His Golden Heart

by Marcia King-Gamble

  “You’ve got to be kidding?”

  “I’m not.”

  She stalked off. Beau followed more slowly in his wheelchair. He must have done something to turn her off. He couldn’t think what. By the time he’d caught up she was speaking into a wall phone.

  “I’m going to need one of you to help me get Mr. Hill into the pool,” she said to someone on the other end.

  How quickly things changed. He was Mr. Hill now.

  Shayna hung up the receiver, refusing to look him in the eye. He wasn’t about to be ignored or put off. He wheeled himself closer.

  “You want to tell me what this is about?”

  “I’ve called someone to help get you into the pool. Be sure to hold on to the metal bars at the side when you’re in.”

  Avoidance was going to be her technique. She’d been the person lecturing him about facing up to reality, dealing with what had happened. She’d spoken about moving on, accepting your lot in life and about not becoming complacent. She was the person who’d given him a book to read with motivational quotes like, “Yesterday is where it was… Today is where it is… Tomorrow is where it’s going to be.” Sure looked as though there would be no tomorrow for them.

  Beau suddenly felt anger building. How dare she kiss him senseless, and then simply brush him aside?

  “We need to talk,” he said, reaching out for her.

  Shayna stepped back, avoiding his reach. “We don’t have time to talk.”

  “Make time. You don’t just kiss a man passionately, and then order him to stop. You don’t get a person going, and then expect him to turn it off at a moment’s notice. I’m a man, Shayna, a man with needs.”

  “That you are,” she said quietly. “And that’s exactly why we had to stop. You’re my patient I almost forgot that. I should never have let it happen.”

  “So you’re saying it was a mistake?” Beau’s words were quietly spoken, each word clearly enunciated.

  “You can call it that if you’d like. Let’s just pretend it never happened.” Removing her towel, she dove into the pool.

  “Shayna,” Beau called, but a loud splash drowned out his words. By the time she surfaced he was shaking with anger. “So that’s it then. You dangle the bait at me, offer up your considerable charms, hoping there would be something in this for you. Maybe I’d go home and talk to my dad. One hand washes the other, right?”

  Shayna blinked at him and treaded water. Her hair was a sleek wet cap against her head. She looked like one of Neptune’s spirits. He wasn’t going to bend. “What can your dad do for me?” she asked.

  “Plenty. Your brother’s in trouble. My dad’s prosecuting the case. You were going to have Reggie volunteer at Hill Of Dreams. Was that a coincidence or had you purposely targeted me? Make Beau want you. Make him believe he can walk again. Have him fall in love with you. Isn’t that your game?”

  Shayna’s mouth opened wide, at first nothing came out. “You have it wrong,” she said quietly, “at least some of it.”

  Were those real tears in her eyes or was it the effect of too much chlorine? He waited for her to go on but her attention had already been distracted by the arrival of a burly man with biceps the size of tree trunks. He hurried their way.

  “Is this the patient you need help with?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Shayna said, all business now.

  Before Beau could protest he was scooped up and gently deposited in the water next to Shayna. The man did not release him until he was certain he had his balance and a good hold on the bars around the pool.

  “Can I let go?” he asked.

  Beau nodded.

  “You need anything else, Ms. Shayna?” the man asked, as if she was a goddess and he’d do anything she commanded.

  “Thanks for your help. That will be all.”

  Shayna had that effect on men. This one looked as if she’d wrapped him around her little finger. Thank God he’d found out she was just using him before it was too late. Before he’d done something stupid like fallen in love with her.

  After the aide left, Beau faced Shayna. He compartmentalized his emotions and simply followed instructions. All his concentration needed to be focused on walking again. Perhaps she wouldn’t think he was a toy to be used, and discarded if he were ambulatory.

  He could then deal with her on equal footing.

  * * *

  The microbrewery was crowded, considering the time of day. A smattering of professionals were hunched on bar stools or crowded into booths. A few –collar types tossed back beers while debating the pluses of one political candidate over another.

  Beau faced Joshua Vanderhorn across the table. Other than going back and forth to therapy and his visit to Hill Of Dreams, it was his first venture out of the house into the real world. He was disoriented and more than a little taken aback by how different everything looked now that he was viewing it from another perspective.

  The last time Beau had been to this bar/restaurant he’d come in on his own two feet, planted his butt at the bar, and drunk his share of Anchor Steam. Now the beer he sipped, mild as it was, had already gone to his head. He found himself really having to focus. Thank God you’re not driving, he thought wryly, putting down the remaining brew.

  Joshua was busy eyeing a shapely redhead that was jammed into too-tight jeans and a cropped top. She had a cowboy hat tilted over one eye. Old Josh must be looking for a distraction, Beau thought. This one isn’t the debutante type.

  Josh had strolled in dressed in a navy blue jacket and crisp white shirt, the collar open at the neck. His sharply creased jeans and Bally loafers only added to his look of rich boy out to play. He’d high-fived Beau, inquired about his health, and then rambled on about his trip to Europe and about the upcoming ski events.

  “Check out those babes,” Josh said, eyeing the red head’s more than ample breasts. “Think young Vanderhorn still has what it takes?”

  Beau shook his head. “You never know until you try.”

  Beau wished he was up to finishing his beer. An hour with Joshua would be all he could take. He’d instructed his sister to get him promptly when the time was up and hopefully Kelly would do just that “What is it you wanted?” he asked, abruptly.

  Joshua beamed at him from over the rim of his glass. “I miss you, guy. You’re the man.” He raised his glass and sipped on amber beer. “Here’s to a speedy recovery. Heard from anyone on the ski team lately?”

  Beau frowned, thinking about whether he had or not. It had been a while since any of his teammates had rung him.

  Right after the accident the phone hadn’t stop ringing. Everyone had called or sent cards. Some of the guys had even come by to see him, but little by little they’d melted away, some figuring he’d never be competition again so why bother?

  Beau’s angry attitude had driven some of them off. He’d been bitter, and at times downright rude. He’d been abusive and difficult to get along with. That reminded him he’d forgotten to send flowers to Immaculata and Shayna. He needed to take care of that business. Soon.

  He was still mad at Shayna but couldn’t discount that her work had been effective so far. While his legs still didn’t work she’d gotten him to the point where he could leave his home and begin assimilating into society again. Mentally he felt better. That, in and of itself, was a major accomplishment.

  “So who’s called you?” Joshua probed.

  What a persistent bugger.

  “Several of the fellows,” Beau said evasively.

  “Peter Turner by chance? He’s always so full of drama.” Joshua checked out the redhead again. He caught her eye and smiled encouragingly. Beau continued sipping on his beer, expecting to get an earful. “Do you remember the day we had breakfast together? We’d just completed our practice run.”

  “Sure I do. The entire ski team went to eat in one of those coffee shops in Olympic Village.”

  “It was packed inside. We left our equipment out front. Your skis, boots, goggles, and poles were
next to mine.”

  “Were they?”

  So much of the day had been a blur. He’d awakened early, headed to the slopes with the rest of the guys, and completed his run in record time. Everyone had been excited at the thought of him winning. He’d waited for the rest of the guys to get done and they’d all headed to the coffee shop for a quick bite. His stomach had been in knots. He’d been wound so tight thinking of the challenge ahead that he could barely choke down a coffee and muffin. The thought of bringing home gold for himself and the United States had had him pumped.

  Joshua’s voice broke through the memories. “Peter says he’d forgotten his wallet in his car. When he went out to retrieve it, there was a strange guy nosing around. He describes him as having a lantern jaw.” Joshua’s blue eyes twinkled. “Wonder who that could be?”

  Joshua’s Colgate smile was wasted on Beau. Better to save it for the redhead that was now ogling him. “Peter says he called to the guy, thinking he might be a thief. Fans do that sometimes, you know, steal stuff. Wait a minute, hasn’t Peter told you this?” Joshua asked.

  Peter hadn’t. He’d come to the hospital to see Beau on more than one occasion but he hadn’t been up to having visitors. Beau had made a mental note to call Peter. This time he planned on following through.

  “How come you’re just bringing this up now?” Beau asked Joshua.

  Joshua shrugged. “Hey, I’ve been bumming around Europe. I’m just catching up on all the gossip. Could Lars Schmitt have sabotaged you? He did end up winning.”

  Beau wondered why Joshua was so interested. He’d placed second and was probably soured and resentful of the winner. Like most people he had an agenda. But Beau was no longer competition, so why would he care?

  “What happened to your equipment?” Joshua asked.

  “I don’t know.” After the accident Beau hadn’t thought much about equipment. He hadn’t really cared. All he’d thought about was that his life had ended, that the sport that he lived and breathed for was no more.

  Beau made another mental note to have David contact his coach and ask where his equipment was. He wanted to take a look at his boots especially.

  “You’ve given me a lot to think about,” Beau said, spotting Kelly heading their way. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet.

  “I got it,” Joshua said, moving the check out of his reach. “This one’s on me. Stay in touch. Let me know if you find anything out.”

  “Sure thing,” Beau said, preparing to wheel himself off. Why was it all of a sudden so important to Joshua that they keep in touch?

  “Beau,” Joshua called after him.

  He turned his head. “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry you got publicly dumped. Such a shame to have your fiancée flaunt another man in your face, especially Euro-trash. It must be embarrassing to be replaced by the heir to the Bellissima fortune.”

  Beau decided it wasn’t worthy of a response. He wheeled himself in the direction of his sister.

  “I’m sorry if I made you mad,” Joshua shouted after him.

  Beau pretended not to hear him.

  * * *

  “You’ve got a delivery here at the front desk,” the receptionist announced loudly into the phone.

  Shayna thanked the woman and hung up. She wasn’t expecting a package and right now Gail Mahoney, her next patient, was waiting.

  “Sorry, Gail, come on in,” Shayna called.

  Gail hobbled toward her. The old lady was making terrific progress and had replaced her walker with a cane.

  They worked up until lunchtime with Shayna putting Gail through a series of exercises.

  “My grandson, Timmy met a young woman,” Gail said when she was done. “You’re a better choice.”

  She was at it again.

  “Oh, Gail, you should be happy for him.”

  “What about that Beaumont Hill?” the old lady persisted. “Are you still working with him? He’s cute.”

  Shayna mumbled something unintelligible and quickly switched the topic. After she’d said good-bye to Gail, she changed into gym shorts and a tank top and decided to go powerwalking. She’d pick up her delivery at the front desk on her way back. Half an hour later, Shayna greeted the receptionist with the elaborately upswept hair. “You’ve got a delivery for Shayna DaCosta?”

  “Dunno,” the woman said, chomping loudly on her gum.

  “Can you check?”

  Shayna wondered who her boss was and made a promise to herself to find out. She clearly needed polish and was the wrong image for Denver Rehabilitation. In fact she was the wrong person to have at a reception desk.

  The receptionist bent over in a too-short skirt and retrieved a basket at her feet. She shoved it at Shayna.

  “You must have a boyfriend with big bucks. That little nosegay had to have cost a bundle.” Chomp, chomp, went the disgusting gum again.

  Shayna admired the white wicker basket with colorful tulips artfully arranged. Flowers were the last thing she’d expected. She was apprehensive about what this meant. But rather than being pleased and excited she remained wary. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that Colin had clearly not gotten the message.

  “Aren’t you going to read the card?” the receptionist asked.

  “Maybe later.”

  Carrying the basket, Shayna headed off. She’d have to figure out some diplomatic way of dealing with Colin’s persistence.

  In the hallway she ran into Mary Jane Coppola.

  “Hi,” the chipper nurse said. “You got one too.” She pointed to Shayna’s overflowing basket.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Beau’s gift. Wasn’t that nice of him, and so unexpected? He wrote the sweetest note.”

  Beau sending them flowers? Just the thought made her heart go thump. He’d said some pretty ugly things about her and maybe this was his way of making up. He’d accused her of withholding information, of using him to help her brother’s cause. And he had been right. Once she’d found out about his father, she should have been up front and told him about Reggie.

  Shayna looked at her flowers again. The fact that it had been Beau and not Colin made them seem more special. How sweet, he’d thought enough of her to send her flowers. She wondered what his note would say. Would he mention anything about their shared kisses or would he just apologize?

  Mary Jane’s voice came at her. “Beaumont Hill is the stuff dreams are made of. That prickly exterior is all a front. Just think, some lucky woman, and I hope it’s not Chandra, will get to come home to him at night.” She sighed. “Wish it were me.”

  The thought of coming home to Beau wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Too bad she wasn’t free to pursue him. Any personal involvement would place tremendous stress on the patient/therapist relationship. It already did. Emotions would run high, getting in the way of progress. Then there was the other issue. Her brother was about to be prosecuted by Beau’s father. Better not even think about it

  “Shayna, don’t you find Beau at all attractive?” Mary Jane asked when she hadn’t responded.

  “Very much so.”

  “And now that he’s available, are you going to do something about it? You have been reading the paper?”

  The only papers she’d been reading were back copies, articles about Beau.

  “Why don’t you go after him,” Shayna challenged, “if you think he’s so hot?”

  “No. You’re more his type. Judging by Chandra, he likes them young and skinny.”

  “Oh, Mary Jane.”

  Shayna walked away laughing but something niggled at the back of her mind. There had been something in one of those articles that had gotten her thinking. She would look at those articles later. Right now she had more important things to do, like reading Beau’s note and figuring out what his flowers really meant.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The weather was unseasonably warm. Beau planted himself on his terrace preparing to enjoy the late afternoon sun. Closing his eyes, h
e listened to the horses neighing from the vicinity of the stables. How he missed riding, missed the wind whipping against his face, the feeling of exhilaration when his horse cantered.

  The fragrance of an unidentifiable flower floated in on the breeze, titillating his nostrils, that along with Towanda’s delicious cooking. Beau suddenly realized that he was hungry. He’d sworn off snacks since too much lounging around had already caused him to put on weight. To distract himself, he grabbed his cell phone, and deftly punched in some numbers, then abruptly changed his mind. Depressing the power button, he closed his eyes and decided not to give in to curiosity. Shayna should be the one calling to thank him for the flowers.

  Beau had come to the conclusion that although she’d omitted telling him about her brother it was hardly a crime. He could get over her deception if that’s what it was. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman had deceived him. Look how he’d been taken in by Chandra. Reggie was just a kid, a troubled boy who needed direction and should be given a shot. It wouldn’t hurt to have him work at Hill Of Dreams. That way Beau could see how dedicated the kid really was and maybe he’d even see more of Shayna.

  The phone rang as he was still holding on to it.

  “Yes,” Beau answered.

  “Beau, is that you?”

  The man’s voice wasn’t familiar. Beau hesitated to confirm who he was. Reporters still called on occasion.

  “Who’s this?” he asked somewhat rudely.

  A Midwestern voice twanged at him. “This is Peter Turner, a friend of Beau’s. We skied together.”

  “Hey, you, this is Beau.”

  The requisite questions about health and family were asked.

  “So what else is up?” Beau asked, when the conversation lagged.

  “I hoped we could talk in person. Perhaps I can stop by and catch you up. There are a couple of things I want to discuss with you.”

  “How does Sunday sound?”

  Sunday was the day Shayna and Reggie were supposed to come by. Having a crowd over would take the stress off being alone with them. He could always take Reggie off somewhere and talk to him in private. He would invite David to join them as well.