Amanda watched as Lacy practically flew back into her salon. She’d spent less than fifteen minutes talking and she felt as if she’d known Lacy all her life. There was something about her that made a person know she genuinely cared.
Amanda liked that. She liked feeling like she was among folks who looked out for each other. She stared down the sidewalk at the tiny town and, as she had that first day, she wondered what it would be like to just move here. Would that be considered running away from her problems?
“Tomorrow is Sunday and I thought we’d go to church,” Amanda said when they’d started their afternoon session. Once again, Wyatt had been buried in research when she’d arrived.
Now he shot her a scowl. “I’m not going to church. No way.”
So much for full cooperation—of course she’d seen that already. “Yes way.”
He’d been okay during the therapy after she’d been firm, but he hadn’t been very talkative that afternoon. Again she wasn’t happy about his workload but had decided to hold her tongue. For now, anyway. She processed the information Lacy had given her. “When was the last time you got out of this house?”
“I haven’t left since they brought me home and I’m not going to church in that chair.”
So that was it. “It will do you good.”
“Forget it, Amanda.”
“Look.” She could be just as stubborn as he could be.
“This is part of therapy. Getting out and about will be good for you. You have gotten too tied to these four walls surrounding you. And way too connected to your phone.”
He glared at her, his dark brows crinkled and almost touching in the middle. “I’m not going out in that stinkin’ chair. Get it out of your head.”
His words hit Amanda wrong. She fought down her temper. Did he not know how blessed he was? Did he think he was too good to be seen in a wheelchair? Irritated beyond words, she glared right back at him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” she gritted through clenched teeth. “No, you probably haven’t since you’ve been too busy feeling sorry for yourself. But there is an abundance of people who live every single day of their lives in wheelchairs. For them there is no hope of ever getting out of ‘that chair,’ as you so callously call it.” She shook her head and willed herself to remain calm. Irrational behavior never helped anything. “Instead of feeling sorry for themselves, they enjoy life…thankful that they have ‘that chair,’ which enables them to not be shut in. And so can you. Why do you continue to be so obstinate? Why are you being so hard on yourself?” She couldn’t jump him about being too prideful to use the chair. This went deeper than that and she knew it.
Instead of answering, he drove his chair to the window and stared out across the pasture.
“Don’t you know how fortunate you are? You came through that plane crash alive. I understand it must have been a harrowing experience, but God brought you through it. What you have wrong with you can be fixed. I’ve tried and tried to get that through to you. You are about to be on a walker. And then a cane. But this is about more than walking, isn’t it?” Instinct told her that Lacy was right. Wyatt was hiding something deeper. She could relate to that in more ways than he could imagine. Crazy as it sounded, she wished she could tell him her problem. But this was about him, not her, and it didn’t seem right.
“Why are you so angry?” She asked the question half expecting him to scoff and tell her it was none of her business. Instead he swung his chair around to face her.
“Look, I took my life for granted, all right?” He rubbed his temple as if he had a headache.
“How did you do that?” It was the only question to ask to such an observation.
“I climbed into that plane never even imagining that it would crash. When I woke—” He stopped speaking and she stilled her fingers working out a knot tightening up along his spine. “When I woke trapped inside, with the smell of gas all around me, I felt stupid. I was going to die because I’d been incompetent. That isn’t acceptable to me.”
That couldn’t be it. “You’re this angry about being stuck in this wheelchair because you feel stupid?” This seemed totally out of character for him. She hadn’t tagged him as being so shallow.
“No. Because like you just pointed out, I’m an arrogant fool.”
“Hey, that’s not what I meant at all!”
“Isn’t it? It’s the truth.”
He was an overachiever. “Do you think you’re a superhero? You’re being unreasonably hard on yourself. You got in an airplane and it crashed. It happens. That’s just like me getting in my car and being involved in that car crash—I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t drink and drive. That would be stupid. Was stupid, irresponsible and criminal.”
He went very still. “You’re right. But even if I weren’t guilty of drinking…” His words were quiet. “I did know there was risk in taking off in that storm. All I can think about is what if I had harmed someone because I chose to fly my plane in unsafe conditions. I do corporate law for the most part, but I also handle cases every year where someone was injured from acts of neglect. It turns my stomach that I could have been in that category. At the very least I was neglectful of my own safety. My grandfather died that way. He basically made a decision to mow on a hill that any beginner would have known was too steep. But he did it anyway and his tractor rolled on top of him. All my life that’s bothered me and here I went and decided to fly my plane into a storm because I believed I could fly through anything. God and everyone else has got to be thinking I’m an idiot. But that’s not what bothers me. It’s the carelessness of it. It’s unforgivable.”
There was a lot here. Amanda searched for words. “Everything is forgivable,” she said. “I—I learned that when the drunk driver that had almost killed me came and begged me for forgiveness. I couldn’t do it at first. But then, my dad helped me realize it was what God expected of me. He forgives us so we have to forgive others. It was tough at first. But that was the first step in my recovery. I’ve helped my young patients get through some of the same pain by helping them take that step. You need to do that. You need to forgive yourself.” She walked over to stand beside him. She wanted to reach out and touch him but didn’t.
He didn’t look as if anything she’d said had made a difference. She pushed on. “You hold yourself up to too high a standard and you’re right, that is pretty arrogant on your part. I hate to say this, but you don’t have a clue what your grandfather was thinking.” Maybe she was stepping over the line here, but she felt it needed to be said. Bluntness might be the only thing that got through to him.
He didn’t say anything for a heartbeat. “You don’t hold back, do you?”
“Not very often,” she said, more gently. She wanted to help him. “I deal with people’s physical impairments every day. Many times it’s the things going on in their heads after an injury that play a role in their healing. My kids—I mean many of my patients—see counselors simultaneously. Normally, I leave this sort of thing for them.”
“I don’t know, you’re giving this thick-headed fool sound advice. At least you are stating the facts.”
“You deal in facts. I was probably out of line.”
He lifted his hand and placed it on her arm. The contact was warm.
“You weren’t out of line. I needed a kick in the pants. It’s at least something for me to think about. New perspectives and all.”
Her gaze was stuck on his hand on her arm. She forced herself to raise her head. “I hope if you think it’s good advice, you’ll take some of it. You aren’t the type of man who would knowingly put yourself or someone else at risk. For some reason you were meant to be in this wheelchair in this moment in time.”
“I don’t know if I believe that.”
He’d almost opened up a bit, but now he was shutting down again. Amanda pushed. “I don’t begin to understand the mind of God. Believe me, I’m the worst—” She stopped herself. She could not go where she’d almost gone. “I believe that God h
as a reason and a purpose for everything. Whether you agree with him or not.” If he only knew how hard it was for her to believe what she was saying. “Even you being in this wheelchair, at this time and place. Maybe it’s so you’ll go to church in this chair, and get over your pride—”
He shot her an icy glare. “Pride—” The phone rang and he reached for it. “I’m expecting a conference call. I’m not going to church.”
And that was that. She watched him drive into the other room, frustration settling over her. He’d iced over like a freeze pop when she’d blurted out pride. Any moron would know you don’t call someone on their pride unless you’re prepared for them to cut you off instantly out of exactly that emotion.
She might not ever get him to listen to her now.
Chapter Nine
In the predawn hours of Sunday morning Wyatt gave up trying to sleep. He sat up, ignoring all the parts of him that protested with shooting pain. It wasn’t his shoulder, his hip or his back or nightmares that kept him up for most of the night. It was Amanda.
She’d heaped the guilt on the day before. Pride. She’d thought he was too proud to be seen in the wheelchair. He hadn’t needed her to point out to him that there were people who couldn’t get out of their chairs. She’d acted like he didn’t know this… He knew better than anyone that he could have very easily been one of them.
He carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stood for a minute before easing into the wheelchair. He could feel the progress they’d made, feel the strength coming back to him and knew the pain was ebbing, also. Still, he despised the wheelchair more every day even knowing soon he wouldn’t have to use it anymore.
He’d been whining.
He shouldn’t have been startled by her boldness when she’d tried to put him in his place for it.
Whining. The thought hit him and it wasn’t pleasant. The idea was so far removed from what he’d ever thought he’d do in the face of adversity that he wanted to shove it away and deny it.
Uncomfortable with the idea, he drove the chair to the kitchen and made himself a pot of coffee. By the time he poured himself a cup, he wasn’t feeling any better about himself. He was still sitting at the front windows as the sun’s morning light began to seep through the darkness. The last thing he was expecting to see as the thin sliver of pink crept over the treetops was Amanda. But there she was rounding the end of the house jogging down the road. But it was the prosthetic leg that caused him to almost drop his coffee.
She had on a blue top and gray running shorts that completely exposed the prosthetic leg made specially shaped for running. Her leg was missing from about five inches above the knee, and the prosthetic slipped over her thigh. The reality of what the drunk driver had done to her hit him like a punch in the gut, knocked the breath out of him. No wonder she’d given him a dressing-down over his attitude about the wheelchair. He felt sick. Even though he’d been in the process of taking a good hard look at himself, it didn’t matter. Now he felt embarrassed by his entire attitude.
Here he was temporarily in a wheelchair with a clean bill of health ahead of him, according to Amanda and the doctors, and still he was whining.
Some man he turned out to be.
His disgust couldn’t be measured, it was so great.
Amanda had lost her entire leg and hadn’t said anything. No, on the contrary. She had taken what life had thrown at her and she’d triumphed over it. She’d become a physical therapist—working with kids who needed her attention and upbeat attitude. And on top of that she was running.
It was amazing.
He remembered her asking about his running and wondered why she’d chosen not to mention it then. Why had she not told him about her leg? You fired her, you jerk, for being too small and too young. She probably was afraid he’d fire her again if he knew about her leg. Remorse sank over him like a black cloud. She would have been right. For certain, he wouldn’t have thought she was strong enough if he’d known this. He knew differently now, though. Amanda Hathaway was stronger than she looked…inside and outside.
Feeling like a fool, he watched her cross over the cattle guard and head down the gravel road dissecting the pastures. She followed the curved road across the prairie with such grace and fluidity that he found watching her hypnotizing.
Transfixed, he watched until she disappeared over the horizon where the trees peeked over the edge. He was profoundly and humbly changed as he sat there watching the spot where she’d disappeared.
Amanda had faced death and lost a limb and yet she’d overcome it. Instead of floundering as he’d been doing, she’d flourished.
Wyatt took a long draw on his coffee, then he turned his chair around and headed toward his bedroom.
Amanda pushed hard as she ran. Sleeplessness had driven her from her bed and out into the morning light with a vengeance. She’d given Wyatt all that advice the day before and felt like a hypocrite.
Why was it that depression and doubts always surged back just after progress was made? It was as if the devil were reaching out and pulling her back into the hole.
God had a reason and a purpose for everything.
Boy, she’d been real quick to spout that advice off to Wyatt. Even telling him that him being in that wheelchair at this time was His purpose—what had she been thinking? She didn’t know God’s reasoning. She kept trying to figure out her own way and couldn’t do it, but she was sure full of advice for Wyatt.
So what had she been doing lecturing Wyatt on his attitude toward wheelchairs?
Needing to clear her head, she’d taken action, dressed in her running clothes, pulled on her running prosthetic and headed out into the gravel roads with the welcoming spirit she’d had all her life toward jogging. When she ran she was strong. She felt happy. She felt like anything was possible. And usually she felt at peace—that hadn’t been the case for weeks. But still, she’d needed it these days more than ever.
“God never promised that life would always be easy,” she said, out loud now. “He did promise that He would be with His people always and that He would help them. He will help Wyatt. And He will help me.”
He would. It just seemed like…she couldn’t find peace about it. Why was that? She felt such betrayal over what Jonathan had done, and she felt betrayed by God, too. This was where the turmoil lay.
She watched the sun rise as she ran down the gravel road that seemed to head straight for the glowing ball lifting upward. She asked God to give her the peace she needed….
If only she could get Jonathan and the life she’d envisioned with him off her mind. And the children. Her purpose seemed so far away from her now she couldn’t get her heart back into it.
She’d thought getting here to Mule Hollow and throwing herself into this job with a demanding client would be her saving grace. But this morning, the loss she felt inside was so great she could hardly stand it. All she could think about was never giving birth to her own children. Or having a husband.
“You will marry one day,” she said, rather loudly. There was no one around to hear her and she needed to hear the words. “You will find a good man who won’t think you aren’t worth marrying because you can’t carry his children…” Her voice broke and she stumbled to a stop; hands on her knees, she bent forward and blinked back the surge of tears that had risen suddenly. How was she supposed to help Wyatt when she couldn’t help herself? Nothing she’d said the day before had gotten through to him.
The cattle kept on chewing as they studied her. It was like they were waiting for her to continue. Focus.
Amanda blinked hard and thought of Wyatt. She was here to help him. “Suck it up and focus on what God has for you to do.” Resuming her jogging, she evaluated her plan. Help him get on his feet. Help him get back to his life. Help him move past the things eating at him and holding him back. This job was about him, not her.
“You can help him.”
And today that started with getting him to church. Getting him out of that hous
e and back in the midst of people. She already knew that the folks of Mule Hollow would eagerly welcome him. She’d worry about herself later.
All she had to do was get him out of the house.
The last thing she expected an hour later, after she’d showered and dressed for church, was to round the corner to find Wyatt sitting on the porch with his Bible in his lap, also dressed for church.
She’d worried when she came back from jogging that he had seen her leg. She’d been so focused on running at the time that she’d overlooked the fact that he would be awake when she returned. But as she’d jogged past the house she’d decided if he was outside then it was meant to be. She was going to have to tell him anyway. It was time. He’d either respect her for the PT that she was or he’d give her the boot.
But finding him ready for church, in starched jeans and a crisp white shirt, threw her.
She halted at the bottom of the steps. “Hi. Don’t you look nice.” She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but her heart was pounding with hope.
His gaze was serious as he gave her a slow smile. “Thought I’d hitch a ride with you this morning, if that’s all right.”
A smile as wide as the Guadalupe River cracked across her face. “I think that would simply be wonderful.”
The Mule Hollow Church of Faith was a sweet little number on the outskirts of town. The rural church made Amanda think of weddings and picnics on the lawn. The classic white-washed chapel with a tall steeple looked well maintained and inviting. It fit the country, down-home town perfectly and she could easily see happy couples standing together at the front of the church saying their vows before God and all of their friends and family. It would have been a lovely place for— Hold it! Amanda’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. She was done imagining weddings. This was a good day and she didn’t plan to spoil it. Wyatt had agreed to come to church with her and that had made her day brighter than she’d ever expected.
Cowboy for Keeps Page 8
