by Toni Shiloh
After settling into the dining room, Jo repeated the information for the two options. Thankfully, Marilyn had stayed to act as a mediator.
“I see now why there is a difference in price. Thank you for being fair.”
Jo sat back, trying to hide her surprise. He was okay with the amount?
“I really like option two and I can swing the amount with no problem.” He turned toward his mother. “How are you and dad going to feel about having another building on your property?”
“Well, I’d be okay with it, but I’m not sure how your father will feel. We can ask him when he comes home from work.”
Marilyn was her hero. She didn’t need a husband to run a successful business. Maybe she should bring that up for the next argument with her mother.
Jo watched Evan while he thought. Despite being relegated to a wheelchair, he still had a commanding presence about him. He looked the same as he did in high school except now his mouth had lines pulling it downward.
Probably from frowning so much.
Would the grooves appear around his mouth if he smiled? Were his teeth still pearly white? For a moment, she had the insane urge to make him smile. To wipe away the severity that clung to him like an albatross.
“That’s what I was thinking as well. So, here’s another idea.” He looked at Jo, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
Had he noticed her staring? She felt her cheeks heat up under his direct gaze and wanted to scream at herself for blushing. He wasn’t that good looking.
Liar.
“I really like the idea of having my own home and not having to live with my parents. No offense, Mom.”
“None taken, Son.”
“Do you have any idea if there are any lots for sale around here? Then, I could go with option two and be more independent. It’s hard to maneuver around this place, but I’ve always viewed it as temporary. If I could have my own place...” he stopped, his voice faltering.
Jo tried to restrain the sigh that was welling up inside. She had no idea how he handled the loss. If she could bring back some independence for him, she would. No matter how much she disliked him, she hated to see another person in pain. “I don’t know off the top of my head, but I’ll check on it first thing tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” he answered stiffly. He turned around and wheeled out of the room.
Well, good-bye to you too.
She huffed, fighting the urge to let a scream loose. Instead, she made her good-byes with his mother. Jo’s voice was extra syrupy, but she couldn’t help but feel the need to make up for Evan’s bad manners. The woman was a saint to put up with his foul mood.
As she walked to her truck, the meeting replayed in her mind. The simple renovation was turning out to be anything but. If Evan wanted his own land, then she guessed he wasn’t leaving Freedom Lake anytime soon.
Bye-bye, luck.
THE GLOSSY SHEEN OF the ceiling in the butler’s pantry held Evan’s gaze. His parents had removed the storage items to the carriage house and put in a twin bed. How mortifying to know his father had to “tuck him in,” since his chair couldn’t fit. If he had to use the restroom in the middle of the night, he had to text his father.
Evan swallowed at the injustice of it all. He stared at the rivets in the ceiling that used to be bumpy from the popcorn look. The room wasn’t big enough for him to do anything but lie down and think. But it was his thoughts he wanted to escape from the most. A memory of Brenda’s tear-stained face materialized in his mind.
“Knock, knock,” Brenda murmured.
Evan smiled and motioned her inside. A visit from Brenda always brightened his day in the hospital. “Hey, Babe.” He patted the hospital bed, hoping she would sit by him. She hadn’t come near him since the accident.
Today would be no different. She shook her head, her bangs shifting against her forehead. “I don’t want to sit.” She pulled the strap of her purse through her fingers. “Evan, I need to talk to you.”
He gulped, wiping his hands down the hospital sheets. No man wanted to hear those words. “What’s up?”
She took a step forward, the sound of her heels clicking. “I...I...well, I think...”
He inhaled, trying to catch a breath. The moisture gathering in her eyes wasn’t a good sign. “What’s wrong?” Trepidation filled his voice.
“We need some time apart,” she blurted.
Somehow, he had known this conversation was coming. Since she’d been discharged, the distance between them had expanded daily. At first, she’d stand near the hospital bed, then slowly but surely her footsteps landed closer to the door and farther from his side. Yet, knowing all of that, he still felt the shock of her words, the piercing stab that ached in his chest.
“We’ve been apart. I’ve been confined to this bed for weeks. How much more time apart do you need?” He huffed, the force of his words echoing in the room. The unsteady beep of the monitors echoed his frustrations.
“I’m not ready for a commitment, Evan. I know it’s not fair to you, but I have to be true to myself. If I stayed by your side, it would be because of guilt. I...I can’t help but feel I landed you here.”
“Brenda, babe, it’s not your fault. That guy was drunk.”
She held up her hands, as if to stop the flow of his words. “He was drunk, but I was still the one driving.”
“Listen, if you feel guilty, don’t. I’m not mad at you. If the roles were reversed, would you blame me?” How he wished he could get up and hug her.
“Of course not!”
“Then believe me when I say it’s not your fault.”
“But staying with you just because you lost a leg would be a mistake. Then it would truly be my fault. I’m sorry, Evan. I just can’t be with you.”
Nausea rolled through him as the memories played out. He felt like he was in an IMAX theatre, the images up close and personal. Sweat beads dotted his forehead. His arm pits dampened.
Why couldn’t he forget that day? He’d called out to her as she hurried away from his room, but it was no use. She never returned. Never answered a phone call. A text. How could it truly be over?
He flung an arm across his face as another recollection surfaced.
“How are you feeling Mr. Carter?”
Even stared at the clock. A minute had passed.
“Are you still in pain?”
The seconds ticked by quietly, but he felt them echo in his pulse.
“Sometimes, the best way to heal is to talk about what hurts.”
Two minutes down. Twenty-eight minutes left.
“Mr. Carter, I can’t help you if you won’t talk.”
“Will it make the time pass faster?”
“Of course it will. Do you want to talk about how it feels to lose your leg?”
“Do you want to talk about how it feels to lose your hair? No? Thought so.”
Somehow, the man’s sigh lasted five seconds. When would the minute be over?
“Mr. Carter, we all suffer from loss. But it’s how we deal with it that matters.”
“Oh, spare me. Other than your hair, what have you lost? Please, enlighten me.” How dare he. “I don’t hear you speaking. So, let me get this straight. I lost my leg, my girlfriend, my job, and my car, if you care about that, and you’ve lost nothing. Absolutely nothing. How can you help me heal?”
As the silence remained, he shook his head in derision.
Evan had refused to talk the rest of the meeting. He never went back to see the counselor. That man couldn’t help him. No one could. He hated that he couldn’t escape the memories. The sound of the crash. The antiseptic smell of the hospital. The tears in Brenda’s eyes as she rushed out of the room.
He rolled over to his side, imagining his leg was still there. Was he being foolish to think he could live on his own? Sure, he could wheel himself around, but could he really do everything else on his own?
Freedom.
Evan wanted it so badly, he could taste it. It would be like an ice-cold glass of sweet
tea. Or better yet, the frozen goodness of a Popsicle that he stood to grab out of the freezer.
It seemed so close, yet so far away. Could he gain his independence back? The counselor had tried to tell him that his life wasn’t over, but he had been too hurt to believe it. He wasn’t going to listen to a person that hadn’t suffered any deformities of his own.
Now, all he could picture were the floor plans Jo had shown him. She assured him she could make things accessible for him. He closed his eyes, stifling the longing. He wanted to go back to the day before the accident. When he still had two legs and an almost fiancée.
Had he been too hasty in rejecting a prosthetic?
Dr. Benson said his leg could still be fitted for one. The image of a steel pole flitted through his brain. It could never replace his leg. Never. His breathing picked up speed at the unfairness of it all. Of losing his leg. Losing the girl. Losing his freedom.
He’d never be whole again and he’d never be free.
Never.
Chapter Four
The shops of Main Street were a mixture of old and new businesses. The older generation owners refused to update their look. However, the younger generation of business owners preferred a more modern appearance. It was only a matter of time before the town would call for a more cohesive exterior. Despite the hodge-podge of businesses, Jo loved Main Street because of the continuity it represented. Old or young, Freedom Lake residents would thrive.
The smell of cinnamon and spice beckoned from LeeAnn’s Bakery. Although the urge for a scone called to her, she didn’t have time to indulge. She needed to talk to Chloe. Jo paused in front of her friend’s business, the bright yellow storefront greeting her with its cheer.
The Space, Freedom Lake’s only interior design store, enticed patrons to enter. There was something so warm and inviting about the place. Inside, the colors of gray and yellow melded perfectly. Jo immediately became full of peace whenever she walked in. Then again, it could be Chloe’s presence. She didn’t know what it was about her friend, but the woman exuded a Zen-like calm.
At the tinkle of the chime, Chloe looked up from her design board and smiled broadly. “Hey, JoJo. What brings you by?” She came around the desk to give her a hug.
“Hey, Chlo,” Jo squeezed her back, using her old childhood nickname. “Needed to pick your brain and then realized I hadn’t talked to you in a few days so...” She trailed off with a shrug. Jo never felt the need to be overly articulate around Chloe. Somehow her friend always knew what she was thinking.
“I meant to call you the other night, but then a client called with a theme change and I spent all night redoing the plans I had.” Chloe spoke with her hands, punctuating each word with movement. It practically became its own art form.
“Not a problem. I was in the city hanging with Michelle. Part business. Part pleasure. The business part is the reason I’m here.”
“Okay. Do you mind if I draw while you talk?” Chloe pointed to her board.
“Not at all.”
Jo sat down on the yellow love seat, propping her boots on the coffee table. She launched into her monologue, telling Chloe everything from Evan’s loss of his leg, his need for an accessible home and ending with his want of his own place. When she was done, she looked up and saw Chloe studying her with steady patience.
She knew those eyes saw more than most. Most people would overlook her friend, thinking her personality matched her petite stature. Yet Chloe radiated a strength that couldn’t be denied. She reminded Jo of a black Tinker Bell, small and willowy with honey-kissed skin. Her chin-length black hair had been braided into twists. A mole above the left side of her lip and a sprinkle of brown freckles across her nose completed the fairy-like appearance.
They were complete opposites, but Chloe’s fierce loyalty made her the perfect friend.
“So what do you think, Chlo?”
Her expression gave nothing away. “How are you handling Evan coming back to town?”
“His return has no impact on me.”
“So, you don’t care that Evan is back?”
“No,” Jo replied nonchalantly, though her friend’s close scrutiny had her wanting to sink into the cushions.
“You don’t care that he’s missing a leg?”
“You knew, didn’t you?”
At Chloe’s small nod, Jo lost it. “Why didn’t you tell me? Do you know how I felt when I first saw him? In a wheelchair? For a moment I saw my friend, the one before high school reared its ugly head.” She took a deep breath, letting all her emotions out. “I may hate the way he treated me and I thought of a million torture devices he deserved, but seeing him in that chair...” Her voice broke off. She sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Breathe in. Breathe out.
“So, you do care.” Chloe’s words were more statement than question.
Jo looked up, about to protest, and saw Chloe’s ah-ha smile.
“No!” The fist squeezing her heart made it difficult to breathe. Why should I even care? He treated her like dirt all throughout high school. She tried to block out the memories of his teasing.
“Hey Four-Eyes, did you forget to take a shower or have you been hanging with the cows?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m angry. He hurt me Chloe. Really badly.” The unshed tears began to clog her throat. It ached from the pressure but she was in no hurry to unleash them. She pictured Evan in the wheelchair, angry at the world, and the pressure erupted.
“Oh, Chloe, when I saw him...all the emotions I thought had faded away came rushing back. Seeing him in that chair, all I could imagine was the year he broke his collarbone. You remember?” Jo didn’t wait for her answer. If Chloe made any gesture Jo would have missed it, so caught up in her thoughts.
“He broke it in seventh grade. We were still friends, and I carried his books from class to class. And now, I want to help him again. Despite the hurt he’s caused. Does that make me a glutton for punishment?”
Chloe shook her head as she studied Jo. “You’re kind, Jo, always have been. You could have reported him to the principal a million times, but you never did.”
Because I’m dumb.
What good had ever come from liking him? She’d never forget the feeling of betrayal the first day of high school. She’d waved to him in the freshman hall of Freedom Lake High, excited about the last phase of school. He’d taken one look at her and ripped her to pieces. He said she looked like an electrocuted poodle, complete with glasses and braces. The laughter from the guys around him seemed to add fuel to his comments.
How could she sympathize with him? She smoothed a hand over her straight ponytail, reminding herself she was no longer that awkward teenager.
“Do you still have a crush on him, Jo?”
The sound of her heartbeat filled her ears. How could she? The boy had filled her locker with manure their sophomore year.
“No way,” she shook her head adamantly. “I refuse to be with someone who would treat me like a pile of....”
“Don’t you think he’s grown up by now?”
A bitter laugh escaped before Jo could rein it in. Hadn’t he called her high and mighty just a few days ago? “Chloe, you see good in everything. If you talked to Evan, you’d see nothing has changed.”
“I’ll continue praying for him. I have been since I heard about the leg.”
“You do that.” The acrimonious tone made her cringe inwardly, but she didn’t apologize.
“Sometimes that’s all we can do, Jo Ellen.”
Jo threw herself against the sofa. She might have known Chloe would find a way to bring God up in their conversation. It infuriated her to no end. But the rawness of the memories was too close for her to consider leaving The Space.
“Okay, Chloe. I get your point.”
A change in conversation was needed. She stood up, wiping her hands down the side of her jeans, stopping as her thumbs hooked onto the belt loops. “I actually wanted to ask if you have any idea who’s selling land ar
ound here.”
“Does Evan want to live in town or around the lake?”
“Honestly, I forgot to ask.” She frowned in concentration. “If the core of him hasn’t changed since middle school, then the lake.” Why did she still know that?
“I’m not sure if there is a lot of land for sale, JoJo. But maybe someone would be willing to sell their home?
She had a point. Freedom Lake was no longer in the land selling business. Land had been a hot commodity in the 1940s but now all the lots were filled. “Like who?”
“Hmmm...why don’t you ask the Nelsons? Ms. Myrtle is moving into the senior community home on First Street. She has no children to leave the house to, so maybe she’d be willing to sell it.”
Myrtle. Nelson.
As the idea took root, Jo hoped she’d be willing to sell her home to Evan. It had a great view of the lake and the Carter’s B&B. It seemed like a win-win to her. Hopefully, Evan wasn’t too set on an open plot of land.
EVAN BREATHED IN THE lake air. The leaves’ reflection danced across the lake. He stared at the running path from his spot on the front porch. If only he could run out his frustrations. He thought back to Dr. Benson’s office and the picture of the one-legged athlete. He’d been able to run. What would it feel like to have the pavement under his feet again? He snorted. If he could just walk down the hall to the bathroom, that would be good enough.
He sighed. Was he being stubborn refusing a prosthetic? He ran a hand down his face, wishing for calm. Right now the lake was so still, the only movement came from the reflections. Why couldn’t he find that peace?
Jo said she could build him a place. One that would enable him to get around freely. Freedom was just a few nails and a hammer away. He could own his own place. It seemed so close, yet so far away. Could he gain his independence back?
If he had a prosthetic, would Brenda come back? He shook his head, quickly closing that line of thinking. She didn’t give him a chance when he needed it the most. She’d been so consumed by her pain that she’d never bothered to look at his. Something told him Jo wouldn’t be like that. Sure, she ignored him and was caustic at every turn, but that was because of high school. She didn’t let a missing leg turn her wrath into pity. Oddly, he admired that.
