A Soldier Saved--A Clean Romance

by Cheryl Harper

  His mother shook her head. “That girl has brains. Smart is written all over her. If she can get over the rest of your issues, why would your missing foot chase her away?”

  Issues? When she said that, his problems seemed more like quirks than real challenges. Before he could argue that it was so much more than all that, the nurse called his name and he was caught up in the evaluation. His gait was observed while he walked and ran, his measurements were taken, and he was forced to sit still while a large machine made precise three-dimensional images.

  “Okay, we’ve got what we need to work up the permanent prosthesis, but I wanted to talk to you about the questions you answered the first time we talked, before you left the hospital.” The best prosthetist in town was dressed like the students in Jason’s creative writing class. His T-shirt and scrubs were clean enough, but neither had met an iron. There was no mistaking his expertise, though. Every question Jason’s mother asked was answered thoroughly and confidently. “It says here you only want to be able to walk, run maybe. Guy like you, with your background in the military and your fitness level, I’d expect you to want more than that. Now, we don’t have to do everything all at once. This is an expensive process for most people, so if you decide you want to expand your options, we can work on a specialized prosthesis then, but it worries me, these answers. You don’t ask the questions of a man who is determined to get his life back together.” He tapped his clipboard and studied Jason’s face. “Anything changed since we talked?”

  One quick glance at his mother showed a woman who was strenuously biting her tongue. She wanted desperately to have every one of Jason’s medical team on her side in the tug-of-war.

  “I guess...” Jason took a deep breath and forced himself to exhale slowly. “I’ve always been a runner, but I just... With this...” He pointed at where his leg stopped. “I don’t know my limits anymore.”

  “None. Anything you want to attempt. Somewhere, people do it every day.” The prosthetist crossed his arms. “For running, we’ll do some gait training and you’ll be set. A specialized running prosthesis can improve your speed, your endurance, your agility. You could be a better runner than you were before.” He stared over his glasses. “But you aren’t sure because...”

  “I don’t like the attention I get when my prosthesis shows or when I’m on crutches and everything that I’m missing is on display. Pity. A million invasive questions I don’t want to answer. It’s a lot.” Jason brushed a hand over the skin on his knee and pretended to study a scar. He’d said it out loud to someone other than his mother. Was this a breakthrough?

  “Therapy. That’s what you need. Along with a permanent prosthesis with all the cosmetic bells and whistles, and another for running that makes you appear half human, half cyborg.” He set his clipboard down. “You can have it all now. You gotta grab it. Group therapy, individual—I don’t know, but you need to give it a shot. And when your prosthesis is adjusted and fitted properly, you’ll join one of our running groups. A whole bunch of men and women in great physical shape, running on prostheses. Everything is easier in a group, right?”

  Jason considered that while he ignored the way his mother was silently nodding in agreement. It was good advice.

  “Thanks. I’ll find a group.” The memory of the midnight gathering around the pool went through his mind. They might function as a support group, but only if he told the whole truth. “Concord Court has lots of support information available, so I know where to start.”

  “Your physician is a good place, too, but it’s nice to have Concord Court here. Everything is easier in a group, and you’ve got a whole bunch of people there who understand what you’re going through better than the rest of us ever will.” He offered his hand to shake. “We’ll get to work and give you a call when it’s time for your final fitting. For now, though, swimming is great exercise. No prosthesis needed.”

  “I’ve been thinking about trying it.” Jason picked up the sleeve to put his prosthesis back on. “What about biking? Might be the most popular hobby in southern Florida.”

  His prosthetist removed his glasses. “Also good exercise. The bike will require modification, clips to ensure your prosthesis stays on the pedal, but there’s not too much else required. If it’s something you’re passionate about, really love, we can work on a prosthesis that allows more free movement. Let’s get you running and we can talk about what comes next. Swimming’s the same. Do it now if you want, no prosthesis needed, and then when you’re ready, with the right equipment, it’s hard to find an activity that isn’t improved. Life could be, too.”

  “Swimming for now. We’ll see how the new leg works for running.” If he could get his head wrapped around the fact that the change in his body was a bigger thing to him, in his head, than it would be to anyone else, he might have already done it.

  His mother was quiet. So very quiet.

  Until he’d changed his clothes again and they were back in the car.

  “Gonna take up swimming, are you?” She pointed her finger. “You will enjoy that.”

  And she’d hold him to it. Jason didn’t say anything until she pulled up back in front of his truck at Sawgrass. She didn’t, either. If he didn’t say something, both of them were going to end up sleeping in the car because she was going to wait until he spoke or die trying.

  “Thanks, Mom.” He smiled slightly. “I needed that kick in the pants and I didn’t know it.”

  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and squeezed hard. “That’s what I’m here for, and I brought my kicking shoes.” She sniffed. “And you know if I don’t see progress on this therapy front, that will be the next battle we’ll wage. Don’t make me do that, son.” She patted his cheek and then leaned back, the sparkle in her eyes clear.

  “I’ll drop in and talk to Reyna tomorrow. All services scheduled through Concord Court go through her office.” Jason stretched the muscles in his arms. His mother had been tossing that in since he’d opened his eyes in the hospital. Terry had mentioned therapy groups while she’d put him through the paces in physical therapy. Now the prosthetist had added his two cents. The consensus was overwhelming.

  No matter how certain he was that he could and should adjust to his changed life alone, he was going to give in. Not gracefully, but he’d give therapy a shot.

  “Talk to her today. Now, get out of my car. I’ve got to change clothes before my cruise.” His mother had both hands on the steering wheel.

  “Is this a booze cruise?” Jason asked as he got out of the car. “Why didn’t you ask me to go with you?” He’d have said no, but he would have had fewer good excuses to get out of it than the parasailing tour.

  “It’s a singles’ cruise, and I did not want you cramping my style.” She lifted one hand in a wave and then sped through the parking lot. She was still grinning when she turned back onto the main road.

  When he pulled into the spot in front of his townhome, Mira Peters was jogging past. “Join me. One more lap and then I’m headed to the pool to cool off.”

  Jason didn’t even pause. “How about I meet you at the pool?”

  She shrugged. “See you there.” And then she was gone.

  He dumped his bag inside the bathroom and went to dig up his old trunks. Was he going to do this?

  If he put it off, life would get in the way and the next time he considered it, the decision would be twice as hard. As he removed his prosthesis and the umbrella, the cool air on his skin was nice. Ignoring the voice in his head that promised him a nap would be even better than a swim and less trouble, Jason grabbed his crutch, took a towel from the clean laundry on his sofa and headed for the pool.

  He’d beaten Mira. Now he had to find the perfect place to stash his crutch, and then he’d get in the water. He was still studying his choices when she opened the gate. One split-second pause was the only reaction Mira gave when she noticed his amputation. “Need
help with that?”

  She held out a hand to take his crutch. His pride in his throat, Jason offered it to her. Before he could figure out what to say in response to her help, she had a hand on the middle of his chest. With one quick push, the how of getting into the water was gone. He was in the blessedly cool water and she was laughing at him from the side. “I’ll put this down in the shade. Let me know when you want it.” When she leaned it next to the gate, Jason realized he could reach it himself if he had to. He would lift himself up on the side of the pool to sit and turn to reach the crutch. Easy as that. She was better at this than he was.

  “Thanks for the encouragement.” Jason wiped the water off his face. “I needed it.”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she yelled, “Cannonball!” and hit the water hard, the splash washing over Jason again. When she came up grinning, he returned the favor with a huge wave of water.

  “Hey, no horseplay in the pool. Reyna will see you.” Sean Wakefield was coming into the pool from the direction of the office. “And then she’ll send me out here to warn you that Concord Court is not responsible for pool injuries.” He pretended to consider. “Since I’ve already done that, go ahead.”

  “Are you off duty? Join us.” Mira waved at the empty pool. “Plenty of space, even for your ego. I could race you and beat you.”

  He faked a laugh and, not for the first time, Jason wondered if there was something between them.

  “I prefer my pool dark and quiet. I’ll catch you guys tonight.” Sean raised his eyebrows at Jason. “This means you. I want to know why we didn’t hear more about your exciting experiences with the army doctors.” He paused with one hand on the gate and pointed at the crutch. “You know you gotta talk that stuff through, man.”

  Jason tipped his chin up. “Turning over a new leaf. I’ll tell you all about it tonight.”

  Sean narrowed his eyes. “Don’t make management angry, please. I have a security camera malfunction to straighten out.” Then he was gone.

  “What’s his story?” Jason asked.

  Mira shook her head. “Everybody’s got one. He better tell you his.”

  Jason enjoyed treading water for a minute. “Someone told me you were a poet. Is that part of your story? You didn’t share that part.”

  Mira shrugged.

  “Good enough to be published.” Jason dipped his head in the water, enjoying every second. It was nice to have a friend to give grief over something as easy as her poetry. This was what he’d miss if he let his pride bring him down. Friends. People who knew his story and still shoved him in the pool. No walking on eggshells or careful handling.

  “I’m better at science.” Mira kicked over to the side of the pool. “I enjoyed the class, though.”

  “Angela’s pretty great.” Jason experimented with his legs, loving how easy it was to move through the water.

  “Angela? Guess Reyna is a distant memory. Dating the teacher is a tricky maneuver, soldier.” Mira saluted. “Brave.”

  “Not dating. Not yet.” Jason moved down to the end of the pool. “But that’s my new leaf. The brave one.”

  “Sean’s right about this, at least. You gotta talk. If you don’t, what we’ve been through will tear you down.” Mira joined him. “I like Angela a lot. You seem all right. I give my blessing.” She motioned with a stiff arm to each of his shoulders.

  “What is that?” Jason asked.

  “You’re a knight. I’m a queen. My arm is a sword.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to be creative.”

  Jason raised his eyebrows and whistled silently. “More than that, I’m competitive. Want to race? Three laps? Loser brings the beer tonight?”

  Mira pursed her lips. “Fine. I’m out of beer anyway.” Then she pushed off from the wall into a fast breaststroke. Jason grinned as he followed her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  WHEN THE NEXT Saturday rolled around, Greer called and interrupted Angela’s investigation on social media, and it was a good thing, too. With June weddings and family vacations and then all of the great news coming from her ex-husband, she’d built a pretty dark cloud over her head.

  “Happy Saturday, baby,” Angela said as she stood up to change rooms. Staring at her laptop was not going to make anything better. Her intention had been to write, but she was too easily sidetracked. “What have you got planned for the day?”

  “Today, we are painting the nursery. Dad has some important meeting at the office, so Kate and I are going to be able to work without his supervision.” Greer’s emphasis on “supervision” was a big clue as to how she viewed her father’s management style. She wasn’t a fan, either.

  “That will be fun. Kate’s lucky to have your help. When you were on the way, I kept picking up one thing here and one thing there. By the time we managed to move into a bigger apartment and set up a nursery, I was afraid I had so much stuff there wasn’t room for a baby anymore.” They had been so young and too dumb to be afraid of the change that was coming. That had to be the best way to welcome a baby.

  “Yeah, get ready for a whole lot of before and after shots. Kate watches home improvement channels the same way you watch cooking shows.” Greer cleared her throat. “And yet, neither one of you puts all that study to work. Weird.”

  Angela shook her head as she studied her empty refrigerator. Obviously she’d found her Saturday purpose. What fun. Grocery shopping. “Listen, if I ever need to find a use for dragon fruit and matcha tea, I’ll be ready. Kate’s been prepping for this nursery. You’ll see. All that study will come in handy.” She closed the refrigerator door.

  “Maybe.” A quiet Greer always rattled Angela. Her daughter was about accomplishing tasks. She didn’t waste time, so if she was on the phone but not speaking, something big was coming.

  “I hope your dad’s helping with this. Kate has a lot on her plate.” The itch to fill out Kate’s to-do list was strong. She was spending too much time with Kate electronically.

  “A little. Kate’s not like you. If he’s not involved, she waits until he’s ready. We are all spending so much time together.” Greer’s dry delivery was hard to read.

  Angela relaxed against the sink. “Tell me. Whatever it is. It will be fine, Greer.” They’d always been able to talk. Angela hoped the physical distance between them wouldn’t change that.

  “I’m worried about you, Mom.” Greer coughed. Was she crying? “For so long, we were all kind of frozen in place. Dad and I were here, and nothing changed much after the divorce. Even Kate didn’t shake things up, but now...”

  Angela waited patiently for Greer to finish, even as every word twisted the knot in her stomach tighter.

  “We’re moving on. Are we leaving you behind? Am I?” The last words were said in a rush, so it took a minute for Angela to decipher them. Then the hurt hit and she had to breathe through it. That low-level anxiety that she had been afraid to study for too long because she didn’t want to put a name to it had tumbled from her daughter’s mouth, a direct hit.

  Conscious that it was up to her to fix this, Angela turned to look out the window over her sink. “Listen...” What was she going to say here? “You and I, we’re connected. No matter how far or fast you go, that connection sticks. Trust that. I do. I trust that. I know you better than anyone and I love you and even if you fly away, I know that you’ll come home. This stuff with your dad? It has nothing to do with me.” It didn’t, even if she was entirely too invested in developments in Nashville. The only tie she had was through Greer.

  “I shouldn’t enjoy all this as much as I do, Mom. That’s all. It’s fun to shop for a baby. I never knew. Kate and I almost got thrown out of the home improvement store last night because they were closing and we were still pulling paint chips. Kate bought paint last week, but it’s still so much fun to dream up all the possibilities and we have so much fun together. It might have been the level of noise we were
making. Kate would read a paint color name and strike a funny pose. I giggled every time.” Greer exhaled slowly. “Why do I feel guilty saying that?”

  Angela crossed an arm tightly over her chest to dull the ache that sprang to life at Greer’s confession. “That’s no way to live, baby. And honestly, if you knew about all the things I’m doing...” She was about to make up huge lies, the biggest she’d ever told her daughter, but there was no way this could continue.

  “Is it the boat guy?” Greer immediately asked, her tone scandalized. “Are you having a romantic adventure?”

  Because that was the only solution Greer would understand. Angela groaned loudly. Her daughter, the romantic. How easy it would be to murmur something noncommittal to get out of the conversation. If the boat guy was hanging around, Greer would feel better, which would relieve Angela, and life would go on.

  Until the inevitable minute where she was expected to produce the boat guy as her plus-one on a yacht out of Key West and then...

  Short of a solid breakup story, she’d be stuck.

  Even with a believable story about how boat guy had turned out to be terrible or boring or both, Greer would be disappointed and this worry would pop back up.

  “Baby, a man is not the answer.” Imaginary or otherwise. Whatever might be stalled in her own life, Angela firmly believed it and she needed Greer to understand it. “I don’t blame you for hoping boat guy or someone else can fix everything. I did for a long time, too. The world sort of tells us that. I made decisions based on that fear for a long time, but we don’t have to live that way. Look at what I’ve managed. I’m proud of my life and I’m happy with it.”

  Greer’s grumbling was expected, but Angela laughed anyway.

  “No one is saying that, Mother. You have an awesome job, a great place, all of that. It’s not about an ‘answer.’ It’s about are you having any fun? That’s it. Boat guy could be fun. Climbing Everest could be fun. Singing karaoke could be fun. What are you doing that is fun? I’m having a blast this summer. My internship is a blast. I love sitting in meetings and taking notes and typing them up and making copies. I love it. This baby stuff? Fun. Dress shopping for a Key West wedding? You should see some of the things Kate had me try on. I’m doing it, but sometimes I worry that you’re sitting in your office, grimly maintaining office hours that no one else cares about, just because there’s a rule. Do you understand what I am saying? Forget the feminist girl power. I’ve got a handle on that. Do you understand what I’m asking?”