Lexie positioned the walker in front of him. “The nonskid feet will keep you from scooting the walker and give you more support. Once you transfer your weight, you’ll have to pick it up slightly with each step. Not too high, just enough to move forward. Grab on and we’ll practice.” She hovered close while he slowly moved forward enough to grip the right side, then the left and scoot his body inside the cage of the contraption.
He picked the walker up, then stepped forward with it, with only minor weaving.
“Very good. Is it the right height, so that it’s comfortable?”
“I think so,” he answered.
“I do, too. Relax your arms for a second.” She ran a hand along his elbow. “Looks good.”
But her touch tingled up to his shoulder, even after she took a step back.
“Keep going,” she instructed.
He took another step.
“I think you’ve got it. Just remember, if you feel off balance, put the feet down until you’re stable. And this walker has the lower grips too, for support in getting up and down from a seated position.”
She opened the door into the hall and he clunked his way down it.
The walker was slow and noisy since he kept bumping the wall, but so much better than the chair.
“Well, look at you!” Carly sat at the kitchen table with Mom, who was bouncing a giggling Charlee in her lap. “All mobile and everything.”
“Getting there.”
“Uncle Clint.” Cooper ran to him, stared at the walker.
“It’s just a walker,” Lexie explained. “To keep your uncle from falling until he gets his balance back.”
“Kind of like Charlee’s walker without all the spinning toys.” Carly leaned across the table and smoothed Charlee’s hair out of her face.
“Charlee has walker,” the toddler chimed in.
Still surreal that Charlee existed and was talking. And walked better than he could.
“Yes, you have a walker, just like Uncle Squint.” Mom smiled at her granddaughter, then turned to look at him and Lexie. “I take it therapy went well.”
“He made it all the way through the parallel bars with very little wobble once he got going.” Lexie made it sound like he’d won a marathon.
“That’s wonderful.”
“Uncle Squint?”
“Hey, Charlee.” Her name tasted new on his lips. If only he could summon up memories of her.
“Pway game?”
“She wants to play Chutes and Ladders.” Cooper ran to the closet where his parents had always kept board games. “We do that a lot. We use Mega Bloks instead of pawns so she doesn’t put them in her mouth.”
“Not in mouth.” Charlee opened wide to show them.
“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” Carly cringed, obviously expecting him to be incapable. “Maybe when Uncle Clint gets a little better.”
“Actually, that would be excellent therapy.” Lexie assured her. “Practice on grip, cognitive skills and hand movement. Some of our therapy involves board games.”
Memories hit him. Of climbing his green LEGO up ladders then sliding down chutes with Cooper. But not Charlee. And Dad had been there.
“I remember playing with you.” He aimed his walker toward the game table behind the couch in the adjoining family room.
“You do?” Cooper’s eyes lit up as he set the box on the table.
“You were younger, but I remember. You beat me a lot.”
Cooper giggled. “Want me to let you win since your brain got jarred around and you’re weird?”
“Cooper, stop calling your uncle weird,” Mom scolded, setting a wiggly Charlee down.
“It’s okay, I am kind of weird right now.” Clint crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out, which got a laugh from Cooper and Charlee. “I don’t need your charity, even if I’m weird. You better bring your A game if you wanna beat me, partner.”
“Y’all have fun.” Lexie waved. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Pway game.” Charlee grabbed Lexie’s hand, then raised her arms, obviously expecting to be picked up.
Carly stood. “I’ll play with you, Charlee. Lexie needs to go.”
“It’s okay.” Lexie picked her up and planted the child on her hip. Like a natural. His heart warmed at the sight. “I’d love to. I used to play that game with my friend’s little girl, and this little cutie reminds me of when she was small.” She sat down at the table, settling Charlee in her lap.
Cooper set up the board as Clint continued his slow progress to the table. “I’m blue, Uncle Clint is always green and Charlee is yellow. Is red okay with you, Lexie?”
“That’s what I always pick.”
As if she fit right in with them.
He finally made it to the table. “Maybe one day we’ll play chess.”
“You already taught me, Uncle Clint.” Cooper stashed the box on the kitchen counter. “But Charlee’s too young.”
He totally didn’t remember teaching Cooper. A twinge of sadness radiated through him.
“Use the upper and lower grips to hold steady while you sit,” Lexie instructed, always in therapist mode. At least she didn’t get up and hover nearby.
For the first time, he managed to sit down by himself. Suddenly he saw the walker as freedom, instead of making him feel old and used up.
“Charlee always goes first, then whoever’s lap she’s in is next, and we go clockwise around the table,” Cooper explained as he passed the spinner to Lexie. “Your turn, Charlee.”
The toddler reached her plump little hand out and used her index finger to spin. Probably better than he’d do.
“You got a four!” Lexie clapped her hands. “Charlee gets to go up the ladder to fourteen.” She leaned forward and counted out the blocks, then the ladder, and the fourteen with her finger as Charlee scooted her LEGO into place. “Good job, Charlee.”
She sounded just like she did when she encouraged him. At least she didn’t use the singsong baby talk voice with him.
“Charlee did good,” his niece declared, giggling excitedly.
“You did do good.” He needed to connect with her, even if he didn’t remember her. His insides quaked. Who else had he forgotten?
“Your turn, Lexie.” Cooper always kept things moving when they played.
Lexie thumped the spinner with her index finger, then moved her LEGO to the first square and promptly landed on a long ladder that took her all the way to thirty-eight.
“Wow, looks like Lexie might beat all of us.” Cooper passed the spinner to Clint. “Your turn.”
He tried to thump it, but couldn’t.
“Just use one finger, Uncle Clint,” Cooper instructed.
But Clint couldn’t keep the weight of his hand off the spinner enough to make it spin. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea...”
“You can do it.” Lexie’s gaze pinged from him to his nephew. “Cooper, can you support his hand? Just hold his wrist for him until he gets to where he can do it himself.”
As if she had confidence he’d be able to soon.
Cooper grabbed Clint’s wrist, suspending his hand above the spinner. “I can do it for you if you need me to, Uncle Clint.”
“I think I can do it, now.” He managed an awkward spin that barely made a full circle.
“Good job,” Lexie encouraged. “Before you know it, you won’t need any help.”
He got a three. No chutes or ladders. With fumbling fingers, he managed to scoot his LEGO into place. Cooper spun an eight with no chutes or ladders.
Over their next several rounds, everyone got ladders with Charlee landing on a long ladder that shot her up to the eighty-fourth square. While Clint consistently got nothing or chutes that landed him back on lower squares. As he awkwardly spun and moved his LEGO, he had to count out each squar
e like a toddler. But at least he remembered how to count.
Lexie continued to help Charlee with each move and clapped each time anyone made progress. In the end, Charlee won while Clint had barely gotten off the first row since he’d consistently hit the sixteenth square with the chute that slid him back to six each time.
“Yay, Charlee. You won!” Lexie announced cheerfully.
“Charlee win.” The toddler giggled.
“That’s right.” Clint slapped his hands together like they were two dead fish, but at least he’d managed to clap. Though he’d enjoyed interacting with his niece and nephew, the game had been a series of failures for him. Typical therapy session.
“It’ll get easier.” Lexie patted his hand. “I need to go. My mom probably has supper on the table by now. But y’all keep playing and you’ll get better and better each time.”
How did she do that, read his thoughts, know just when he needed encouraging?
She stood, then set Charlee in his lap. “Thanks for being my game buddy, Charlee. Next time, let me win.”
“Charlee won,” Charlee repeated, clapping her hands.
He gripped his own hands around the toddler, working at keeping her steady, his nerves in a panic. What if he dropped her? He watched Lexie sling her purse over her shoulder, say her goodbyes.
No matter what a good cheerleader she was. No matter how attractive she was. He could not think of her as anything other than a therapist. Not while there was a chance he might never get better and only decline as his father had.
And especially not if he already had a girlfriend. Which was something he doubted, but he needed to find out for certain. Soon.
Chapter Seven
Clint dug through the last drawer in his room while clinging to his walker with one hand. Last night after Carly had taken the kids home, he’d searched the office at the ranch and found a business card for Fort Worth Beefalo Holdings. But it had been too late to call. He’d spent the morning searching his room for any traces of a phantom girlfriend. But the heavy, mahogany-stained dresser had yielded nothing.
A knock sounded on his door. “You sound like a big rat in there,” Carly called. “Do you need help?”
“No, but come on in.”
The door opened and his sister stepped inside.
“What are you doing here?”
“Mom had some errands to run, so she asked me to drop by until Lexie gets here.”
He scowled. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Try telling Mom that.”
“Don’t you need to get to work?”
“My boss has been really good about letting me come in late when Mom needs me to. I’ll make it up with short lunch breaks. So what are you doing in here?”
“Do I have a girlfriend?”
Carly’s eyebrows rose. “Not that I know of. You dated Katie back before Dad got sick, but as far as I know, there hasn’t been anyone else.”
Good ole Katie. Crazy about him until he had to move back home and help with Dad. Then she was done and had moved on to the next bull rider.
“Do you think there’s someone special in your life?” she asked.
“No. Surely if there was, I’d have heard from her by now.” It was Saturday; an entire week had passed since his accident. “Plus, I’ve searched my entire room and found nothing. No pictures. No contacts in my phone. No texts. Nothing.”
“Then what gave you the idea that you might?”
“Lexie mentioned that if I had a girlfriend, she might be able to help me fill in some blanks. And if I was seeing someone in Fort Worth, maybe that’s why I wanted to move. It hit me, that I don’t know.”
“Well, if you have a girlfriend, she’s not a very good one. She hasn’t even checked on you.” She poked him in the ribs. “Maybe Lexie thinks you’re cute and she can’t believe you don’t have someone special.”
“Stop it.” But the thought did something funny to his insides.
“Well, since you don’t have a girlfriend, Lexie is very sweet and pretty.”
“She’s my therapist.”
“So?”
“So there’s probably some law about that, plus I can barely walk or feed myself.” After almost a full week of therapy. “The last thing I need is a relationship.”
“There’s that. But maybe after you get well, she won’t be your therapist then.” Carly waggled her eyebrows.
“If I get well, I’ll be busy expanding the ranch and won’t have time to date.”
“Stop with the if. When you get well, someday, you’ll be old and gray. And lonely. Think how much easier this setback would be if you had a wife to share it with you.”
“Then I’d be a burden to someone besides you and Mom.”
“You’re not a burden.”
The doorbell rang.
“That’s probably Lexie, my therapist.” He emphasized the word. “Can you get it?” Anything to get her off the wife subject.
Because if he had a wife, and he was following in Dad’s footsteps healthwise, he’d only break her heart as he continued to go downhill.
“By the way, the vet called to confirm he’s coming Monday for vaccinations,” Carly called out to him on the way to the door. “And breakfast is keeping warm in the oven. I’ll see you later.”
Lexie stepped into the room a few moments later. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“Enough.” He couldn’t turn his brain off for such things.
“What are you doing?” She did a slow scan of the room, taking in the pale blue walls, the drawers that still hung open.
“I’m pretty sure I don’t have a girlfriend. Or she’s very camera shy.” Clint closed the drawer and the two next to it. “But I did find this.” He held up the business card.
“Have you called them yet?”
“No, but I’m about to.” He dug the cell phone from his pocket, jabbed at the numbers, but his aim was off. “Can you do it for me?”
“No. Part of therapy is learning to do things for yourself. Set the phone down on the dresser and concentrate.”
With the phone stable, instead of trying to hold it and dial with the same hand, he managed to place the call. It rang three times, but it seemed like an eternity.
“Fort Worth Beefalo Holdings, can I help you?” a man inquired.
He cleared his throat. “This is Clint Rawlins.”
“Hold on, Mr. Rawlins, my boss has been waiting for your call.”
For how long? How many people had he left hanging?
“Mr. Rawlins, it’s good of you to finally call me back.” The man’s tone radiated sarcasm. “Now do we have a deal or not?”
“I’m sorry. Who is this?”
“Who is this? Just the guy you’ve left hanging for almost a week. I turned down other deals, Mr. Rawlins.” The guy’s anger echoed through the line.
“Let me.” Lexie reached for the phone.
Feeling completely inept, Clint handed it over.
“Hi, my name is Lexie Parker. I’m an occupational therapist and Mr. Rawlins is my patient. Is it okay if I put you on speakerphone? Only Mr. Rawlins and I are here.” She shot him a reassuring smile. “Thank you.” Lexie pressed the button. “Who am I speaking with?”
“This here’s Franklin Thomas. Now what’s going on?”
The name didn’t mean a thing to Clint.
“Mr. Rawlins was in a bull riding accident at the rodeo. He’s suffering some short-term memory loss. He only knows he was thinking about buying your ranch because his family told him and he just found your business card last night.”
Short-term memory loss that claimed a two-year chunk of his life.
“Are you shooting straight with me? Or is this a front for him backing out of the deal?”
“I can assure you, I’m telling you the truth, Mr. Tho
mas.” Her tone was firm, but kind. “And in light of his current circumstances, I recommend that your deal with Mr. Rawlins be tabled.”
A pregnant pause.
“Sure thing. I wouldn’t want to buy a ranch if I couldn’t remember why I wanted it.”
“Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “Mr. Rawlins would like to ask you a few questions if you have time.”
“Of course.”
She took the call off speaker and handed him the phone back.
“I apologize for leaving you hanging with our deal, Mr. Thomas.”
“Perfectly understandable under the circumstances.” Though Mr. Thomas was probably still frustrated, it didn’t come across in his tone. “I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this and for being short with you.”
“Did I ever say why I wanted to buy your ranch, sir?”
“No. Just that you wanted to expand your beefalo business,” the man answered. “I have to agree with your therapist—it would be foolhardy to go through with the deal if you can’t even remember what your purpose was.”
Clint sighed. “I’m sorry I let you down.”
“No worries. But I can’t hold the ranch for you. I do have other buyers interested.”
“I understand,” he replied. “You do what you need to do. And if I get my brain sorted out soon, I’ll let you know.”
“I hope you make a full recovery.”
“Thank you. Me, too.” Clint’s eyes watered up as he ended the call.
“If you get better?” Lexie’s right eyebrow lifted. “Attitude is half the battle. You cannot think if, Clint. You have to think when.”
“That’s exactly what Carly said this morning.” He blinked away the moisture. “I’ll try.”
“Where’s your mom?”
“Carly said she’s running errands. She left really early, though.”
Her lips quirked up into a smile. “Maybe she’s stir-crazy.”
“Or maybe she’s with Ted.”
“I have an idea,” Lexie said.
He knew she was trying to distract him from the Ted situation, but he was all ears.
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