by Kara Lennox
Cal made no reply.
“I don’t really need to go to the hospital,” she tried again.
“I hope you’re right, but you’re going anyway.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to pay for this,” she grumbled.
“You don’t have insurance?”
“Of course I have insurance. You know me better than that. I got the best insurance I could afford, which isn’t a very good policy, really. The deductibles and co-pays are huge. Do you have any idea how much ten days in the hospital, plus brain surgery, costs? I’ll be paying off my portion for years to come. I don’t need to add to the debt.”
“I’ll help you pay it. Now stop arguing.”
Willow sighed. “You don’t have to pay for anything. I’m just being stupid.”
“I can afford it.”
“With what? Last I checked, you weren’t kin to the Rockefellers.”
“No, but my grandmother on my mom’s side left me an old dairy farm in Lancaster. I’m renting it out right now, and it earns me a nice chunk of change. So I’m just saying, I’ll help, okay?”
To Willow, that didn’t exactly sound like they were living in the moment. It sounded like Cal had definite ideas about their being together in the future. A guy didn’t offer to pay off medical bills for a casual girlfriend.
She didn’t know whether to be pleased over his generosity or to be scared spitless. She wasn’t ready for commitment. After all, they’d reconciled only twenty-four hours ago.
“Thank you,” she finally said. “But maybe it won’t be necessary. I’m still not sure what all the insurance company will pay for.”
THE EMERGENCY ROOM at Mother Frances was blissfully empty, so Willow got attention right away. Cal sat in the waiting room, debating whether he should call Willow’s parents or Clea to let them know she was here. But she’d looked and sounded much better by the time they’d taken her back to a treatment room, so he decided there was no need to worry anyone yet.
He waited…and waited and waited. About once an hour, he inquired, and he was always told the same thing—she was undergoing tests.
He was starting to get frantic by late afternoon when a nurse finally told him he could go back and see her.
He found her lying on a gurney wearing a hospital gown and looking a bit bedraggled. She had an IV in her arm, and one of her pigtails had come unraveled.
He summoned a smile. “Hey, how ya doing? It’s me, Cal,” he clarified, just in case.
“I’d have figured it out in a minute,” she said glumly. “You’re the only person to walk in here without a white jacket. Oh, my God, that was so embarrassing when I was standing two feet from you and didn’t recognize you. Jon and Sherry looked at me like I was some kind of nutcase.”
“I’m sure Sherry understands. She’s a nurse, after all. And they won’t go blabbing it to anyone.” Cal pulled up a chair close to her bed. He absently went to work on her braid, unraveling it the rest of the way. Then he pulled a comb out of his pocket and started combing out the thick, glossy handful of hair.
“Mmm, that feels nice.” She seemed to relax a little. “Especially after being poked and prodded and stuck with needles all afternoon.”
“So, did they figure out what was wrong with you?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Dr. Patel, my neurologist, was all worried I’d had a hemorrhage or stroke or something. But they did a bunch of tests, and he said everything’s okay.”
Cal began braiding her hair. He’d done this for her when they were teenagers, and the motions came back to him with ease, feeling comfortable and familiar. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“He wants to keep me overnight for observation. He thinks it probably was just heat exhaustion, and nothing to do with my brain. But the headache worries him.”
“Do you still have it?”
She paused before answering. “No, now that you mention it, it seems to be gone.”
“I’m glad you’re okay. You scared me.” He finished the braid, but he didn’t have anything to fasten it with. She’d lost the rubber band. “Here, hold this.” He placed the end of the braid in her hand, then looked around until he located a box of rubber gloves. He plucked one of them out.
“What are you doing?”
“Just watch.” He took his pocket knife and cut the end off, the part that went around the wrist. A makeshift rubber band.
“Oh, very cute. But you better hide the evidence. They’ll probably charge me ten dollars for that glove.”
He threw the ruined glove in the biohazard bin, then used the pseudo rubber band to fasten Willow’s braid.
Suddenly, she became impatient, slapping his hand away. “What is taking so long? Why does everything take so damn long at a hospital? A room costs more than at a four-star resort, but the service you get is worse than a cheap motel.”
“I’ll go find out what the holdup is.” He’d have done anything to make this easier for her. But he suspected there was nothing within his power to make her feel better.
He asked the ever-patient volunteer at the E.R. admitting desk, who said a room was still being prepared and it would be a few more minutes. No help at all.
When he returned to Willow’s treatment room, he paused at the door. He’d always enjoyed watching her when she was unaware of his presence. He remembered back in high school, before they’d started dating, watching her from across the library or the cafeteria, thrilled by every small move she made, whether it was drinking from a carton of milk or turning the page of a book.
He didn’t like what he saw now, though. Willow was studying a small scrap of paper. There were tears running down her cheeks.
He charged into the room, determined to find out what was causing her distress. Whatever was on that piece of paper, whoever had given it to her, he was going to deal with it. Vanquish the enemy.
He was a bit disconcerted when he realized the paper was a business card—his card, one of their previous evening’s experiments.
“Willow?” he said softly. “What are you doing with that?”
She quickly brushed away her tears. “I swiped a few cards last night. I was going to get Anne’s opinion. This is the one I like best. Don’t you?”
The card she was studying featured a logo of a horse and a dog in silhouette, next to his name. And beneath that, the words “The Animal Analyst.”
“Yeah, I like that one,” he said, though for the first time in days he wasn’t interested in talking about his new venture. “Willow, why were you crying?”
She reached into her purse, which sat beside her on the gurney, and produced a different card. “Although this one’s good, too. The Chandler Method. Has a certain cachet.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. It sounds good. But the fact is, calling it a ‘method’ implies that I could teach it to someone else. Get a whole franchise thing going.”
“Wow. Franchises?”
He shook his head. “Wouldn’t work. Because I can’t teach it. It just…happens. I want the animal to behave a certain way, and it does. I must be employing some instinctual, nonverbal communication or body language or something. But half the time I don’t know what it is.”
“All right, then. We’ll go with The Animal Analyst. Well, of course, that’s your decision, not mine. It’s your dream.”
Ah. Cal thought he had an idea what was going on with her. He took the cards out of her hand and set them aside. “Scoot over.”
“What? There’s not room for—”
“Make room.” He sat on the edge of her gurney and gathered her into his arms. “Maybe we should talk about your dream.”
“You mean the one where I spend all day asking, ‘You want fries with that?’”
“Willow…”
“I have to face the facts. I’m not getting better. In fact, I think I’m getting worse. I must have had a hundred people say hi to me today, and I couldn’t recognize any of them. I tried to help Pete with the barbecue, but every time he ask
ed me to do something for him, I would forget what he’d asked before I could do it. He was beginning to think I was simpleminded.”
“Today was a tough day. You were under a lot of stress. Everyone’s memory gets worse when they’re stressed. Like test anxiety.”
“How can you say that? I was standing two feet from you and didn’t know who you were. The only way I even remembered what shirt to look for is that I wrote it down in my notebook.” She put her hand up to her chest. “Oh, my God, my notebook. I think I’ve lost it. My whole life is in there.”
“It’s in your purse. You put it in there on the drive over here.”
“See, I don’t even remember that. I can’t go to medical school. I can’t be a doctor. It’s over.”
Cal didn’t know what to say. He’d tried to offer her hope in the past, but it was becoming increasingly clear that she would not be able to handle the rigors of medical school. So he just held her.
He’d seldom seen Willow cry. She’d always been so optimistic, so stoic in the face of disappointment, always ready with a new plan to get around whatever obstacle was in her path, that she seldom had to resort to hopelessness and tears.
This was, in fact, the first time he’d seen her give up, admit defeat. And it was painful to watch. It was especially excruciating given the fact that he had so recently grabbed on to his own dream, and everything was falling into place for him.
“You know,” he said when her tears began to subside a little, “if there was anything I could do to fix this for you, I would.”
“I know. You’re good that way. And I’m sorry to be such a downer when you’re all excited about your plans for the future.”
“Don’t worry about that. You’re entitled to a good cry. This whole thing with your memory stinks. So you just kick and scream and cry all you want.”
That made her laugh, just for a second. “Can I throw things?”
“You can throw things at me if it’ll help. I’m pretty fast. I’ll duck.”
“Now why would I want to do that?”
“Because…” He debated whether to answer that one honestly, finally deciding he shouldn’t hold back. “Because things are falling into my lap, as usual, and you’re struggling. That’s always irritated you, and I imagine it still does.”
“I’m not irritated by your success,” she said. “It’s the one bright spot on my horizon. Because I helped, so I’m allowed to bask a little bit in the glow of your accomplishment. Right?”
“Oh, Willow.” He tightened his hold on her, because he didn’t want to ever let her go. “You don’t have to stay out there on the edge. You can be right in this thing with me. We could be partners. I’m still just starting out, and I don’t really know what I’m doing. I need you now more than ever.”
“Partners?” she said in a small voice. He couldn’t quite tell if she was intrigued or horrified, but he blundered on. If this was the wrong move to make, he’d soon find out.
“Fifty-fifty partners. We could have Anne draw up the papers. I’ll need someone to keep me on track. You have a lot of business acumen. You could…I don’t know. Handle the books and the public relations and the schedule. Keep things organized. Long-range planning.”
“You probably could use someone to keep you organized so you could just focus on the animals,” she said. “But me?”
“You can write everything down. Or use the computer. Might as well put that zillion gigabyte memory to good use. We’ll devise systems you can work with. And I don’t mean I’d just stick you in some office,” he added, liking this idea more and more. “This job is going to require travel. You could come with me, help me with the training. You like animals. There are a few easy things I could teach you. And sometimes I just need an extra pair of hands.”
“I don’t know, Cal.”
“I’m not asking you to commit to this forever,” he said. “I know you. Once you get over this disappointment, you’ll come up with a new dream, new goals, new plans for yourself. But in the meantime, I’ll share my dream with you. I know it’s not the same, but it’s better than flipping hamburgers, isn’t it?”
“Ugh, hamburgers. I don’t ever want to see one again.”
“There, you see? And I don’t care if you don’t recognize me sometimes. And the animals don’t care if you forget their names or don’t recognize their faces. They’ll love you anyway.” And so will I. Cal almost said the words aloud. But he figured Willow had been hit with enough drama for one day. Their relationship was still so new. And though he’d loved her forever, it might take her a while to re-learn how to love him.
“You’d really do this for me?” she asked.
“Honey, it’s for me, too. I didn’t want you to go away. Now I can keep you close. And I won’t be striking out on this crazy venture alone.”
“And what if you and me…what if we don’t work out? What about the partnership then?”
“Let’s just take this one day at a time.”
BY THE TIME Willow was released from the hospital the next day, she was feeling a whole lot better. The doctors could find nothing at all wrong with her. She suffered no further fainting spells or disorientation. All they could theorize was that she’d gotten dehydrated—which muddled her thinking, which then escalated into heat exhaustion.
Her grandmother picked her up and brought her home. During the forty-five minute drive, she filled Nana in on her new plans to forget med school and become Cal’s partner in his business.
“But aren’t you upset?” Nana asked. “Not that I want you to be. But this has got to be a huge disappointment for you.”
“Of course I’m upset. But I cried for about two hours yesterday, and I’m dealing with it. At least I’ll have something to do with myself that’s fun and interesting until I figure out what to do with my life.”
“I think it sounds marvelous,” Nana declared. “Cal will take care of you.”
“Actually…he won’t be able to pay me for a while. All the money he makes in the beginning will be plowed back into the business. And since he’ll be working fewer hours at the ranch, money’s going to be tight. So I was wondering…can I stay with you a few more weeks?”
“Oh, Willow, of course. Do you even need to ask?”
“I’ve been sponging off you all summer.”
“I’m delighted to have you. There’s no need for you to worry about money right now.”
ABOUT A WEEK LATER, as Willow chopped up some steak for fajitas, she could hardly contain herself. It was all she could do not to get in her car and drive to the Hardison Ranch to tell Cal her good news. But he would be home in a few minutes anyway. So she applied her energy to making an extra-special dinner for him, with wine and candlelight and dessert.
She had developed a routine over the last few days. She woke up early and did chores for Nana so she wouldn’t feel too guilty about letting her grandmother feed and house her for free. Then she headed to Cal’s apartment. If he was working at the ranch, which he still did three or four days a week, she let herself in with the key he’d given her. She worked on getting his cards and stationery in order, registering his new business name, and designing ads for area newspapers. She sent out press releases to every animal-specialty magazine she could find, and when she had a few minutes, she worked on the Web site.
She also opened his mail and answered the phone. He was getting one or two inquiries a day, just from word of mouth. A few of those balked at the fee Willow quoted, but most were happy to pay up if Cal could solve their problem. She scheduled times in his appointment book. She even ran errands for him, including taking his pets to the vet and buying groceries. If he didn’t have to worry about that stuff, she figured, he could really focus on his goals and become profitable that much more quickly. The sooner he had profits, the sooner he could pay her and she could think about being independent.
She also cooked dinner so it would be ready by the time he got home and showered. Over dinner, they discussed her day’s activities
and any new jobs she’d booked. Together, they put away leftovers and did the dishes. Then they would strategize for the next day, fall into bed exhausted—but never too exhausted to make love. She would creep back to Nana’s house in the early morning.
It was the most idyllic, exciting time Willow could recall. And though she thought about medical school from time to time and she would occasionally feel tears pressing at the back of her eyes, working tirelessly on Cal’s business was a terrific antidote for the blues.
She still hadn’t brought herself to call UT Southwestern and tell them she wouldn’t be attending. She knew she would have to soon, as well as straighten out the financial mess of her student loan. She hadn’t even canceled out of the cute little garage apartment she’d picked out in Dallas. It wasn’t like her to procrastinate, but performing those final steps seemed so…well, so final. So she didn’t.
“Mmm, something smells good.”
“I’m in the kitchen,” she called out.
“I figured.” Cal poked his head into the kitchen. “What in the world are you doing?”
“Fixing your favorite.”
He came all the way into the kitchen, though he made no move to touch her or kiss her. He probably wouldn’t, until he’d had a shower. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You’re my business partner, not my housekeeper.”
“Hey, I like to eat too. Anyway, tonight’s a special occasion.”
“It is? Oh, hell, did I forget something? I know it’s not your birthday.”
“I’ll tell you all about it after you shower.”
“You’re a tease, you know that? This’ll be the fastest shower in history.”
Willow hurried to finish up the preparations. When Cal joined her in the dining room, he froze in the doorway, staring at the linen tablecloth draped over his old scarred oak table and the cream-colored candles and ivy she’d fashioned into an impromptu centerpiece.
“You really went all out.”
“Sit down before it gets cold,” she admonished. She served the beef and vegetables into warm tortillas, then added grated cheddar cheese and sour cream.
