by Rachel Lee
Then, this morning, the pastor had announced that they’d received the grant they’d applied for. They could now order Mikey’s wheelchair, “with racing stripes if he wants them,” the pastor had joked, causing the entire congregation to rise and applaud.
The standard coffee and doughnuts afterward had been a happier-than-usual affair, with a lot of smiles and laughter. Everyone was feeling pretty good, and the pastor was going to make the trip out to the Landau ranch to tell Mikey and his parents the good news.
For her part, Ashley was looking forward to sharing the news with Zane. His check had been a huge help in putting them over the top, as had the grant. Now they had a little elbow room to get the child exactly what he needed.
She was still surprised that Zane had sent so much money, though. After announcing he was a practicing curmudgeon, apparently Mikey’s plight had touched him.
She knew so little about being paralyzed. She supposed she ought to frankly ask Zane what other things they might be able to help Mikey with. So much that the family had had come from disability aid, the bare minimum, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine the lacks the family might still be experiencing. Right now either parent could lift Mikey into bed or onto a couch to sit, but what would happen as he grew? How many other needs must be met?
Zane would probably have a good idea, if he was willing to share.
* * *
Zane cussed himself for being a stubborn mule. At some point, he was going to have to admit that he couldn’t always be completely independent, and he was looking at a case of it right now.
The toolbox had a handle. He’d been able to lean over the side of his chair, heft it and carry it into the kitchen. The box of parts for his extra wheel was a different matter. It sat on the floor in the small extra downstairs room defying him, and he had no way to reach it or move it.
Nell watched him, tilting her head quizzically from side to side, unable to do a damn thing about it. He was glad he’d swallowed his pride enough to ask for Ashley’s help, even though it galled him, because otherwise...well, he’d have had to hire someone, he guessed. Not impossible, but he didn’t know where to begin in this town, and anyway, he didn’t feel comfortable about it. Maybe it was some leftover machismo, but for some reason he didn’t want to hire someone to put his wheel on. He wanted to do as much of it himself as he could.
Stubborn cuss, that was him. Unfortunately, stubbornness could lead to stupidity, and he was coming dangerously close. Instead of just hiring help, now he was imposing on a neighbor. Didn’t that make a lot of sense, he asked himself with a snort of disgust.
Nell apparently heard Ashley’s arrival before he did. She dashed away to the front door and waited for the knock or the bell. Trusting Nell’s instincts, Zane wasn’t far behind.
He opened the door to see that beautiful strawberry blonde dressed for work in jeans and a flannel shirt. She’d even caught her hair into a ponytail, which was cute. And she was smiling.
“Ready to start?” she asked.
He hesitated even as he began to roll back from the door to give her entry. “I should have just hired someone. I can’t keep imposing on you.”
“I didn’t have to say yes, and I don’t feel imposed upon.” She looked down at Nell. “Okay to pet her?”
“You might as well. She seems determined to become part of your life, too.”
Ashley laughed, then squatted, giving Nell a good rub and scratch around her neck. Then she rose and stepped past, allowing the dog to close the door. “So what do we need to do?”
“Assemble the parts to attach the wheel to this chair. Once it’s all together, I can put it on or take it off with some locks. Naturally, because it wouldn’t work indoors, but...” He shrugged. “Thing is, I like to get a good speed going when I’m out with Nell. She wants to run, and the workout feels good to me, too. So...this is all about stability.”
As he spoke, he was wheeling his way back to the spare room. Nell’s steps followed him.
“Will Mikey need something like this?”
“I doubt a motorized chair will allow him to go fast enough to worry about it. How’s the fund-raising, by the way?”
“Fantastic,” she answered enthusiastically. “Between your check—which was awfully generous—the bake sale last night and a small grant we finally received, Mikey’s new wheelchair will be ordered soon.”
He summoned a smile. “I’m glad to hear that.”
She touched the box on the floor with her toe. “Parts in here?”
“All of them.”
She nodded, as if grasping why he couldn’t get to it himself. “Do you want to assemble it here?”
“In the kitchen. I’m going to need a place to sit while we do it, because I need to get out of this chair.”
“Got it.” She squatted and began to pull packing tape away. “Anyhow, if you have any suggestions for things Mikey might need, let me know. We’ve got a small list of things, but who knows what we overlooked.”
“He lives on a ranch?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, if he wants to get outside, he’s going to need good, wide wheels. Like these,” he said, patting his own. “Like you’d find on a mountain bike.”
She peered up at him. “I’m quite certain none of us thought of that. Any other ideas, let me know. As the pastor said this morning, we now have enough to give him racing stripes if he wants them.”
Once again Zane felt an unusual smile on his face. “Flames. I suggest flames.”
Ashley laughed. “Yeah, he’d probably love that.”
As she pulled out parts, she carried one piece after another into the kitchen.
“I can carry some of that,” he protested. “I just couldn’t reach the floor.”
Her head snapped up. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”
He felt like a jerk, but he wasn’t going to let her do all the lifting and carrying. He wouldn’t ask that of anyone.
She piled some of the stuff on his lap and he wheeled himself out to the kitchen, where he was able to place the smaller stuff on the table. Of course, some of it had to go on the floor again, which was kind of like moving his problem from one room to the next. He could have rolled his eyes at himself.
But the light was better in the kitchen, and they were going to need it for an assortment of screws, which naturally weren’t all the same size and were all black.
Once everything had been moved, he levered himself with practiced ease from his wheelchair to a kitchen chair. It bothered him to have her see him move his legs with his hands, but there was no way to avoid it if he didn’t want them draped every which way.
At least she didn’t appear bothered.
“I really should have just found someone to hire,” he said again.
She eyed him. “Yeah? Well, if I can’t help you get this together, you can do that. I’m not sure who deals with this stuff, though. A bike shop?”
He hadn’t really thought about that himself. Back in Virginia, he’d gotten everything he needed provided by the VA and some of his old buddies. And once his chair was all put together, occasional tightening with a wrench kept it that way.
“I never thought about a wheelchair tipping,” she remarked as she handed him a piece he asked for from the floor. “I’ve seen those extra wheels, but I never knew what they were for.”
“Well, this is what I need it for. I can’t speak for everyone else. Anyway, you see those small wheels on the back of the chair? Everyone has them because the likeliest way for us to tip is backward. My front rig is more for speed. I want to go fast. It helps prevents a disaster from a crack in the sidewalk.”
“I bet Nell loves racing.”
“The faster, the better.”
The next hour went smoothly enough. They paused once to make some coffee, but othe
rwise Ashley was kind of quiet and focused on following directions when she needed to. And as usual, he managed to do most of it himself and then, too late, wondered if he was making her feel useless.
“I couldn’t have done this without you,” he said as he tested the fittings.
“Sure.” She smiled faintly.
He turned to look straight at her and wondered if he’d managed to offend her somehow. It was entirely possible. His social skills had gone to hell some time ago. Well, if he had, maybe it was all to the good. She was entirely too attractive to have around much, especially since he didn’t want to drag any woman into his world.
“Wanna take it out for a spin?” she asked.
One way to get through what now felt like an awkward moment. His fault, as usual. “Sure. Nell would love that.”
He shifted from the kitchen chair back to the wheelchair.
“You amaze me by how easy you make that look,” she remarked. “I bet it took some practice.”
“Everything takes practice.” He lifted his feet onto the footrests, then backed the chair up enough to turn it and head for the foyer.
Ashley opened the door for him, since the extra wheel put it beyond his reach. “I’ve got to get some lever door handles,” he remarked. “I keep thinking about it and forgetting it. Nell could manage those.”
“Good idea.”
She was withdrawing from him. He could feel it. Good. The more distance, the better—for both of them. Nell pranced alongside him. She recognized the signs of an impending run.
Before he started down the ramp, he paused to look at Ashley. “Thanks so much for your help. Nell thanks you, too. She’s needed a good outing for some time.”
“Sure.” She smiled, a smile that would have dazzled him if it had reached her eyes. He left with Nell, wondering what the hell he’d done wrong. And doubting that he’d ever know.
* * *
Ashley went home after watching man and dog depart at a pretty good clip down the sidewalk. She really hadn’t been all that much help, except for picking up things from a floor he couldn’t easily reach. She probably couldn’t imagine half the challenges he must routinely face.
But she shouldn’t really care. He’d warned her off at the very beginning, and she was still surprised he’d asked for her help. She suspected he hadn’t liked having to do it. There was something about his determination to put the whole contraption together himself.
She could understand his desire to be as independent as possible. Things she and most other people took for granted were denied to him now. He’d probably piled up a whole lot of dings to his ego since he became paralyzed. Self-sufficiency was his goal, and she was quite sure that ordinarily he managed it.
But then there’d been his remarks that had led her to believe he suffered from PTSD. Maybe for him that was an even bigger problem than being able to get around. The psychic wound could be far worse than the physical, and probably was. Worse yet if he couldn’t predict what would set it off or when it approached.
Yeah, if she suffered from something like that, she might want to hide out, too.
Sighing, she pulled out her schoolwork and made herself a cup of cocoa, deciding to finish her grading at the kitchen table rather than in the office she’d made for herself in the spare room. It was a nice, cozy office, but she preferred it on cold, gray winter days when it felt warm and snuggly. On a day like today with brilliant light pouring through the kitchen windows, the office would have felt more like a cave.
Today she had a lot of chicken-scratch problems with fractions. Number-two pencils didn’t always erase well, and while the darker lead was easier on her eyes, black smudges covered everything. She had to smile. Most of these kids tried so hard, and judging by the smeared erasures they’d tried extra hard with this.
She wouldn’t be surprised if they needed to spend a few more days with fractions. These assignments would certainly tell her.
But her thoughts kept wandering to Zane. A complicated man—surely an understatement. His gift to the fund-raiser for Mikey had been more than generous. His desire to be left alone had been belied by his acceptance of dinner with her and then his request for help.
But after he’d asked for that help, he’d made her feel all but useless. He hadn’t been rude or anything. It was almost like he needed to prove something. Yes, she’d been able to help, but only a little, mostly with picking up things he couldn’t reach.
She supposed that was help. What had she expected when she went over there? That he needed her to assemble the whole piece?
Not likely. She’d done what he needed and no more, and now she should examine her own reasons for being disturbed by that. After all, she routinely told her students to complete tasks on their own, giving help only when their efforts seemed doomed.
Was Zane so different? He was following the advice she would have given to her students. Do it yourself...if you possibly can.
So what was eating her? The absence of a lengthy, in-depth conversation?
She closed her eyes and leaned back a bit, thinking about him. Dang, he was attractive, especially when he managed a smile. Those rare smiles leavened his whole face and drew her to him. But he didn’t want her to be drawn, and maybe that was her entire problem.
All her life men had been interested in her. While she wasn’t one to stare into a mirror, she knew she’d been blessed with reasonably attractive looks and hair that caught men’s eyes. She’d never gone begging for a date unless she didn’t want one. Usually she didn’t. The attraction wasn’t often a two-way street, and less so as she grew older. Most of the time when she dated, she got turned off to the guy relatively quickly. One longer relationship had left her feeling as if he were trying to shoehorn her into a Donna Reed–style box. That was not for her.
Now she was on the other end of that equation for the first time—a guy who wasn’t interested. Maybe that was all that bothered her.
She laughed out loud at that and decided she’d gone round the bend when it came to Zane. She was happy with her life, felt nothing was lacking. Was she going to let the hermit next door throw her off balance?
Nope, she decided. She had her work and her friends, and she really didn’t need a romance to muck it up.
Which brought to mind her first boyfriend, all the way back in high school. When they had broken up after a month or so, she’d been giddy with relief. With him out of the picture, she could get back to her real life, with her friends, pursuing her own interests.
She should have learned from that, but she hadn’t. No, she’d tried a few times more...and felt every bit as giddy when it was over.
Then a thought struck her, causing her cheeks to flame. What if Zane couldn’t have sex? That seemed highly likely given his injury.
Which meant being attracted to him, if he recognized it, might only make him feel worse.
She stared straight at the probability, work forgotten, and realized she needed to tread very carefully with him. Keep it friendly or stay away.
Because the last thing she wanted to do was make him feel worse.
Chapter Four
The following Friday when Ashley pulled into her driveway after school, she glanced toward Zane’s house. All week it had looked as if nothing over there had moved or changed. She hadn’t even seen Nell out in the yard.
Oh, well, none of her business. She’d been working, and since her class was prepping for tests next week, she’d had a lot to do after school and at home. She held regular tutoring sessions after classes were over for the day, and attendance increased right before tests.
No kaffeeklatsch this weekend. Everyone was busy. She’d miss it, but it happened from time to time. Halloween was right around the corner, and as soon as the tests were over, she was going to have a whole bunch of kids making paper pumpkins with weird
faces. She also needed to dig out some of her decorations from the attic to add to the festivities.
The kids were already getting excited, barely restraining themselves in their eagerness, but the tests put a layer of sobriety over them. Fun would have to wait.
In the meantime, it gave her a kick to drape fake spiderwebs around her shrubs and hang a ghost and a skeleton from the limbs of her trees. She hadn’t quite gotten to the point of going for orange outdoor lights, but the best part for her was seeing all the little kids in their costumes.
Once inside, her grocery bags and backpack on her table, she thought again of Zane. No sight or sound of him? No evidence he’d been out? Not even the sight of Nell running around the front yard to do her business?
It may have been coincidental, but it niggled at her, anyway. What if something had happened?
She finally decided to head over and find out if he was okay. She could withstand getting chewed out, but she’d never forgive herself if he were in trouble and she’d ignored him.
She rushed to put her cold and frozen items away. The rest could wait. Jacket zipped against the deepening October chill, she hurried out her front door and next door to Zane’s. The autumn evening was starting to darken, and she supposed it was a good thing that she could see lights inside the house.
When she reached the front door and knocked, she heard nothing for a minute, then the sound of scratching, as if Nell were on the other side trying to open the door.
Then with a click, the knob turned, and Nell pulled the door open for her.
All was quiet. No sign of Zane. Her heart sped up, and she stepped inside. Nell closed the door behind her then headed toward the kitchen. Ashley followed.
Zane sat with his head on the table and six or seven beer bottles in front of him. He didn’t stir even when Nell nosed him. The place smelled like a brewery.
She could tell he was breathing, however, so she guessed he was sleeping it off. She just wondered if he might need some medical attention. Alcohol could be so toxic.
