no big deal. “But we’re working on it, so he’ll be on his feet and steady like before.”
“What else is weird about him?”
“Cooper, not so many questions, bud,” Carly cautioned.
“He’s just being Cooper. Always full of questions.” At least his nephew hadn’t changed. He set his hand on his nephew’s head to ruffle his hair, but his hand just flopped. “My hands have a hard time understanding what my brain wants. That makes precise movements hard for me.”
“So we can’t build LEGO houses?”
“Actually, that would be great therapy.” Lexie stood and hurried to their therapy room.
“Who’s she?” Cooper whispered.
“My therapist. She’s helping me remember how to stand and walk and work my hands.”
“Cool. She seems nice. And pretty. Do you think she’s pretty, Uncle Clint?”
He’d definitely noticed her thick cascade of midnight hair with equally dark, enigmatic eyes and flawless skin. “Lexie is very pretty.”
“Ahem.” Carly cleared her throat, drawing Clint’s attention.
Lexie stood just behind his sister with a big yellow box shaped like one huge LEGO brick. The splash of pink across her cheeks gave tangible evidence she’d heard what he said.
His face flushed. “But more important, she’s a really good therapist.” And that was all he needed to see her as. If he was following his dad’s mental path, he couldn’t possibly entertain anything else.
“I’ll get out of your hair for the night,” she said, setting the box on the table. “Call me if you run into any problems.” With a wave, she scurried for the front door.
Running for her life. From a guy with no future. Did she know something about his prognosis that he didn’t?
* * *
No. No. No. Lexie shook her head.
She could not be attracted to Clint, even if he thought she was pretty. She could not get tingling fingers every time she touched him during therapy. She could not think about how handsome he was while helping him with a task.
She turned into Larae’s drive. Her friend had texted her throughout the day, begging her to stop by on the way home. Until Lexie agreed, insisting she couldn’t stay long or eat since Mama would have supper ready soon and they had church to attend tonight.
The long drive ended at the cedar-sided ranch house with the long porch and inviting swing. Exactly the same as when she’d been a kid. Comforting. She killed the engine and crawled out of her cocoon. Now that she wouldn’t be driving back and forth from the city for visits, maybe she’d invest in something bigger.
At the second step, the door swung open. “I’m so happy you’re home!” Larae exclaimed, wrapping her up in a hug. Even though it had only been a few months since they’d seen each other.
“Me, too.”
“Come on in. It’s chilly out here.” Rance Shepherd ushered them inside.
Larae’s husband.
And even though Lexie had attended the grand opening of Larae’s indoor rodeo last summer, witnessed the proposal and been in the wedding the very next day, she still couldn’t get used to them being together.
“Speaking of chili, I told your mom we should have supper here. Of course I offered to cook, but she insisted on making us a pot.” Larae followed her in.
“That sounds nice.” The pastel-flowered couch stood the test of time in the fancy living room and always brought back memories of her friend’s very genteel Southern mom.
“Lexie!” Jayda bolted down the stairs in the foyer and blasted into her.
“Hey, buttercup,” Lexie murmured, picking her up and swinging her around. “You’ve grown. I may not be able to do this much longer.”
“I grew a whole inch since the wedding.”
“I can tell.” She set Jayda down, pressed a kiss on her head.
“Me and Daddy are gonna go finish the cake we made, so you and Mama can talk. He’s trying to win you over.”
Lexie snickered, looking up at Rance. “You don’t have to win me over. As long as these two are happy, so am I.”
“Come on, baby girl, since you outed me, we best git to it.” Rance kissed Larae’s cheek and steered Jayda to the kitchen.
Larae watched them go with a dreamy look on her face.
“Is he really for real?”
“Completely,” Larae replied, clasping a hand to her heart.
“I’m glad. It’s good to see you happy.” Over the years Larae had transformed from a heartbroken single mom, to career woman, to a wife and mom with a happily-ever-after. Made Lexie wish for one of those for herself.
“So how was your day?” Larae plopped on her mom’s vintage couch and patted the pastel floral cushion.
“Better than I expected,” Lexie said, settling down beside her friend. “I was afraid he’d be frustrated from the get-go, but we made some progress today and his frame of mind was encouraging.” And he thought she was pretty.
“What was that?”
“What?” she asked.
“Something just passed across your face, like delight, and then wariness.”
“I overheard him tell his nephew he thinks I’m pretty.” Lexie rolled her eyes.
“Well, it certainly won’t be the first time a patient has fallen for you. It’s part of the job. Kind of like the doctor-patient thing. In a sense you save their lives.” Larae swatted her thigh. “And just look at you. You’re a living doll. No wonder they get smitten. How old is he?”
Her face heated. “Twenty-eight.” But he only remembers up to twenty-six.
“Oh, I see.” Larae chuckled. “He’s cute. And single. It’s a two-way street, isn’t it?”
“But it can’t be,” Lexie moaned, burying her face into her hands.
“Why not?”
“He’s my patient.” She peeked out from between her fingers.
“So?” Larae pulled her hands away. “Once you get him all recovered, he won’t be.”
“You’re not helping.”
“I’m trying to,” her friend huffed. “You’ve been so focused on your career your love life has died on the vine.”
“You’re one to talk. You were in the same boat until last year, when you moved back home and ran into Rance again.”
“And just look at me now.” Larae’s smile turned sappy. “I didn’t know life could be so good. I mean—I was happy being Jayda’s mom and I loved my job at the rodeo in Fort Worth. But being married to Rance, completing our family with Jayda, it’s pure bliss.”
“I can tell.”
“So back to your cute patient,” Larae said, redirecting Lexie to the matter at hand. “Once he’s recovered, you should date him. How long’s it been since you were on a date?”
She actually couldn’t remember. “That’s a terrible idea! It’s unethical for me to date my patient. And besides that, he rides bulls. I’ve had way too many bull wreck patients, so I know what those monsters can do. His father died because of a bull and Clint promised his family he’d stop, but he didn’t.”
She remembered suddenly that Larae ran a rodeo. “No offense, but not only is he a rodeo junkie, he lies. And to top everything off, I can’t trust his emotions because he has a traumatic brain injury. I so can not be attracted to him.”
The Cowboy's Missing Memory Page 5
