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He drank his water, then pulled out the instructions the doc gave him. One week, no weight at all and gradually increasing after that, then some physical therapy to help him recover his strength without straining the tendons. Lots of mobility exercises while he was resting. No cast, but a fancy splint with metal braces and enough Velcro straps for NASA. Good thing he’d upgraded the satellite internet when he moved back here. And brought his gaming systems with him. Tom got up, but trying to put his glass in the sink was more than he could do. Maneuvering crutches with something in his hand was going to take practice. And he’d better practice with something other than glass.
He hopped and shuffled over to the refrigerator, pulled out a plastic bottle of water, and shoved it in his shirt pocket. He tried not to use these things, but they came in handy occasionally. He returned to the living room. The sofa was probably the best; he could put his foot up on the coffee table or the couch. Good thing Mom couldn’t see him. She’d pitch a fit about feet on the furniture. Once he was down, he put a couple of throw pillows under his feet on the coffee table. He grinned for a moment. Well, no, she wouldn’t have gotten upset. She would have scolded him for pulling a stupid stunt, just like Dad, and then put him in this same position herself. He still missed her so much. Probably not as much as Dad did. Well, no, that wasn’t true either. It was just a different kind of heartache. He clicked on the TV and surfed until his dad returned. “You got Strawberry?”
“Yup. The gate opened as I got close, and the rifle was in the saddle holster, so I just threw it all in the back of the four-wheeler, waved at the house, then walked her back next to the ORV. She wasn’t real happy about that, but that’s too bad. We’ll have to teach her some manners, then see if we can’t find somebody with a kid who needs a horse.” Dad shook his head regretfully. “She’s too nervy for ranch work.”
“Yeah, and some little girl would love to have a pretty palomino. But she definitely needs some manners. I think she’s been spoiled.” He shook his head. “No Wiz?”
“Nope. I think she was watching though.” Dad’s shoulders rose toward his ears. “Got that itchy feeling on the back of my neck. Don’t much care for that.” He plopped into his recliner.
Tom winced. Dad had done a long tour in Vietnam, courtesy of the draft, but he’d never told Tom or Mom about it, other than occasional off-hand comments. He talked with his buddies at the VFW, but they probably weren’t talking about their feelings or discussing post-traumatic stress.
Despite the attitude changes regarding the military since the 1960s, most Americans still didn’t care about the impacts of war, especially on individuals. Oh sure, they were upset after 9/11, and they’d get upset again around the anniversary, but it didn’t impact most people’s lives directly, so it didn’t really matter to them. That wasn’t true of anyone who lived in NYC during the attacks. The smoke and dust everywhere, the missing people, the heroic rescues, and the horrific loses made it impossible to forget. And it shouldn’t be forgotten. Ever.
He hadn’t been in his NYC office during the attacks. He’d been at a conference in Los Angles, but he’d done what he could after he got back. He hadn’t lost any really close friends, but he knew quite a few of the people who’d been killed in the towers. Some of them he’d talked to on a regular basis, and every time there was a terror alert, he remembered the fear of that day and thanked God he’d taken the opportunity to move back to Montana. He just wished he’d done it sooner and had more time with Mom.
He didn’t need to be thinking such grim thoughts. Maybe the stupid pain pills had weird side effects.
Dad also seemed lost in thought. It wouldn’t be good if the new neighbor was constantly making Dad think of bad times in Vietnam. Hmm. An idea was churning in the back of his brain. What if they could help each other? Horses were used in therapy all the time these days. Heck, he’d just seen a piece on the local news about the VA using horses in conjunction with mental health counseling, so maybe if he could get his dad, who might be less threatening, to teach Wiz horsemanship... He’d have to think about that a little more.
Of course, first he’d have to talk to her. Maybe email? Well, whatever he was going to do, it wasn’t going to be this evening, all fuzzy from pain medications. He was smarter than that. But he could set the seed in his dad’s mind a little. And apologize. He sighed. “Hey, Dad?” Dad looked up, inquiringly. “Thanks for picking me up and getting Strawberry back. Sorry I put you to all the trouble.”
Dad shrugged. “That’s what family is for.”
“Yeah. Still, I don’t want you to think I take it for granted. I’m pretty sure our neighbor up the hill is by herself, and while she’s clearly got the money to hire help, it’s not the same as family. Thanks.”
His dad smiled. A genuine smile, the kind he hadn’t seen for a while. He’d been pushing too hard, and he needed to back off. He smiled back.
Dad pushed up and out of the chair. “What do you want for dinner? Getting to be about that time.”
“Anything’s fine with me. I just need to make sure I’ve got something in my stomach for the next set of pain pills. I really hate the things.”
“Yeah, me too. They give you cotton mouth and all kinds of other fun side effects, and they don’t ever seem to work that good.” He crossed to the kitchen.
“Yep. I’ll take them tonight and switch to over-the-counter stuff tomorrow. Dad?” He turned back toward Tom. “Can you grab me an ice pack?”
“Sure. Be right back.” The freezer opened, and packages rattled.
He really was lucky to have family who loved and supported him. He’d be luckier if he had his own as well, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Putting his head back on the couch, he pictured her pretty but haunted gray eyes. Maybe they could be family for her. She needed somebody, that was sure. And he needed a project for the next couple of weeks on the couch, so... He’d figure it out tomorrow. A nap seemed like a good idea right now. He closed his eyes, falling into swirling, deep pools of gray.
Chapter 4
Wiz listened to her voice mail. Another “thank you” from Tom Borde, offering to take her on yet another activity. Why didn’t he get the clue and leave her alone? He was too big and pushy. Wiz shivered. Scary, even. Ryan and Erin were hard enough in person, and they were so clearly in love with each other it was ridiculous. And they didn’t care if she was armed to the teeth. Most people weren’t so accommodating.
If he’d just quit already, she’d settle back into her nice, normal, safe, solitary life and forget all about him. But he seemed determined. In a day, she’d get an email with the same message. And then three days from now, it would be another voice mail with some other activity. She’d written back the first couple of times saying she appreciated the unnecessary offer, but she was busy. Which was true. She had more offers of work than she could possibly take on, and those she accepted got done at the last second. There weren’t enough hours in the day. Maybe she should block his number and email. But she couldn’t, in case of local emergencies, like a wildfire.
She accepted Erin and Ryan’s dinner invites, even when her insecurities flared. She treasured their friendship. She had plenty of friends online, but nobody she trusted in real life like Erin and Ryan. After talking to her therapist, she’d taken the next step and invited them to her house for dinner; they were due any minute now. For a main course, she’d ordered rib eye steaks from four different producers; they’d cook them all at the same time, in the same way, and compare. She also had salad, flatbread, roasted veggies with garlic and olive oil, and cupcakes from Deb’s Bakery for dessert. Ryan said they’d bring beer and wine. Which was good, since she didn’t have any alcohol. She stuck with water mostly, except the occasional cup of cocoa in the winter. And a morning espresso.
Her outdoor patio, designed with Erin’s as a model, was the perfect spot for a dinner party. Which was one of the reasons her therapist pushed her to take this step; why build a gathering place that won’t be used? She put in the same pizza oven Erin had, but as part of a full outdoor kitchen with running water and a refrigerator. Rather than a fireplace below the oven, she had a double-sided fireplace on the other side of the thirty-foot wide patio, the far side open to the sky, while a roof covered the rest. The roof kept it cooler in the summer, and she could use it all year. If it got too cool during their dinner, they’d move indoors to her gourmet kitchen. She wasn’t a great cook, but her tools would never hold her back.
Her cell buzzed with a text from Ryan asking for entry. She checked, then entered the code for the outer gate and jogged through the house to greet them. After the outer gate closed, she let them through the security portal, and they pulled up under the ridiculously ostentatious timber-framed portico. Erin drove Smoky, her classic car, and they both hopped out. Ryan ducked into the back seat, retrieving a six-pack and a bottle, then they trod up the wide, natural stone steps, both smiling.
The corners of Wiz’s mouth stretched up a little in response. Huh. That’s what it felt like to smile. It had been a long time.
“Wiz! Good to see you!” Erin reached out her arms but dropped them quickly.
Wiz almost accepted Erin’s hug, but she couldn’t make her arms move. But that was okay. She was taking a big step inviting them to her house; asking for more wasn’t necessary. “Hi. Thanks for coming. Come in.” She backed toward the door, which she’d left open. Inside the entry room, she pointed at the hooks mounted on the wall. “You can hang your jackets there if you want.”
Ryan closed the outer door with his shoulder, and she locked it, then led them into the great room. She let them go by, then closed the inner security door, too.
