Long Ride Home

by Boeshaar, Andrea

  Then there was the traveling. . .

  Tonight, she’d heard a cowboy fondly refer to himself as a “rodeo gypsy.” Lara imagined driving from city to city, town to town, and concluded it wasn’t how she desired to spend her life. Lara wanted stability and a husband who came home to her every night—a husband who didn’t drink beer and shots of whiskey, whose eye didn’t wander, and one who didn’t slow dance with cute little blonds.

  No, rodeoing could never be even a fragment of her world.

  ❧

  The next morning, Lara had to admit she felt impressed with Brent in spite of her decision about him and his profession. He’d roused himself in time for tent meeting, otherwise known as Sunday morning church service. He’d even showed up carrying a Bible! Since Lara had strategically situated herself between Betsy and Ramona, Brent took a seat on the end bench beside Polly.

  Today’s message was about making a difference for Christ and how believers need to behave in a manner that counters worldly trends and standards.

  “It might not be popular, and you might lose a few friends,” the rugged-looking cowboy-preacher told the small crowd. “But God will honor your obedience. Try it and see.”

  Thinking back on last night and even the Fourth of July, Lara had to admit she had wanted to fit in. She wanted Kevin’s friends to like her—she wanted Kevin to like her. She felt as though she’d been an outcast all her life, but the preacher’s next words humbled her.

  “Our life’s purpose as Christians is to glorify the Savior in everything we do. Praise God we live in the United States of America where we are free to assemble together and worship Jesus Christ. Many a life has been lost over the centuries in order for us to enjoy this freedom.”

  Cheers broke out along with applause, and some affixed a hearty amen to the statement.

  When the service ended, Lara and the others ambled out of the tent. The plan was to find a restaurant serving brunch before they checked out of the hotel and headed home.

  “Lara!”

  Nearing Polly’s brother’s minivan, she paused while Brent caught up to her.

  “Hey, listen, I phoned the hospital right before coming here, and I was told Wink checked out yesterday morning.”

  “What?” Lara felt sure she hadn’t heard him right.

  “That’s what they told me.”

  “But he wasn’t in any condition to leave the hospital!”

  Brent narrowed his brown-eyed gaze. “Where do you suppose Wink would go? I checked with Quincy and Jimmy. None of us got phone calls.”

  “I don’t know.” Lara’s stomach suddenly crimped with fear. Kevin hadn’t been able to sufficiently maneuver his wheelchair, let alone walk. How would he get to an airport? How would he get anywhere?

  “Hey, now, don’t frown so hard.” The corners of Brent’s mouth turned upward in a small grin. “We’ll find him. Could be that Mac flew into town and took Wink back to Houston with her.”

  Lara recalled Kevin’s last phone call with the woman. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s the case.”

  Brent smirked. “Well, you know, poor Wink’s got a head injury.”

  “But he’s not brain damaged.”

  Brent chuckled again, but Lara felt sick. She thought over every possible scenario, but none made sense.

  She touched Brent’s forearm, and he stopped discussing restaurants with Barb and Polly long enough for her to get a question in.

  “Are you sure they didn’t say Kevin was transferred to another floor or unit?”

  “I was told discharged.”

  “That’s impossible.” Lara opened her purse and searched for her cell phone.

  “Get in the van, Lara,” Barb said. “We’ll talk about it on the way to the restaurant. Brent, Austin, and few of the guys are riding in Brent’s truck, so come on. . .we’re all hungry.

  “I want to call the hospital first. It’ll only take a few minutes.” Lara walked away from the van, across the gravel parking area until her phone registered a strong enough signal to place the call. She punched in County General’s number, and soon the unit secretary answered her call.

  “Hi, Kim, this is Lara Donahue, one of the social workers.”

  “Oh, yeah, hi, Lara.”

  “Hi. Say, listen, I’m calling about Kevin Wincouser.”

  “He was discharged yesterday.”

  “Discharged where?”

  “To home, I guess. I don’t know the ins and outs. You’d have to talk to his nurse.”

  “Okay, ask the RN if she’s got a few minutes to talk to me.”

  The secretary acted a bit put out, but Lara was determined to find out Kevin’s whereabouts. The nurse, however, didn’t prove any more helpful.

  “A friend came to get him,” she said. “He almost checked out AMA, because apparently his insurance isn’t picking up enough of his medical bills. But since Kevin promised to keep up his PT, the doctor ended up okaying the discharge.”

  “AMA?”

  “Against medical advice.”

  “Oh, right.” Lara was familiar with the terminology, but in her haste to find out Kevin’s whereabouts, her mind momentarily went blank. “Was it a male or female friend who picked Kevin up?”

  “Male.”

  Lara didn’t have a clue as to who that friend could be. “All right. Well, thanks for the info.”

  Ending the call, she walked back to the van. She glanced around at her friends’ curious expressions before she met Brent’s keen stare.

  “You’re right. Kevin’s been discharged from the hospital.” She dropped her cell phone into her purse. “But it’s anybody’s guess where he went from there.”

  Fifteen

  Kevin stretched out on the soft double bed and stared across the room at a shelving unit, which held a row of picture frames: Ruthie, Tim, and Lara as kids, then as high school seniors, Ruthie’s wedding picture, Tim’s engagement photograph. Kevin wondered why Lara wasn’t married. By now, she should at least have a steady boyfriend. She would make a great catch for a guy who wanted a wife and kids. Kevin had to chuckle to himself, however, when Tim said that his sister had a way of psychologically assessing her dates and finding them lacking in one area or another.

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m not dating her,” Kevin had quipped. “She’d discover I’m a raving lunatic.”

  “I think Lara knows that already,” Tim had shot right back.

  Kevin’s smile remained as he allowed his gaze to wander from the snapshots to a watercolor hanging on the wall on the right side of the bed. It depicted a church he found familiar. A second later, he realized it was the church he attended with his family before his parents were killed. The sight plucked a sad chord in his heart. On the lower right hand corner of the painting, it was signed “Ruth Ann Donahue, 1991.”

  She’s a pretty good artist, Kevin decided. He had assumed the painting had been created by a professional. But in 1991, Ruthie had still been in high school.

  And so had Kevin. He had graduated in 1993, one year after Ruthie.

  At least my memory’s intact. Unfortunately, all this time on his hands caused Kevin to remember more than he ever wanted.

  He sighed and took in more of his surroundings. If he had to sum up the Donahues’ guest bedroom in one word, it would be “homey.” From the light blue walls to the fluffy blue carpet to the photos and paintings and the quilt on the bed, the entire room reminded Kevin of his family and brought back a sense of belonging. Indeed, it was a far cry from the trailer he shared with his buddies. Nothing “homey” about that place.

  Kevin wondered if his head injury was causing him to become a sentimental fool, but his heart refuted the notion. There wasn’t anything foolish about growing up and acting like a responsible human being, and maybe it was time Kevin grew up.
If nothing else, these past weeks had taught him that a man needed a home, a place to which he could retreat when life assaulted him. Kevin’s father had been fond of some such saying. What’s more, had Dad been alive to witness Kevin’s lifestyle over the last nine years, he would have likely disowned him. Dad wouldn’t have put up with it, and Kevin realized he’d acted out his grief and anger by drinking and carousing.

  Sadly enough, after all this time, the grief and anger still remained.

  Lord, I’m not angry with You. I think I’m more angry with myself these days. . . .

  A knock sounded, and the bedroom door opened revealing Tim’s grinning face. “We’re home from church, Kev. You okay?”

  “Yeah, I just woke up a few minutes ago. What a lazy bum I am, eh?”

  Tim opened the door wider and inched his lanky frame into the room. “I think springing you from the hospital yesterday took all your strength, then some.”

  “Yeah.” Kevin had been stunned by his weakened condition.

  “Well, Mom’s in the kitchen making lunch. How ‘bout I help you get dressed and into the living room. We can eat in there and watch the Brewers play baseball on TV?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Kevin sat up and ran his fingers through his thick hair. It felt too long and shaggy, except for the bristly part on the left side, above his ear, where the doctors had shaved his head before surgery.

  “I should probably get a haircut and even things out a bit.” Kevin rubbed the left side of his head, and Tim chuckled.

  “My dad could give you a military cut. I think I wore one every summer until my freshman year in high school.”

  Kevin grinned as he pulled on his jeans, remembering Tim’s buzzed head. He tried not to feel impatient with his right hand. It felt stronger, but not up to par yet. “Wasn’t your dad in the Navy or something?”

  “Marines. He fought in Vietnam.”

  “That’s right.”

  The chitchat ceased, and embarrassment engulfed Kevin when Tim had to assist him with zippers and buttons. Kevin felt like a two year old.

  “Man, talk about a humbling experience.”

  Tim laughed. “Hey, don’t worry about it. What are friends for?”

  “Well, thanks.”

  Kevin realized he had never learned how to be a good friend. His focus had been on himself and on competing, winning, ever since he understood the concept of “Number One.” Now, however, he couldn’t imagine what he would have done without friends like the Donahues.

  Kevin’s spirit had hit an all-time low on the Fourth of July. Then Tim walked in, a veritable godsend. He had been on his way to his fiancée’s house and decided to stop and say hello. A quick visit had turned into two hours of conversation that ended in heartfelt prayer. The next day, after learning about Kevin’s financial dilemma, the Donahues offered him a place to recuperate. Less expensive—free, actually—and the food was a whole lot better.

  Tim looped Kevin’s right arm around his shoulders. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be, I guess.”

  With Tim’s help, Kevin managed to limp out of the bedroom and into the hallway. His right leg was weaker than his arm, although Kevin could stand now. But the signals from his brain to his leg muscles were still short-circuiting somewhere along the line.

  Once more, Kevin feared he’d never rodeo again—a fate far worse than death for a two-time world bareback champion.

  ❧

  Lara tried to hide her concern over the news that Kevin had left the hospital. She tried to pay attention to the light conversation during breakfast, but both Polly and Brent commented on how distracted she seemed. And it was true. But what bothered her most was the fact Kevin never even said good-bye. He only said he didn’t want her help or her pity.

  Perhaps, he hadn’t planned to check himself out the last time they talked. Still, Lara couldn’t help recalling how disheartened she felt the summer going into her sophomore year of high school when she learned Kevin had moved away.

  She felt the same way now. Bummed out.

  “Hey, will you cheer up over there?” Polly took the plastic straw out of her water glass and shook it at Lara.

  The antic worked. Lara laughed, and moments later, she realized how silly she was to fret about a man and a situation over which she had no control. Taking a deep breath, she made the choice to turn her feelings over to the Lord.

  Then, she listened in on Polly’s conversation with Brent. The two sat next to each other, across from Lara at the long rectangular table, and they were discussing childhood pets, of all things. Minutes later, Lara’s melancholy vanished, and she set aside all thoughts of Kevin and his disappearing act—until she arrived home that evening, and Tim met her at the curb.

  “Hey, Sis, we’ve got company.”

  “You came to warn me?” Lara grinned.

  “Well, yeah, sorta.”

  Lara allowed her brother to retrieve her luggage from the back of the minivan. After a wave to Polly and the others, she followed him to the side door of their duplex.

  “Kevin moved in with us.”

  “He did what?” Incredulousness pervaded Lara’s being, and as Tim spilled the story, everything made sense. “I think Kevin had better telephone his buddies and let them know where he is. They’re worried. Brent tried to call him this morning.”

  “I’ll pass that message along.” Tim opened the door. “But I wanted to give you a heads-up so you don’t come down in your nightgown and robe with a head full of curlers. Kevin never had sisters, you know.”

  “Oh, so you’re worried that I’ll scare him, huh?”

  “Likely so.”

  Lara gave Tim a sisterly shove. “Oh, hush.”

  He chuckled in reply before taking the stairs to the second floor two at a time. Lara passed him on the steps as he ran back down.

  “Your suitcase is in the hallway,” he said. “Come visit later.”

  “Yeah, with my hair in rollers.”

  She laughed and entered the flat she shared with her grandmother. The easy banter with Tim helped the shock to wear off. But now disbelief took its place.

  Kevin is here? In my parents’ house? He and I are under the same roof?

  Well, one thing was certain; Lara wouldn’t be stupid twice. She would keep her distance. She’d keep her thoughts to herself and wouldn’t offer any assistance, unless Kevin asked, of course.

  “Lara, I’m down here.” Gram’s voice wafted up the back stairwell. “We’re having supper. Come and join us.”

  “I ate already. Thanks anyway. Tell Mom and Dad I’ll stop in later.”

  A nervous flutter filled her abdomen. Why did she feel suddenly doomed?

  Sixteen

  “Wink, you dirty dog, you broke her heart.”

  Sitting on the Donahues’ wide front porch, Kevin sighed as Brent railed on him for hurting Lara’s feelings three days ago.

  “Look, I didn’t mean any harm. I’m going through a tough time right now. Doctors say I’ll never ride again, and I’m trying to prove them wrong. Lara understands.”

  “Sure she does.”

  “I’ll apologize, and she’ll forgive me.” Kevin shifted in the plastic lawn chair. He wasn’t very comfortable out here with the mosquitoes and humidity, but his cell phone had better reception outdoors than in the house.

  “Well, you’re right about that. Lara will forgive you.” Brent’s voice sounded strained as though he were in the process of reclining. Then he exhaled. “We had a nice time this weekend. All of us. There were seven women to about four of us guys. Great odds, wouldn’t you say?”

  Kevin grinned in spite of himself. “Yeah.”

  “On Saturday, Lara and I danced the night away.”

  “Is that right?” Kevin wondered why he f
elt tense all of a sudden. On second thought, he knew the reason. He didn’t want Lara to get hurt as a result of Brent’s vengeance. But he wouldn’t let on that the remark troubled him. If he did, Brent was liable to continue his spiteful game. “Glad you had fun. You deserve it.”

  “Yeah, I guess I do. It’s been a while since I had good clean fun.” Brent chuckled as if he suddenly recalled something amusing. “Have you met Lara’s friend Polly?”

  “Once, I think.”

  “She’s a hoot. Pretty too.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Lara says she’s interested in me, but. . .I just don’t see it.”

  “Lara’s interested in you? She said that?”

  “No, no. Lara said Polly is interested in me.”

  “Oh, gotcha.” Kevin hoped he didn’t sound as relieved as he felt. Then he remembered Lara mentioning her friend’s “crush.”

  “I guess I knew that.”

  “Anyway, Polly doesn’t act interested, so it kind of confuses a guy. Know what I mean?”

  “It’s a gender thing. Women have confounded us since the Garden of Eden.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Um, I’ve read a lot of books.”

  Brent let go of a hearty belly laugh. “Wink, I’ll eat buffalo chips for a week if you’ve read a book in the last five years.”

  “Yeah, well, good thing for you I can’t recall the last book I picked up.” Kevin chuckled. He was beginning to enjoy conversing with his pal.

  They chatted for a while longer, exchanging occasional barbs, then discussed current rodeo standings. Finally, Kevin felt himself growing stiff and told Brent he’d call back in a couple of days. Turning off his phone, Kevin had just slipped it into his shirt pocket when a soft, female voice drifted down from somewhere up above, although her words belied her tone.

  “Your friend is a fibber.”