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Chapter 10
Cade sat across from Harry, his head down, his thoughts whirling at tornado speed. Harry waited for Cade to speak. Five tense minutes into the session, Cade was finally able to look up.
Ever patient, Harry appeared content to wait him out.
“I spoke to Hope,” Cade mumbled.
Nodding, Harry encouraged him to continue.
Cade had been shocked when Hope mentioned chaperoning the homecoming dance. He’d been unsure what to say. “She asked me to attend a dance with her at the high school,” he blurted out, like it was a request for him to leap off the Narrows bridge or swim to Hawaii. “You and I both know that’s impossible. I can’t dance. Even standing for an extended length of time can be problematic.”
“What kind of dance is this?” Harry asked.
“Homecoming. She’s one of the chaperones and she wants me to join her: like I won’t stick out like a scarecrow in the middle of a cornfield.”
“Being a chaperone doesn’t necessarily mean you have to be on the dance floor.”
Cade expected Harry’s questions. He had plenty of his own.
“I understand we won’t be crowned the king and queen.” His voice betrayed his sarcasm. “But Hope’s going to expect at some point that I’ll want to dance with her.”
“Seems to me you’re making assumptions.”
“I can’t dance,” Cade insisted, growing irritated with himself more than with Harry. “We both know that kind of physical activity would be difficult for me with my…limitations.” Cade had come to hate his leg and all the problems it caused him. The pain was a constant reminder of that fateful day and the helplessness he experienced as he watched his friends die. He should count his blessings: the very fact he was alive. When he couldn’t, he felt guilty, sinking into a black hole that wanted to suck him up.
“Do you know exactly what your role would be?” Harry always seemed to ask the right questions. He’d relentlessly zoom in to a problem the way a hawk goes after its prey.
Thinking back over their brief conversation, once Hope mentioned the dance, Cade hesitated before answering, realizing his error. “No.”
“Then it seems to me you’re making another assumption.”
Cade felt like he’d backed himself into a corner. He wanted to dance with Hope. Not dance, especially, but hold her tight against him. All night, he’d tossed and struggled with the sheets, tugging them one way and then another, as his mind filled with thoughts of the pleasure of holding Hope in his arms. Half-asleep, he could smell the scent of her perfume and feel the comfort of her pressing against him. He wanted that more than he wanted anything. Then his mind would shoot to his disability and the embarrassment he’d feel if his leg gave out from under him. It’d happened before and it would again. No way would he put himself in that position. Eager as he was to hold Hope, he couldn’t let himself do it.
And yet…
Their conversation from the day before had been a turning point for him. It’d felt monumental to sit at her side, share Wee Willie’s hot dogs, and enjoy the late afternoon as if he hadn’t a care in the world. It’d been years since he’d experienced any moment as freeing until…until she’d mentioned the dance.
With this new understanding between them, Cade had shared a sensitive part of himself that only Luke and Jeremy had heard. Harry hadn’t dug much into his family background, and Cade hadn’t mentioned his parents in the group sessions, either. For some unexplained reason, he’d felt compelled to tell Hope.
“Did you agree to chaperone with her?” Harry asked.
This was the problem. “I…I didn’t say anything one way or the other. It was as if she assumed I’d agreed because she went on talking, giving me details about the night. At some point, she must have realized I hadn’t said I’d go and went silent. Harry, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” He wanted to bury his face in his hands. He was right back where he started when he’d refused her dinner invitation. Even though he was strongly attracted to her, he had declined the very thing he wanted most. And here he was doing it again.
His time on the beach with Hope had been perfect until she’d mentioned the dance. He’d planned on kissing her, but as soon as she brought up him chaperoning with her, he’d frozen. No question, he needed counseling. He needed help to figure out why he kept turning his back on Hope when he hungered to have her in his life.
“She was willing to let you get away with not answering?”
“She said she’d accept whatever decision I made.”
“And have you decided?”
Cade had mulled it over from the moment they parted. “I’ve thought about it every minute. I was grateful our session was today so you could help me sort all this out; tell me what would be best.”
Harry chuckled. “You don’t honestly think I’m going to advise you one way or the other, do you? This is on you, Cade.”
On him.Harry was right. He was the one who had to find peace about this. Part of him was eager to be with Hope, no matter when or what the occasion. From the moment he’d met her, the reality of his physical limitations had caused him to keep his distance.
His leg, at times, had a mind of its own. One wrong move and he would writhe with pain so severe it took every ounce of strength he possessed not to cry out. Although he had to admit the physical therapy was working, he wasn’t to the point where he could twirl Hope around a dance floor.
