Long Ride Home

by Boeshaar, Andrea

  “What kind of name is Yiska?”

  “Beats me.”

  “Polly Yiska. . .has a nice ring to it.”

  Lara stopped in midclap and gaped at her friend. “Polly Yiska?”

  She turned and smiled. “I think I’m in love. I’ll never wash my right hand again.”

  The two started laughing so hard, before long their sides ached.

  Then the bull riding began. Contained in the chutes just several feet away, the fierce animals stomped and snorted. Cowboys stood on something that looked like a catwalk on top of one end of the chute. When the rider lowered himself on the bull’s back, other cowboys held onto his vest until he nodded, signaling he was ready for the chute to be opened. The bull lunged out, kicking its hind legs and twisting its massive body in one direction, then the other, determined to unseat the man astride it.

  Lara found herself tensing and cringing each time a cowboy was bucked off. Even Brent couldn’t hang on long enough, and Lara feared he’d be trampled after he hit the ground. But several clowns immediately appeared to distract the bull, and riders on horseback or “pickup men,” according to Tim, showed up to haze the bull out of the ring.

  As the rodeo neared its end, Brent stopped by once more, but this time he encouraged all four of them to come back out for tomorrow’s events. He offered them another set of passes.

  “Thanks. That’s really nice of you. But I’m involved with my local church,” Lara informed him, “and ministry fills up most of my Sunday.”

  “Same goes for Amanda and me,” Tim said.

  Polly sighed. “Me too. . .but I wish I could come back. I had a fun time tonight.”

  Brent grinned. “That’s good.” He paused while the ladies collected their purses and Tim gathered their trash. “It’s been nice to meet you all, and next time the rodeo’s in town, you’ll have to come visit again.” He turned his head, catching Lara’s eye. “I imagine I’ll see you at the hospital on Monday.”

  “It’s very possible.”

  He gave her a parting nod, then bid farewell to the others and returned to wherever it was the cowboys hung out when they weren’t competing.

  On the way home, Lara and Polly stopped to pick up a pizza, which they planned to eat at Lara’s place.

  “You’re awfully quiet, Polly. Is anything wrong?”

  “No. . .not wrong. I’m just wrestling with an issue.”

  “Can you tell me about it?”

  “I’d rather not, at least not now. Maybe later.”

  “All right.” Lara didn’t push her friend to say more, although she had a feeling the “issue” had something to do with Brent Yiska.

  Five

  “Kevin, can you hear me?”

  A commanding male voice penetrated the darkness. Kevin opened his mouth to reply, but it felt as dry as Oklahoma dirt, and all he could do was croak out a vowel sound. He swallowed only to discover his throat was raw and tender. Before he could wonder why, another question came at him.

  “Kevin, can you count backwards from ten?”

  From beneath some dark, heavy shroud, he began, “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. . .”

  ❧

  On Monday morning, Lara could hardly concentrate on her work. The emergency department bustled with sick patients, and tensions ran high. It didn’t seem like she’d ever be able to sneak away to the NICU to find out about Kevin.

  By midafternoon, she found a few minutes to pull up his name on the computer. Lara discovered he had been transferred to a regular floor, meaning his condition had improved. Rejoicing and thanking the Lord, she went about her work with renewed enthusiasm.

  At four-thirty, Lara punched out, feeling the exhaustion weighing on her limbs. The day passed in such a flurry, she hadn’t even found time for a lunch break. The second-shift social worker had come in at three and the overlap helped Lara catch up so she could leave work on time.

  Now to see how Kevin fared.

  Walking around the hospital, using the lower level tunnel that took her past the cafeteria, Lara arrived at the patient elevators and took the car to the fifth floor. She found her way to Kevin’s room and met Brent and Mac standing just outside the doorway.

  “Well, look who’s here. The little social worker.”

  Lara forced a smile in Mac’s direction, despite the woman’s sarcastic greeting. She looked at Brent, hoping for an ally. “I came up to see how Kevin’s doing.”

  “Not so good,” he replied in a tight voice. “He doesn’t remember any of us.”

  “After all I’ve done for him,” Mac muttered.

  “You got paid for all you did.” Brent slid an annoyed look in Mac’s direction.

  “Maybe Kevin’s memory lapse is only temporary.” Lara glanced between the two, then back to Brent. “What do the doctors say?”

  “Don’t know. Haven’t seen ’em.”

  “If you’d like, I can ask the unit secretary to page the doctor on call.”

  “Yeah, maybe. . .”

  “I’ll ask her.” Mac pushed past Lara in a huff.

  “Don’t mind her,” Brent said. “She feels a little insulted. I s’pose we all do. We’ve been Wink’s friends for years—we’ve been more than friends. We’re like family.”

  “What about Kevin’s brother? I meant to ask all weekend if he’d been contacted.”

  “Wink has a brother?” Brent’s brown eyes widened in surprise. “I never knew that. Maybe you’ve got the wrong Kevin Wincouser after all.”

  “Hmm. . .” Lara didn’t think so. But at the same time, she wondered why his good friends, his family, didn’t know about Clayt.

  Leaning forward, she peeked into Kevin’s room.

  “Go on in,” Brent drawled. “He’s kinda groggy, but he’s awake. Quincy’s in there along with Jimmy.”

  Lara glanced at Brent, acknowledging his reply with a nod. Then she slowly stepped up to Kevin’s bedside. It heartened her to see him without all the tubes and the ventilator from Friday night. She smiled a quick greeting to Quincy the Clown and the young cowboy. The two men sat in chairs near the window.

  Looking back at Kevin, Lara touched his arm. She spoke his name, and he blinked.

  “Don’t expect too much,” Lara heard Brent say as he came to stand beside her.

  “I don’t.” She tried again. “Kevin?”

  His lids fluttered open, revealing startling blue eyes that Lara thought she’d know anywhere. She’d dreamed of those eyes hundreds of times.

  She smiled. “Hi, Kevin.”

  His gaze lingered on her face for a long moment, and then a grin pulled at the corner his parched-looking lips. He closed his eyes. “Lara Donahue. You’re a. . .a sight for sore eyes.”

  Her smile widened. “You remember me?”

  “Sure.” He looked at her again before his lids dropped closed, as if they were too heavy for him to keep open. “You’ve changed a little.”

  “A little? Since my sophomore year of high school? I would hope that I’ve changed a lot.” She laughed and noticed a hint of an amused expression on Kevin’s face.

  “How’s. . .family. . .parents? Ruth and Timmy?”

  “Everyone’s fine. Dad just retired, but Mom still teaches part-time at the grade school. Ruth is married with three kids, and Tim is getting married this fall.”

  “You married? Kids?” He asked the question with his eyes closed, and his words sounded slurred, probably from any number of medications Kevin was being given.

  “No husband,” Lara teased, “but I have kids. About twelve last time I counted.”

  Brent shifted his stance and now regarded her with a look of shock. “You’re kidding. You? Twelve kids?”

  “Yep.”

  “No way!”

&nbs
p; Lara looked back at Kevin and saw that his chapped lips had split into a grin. “Lara, you’re a. . .a terrible liar.”

  “You’re right. But I really do have twelve kids. I volunteer at The Regeneration Ranch. It’s a place where physically challenged children can learn to ride horses. And I can do that, Kevin, because you taught me how to ride.”

  “I remember. . .”

  So did Lara, and she suddenly felt like she had a crush on him all over again.

  Brent sat down on the end of Kevin’s bed. “I should have known you didn’t really have twelve kids—of your own, I mean.”

  “No, not of my own.” Smiling, Lara focused on the patient. “So, um, Kev,” she said, using his childhood nickname, “you’re kind of banged up.”

  “Yeah, that’s what they say.”

  “Do you remember how it happened?”

  “No. . .”

  Mac walked into the room, and Brent relayed the news. “Wink knows her. That’s a good sign.”

  “Sure is,” said Quincy, wearing an ear-to-ear grin.

  Mac only scowled at Lara.

  Tamping down the intimidation she felt around the snarly woman, she looked at Kevin only to find him staring back at her.

  “Who are these people?”

  “They’re your friends.”

  Brent stood and leaned on the bed’s guardrail. “I’m your best friend, Wink. You don’t remember me?”

  “You were his best friend,” Mac added with a snide grin, “until he stole your girl right from under your nose.”

  Lara widened her eyes at the remark. “Kevin would never do that!”

  Brent straightened and pursed his lips, regarding Kevin all the while. “Sure he would. . .and he did.”

  Kevin stared back, his blue-eyed gaze obviously drawing a blank. Lara realized in that moment that she didn’t know this man anymore.

  “Well, listen,” Brent drawled, “it doesn’t matter. Emily wasn’t worth my time anyhow.”

  “You can say that again,” Jimmy interjected.

  The stress level in the room suddenly skyrocketed, and Lara felt like she was about to break out in a cold sweat.

  Kevin reached out, took hold of her forearm, and Lara decided that, for an invalid, he had a strong grip as he pulled her nearer to him.

  “Lara, you’ve got to help me,” he whispered. “I feel like I’m in a nightmare.”

  Her heart ached for him. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. Just rest, all right?” She placed her free hand over his. “Things will get better as you recuperate.”

  She saw doubt flicker in his eyes, and she gave him a reassuring smile.

  “It’ll be all right,” she repeated. “Go back to sleep and get some rest.”

  He let his eyes drift shut.

  Lara slid her arm out from beneath his grasp and noticed the eerie silence that had crept into the room.

  Finally, Brent dispelled it when he blew out an audible sigh. “I hope I’m never in such sad shape that a woman has to fawn all over me that way.”

  Lara grew embarrassed for a second time. “I didn’t mean to ‘fawn,’ as you put it. Kevin is a longtime friend, that’s all.”

  She saw Mac roll her eyes but not before she glimpsed the mischievous expression on Brent’s face.

  “What kind of longtime friend?” he asked.

  “Not like you’re thinking,” she retorted.

  Brent chuckled. “So now you can read my mind, huh?”

  Lara changed the subject. She disliked sparring with this man, mostly because she was afraid she’d lose. “Say, can I treat you all to dinner in the cafeteria? I didn’t get lunch, so I’m starved, and today’s special is one of my favorites. Homemade gyros.”

  “I’m game,” Jimmy stated.

  “You’re always game when there’s food involved,” Mac muttered.

  Quincy rose from his chair. “Well, I sure could use some supper.”

  “Not me,” Mac said. “I have work to do. I’ll see you boys back at the fairgrounds.”

  Lara tried not to look relieved when the petite redhead in snug blue jeans marched out of the room.

  “Gyros sound okay,” Brent said. “You’re on, Miss Lara, the social worker.”

  She smiled, a gesture that belied her sudden awkward feelings.

  Suddenly, she thought of Polly and decided to call and invite her. “My friend works a split shift, and it’s about time for her dinner break. I’m going to give her a quick call.”

  Using the phone on the side table, Lara lifted its receiver and dialed the NICU’s extension.

  “Hey, Pol, I’m taking Kevin’s friends, Quincy, Jimmy, and Brent, to the cafeteria for dinner. Want to come along?”

  “Brent’s there?”

  “Uh-huh.” Lara forced herself not to glance over her shoulder at him.

  “Oh, wow, is it my lucky day or what? Sure, I’ll come. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria.”

  “Great. See you in a few minutes.”

  Grinning, Lara hung up the phone, and her odd uneasiness waned. Then she recalled her friend’s comment on Saturday night—“Polly Yiska. . .has a nice ring to it”—and Lara had to stifle her amusement.

  Polly Yiska indeed!

  Lara paused by Kevin’s bedside, touched the back of his hand, and sent up another prayer for God’s healing. Moments later, she left the room and caught up to his friends already in the hallway and nearing the elevators. She told herself Kevin’s memory loss wasn’t anything to fret about. God could do anything!

  Six

  Traumatic brain injury. Those three words struck terror into Kevin’s soul. He wanted to believe this was some sort of bad dream. However, the weakness he felt on his right side as the doctor maneuvered his limbs was all too real. Still, he listened to the neurologist explain the injuries and talk of extensive rehabilitation.

  “What about his memory loss?”

  Startled by the soft, feminine voice, Kevin glanced to his left and saw Lara Donahue standing at his bedside. When had she appeared, and how was she involved in all this? Maybe this was some crazy nightmare after all. He hadn’t thought about Lara Donahue in. . .well, in half of forever.

  He stared at her, noticing the look of concern in her hazel eyes. Her honey-colored hair with its blond streaks had been combed back and clipped. However, feathery bangs covered Lara’s forehead. She looked professional. Of course, the dark green suit she wore only added to that upper-management image, and Kevin decided the plump, ugly duckling he’d known in high school had definitely turned into a lovely swan with curves in just the right places.

  He sighed with relief. At least that part of his brain hadn’t been damaged.

  Closing his eyes, Kevin fought the grogginess that dogged him. He realized he was drifting in and out of consciousness and missing portions of the conversation.

  “Short-term memory loss is actually quite common in this sort of situation,” he heard the doctor say. The man had a dark complexion and a thick accent. Kevin wondered where the guy was from. . .India, perhaps. “I think he will get his memory back in a day or so.”

  “What if he doesn’t?”

  Kevin opened his eyes to see the same three men who had been in his room earlier standing next to Lara. The one who asked the question claimed to be Kevin’s “best friend.”

  “We cannot deal with the ‘what ifs’ at this time,” the wiry doctor stated, setting Kevin’s right arm back onto the sheet-covered mattress and pulling the light blue coverlet over the top of his body. “For now, we’re glad that he’s conscious and that he can speak because it means he’s processing information. All very good signs so far. We will have to take things one day at a time. Okay?”

  Kevin grinned at the way the man’s voice went up an octave when he said, “ok
ay.” Then he followed the doctor out of the room with his gaze before looking at Lara.

  She smiled at him. “Pretty good news, Kev.”

  He had so many questions. “Why are you here?”

  “Me?” She appeared taken aback. “Don’t you want me here? I’m sorry. I can leave—”

  “No, that’s. . .not what I meant.” It was an effort to form even the simplest of words. When he finally managed it, they sounded as if he’d consumed two six-packs of beer.

  His head sort of felt like he’d been drinking too.

  “Lara, I haven’t seen you in. . .ages. What. . .what are you doing here?”

  “Oh.” She smiled. “I work here. I’m a social worker.” Her voice had that same happy lilt as when they were kids, and somehow it made Kevin feel like everything might really be all right. “I was part of the Trauma Team on duty when Flight-for-Life brought you in. I recognized your name and. . .well, I hope you don’t mind that I involved myself in your case.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “My parents and Tim heard about your accident on the news. They want to come and see you. Is that okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “I told them tomorrow night might be better, since you just got out of the NICU today.”

  “I imagine I’ll be here.”

  “Well, we won’t.” The cowboy with the reddish brown hair sat down on the end of his bed. “We’re all hitting the road tomorrow morning.”

  “Where to?”

  “South Dakota and the Cyprus Ranch Rodeo.”

  The name lit a spark in Kevin, and he knew he had to be there. “I’ll catch up.”

  “Now, Wink, the doctor said you’ve got months of rehab ahead of you.” Kevin watched as an older man stepped around his bedside. He looked familiar. And an image of a clown flashed across his mind. “Didn’t you hear what that doctor said?”

  “I know you,” Kevin managed. “Quincy. Quincy Owens.”

  The older man let out a whoop that ping-ponged off all four walls of his hospital room. “Your memory’s comin’ back, Wink. That’s great.” Quincy placed a wide hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “That’s just great.”