Blades of Bluegrass

by D. Jackson Leigh

  “We are thankful for the plants and animals that have provided this meal for us, and for Lynn, who prepared it, and for the people gathered at this table to share it with us. We hope for the safety of the men and women who work to keep us safe, both at home and overseas. And, above all, we are reminded to be kind to everyone every day. Amen.”

  “Amen,” the children chorused before diving into their plates.

  Teddy looked up at Britt and smiled, then slowly slid her hand away. Britt realized she was smiling back at Teddy and cleared her throat. “That was nice.”

  “Thank you,” Teddy said, her voice as soft as Britt’s. It was a small moment, but it was theirs. The others were already passing bowls, teasing Cameron while she made a convincing case for why she should ride a horse.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Ethan insisted. “You’re too little for one. It might stomp on you, or you might break your head if you fell off.” He thumped his own head with his fork in demonstration.

  “I wouldn’t fall off,” Cameron insisted. “You’d fall off because you can’t sit still.”

  “Can too.”

  “That’s not what Mama said. Is it, Aunt Lynn?”

  “I’m not getting in the middle of this,” Lynn said. “Eat your dinner, or you don’t get dessert.”

  Their eyes grew wide. “What’s for dessert?”

  “Cupcakes.”

  “Wow! Cupcakes!”

  “Eat your dinner first.”

  They tucked into their meals, and the table was quiet for a bit, until Teddy’s cell phone chirped. The children stopped eating when Teddy pulled her phone from her pocket and laid it on the table to read a text she’d just received.

  “Time-out.” Cameron pointed at Teddy.

  “You have to go to time-out,” Ethan confirmed solemnly. “And no dessert for you.”

  They looked to Lynn, waiting for her to confirm the sentence.

  Britt coughed to cover her laugh at the deer-in-the-headlights look on Teddy’s face.

  “Uh, Teddy, honey,” E.B. said quietly. “We have a house rule against having cell phones at the table.”

  “Phones at the table has ’quences,” Cameron said, nodding.

  E.B. clearly was struggling to look firm. “That’s right. There are consequences for breaking the rules.” He held up a finger. “However, Miss Teddy didn’t know the rule and has a very important job though…like a doctor…and might be getting a message about an emergency.”

  “Like Miss Gail,” Cameron said.

  “’Cept her ’mergencies are about horses, not people.”

  “Are your ’mergencies about people?” Cameron asked, looking at Teddy.

  Teddy nodded. “Sometimes.” She tucked her phone into her back pocket again. “But not this time. So, I’m just going to put my phone away. I don’t want to miss cupcakes.”

  Britt’s chuckle was cut short by a kick to her shin. Okay, maybe more of a nudge than a kick, but Britt tossed her roll at Teddy in answer.

  “No dessert for you,” the children crowed with delight.

  This time, Lynn backed up their prediction. “None for either of you. Eat your dinner, and quit picking at each other.”

  Ethan began to recite an admonishment they’d apparently endured themselves many times. “’Cause she did’unt slave all af’ernoon over a hot stove for you to play with your food.”

  * * *

  Britt clicked on the electric tea kettle to heat and stepped into the pantry in search of the remaining cupcakes they’d missed at dinner. The kids were cute, except when their rules deprived her of cupcakes—especially these. Lynn had briefly entertained the idea of opening a bakery, then discarded it as too much work when she was supposed to be retired. And cupcakes were her specialty. Ah. Found them. And she nearly wore them when Teddy stepped into the dark pantry and collided with her. Instead, she dropped the cupcake container that was precariously balanced on the palm of her one hand.

  “Oh my God. What are you doing here in the dark?” Teddy grabbed onto Britt’s upper arms to catch herself as she stumbled into Britt’s chest.

  “What are you doing down here?” Britt’s heart pounded with an instant flight-or-fight instinct. This was not Afghanistan. Teddy wasn’t the enemy.

  “I thought I heard a noise.” Teddy stepped back and released Britt’s arms. “That’s why I came downstairs.”

  Britt’s heart slowed to normal, and her brain rebooted. She narrowed her eyes in the semi-darkness. “No, you didn’t. You came down to swipe a cupcake.”

  Teddy pointed a finger at Britt. “Says the woman caught with her hand in the proverbial cupcake box.”

  The cupcakes. They both looked down at the upended container and squatted at the same time to retrieve it, nearly bumping heads. Their very close proximity, the pale gray of Teddy’s eyes, and the faint scent of Teddy’s minty breath had Britt teetering on her haunches. She grasped Teddy’s shoulder with her right hand and instinctively reached to grab a nearby shelf to regain her balance with the hand that was no longer there.

  “Careful.” Teddy’s alarmed warning was loud in the confined space of the pantry. “You’ll bruise your stump.”

  “Shush.” Britt felt like the kid she used to be, sneaking into the pantry with her cousin to swipe snacks after her grandparents and parents went to bed. “You’ll wake Pop, and he’ll send us both back to bed without cupcakes.”

  Teddy giggled. Actually giggled. “You realize we’re both adults and can eat what we want, right?” Nonetheless, she lowered her voice back to a whisper.

  Britt stared at Teddy. Damn, she was cute. “You said stump.”

  Teddy looked confused. “What? No, I didn’t.” But the note of uncertainty weakened her denial.

  “Yes, you did.” Britt grinned, no longer whispering. The moonlight filtering in from the kitchen was too dim to see the blush she imagined coloring Teddy’s cheeks, but she spotted other tells of embarrassment—Teddy averting her eyes, then ducking her head while she made a show of picking up the dropped cupcake container. Thankfully, it hadn’t popped open.

  Britt stood and offered her hand to pull Teddy to her feet. Teddy rose easily, needing Britt’s hand only for balance. Or was it more? Neither let go after Teddy stood. Britt’s heart began to pound again. Teddy looked up at her, eyes uncertain, face close. The tea kettle beeped that it was ready, and Britt released Teddy’s hand. “Water’s hot. I was going to have some herbal tea,” she said.

  Teddy hesitated, then stepped back, handing the cupcake box to Britt. “Can we go out on the porch? If you take these, I’ll get tea for both of us.”

  Britt nodded. She knew she should take her cupcake and tea to her room. But, for the first time since she woke up in the hospital without her left arm, she desired the company of another person. Actually, she wanted time with this person.

  She pulled a small table over between two straight-backed rockers and set the cupcakes on it. Teddy was already pushing through the screen door, careful to close it quietly, and added two steaming mugs to their late-night dessert. Britt smiled when Teddy hummed with pleasure at her first taste of Lynn’s apple-spice cupcake with cream-cheese icing. They were her favorites.

  They ate, sipped, and rocked in peaceful silence for a full ten minutes. Story Hill Farm snuggled in for the night’s rest under a nearly full moon that softly illuminated the stables and grounds. The wind carried a hint of autumn from the surrounding mountains, and the only sounds were a hooting owl and the occasional horsey snort.

  Teddy’s voice was quiet. “I have so many unanswered questions. Do you think we can stop dancing around and talk about some of them?”

  “Late-night therapy session?”

  Teddy shook her head. “Two people who are becoming friends getting to know each other.” She turned to Britt and held her gaze.

  Britt considered this statement. Were they becoming friends? Was this a door she wanted to open? Maybe a crack. She’d felt so alone lately. “When I was a kid, I asked lots o
f questions. It nearly drove my parents insane. But Pop, he’d patiently answer each one. He’d point to a pasture and say, ‘Britt, questions are like all those blades of bluegrass. You cut one down, and two more are going to spring up.’ Maybe we should just leave some questions alone.”

  Teddy ignored her. “What’s your favorite color?”

  “What?”

  “Your favorite color. It’s not a hard question.”

  Britt turned to hold Teddy’s gaze. Ignoring the red warning light going off in her head, she decided to play along. She was curious about the big question Teddy obviously was working toward. “Gray.”

  “Really. Why gray?”

  “Because it’s a clean, neutral tone that makes primary colors around it pop.”

  Teddy tilted her head as if considering this choice. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “My turn,” Britt said. “What’s your favorite movie?”

  “That’s easy. Avatar.”

  Britt nodded. “Good choice, but why?”

  Teddy stared out at the stables and spoke softly. “Because sometimes I’d like to be someone other than myself.”

  Whoa. Britt waited, but Teddy didn’t offer more. She opened her mouth to ask for an explanation, but Teddy jumped in with another question.

  “First kiss—how old were you, and was it a boy or a girl?”

  Britt chuckled. “That’s two questions, but I was twelve. It was a girl. She wanted to practice so she could kiss boys, but I just wanted to kiss her.” Following Teddy’s ploy to move them back to safe ground, she kept her next question light. “Why do you drive a 2017 BMW 230i?”

  “So, you know cars.” Teddy grinned. “You like my baby?”

  “She’s flashy. But most women I know in the military drive trucks to up their macho factor with the guys.”

  “I own my car because it’s an exceptional machine that’s fun to drive.”

  “It’s expensive. I happen to know lieutenants aren’t paid that well. Family money?”

  “Hardly. Because I grew up a military brat, I’m used to not having a real home like most people. I always take advantage of available military housing or rent a cheap apartment. That leaves me disposable income.”

  That wasn’t so unusual for career military, but Britt knew men were much more likely to go that way. Women, even when they were forced to move a lot, were natural nesters.

  “And, I don’t need a truck, because I prove my macho in the ring.”

  Britt’s brain stuttered, searching for the appropriate image to conjure. “As in martial arts?”

  “Boxing.”

  Britt stared at Teddy. No way. Sure, Teddy had an athletic vibe, but the way she moved was so graceful it was decidedly feminine. “Are you hiding a cauliflower ear under that blond hair?” Dancer, yes. Boxer, uh-uh.

  Teddy threw her head back and laughed. “Don’t you think you would have noticed, since I usually pull my hair back?”

  “Well, I probably would have been polite enough to ignore the disfigurement.” Britt liked that she’d made Teddy laugh so freely.

  “My father was career marine and teaches fencing and boxing at West Point.” Teddy ducked her head and smiled. “Are you surprised?”

  “I had you figured for a dancer or a gymnast. Maybe a tennis player.”

  “Boxing is an elegant dance when performed correctly—slipping and sliding, feinting and lunging to strike. Sugar Ray Leonard was the best. I loved to watch him box.”

  Britt could see that. She remembered him as an exceptional pro. “So, you fence, too?”

  “I’m better at boxing. I started pulling on gloves at six years old.” Teddy shrugged. “My parents wouldn’t even give me a toy sword until I was old enough to hold a real one, for fear I’d poke the family dog’s eye out.”

  Britt tried to imagine a six-year-old Teddy waving a toy sword at a puzzled Labrador retriever. “You must have been a terror as a child.”

  “My parents tactfully referred to me as a challenge.” Teddy tilted her head, giving Britt a pointed look. “Surely you aren’t going to claim you were a quiet child.”

  Britt shook her head. “You’ve already heard enough stories from everybody around here to know better than that. I wasn’t mischievous—just adventurous.”

  “Fearless, according to your grandfather.”

  Britt sipped her tea, struggling to stay in the moment, at the farm. Flashes of weapons fire. Figures in desert camo running, ducking, weaving, diving for cover. The whine of an incoming shoulder-fired missile. She tapped her middle finger against the wooden arm of her rocker, concentrating on counting the pattern. Tap-tap-tap, tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap, tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap, tap-tap. “I’m not fearless.” She closed her eyes at the telltale rasp in her voice.

  Silence hung between them, broken only by the creak of their rockers. But it was a silence filled with so many words, so many memories, so many regrets.

  “We all are afraid at times, Britt. Fear can keep you safe. Fear also can cripple you.”

  “You work in a hospital.” She didn’t voice her real thought—you haven’t known real fear. Tap-tap-tap, tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap, tap-tap.

  “You’re wrong.”

  Had Teddy read her thoughts or heard it in her tone? Distracted by that possibility, Britt stopped tapping.

  “I was an enlisted medic before I pursued my degrees and officer school. Two tours. Well, one long tour. I caught a piece of shrapnel in my thigh, but it was minor enough that I was right back at the base after a couple of months in Germany to heal.” Teddy rubbed her right thigh absently as she stared out into the dark.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. Of course you know fear.” Medics were some of the bravest soldiers Britt had served with, dodging bullets to reach the wounded and refusing to leave until the last had been evacuated. She’d seen one medic load two critically injured soldiers on a helicopter, only to catch a bullet in the throat when he ran back for a third. She shuddered that something like that could have happened to Teddy. “I’m glad you aren’t still a medic.” She wasn’t even sure where the thought came from.

  “It’s not because I was afraid.”

  Britt turned to her. “I didn’t say that, didn’t even think it.” But Teddy had made a decision that took her off the battlefield. Britt felt she was in a similar place in her life, and she needed to ask. “So, had you always planned to work as a medic, then go back to get your degree?”

  “No. Not really. I just…” Teddy’s fingers were white where they gripped the arms of her rocker. Britt was about to withdraw the question when Teddy finally spoke again. “If I wasn’t gathering them up in a body bag, I was sending them back with pieces of their bodies missing. Even worse, pieces of their souls gone.” Her eyes were bright with defiance, her jaw tight as she spoke. She stood, avoiding Britt’s gaze. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive to say to you, of all people.”

  Britt reached across and caught Teddy’s hand. “No. Don’t censure what you were going to say.” She tugged Teddy back down to her chair. “I’m listening…as a friend, not a patient.”

  Teddy was quiet for a while, but Britt didn’t release her hand while she waited. Finally, Teddy squeezed Britt’s hand.

  “The cost is so high. I couldn’t watch bullets and bombs destroy lives any longer. Not just the lives on the battlefield, but the lives of their families and friends back home. I still want to serve my country, though. I just need to be on the healing end of it.” Teddy slipped her hand from Britt’s and stood again. She rubbed her face with both hands. “Breakfast comes early. We’d better go to bed before E.B. starts banging pots at daybreak.”

  Britt smiled up at her. As beautiful as Teddy was in the moonlight, emotional fatigue was evident in the slope of her shoulders and the depths of her storm-gray eyes. “I’ll be up soon. I want to enjoy a little more of this quiet night.”

  Teddy nodded, then slipped into the house.

  Britt contemplated everything Teddy had said. Mostly
what she didn’t say. There were missing pieces to that story. Maybe they were need-to-know, just like the hidden pieces of Britt’s. The army wouldn’t let Britt share her story, but she sure wanted to hear the one that put that fire, and sadness, in Teddy’s eyes.

  Chapter Eight

  Teddy put down the ultrasound probe she was using to soften the scar on Britt’s residual limb and reached for her phone. The succinct text made her smile. “Good,” she told Britt. “The new harness I ordered for you is here. Well, not here, but at the hospital in Lexington. Are you up for a road trip?”

  She handed Britt a clean towel to wipe the sweat from her face. They’d begun strength exercises today, and Britt had to be sore and likely in some pain from the workout.

  Britt wiped her face, but her attempt to smile back was weak. “Sure. If you let me drive your car.”

  “How about you take a pain pill, and I’ll drive into Lexington. We can visit the hospital, have lunch, and pick up some more jeans for me at my apartment. Then your pain pill will have worn off, and you can drive back.”

  “Deal. But Tylenol, no opioid.”

  “Britt.” Teddy shook her head in exasperation. “I know you macho butch types feel heroic when you grit your teeth and bear the pain, but pain hinders healing.”

  “Macho butch?”

  “If the saddle fits…”

  Britt’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, so you think you’re a regular jock after one horsey ride?”

  “Maybe not ready for the racetrack. I am ready for my next lesson, by the way. Maybe when we get back.” She touched Britt’s chin to draw her gaze. “I trust your judgment when it comes to horses. I need you to trust mine when I tell you to medicate.”

  “Opiates make me nauseous. Do you want me to throw up in that nice car of yours?”

  Teddy narrowed her eyes and tried to discern if Britt was being honest. “Truth?”

  Britt met her eyes and nodded. “They really do. And I’m not hurting that bad. Tylenol, along with the TENS unit, will take care of it.”