by Toni Shiloh
The nurse weighed his chair on the wheelchair-accessible scale. Once she was done, his dad put him back in the chair to get the added weight.
“Never seen one of these before,” his dad said.
“We have a lot of patients in wheelchairs. It’s easier for them.” The nurse faced him. “Now that we know how much the wheelchair weighs, you won’t have to get out of it the next time.”
Great. He could avoid the humiliation next time. Evan ignored her, but the brightness never left her voice.
“Follow me, guys. You’ll be meeting Dr. Benson in room eight.” She pointed to an open room down the hall.
Once again, his father pushed him down the hall. When they entered the room, Evan glanced around. It didn’t look any different from any other exam room. The only change was the various pictures of athletes covering the walls. A picture of a man crossing the finish line, arms raised in victory, caught his attention. The man’s silver prosthetic leg didn’t seem to take away from his win.
He looked away as a lump grew in his throat. Don’t show any emotion. If he did, his father would open his mouth and offer unwanted advice.
A little while later, a knock sounded. In walked a short, stocky white man with Harry Potter-esque glasses.
“Ah, good afternoon, Mr. Carter. I’m Dr. Benson,” he said in a deep voice.
It sounded odd coming out of such a short man, but the doctor had a presence about him that suggested his height wasn’t a limitation.
“Afternoon. This is my dad, Evan Senior or you can call him Senior.” He jerked a thumb toward his dad, still not ready to engage in a conversation with him.
“The Senior, huh?” The doctor shook his father’s hand.
“Yeah, his high school friends took to calling me that and it stuck.” His father responded.
“Alrighty, then.” The doctor sat down on a black swivel stool and turned to face Evan.
“I’ve read the files that Dr. Johnson sent over. You’ll be able to pick right up with your therapy here at our office. You’ll need to come in weekly to see Drew, your therapist.”
“Understood.” His gut tightened at the thought of more therapy. Would it never end?
“Hop on up here, and let’s get you checked out.” Dr. Benson patted the examination table.
His father jumped from his seat and lifted him onto the table. Dr. Benson raised his eyebrows, but Evan ignored him as heat flooded his face again. The doctor washed his hands and then bent over him, examining the remainder of his left leg. Evan gulped, trying to swallow the sorrow that hit every time he saw it. His mind couldn’t seem to accept the fact that his lower leg was gone. At night, he often sat in bed looking down at his legs imagining them both there. On a really bad night, the phantom pain woke him.
“Well, it looks like they did a great job shaping the leg for a prosthetic. Did they fit you for one?”
“No,” he answered sharply. He had refused, but the doctor should know that if he had read his chart.
The doctor looked at him, his disconcerting gaze never wavering. Whatever he saw made him take a step back. “Have you seen a counselor regarding the loss of your leg, Evan?”
“Yes, I have and no, I don’t want to try a new one.” Evan glared at Dr. Benson, who simply nodded.
“Any phantom pain?”
Evan nodded curtly. He wanted this visit over with.
“Well, your leg is healing fine. If you ever change your mind, I see no problem fitting you for a prosthetic. It will give you more independence than you have now.” Doctor Benson paused, his hawk-like eyes assessing him. “It’s really easy to set up an appointment with our prosthetist, Julie.”
He remained mute.
The doctor sighed. “For now, you’ll continue your occupational therapy. I’ll make sure Drew gets you to practice moving in and out of your chair unaided. Cassie will come in to direct you to where the therapy room is located.”
Dr. Benson shook their hands and left the room. Evan glared at the offending member of his body. If he couldn’t have his real leg, he saw no reason to replace it with a weak imitation. There was no way he wanted to depend on a prosthetic. It would only be a crutch, just like trusting God.
Yet the whispered words, “more independence,” beckoned to him like a siren’s song.
Chapter Three
The sun shined brightly as the wind continued to blow the leaves off the trees. Today was colder than yesterday but the steady flow of heat pumped from Jo’s truck, keeping her warm. It seemed winter might be knocking on her door sooner than later. Fortunately, she didn’t have to work outside today. She’d just left the meeting with Skyler, who recommended two blueprint options for the Carter’s renovations. Now, she was headed to Michelle’s.
After her father died, she moved back in with her mother. Her mother had been shocked by the sudden loss, and Jo had been the only Baker sibling willing to move back in. Since then, visits with her friends had been relegated to phone calls or coffee dates. This would be her first night out in a year.
Thank God.
She shook her head at the idiotic statement. She knew she wasn’t really talking to Him. Jo wasn’t sure if He was real, but if her mother was an example of who He was, then she would choose to put her faith elsewhere. She’d let fate and luck fuel her onward.
A guard shack sat at the entrance to Michelle’s community. Jo slowed, coming to a stop in front of the gate, and rolled the window down to speak to the guard. He checked her name on his trusty clipboard and waved her on with a ‘Have a nice visit’ and a friendly smile.
The gate lifted and she proceeded, driving straight to Michelle’s condo, memories of the past leading the way. Back to when life had been more carefree and her father had been alive. Funny what could happen in a year. Never would she have imagined she’d be back home, living with her mother...or rather, hiding from her.
Just that morning, they’d had another altercation.
“Jo Ellen, where on earth are you going dressed like that?” Her mother folded her arms and tapped a high heel-encased foot.
“I have an appointment with Skyler.”
“You’re going to the city dressed like that?” Her mother pointed to her overalls as if she found them morally repulsive.
“They keep me warm. Plus, I like them.” But she did try and switch it up every now and then. Today just wasn’t the day.
“You’re going to a business meeting, Jo Ellen. Change before you go.”
Jo had snorted and that had been the beginning of the argument. She smiled, remembering how she walked out the door, still clothed in her overalls. The argument may have contributed to a headache, but the satisfaction of walking out in the clothes she picked was worth it.
Shifting into park, she grabbed her duffle bag from the floorboard. Michelle would cringe when she saw it, and that’s exactly why she brought it with her. The bag had seen better days, but that’s what made it so great. Sure, it had a couple of holes, and the handle hung on by a thread, but it didn’t need to be fancy just to hold her clothes. However, her friend saw things differently. If it didn’t have a respectable brand name, Michelle wouldn’t touch it.
Before Jo made it all the way up the stairs, the door to Michelle’s condo flew open. Her friend came out squealing and enveloped her in a hug. Jo sighed; she’d missed her friend and her exuberant personality.
After a moment, Jo pulled back and looked at Michelle. How did she manage to look classy wearing jeans and a t-shirt? Michelle’s five-foot-ten-inch frame stretched the jeans forever. Her black hair had been styled into a sleek bob, angled in at the chin. The elegant look seemed to add even more height to her lithe stature. Her skin was a flawless caramel color and her hazel eyes sparkled with delight.
“Girl, it’s been way too long.” Michelle looked down and raised an eyebrow at her duffle bag. “I knew you’d bring that nasty thing along. I still love you though.”
Jo chuckled. “I can’t believe you’re wearing jeans and a shirt. B
ut knowing you, it’s not an ordinary pair of jeans.”
Her friend smiled and sat down on the love seat with her leg folded underneath her. “Duh! They’re made by Gucci.”
Jo shrugged. She knew there had to be a catch. She dropped the duffle bag next to the black-and-white chevron patterned wingback chair, the only acceptable piece of furniture to sit on. Michelle’s couches were too white for her taste. She sat down and raised her feet to prop them on the black coffee table.
Before Jo’s boots hit the table, Michelle snapped out, “Jo Ellen Baker, now I know you’re not about to put your dirty ol’ combat boots on my coffee table. You’re lucky you even made it this far with those horrendous things still on.”
Jo stopped, her feet hovering in the air, and felt her face warm. How could she have forgotten how particular Michelle was with her things? “My bad.” She put her feet down and removed her shoes.
Born and raised in Boston, Michelle had moved to Freedom Lake their freshman year of high school. Even though, she was no longer a Boston debutante, she never shed her affluent upbringing.
“How’s work going?”
“Girl, I just got a OWI case.” Michelle used the Indianan acronym for Operating While Intoxicated. Her friend got up, moving her hands as she spoke. “You know of course, this isn’t the man’s first offense. I made sure to get Judge Hatchett. He hates drunk drivers more than I do.”
Jo grimaced inwardly, realizing Michelle’s operating-while-intoxicated campaign remained as strong as ever. Her crusade started at eighteen and the girl wasn’t happy until the OWI offenders received maximum time for their penalty.
She watched Michelle pace back and forth, as she ranted and raved about the injustice and horrors of drunk driving. Finally, she stopped walking, as if realizing Jo was still in the living room.
“Sorry, girl, you know how I can get.”
“No worries.”
Michelle waved a hand in the air. “Anyway, I’ve got Chinese food on the way and DVDs ready to be watched.”
“Which ones?”
Michelle pointed to the coffee table, which held a slew of movies featuring Taye Diggs. Her friend’s crush on Taye Diggs went as far back as she could remember. She took one look at Michelle before the two high-fived and wiggled their fingers at one another.
Jo fell back against the chair, laughing. She’d missed the easy camaraderie that came with having a life-long friend. Sure, they met at fourteen, but their friendship was such that it felt like it had already been a lifetime. She sighed. This weekend would be the perfect thing to revive her.
AS SHE PULLED INTO the Carter B&B driveway, Jo took a deep, cleansing breath. Please, don’t let Evan be here. She needed to go over the plans with Mrs. Carter, but didn’t want to have to deal with him. If he was there, her Monday would continue to go downhill. Too bad her weekend with Michelle had to end and reality begin.
Jo knocked on the door. Her eyes immediately gravitated to the hole in the frame. She slapped her forehead. How could she have forgotten to talk to Mrs. Carter about it? Her eyes narrowed. It was all Evan’s fault. Seeing him had completely erased all thoughts from her mind. She hadn’t been prepared to see him. She’d been all too happy leaving every memory of high school behind.
Then maybe you should prepare now.
She swallowed as the pounding in her ears picked up speed at the twist of the knob.
“Hey there, Jo. Come on in.” Mrs. Carter motioned her into the foyer.
“Hi, Mrs. Carter.” Jo’s shoulders dropped, as the tension in them deflated like a pricked balloon. “I have the plans and pricing to discuss with you.”
“Fantastic! And you can call me Marilyn. Come on, let’s head to the library.”
Jo followed her down the hall, conspicuously checking the other rooms to make sure he was nowhere to be found.
“Evan’s not here today, dear.” She smiled at her. “He had an appointment.”
“Oh, I wasn’t looking for him. I just realized I’ve never taken a tour of the B&B, so I was trying to peek into the rooms.” Her insides squeezed at the white lie.
Mrs. Carter—no, Marilyn—stopped and looked at her, mouth gaping wide. “You sure haven’t, have you?” She placed her hands on her hips. “We’ll have to remedy that right now.” She pointed to the floors in the foyer. “Your daddy refurbished the original floors when we decided to make this a B&B.”
Marilyn led the way, pointing out the parlor, library, and formal dining room. Each room was filled with crown molding and natural colors to preserve the historic nature of the Victorian home. As they made their way upstairs, Jo took in the white-painted rails. Thankfully, the hand railing remained the original cherry wood color. She watched, rapt, as Evan’s mother pointed out the four bedrooms. Another set of stairs led to the attic, which had been refurbished into a bedroom suite as well.
“It’s gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” Marilyn beamed.
Once the tour was over, they settled down at the table in the library. The rich green wainscoting warmed the room. Of course, the beautiful fireplace helped. She couldn’t believe it was one of eight. Jo looked down at the table, refocusing her thoughts. “I consulted with an architect and I’ve come up with two options. This is option one.” Jo placed the blueprint in front of Mrs. Carter. Remember to call her Marilyn.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “I know I’m looking at a blueprint, but that’s about all I can make out.”
Jo let out a chuckle. “Of course, these are the blueprints for the carriage house. I informed the architect how you wanted it to be accessible for Evan.”
“Okay, I’m tracking so far.”
“We added a wheelchair lift for the loft, so that Evan can access it with no problem. The bathroom has been changed to add a roll-in shower space. All of the doorways will be widened to accommodate his wheelchair. The counters will also be torn out and lowered for ease of use. All outlets will also be changed to be put within his reach.”
Jo reached for her laptop. “Here, I’ll show you what the renovations will look like once they’re complete.”
Marilyn gasped at the model Jo had created with her renovation software. “Wow, that’s amazing. You can have that all changed?”
“Yes. It should take about a month.”
“Okay, now you said there is a second option available? What’s that entail?”
Jo took a deep breath. She had no idea how the older woman would feel about option two. She thought it was the better of the two, but it was the costliest. She put the second set of blueprints in front of Marilyn and then got the files ready on her laptop.
Marilyn stared at the prints in front of her. “Again, I’m not an architect, but I do realize these look nothing like the last ones. Why?”
“Because this is a completely different structure.”
“Explain, please.”
Jo told her that if they built another home on the Carter property, it would be designed to Evan’s specifications from the ground up. She showed her the pictures of the one-story structure and all the wheelchair-accessible features that it could include.
“How much would these two options cost?”
Jo held her breath. This was the part that had her chewing antacids before coming over. Freedom Lake residents weren’t rich. Sure, they had the Prosperity Ridge residents, but they were from old money and weren’t wealthy by today’s standards. Her estimate was not an outstanding amount of money by renovation and home building standards, but it might be too much for the Carters. After all, they had just done some renovations. She told her the sum.
Marilyn gave a tiny nod of her head.
What was she thinking? “If these prices are too much, I can change some of the materials to a less costly version, but they won’t hold as long as the ones I priced here in the proposal.”
“It’s a good thing my mother won’t be providing the funds then. She has nothing to worry about.”
At the sound of Evan’s voice, her stom
ach immediately tensed. It felt like she swallowed a hard rock. Cautiously, Jo turned and saw Evan just outside the doorway. Apparently, his chair couldn’t fit through the door. She didn’t know whether to feel relief or pity. Jo chose neither. “I thought Mrs. Carter would be funding this project.” Why did her mouth feel like cotton?
“No,” Evan said, shaking his head. “I received compensation for my injuries and duress,” he replied sarcastically. “Which will be used to fund this project. So, I’m the one who will have to approve the price.”
“Evan dear, I thought you wanted me to handle everything?” Her gaze darted between him and Jo.
Did he change his mind because she was a woman? No, that didn’t make sense. If that was the case, why wasn’t his father handling everything?
“I did until I heard her trying to rip you off. I don’t understand why a simple renovation would cost so much.” His lips twisted in derision.
“That’s because the price you just heard is for a brand-new structure on the property. It isn’t just a simple renovation.” How dare he question my integrity. She met his stare head-on, refusing to blink. She would not back down. His gaze traveled over her face, making her flush. She told herself it was from anger and nothing else.
Evan cleared his throat, “So you aren’t going to do the renovations?”
“Evan, dear,” Mrs. Carter stated. “Why don’t you come in here and hear everything from the beginning.”
He threw a look of irritation at his mother. “I would if I could, but you seemed to forget the chair doesn’t fit.”
“Right, sorry.” Marilyn’s voice sounded soft and flustered.
Jo’s heart when out to her. Just because Evan lost a leg, that wasn’t an excuse to treat his mother with a lack of respect. “We can have this conversation in the dining room or the kitchen. Whichever is better for you,” she replied in an icy tone.
“Fine,” he said through his teeth. He whirled around and headed down the hallway.
