Long Ride Home

by Boeshaar, Andrea

  “What’s to tell?” He looked at her once more. “Their deaths shook me up, and I couldn’t understand why a good God would let two of the most important people in my life die in a catastrophic train wreck. They’d been on their second honeymoon!”

  “I know.” Lara glanced down at Kevin’s calloused hand. She took a few moments to ponder her reply. “Dying is what really stinks about this sin-cursed earth. We’re all going to die sometime, and some of us will face painful deaths while others will leave this world peacefully. God said it would happen. So I’ve concluded it’s what we do while we’re alive that counts. Remember what Jesus said about things that are ‘bound’ on earth will be bound in heaven and those things that are ‘loosed’ on earth will be loosed in heaven?” Lara tipped her head, wondering if Kevin was paying attention. He had his eyes closed. Perhaps he’d decided to ignore her.

  But just when she thought the latter was the case, he looked at her as if waiting for her to continue.

  “I heard a pastor say the keys that Jesus talks about giving His believers to bind or loose things on earth and in heaven represent opportunities to bring people to Him. So that’s our purpose in this life—to lead lost souls to the One who can save them.” Lara smiled. “That’s my purpose, anyway. And if God has to take my life in order for someone else to receive salvation, then I’m willing. It’s a cause worth dying for.”

  Kevin moaned and brought his left hand up, covering his eyes. Then he turned away again.

  “Did I upset you? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  No reply.

  Lara suddenly felt terrible. Even though her tone had been soft, she realized her words may have come across as supercilious and uncaring.

  “Kevin?”

  He sniffed, sounding suddenly congested.

  “Are you all right? Should I call for your nurse?”

  His actions were unhurried as he inhaled noisily through his nose, then wiped his eyes. Lara realized to her horror that Kevin was…crying.

  She leaned forward, taking his hand in both of hers. “Kev, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  “Well, you did,” he eked out. “But the truth sometimes hurts, doesn’t it?”

  Lara frowned. “The truth? What do you mean?”

  He met her gaze, his eyes red-rimmed and sorrowful. “My parents’ thinking matched yours, Lara. They would have given up their lives if it meant even one person got saved.”

  “Maybe one person did get saved. Only God knows.”

  Kevin lay silent in obvious contemplation. Finally, his eyes moved to Lara’s face. He seemed to search her features. Then, at last, he grinned. “You’re a special woman, Lara Donahue.”

  “You’re special too.” She watched a mischievous twinkle enter his gaze.

  “You sure you still don’t have a crush on me?”

  “Oh, you!” Lara laughed and stood. “That does it. I’m going to visit my friend, Polly, and get some junk food from the vending machines. If you’re lucky, I’ll stop and say goodnight on my way out.”

  Kevin’s chuckles followed her out the door. “Hurry back.”

  Twelve

  Kevin couldn’t say for sure what happened to him the night Lara visited, but for the remainder of the week, he felt less depressed and more determined than ever to get well. Rob, his physical therapist, taught him some strengthening exercises, and Kevin practiced them several times a day. His right arm and leg were showing signs of improvement; however, his speech was still slurred, and frequently, Kevin felt like his mouth couldn’t keep up with his mind.

  “When do you think I’ll get out of this place, Doctor Kitrell?”

  The neurosurgery resident looked up from Kevin’s chart. “Oh, I’d say a couple of weeks. But I have to be honest with you, it’ll be a long time, if ever, before you can compete in a rodeo again.”

  “What?” Kevin slid himself into a sitting position on his hospital bed. “What are you saying?”

  “You suffered a traumatic brain injury, although a fairly mild one, but a bruise to your brain none the less. A bruise forms when blood vessels rupture. As you know, there was blood accumulating around the side of your brain, so we had to insert a drainage tube.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you don’t have to remind me.”

  It made Kevin a little queasy to think of someone drilling a hole in his skull and sticking a tiny strawlike tube inside. He was just glad the awful thing had been removed a couple of days ago.

  “Your last CT scan shows things are healing nicely,” Kitrell continued, “but any jolt or bump to your head could cause a reinjury that might have worse effects than those you’ve already suffered.”

  “Like?”

  “Like seizures, a stroke, permanent paralysis.”

  “Look, I’ve had bruises before,” Kevin countered. “Plenty of bruises. They heal up and disappear, and you never know they were there. Why’s this bruise so different?”

  “Think of it like this,” Dr. Kitrell said in a curt, no-nonsense tone. “Some athletes tear ligaments in their ankles and knees, and they’re unable to return to sports. The same is true with you, except your ‘tear’ was inside your head.”

  “No!” Kevin couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t. He loved rodeoing. It was in his blood. Riding barebacks was his life. “I’ll ride again. I’m a two-time world champion, going for three. I’m not about to give up everything I’ve worked toward for the last ten years. This head injury wants to turn me into a sideline spectator, but I refuse to let it.”

  “Even if it means sacrificing your health, maybe even your life?”

  “Yeah,” Kevin replied, undaunted. Then he heard Lara’s voice whisper through his memory. It’s a cause worth dying for. She’d been referring to her part in converting unbelievers to Christ. Kevin, however, had his own cause, one that he was willing to die for—becoming the best bareback champion such as the world had never seen.

  “Well, I’d urge you to reconsider,” Kitrell said. He slapped the chart shut, and holding it in one hand, he let his arm drop to his side. “Have a good weekend.”

  Kevin almost laughed. How was it possible that he’d have a good weekend holed up in a hospital room?

  Glancing toward the windows, he viewed a dark gray sky. He wondered about Brent, Quincy, and Jimmy and found himself resenting the fact he hadn’t heard from any of them in a week—ever since Lara and her friend drove to South Dakota. . .

  Kevin’s mood plummeted. While he’d received flowers and get-well wishes from friends and fans, he still felt very alone. He thought about the Donahues and how nice it was that Lara and her family took time out from their schedules to visit him. He especially enjoyed conversing with Tim, who loved the rodeo almost as much as Kevin did—and of course Lara, his angel of mercy, who showed up just when he needed her the most. He and Lara had shared some meaningful conversations over the past days. Kevin couldn’t ever remember bearing his soul with any woman like he had with Lara.

  Lara. As Kevin’s thoughts strayed to her, he decided Brent had been correct when he said the guy who lassoed her heart wouldn’t have to worry about her faithfulness. Lara was about as loyal and dependable as a hound—of course, that’s where the similarities ended. Lara Donahue had grown into a lovely woman. She possessed an inner beauty that Kevin hadn’t noticed in the women he’d been acquainted with over the years. Even so, Lara had the words “husband” and “children” written on her future, and Kevin didn’t want any part of either one of them. Families meant responsibilities, commitment. . .sacrifice. And what did a guy get in return? A busted up heart—if and when God snatched them away. Just like He did with Kevin’s parents. . .

  Just like He was doing with the rodeo.

  No matter how he summed it up, Kevin felt like an all-around loser.

  ❧

 
As the Fourth of July holiday approached, Lara felt as though she were being stretched in two directions. Brent phoned, inviting her and Polly to Cheyenne Days in Galena, Illinois, and of course, Polly wanted to go in the worst way. Polly had even convinced five members of their singles’ group that the rodeo was a worthwhile event, so those women planned to make the relatively short drive for a long, fun weekend.

  However, Lara wasn’t so sure she wanted to join them. For the past several days, Kevin seemed down in the dumps, and Lara hated the thought of him spending July 4th alone. Tim and Amanda offered to smuggle a pizza into the hospital, and since Kevin had gotten the “okay” from his doctor occasionally to leave the rehab floor for the outdoor patio, they’d all be able to watch the fireworks later on in the evening.

  “Naw, Lara, that’s all right. You don’t have to do that,” Kevin said when she suggested the pizza plan on the afternoon of July third. “You and your family have already spent an inordinate amount of time with me. I’m sure you’ve got a life.”

  Lara regarded him as he sat in a wheelchair wearing faded blue jeans and a light blue crewneck T-shirt with a single navy stripe across the chest. For the last three days, he’d gotten dressed, although Kevin wasn’t pleased that it took an hour and some help from a nurse to accomplish what had once taken him mere minutes all by himself.

  “Kevin, my life is all about helping other people. Here at the hospital, at church, at home, and at the ranch. I don’t mind keeping you company on the Fourth of July.”

  He shook his blond head, and his blue eyes darkened. “Let’s get one thing straight from here on in, okay? I don’t need your help, and I sure don’t want your pity.

  Shocked, Lara gaped at him.

  “I’m not a little boy, and I don’t need a mommy.”

  “Fine.” She bit back a cynical reply and turned on her professional voice since she didn’t trust her emotions. She had thought they were becoming friends—good friends. But it appeared she’d been mistaken. “You know how to contact me if you change your mind. I’m more than happy to be of some assistance to you.”

  After a parting smile, albeit a forced one, Lara pivoted and exited the room.

  “Lara, wait. . .”

  She paused just outside his doorway, before slowly turning back around to face him. She fought to keep her expression from revealing the heartache she felt.

  “Hey, look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

  “Well, that’s obviously how you’re feeling, so you needed to tell me. But, just for the record, I never intended to thrust my good deeds on you. I never pitied you, and I certainly didn’t mean to act like a mother figure. I only thought that if I were the one stuck in the hospital, I’d welcome some company, and I wouldn’t want to spend the Fourth of July by myself.” She shrugged. “That’s all. But it’s no big deal.”

  Spinning on her heel, she headed for her office. She suddenly felt like that awkward thirteen year old who’d just been ridiculed by the popular kid in school. Kevin’s rejection opened the old wound. However, by the time she reached the main floor of the hospital, she’d collected herself, at least for the time being.

  Making her way back through the emergency department and into her stuffy little office, Lara decided Cheyenne Days didn’t seem like such a bad option for this coming weekend after all.

  ❧

  Watching Lara leave his hospital room, Kevin swallowed a curse. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, and he could tell that’s exactly what he’d done. It was just that his head ached, and he felt so weary of not being able to accomplish all the things he used to do. Simple things. Like walking, talking without slurring his words, writing, feeding himself without getting most of it dribbled down the front of his shirt.

  But I’m going to lick this. I’m going to ride again.

  Despite a niggling of doubt that continually threatened to pull him into the dark depths of despair, Kevin imagined the grand welcome he’d receive when he returned to the rodeo circuit. He envisioned the crowd, cheering from the grandstand as the announcer exclaimed how Kevin “Wink” Wincouser had overcome a traumatic brain injury and was now a world champion for the third time in his career!

  A knock on the door brought Kevin out of his daydream.

  “Hi,” said the brunette woman with a sunny smile, “I’m Kathy, the financial counselor. I came to speak with you about your bill. May I come in?”

  “Sure, but I’ve got insurance. I talked to somebody else about it.”

  “Right. I know that. . .” The woman entered, and Kevin detected her air of self-confidence, “. . .but your insurance company has only agreed to pay a percentage of your bill.”

  She began to rattle off the specifics of his policy, all of which went zinging right over Kevin’s head.

  “Okay, okay,” he said at last, holding up his left hand to forestall further explanation. “Just tell me the bottom line. What are my out-of-pocket costs?”

  “Twelve thousand five hundred and fifty-three dollars and eight-four cents. Now, that’s just the hospital bill. You can expect to get a bill from the doctors, radiologists, the lab, ER physicians, and—”

  “I’m getting out of here. This hotel is much too expensive—and the food isn’t even that good.”

  In spite of the sarcasm, Kevin’s thoughts whirred. Getting bucked off that bronc had jeopardized not only his career but his life savings and then some!

  He struggled to stand, realizing there was no way he’d walk out of the hospital on his own. He was going to need help. A lot of help. And he’d need a place to stay.

  Kevin considered phoning Quincy and asking him to come and fetch him. But even if Quincy agreed, Kevin would need assistance with the basics, and none of his three roommates were likely to volunteer for that position.

  “I could ask the social worker to come up and talk with you,” The financial counselor said. “There might be some federal programs or grants that you qualify for.”

  He winced. “Um, I don’t think the social worker is speaking to me right now.”

  “Oh?”

  Kevin noticed the curious expression on the woman’s face and waved off his previous remark. “Never mind. But, um. . .” He cringed before asking his next question. “Will you guys take a credit card?”

  Thirteen

  Kevin pondered his dilemma long after the financial counselor left his room. He figured Mac would bail him out if he called her. She’d probably hop the next plane, pay all his medical bills, and nurse him back to health in her Houston penthouse. Of course, Kevin would most likely have to marry her in return.

  He considered the idea for all of two seconds before deciding he wasn’t that desperate. He’d much rather eat some humble pie and ask Lara to help him out. She was a sweetheart. She’d forgive him.

  Once again, Kevin regretted his harsh words. He knew she didn’t pity him—but he felt pitiful—and things were only getting worse.

  Maneuvering his wheelchair, which was no easy task with his right arm in its weakened state, he made it to the telephone on the side table. He placed the receiver between his ear and shoulder and punched in a “0.” The hospital operator then transferred him to Lara’s extension. No answer. He hung up, waited a while, and called back. This time he heard Lara’s recorded message saying she had left for the day and wouldn’t be back in the office until Monday, July seventh.

  Great. Kevin hung up the telephone. Now what do I do?

  ❧

  “Lara, cheer up, will you?”

  From the front passenger seat of the minivan that Polly borrowed from her brother, Lara glanced at her friend who sat behind the wheel. “I’m trying. It’s just that Kevin’s—”

  “He’s had a head injury,” Polly cut in. “He’s recuperating. Of course he’s going to say things he doesn’t mean.” Taking
her eyes off the freeway, she met Lara’s gaze for a brief moment. “Besides, these rodeo cowboys are the kind of guys who abhor being coddled. I mean, they get bucked off bulls and broncos, then climb right back up into the saddle and get bucked off again.”

  “They sound like masochists to me,” Annmarie Watson said from where she sat in the middle back seat. “But then, again, what can be more charming and romantic than a cowboy?”

  “Particularly if he resembles Clint Eastwood.”

  Lara laughed and leaned over to look into the backseat. “You’re dating yourself, Ramona.”

  The fifty-three-year-old widow feigned an incredulous glare. “And you think that just because I don’t open my mouth, nobody will suspect I’m middle-aged? Ha! Just look at all this gray!” For emphasis, Ramona pointed to her short hair, the color of which reminded Lara of chocolate cookies and cream.

  “Clint’s a has-been,” Betsy Krause declared. “Think Brad Pitt.”

  “He’s no cowboy.” Ramona smiled, looking dreamy. “Think Paul Newman and Robert Redford—now there’s a pair of good-looking cowboys.”

  “Have you seen them lately?” Polly asked as she put on the blinker and changed lanes. “They’re old-timers.”

  “Ah, but in my heart, they’ll always be Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said Barb Thomas. She was about the same age as Ramona.

  “My favorite cowboy was Glen Campbell in True Grit,” Karla Stevens declared from her place next to Betsy in the third backseat.

  “Another old-timer,” Polly muttered, but only Lara heard her.

  She laughed. “Who’s your favorite cowboy?”

  Polly gave her a wondering glance. “Brent Yiska, of course. Who’s yours?”

  “Kevin ‘Wink’ Wincouser.”

  Polly shot a curious glance at her. “Are you really stuck on him, Lara?”

  She turned and stared out the windshield. “I think I’ve been stuck on Kevin since I was thirteen years old.”