Читать книгу Her Hometown Hero - Margaret Daley - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Did Nate know about her leg? That question flittered through Kathleen’s mind as she closed the door behind him, then slowly turned to face him. She squared her shoulders, preparing herself for whatever had put that scowl on his face. It couldn’t be good.

“Why didn’t you tell me how bad your accident was? You acted like your injury was no big deal. You were hit by a car and then later replaced in your ballet company. That sounds more serious than you implied yesterday.”

One sentence after another pelted her as though she were being bombarded with buckshot. For a few seconds a flashback taunted the edges of her mind, but she shut the memories down and focused on Nate standing in front of her. “I prefer not to discuss what happened. I don’t owe you an explanation of why I’m here.”

Nate blew out a long breath, his scowl dissolving into a neutral expression. “Okay, you’re right, but we cared about each other a lot once. I still care. Your dance career is the reason we aren’t together today. Will you be able to go back? Is there any way I can help you with your recovery, like I did the time you twisted your ankle?” His look and tone softened.

She balled her hands so tight, her nails dug into her palms. Her wish to be a ballerina wasn’t the only reason they’d broken up. Nate had had his own dreams, too. They weren’t committed enough to see if they could work their problems out as a team because, although they dated, she had led a very separate life from his. He’d loved sports and had played every one he could fit into his schedule, especially football, which gave him a free ride to college. “There’s nothing you can do. I don’t need a cheerleader encouraging me to exercise.” That was the last thing she needed. It wouldn’t take long for him to figure out what her problem was.

“I’m sure you’ve become quite disciplined over the years to achieve what you have, but it doesn’t hurt to let a friend in.”

She ignored the last part of his sentence and said, “Yes, I’m very disciplined. I had to be to get where I was.”

“Was? Aren’t you going back?”

“Dance will always come first in my life.” Which was true, but now only as an observer. Averting her head, she moved toward the couch, needing to get off her feet. Her leg ached, although usually each day was slightly better than the one before. “Would you like some tea?”

“You still don’t drink coffee?” Nate fit his long length into the chair across from the couch.

She shook her head and made a face. “It tastes nasty, and I still don’t understand why you drink it.”

“It’s an acquired taste.”

“One I’ll never have.” The bantering melted some of the tension gripping Kathleen.

“I’ll pass on the tea.”

She relaxed against the cushion, hoping they were off the subject of her accident. “Are you out here because an animal is sick? Cinnamon?”

“No. I’m heading to the ranch next to yours, but if you want, I can stop by the barn and see how Cinnamon is doing.”

“I’m sure my brother or Bud would call you if there’s a problem.”

Silence reigned for half a minute while Nate glanced around the cabin. Kathleen frantically searched her mind for something to talk about other than her injury. She wasn’t ready to tell anyone about the extent of the damage. She didn’t know if she ever would be able to. She was still trying to figure out how to deal with her accident, and it occurred four months ago.

“Why did you decide to settle here?” Nate had come to Cimarron City at the age of fourteen, but before that he’d lived in Alabama—and his parents had returned there several years prior. “I’d thought since you chose to go to Auburn you’d live in that area.”

“Dr. Harris gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Besides, I’ve always loved it here.” He shifted his warm, gray eyes back to her. “I made a lot of friends, and since returning, I’ve had the opportunity to renew my friendships with many of them.”

Whereas she’d largely cut her ties with her friends in Cimarron City. When she had visited at the holidays, she’d only had time for family. She’d thought she had all she needed in New York, but she wondered if she’d really been alone in a crowd of many. She certainly felt that way now. Her friends in New York had the life she wanted and would never have again. It was hard to stand on the outside looking in.

“I’m involved with the youth at church,” Nate said when the silence returned. “There are some future ranchers in the group, and we’ve done some fun activities. Howard has allowed me to use his place for several field trips. We’re thinking about having a fund-raiser the third weekend in June at the Soaring S. I could always use your help in the planning. They’re raising money for a mission trip to Honduras in August.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be here at that time.” She didn’t know what she was going to do from one day to the next, let alone over a month away. Before she’d always had a very structured life with everything revolving around ballet. Now she felt as though she were floating aimlessly in outer space with nothing to hold her in place. Even the Lord had abandoned her. All her prayers had fallen on deaf ears.

“That’s all right. I can use any help you can give me. I’m desperate. This is the first mission trip I’ve organized, and I’m feeling a little in over my head.” He cocked a grin. “Okay, a lot.”

“What made you volunteer for the job?”

“One word—Howard. He heads the youth services at the church, and he recruited me. He thought I would be perfect for the high schoolers.”

Her laughter sounded foreign to her ears. “Don’t tell my brother, but I agree with him. You will be. How long have you been helping?”

“A couple of months. I casually mentioned to Howard one day that I was thinking of becoming involved more with the church now that I’m settled. I’m warning you—be careful what you say to Howard or there is no telling what you’ll be roped into.” Merriment danced in his eyes, making them sparkle like polished silver.

“I’ve been properly warned.” The last of her tension slipped from her shoulders. This type of conversation, she could handle.

Nate placed his hands on his thighs and pushed up. “I need to leave. I’ll feel better checking on Cinnamon since I’m already here. Walk with me?”

She’d planned to see her mare this morning. Although her leg ached, she wasn’t in a lot of pain. The more she walked the faster she would become accustomed to her prosthesis. “Sure.” While he headed for the exit, she struggled to a standing position, still not completing that simple action effortlessly.

Turning toward Kit, Nate held the door open for her to exit first, then fell into step beside her. “You never answered me about helping while you’re here. It’ll give you something to do and, as I said, help a desperate man.”

“I hardly think you’re desperate. You’re one of the most organized people I know. Let me think about it. I just hate committing to too much right now.” She couldn’t totally stop herself from favoring her injured leg as she strolled toward the barn.

“The youth group is a great bunch of kids—you’ll like them.”

“I haven’t agreed yet. You haven’t changed one bit. You can still steamroll a person into doing whatever you want.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear I haven’t lost my touch. Working with teens is so rewarding.”

She shook her head, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “As I said, let me think about it more than a few minutes. I just got here and haven’t even settled in.”

“That almost sounds like you’ll be here longer than a couple of weeks. How serious is your injury?”

Kathleen gritted her teeth and regretted her comment. It was hard guarding her thoughts and words, especially with Nate, who was perceptive and knew her too well. She didn’t have to be so cautious with Howard and Beth and that gave her a sense of freedom. Peering at Nate, she paused under a large oak tree near the barn, not far from the wooden bench under it. Her teeth worried her bottom lip.

His gaze fastened onto the action, and his brow furrowed. “You’re not telling me something.”

She didn’t want to have this conversation. It had been hard enough going through the process of telling Howard and Beth. She’d done that over the phone. Not half a day later her brother had been in her hospital room, ready to whisk her back to Oklahoma. To smother her with the help and attention he thought she needed. The problem was she didn’t know what she needed. She’d begged God to show what to do with her life since being a ballerina was no longer an option. She’d had no real choice about keeping her leg, and at the moment she didn’t feel she had many choices for her future.

“Your silence doesn’t bode well, Kit. Can you continue your career?”

Her throat closed. Emotions she’d tried to keep at bay since she’d returned home surged through her. She now realized leaving New York City had been her first move away from her dream of dancing as a prima ballerina. She’d been so close to reaching the top.

“Now you really have me worried.”

She swung her full attention toward Nate. “I didn’t ask you to worry about me.” I do enough of that on my own.

“What’s wrong with your leg? You’re limping. Will physical therapy help?”

“No...” The words to tell him rose in her, but a knot in her throat kept them inside.

“Have you thought about aqua therapy? I’ve done some with race horses, and it has been successful.”

“It won’t make a difference because...” She sucked in a stabilizing breath. “I lost my left leg from the knee down.” The last part of the sentence came out in a bare whisper.

But Nate heard.

His eyes grew round, and the color drained from his face. “Why didn’t you say something yesterday?” He cleared his throat. “I mean I went on and on about your dancing. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have said—”

“Stop right there. I’m not a porcelain china doll that you have to be extra careful with. I don’t want your pity.”

“And you won’t get it.” A steel thread strengthened each word. “I know you. If anyone can overcome something like this it’s you. I don’t pity you, but you can’t stop me from caring and being concerned.” Again that soft tone entered his voice.

She backed away until she gently bumped against the wooden bench. He closed the distance between them, trapping her. His gaze searched her features, penetratingly intense. She looked away and caught her brother standing in the entrance to the barn, watching them.

A band constricted about her chest as if Nate had roped her. Tears pricked her eyes. “I think you should check on Cinnamon. I’ll see her later.”

Please, Lord, help me get back to the cabin without crying. I don’t want Nate or my brother to see me have a meltdown. Please. Please give me this.

“Kit, you aren’t alone.”

Yes, I am. I’m the one who has to live with this. She squeezed past Nate and hobbled as fast as she could toward the cabin, her limp more evident the quicker her pace.

When she reached the safety of her temporary home, she sank onto the nearest chair, and the tears she’d thought she’d conquered swamped her, running down her cheeks.

She didn’t know who she was anymore.

* * *

A stabbing ache pierced Nate as he watched Kit limp away, but he steeled himself. She’d broken his heart years ago, and he was determined she wouldn’t again. But he didn’t want to see her like she was—he grappled with the word to describe it. Hurting, yes, but it was much more than that.

Defeated.

He’d never seen Kit give up. But they hadn’t seen each other in over eight years. He didn’t really know her anymore. He’d changed. Grown up. Become more focused on what he wanted. More anchored in his faith. Kit used to be a firm believer. Was she still? She would need the Lord to help her through the adjustments to a new life.

“Give her time,” Howard said behind Nate.

He pivoted toward Kit’s brother. “Who else knows?”

“Beth and our pastor. The kids don’t even know. Kit hasn’t accepted it yet. She tells me she has, but she hasn’t.”

“What can I do?”

“Like I said, give her time. She’ll get there eventually.”

“Will she be here that long?”

Howard stared past Nate toward the cabin where Kit was and shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think she does, either. But this is the best place for her.”

“She’ll figure that out.” Nate prayed she would. He still cared about her as a friend. “I’m trying to get her to help me with the fund-raiser for the mission trip. Put in a good word for me.” Nate began walking toward the barn. “I’ll check on Cinnamon and be on my way. But I’m coming back. Kit may not think she needs anyone, but she does.”

Howard followed him. “Why are you doing this? You were willing to compromise years ago. She’s the one who decided to cut all ties when she moved to New York.”

Howard’s question stopped Nate in his tracks. He glanced back at his friend. “I didn’t want to leave college to follow her around the country, but I was willing to continue a long-distance relationship. She wasn’t, and she was right. It wouldn’t have worked in the long run.”

“Because her focus was on her career.”

“Marriage is hard. If both aren’t committed, it won’t work.” I don’t want to come in second in my wife’s life.

“You can say that again. Beth and I realized that real quickly in our marriage.” Howard started for his house where his office was. “You’re welcome here any time, Nate. You’ve got a standing invitation to dinner.”

“Thanks, but I actually enjoy cooking at the end of the day. It relaxes me.”

“Don’t tell Beth. She’ll expect me to start helping in the kitchen. That wouldn’t be a pretty picture.”

Howard’s chuckles filled the warm air as he walked away. At the entrance into the barn, Nate peered toward the cabin. The urge to go see how Kit was doing nipped at his good senses, but he refrained. He knew her well enough to realize he had to let her get used to the idea that he was privy to the extent of her injuries.

* * *

“Emma, you have a way with animals. What I call a special touch,” Nate said to his assistant at the animal hospital, then finished entering notes in a computer file for his last patient, a Great Dane, similar in coloring to his own white-and-black one.

“Dogs are my specialty. Now give me a cat and I’m often at a loss as to why they do the things they do.”

Nate laughed. “That’s because they have an independent streak with a touch of stubbornness. It’s usually their way or no way.”

“I do have to admit I’ve trained a few dogs like that. Some I’ve given up on. Not all of them can be a service or therapy dog.”

He leaned against the counter in the examination room. “I’ve been thinking about talking to you or Abbey about Caring Canines,” he said, referring to the organization that Dr. Harris’s daughter, Abbey, had started last year to help supply service and therapy dogs for people who needed them, regardless of their ability to pay. “I have a friend I think who could benefit from a therapy dog.”

“What’s the problem with your friend?” Emma asked, her long blond hair pulled back in her usual ponytail.

“This isn’t common knowledge and must remain between you and me.”

“Always. When I train a dog for a person or someone comes to get one, what information they tell me remains private.”

“She lost her leg from the knee down in a car accident and is having a hard time coping.”

“No doubt. That can be quite an adjustment. Abbey is working with some veterans who have lost limbs. We’ve even matched up the ones who want a therapy dog. Nothing beats an animal attuned to your moods, especially when you’re depressed. Is she having any nightmares about the accident? Sometimes people will relive the moment their life changed over and over when they sleep. Their subconscious at work.”

“I don’t know.” And he didn’t feel he was in a place to ask her—at least not at the moment. For the past two days since Kit had told him, he’d wrestled with what to do about the information, but he knew he had to help her.

“Does your friend have a preference on the breed of dog? Will she talk to me?”

“I’m not even sure if she’ll accept a therapy dog, but I have to try. She used to have a black poodle as a kid. Missy went everywhere with her.” He could still remember the day Missy died and how hard Kit took it. He’d hurt almost as much as Kit, watching her deal with her grief. When she cared about something, she did deeply.

Then why couldn’t she have cared enough about me? That question came unbidden into his mind, warning him to be cautious with Kit.

“There’s a white, medium-size poodle at Caring Canines I’ve been working with. I could escalate her training, and she could be available by next week.”

“Great. In the meantime I’ll talk with Kit about it.” He’d have to think carefully about how to approach her so she didn’t get her defenses up and refuse. “What’s the dog’s name?”

“Lexie.”

“Okay, then, I’ll visit her and see what she says.”

“If she doesn’t want a poodle, bring her out to Caring Canines. We have several other therapy dogs ready right now.”

The receptionist peeped around the door frame. “Your next patient is here.”

“Thanks, Caroline. I guess we’d better get back to work,” Nate said as Emma made her way into the hallway to bring the next animal back to the examination room.

As Emma led in the next patient, a pet pig, Nate decided to call Howard and invite himself to dinner one evening soon.

* * *

Kathleen struggled but managed to secure the saddle on Cinnamon, put the reins over her mare’s head and rest the leather straps across her withers. After Kathleen let down the stirrups, she looked to see if anyone else was around the back of the barn where she would mount her horse. Howard had worked with Cinnamon to get her accustomed to being mounted on the right, but this was the first time that Kathleen had ridden her.

Since arriving at the ranch five days before, she’d kept to her cabin. But her brother had come to see her earlier this afternoon and told her about what he’d been doing the past few days since Cinnamon was better. He’d all but challenged her to go for a ride. She’d wanted to but always seemed to come up with a reason not to, even after Cinnamon was over the colic.

What if she couldn’t ride with her prosthetic leg? She didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of others. Holding Cinnamon in place in front of her, she stepped up on the mounting block that Howard had adapted with a railing. With a mental count to three, she put her right foot in the stirrup then swung her leg with the prosthesis over the back of her mare and successfully sat on top of her horse. She punched her fist into the air, joy spreading through her.

But when she started out in a walk, her left leg slipped out of the stirrup. Frustrated, she stopped Cinnamon and slid it back into place. She didn’t go far from the barn in case there was a problem. Her foot came out a couple of more times until finally she left it out. Her balance was a little off, but she managed to walk Cinnamon around the pasture. Even for a brief moment, she relished the fresh air with the scent of newly mowed grass peppering the light breeze.

When Kathleen glimpsed a red truck drive up the lane—Nate’s—she thought about heading for the rolling hills to the east of the house but knew she couldn’t avoid him. She made her way back to the barn at a fast walk, her left leg bouncing around more than she liked, which only increased Cinnamon’s gait. She hung on and concentrated on keeping her balance. She wanted to dismount before Nate caught sight of her.

What are you afraid of? He knows. Do you really think you can keep it a secret from everyone for long? That inner voice that had been nibbling away at her resolve to hide from others kept chipping away at her. What was she going to do, not just for the rest of her life, but right now, the next few weeks? Sit around doing nothing? Maybe ride once a day? Would that be enough?

Kathleen made it to the mounting block as Nate strolled out of the back of the barn and paused near the entrance—watching her.

“Go away,” she said, her grip on the reins tight. Cinnamon tossed her head, and Kathleen loosened her hold.

“I came to see you.”

“I’m busy.”

“I can wait.” He folded his arms across his chest, the brim of his cowboy hat hiding his expression partially.

She drilled her gaze into his, trying to force him to leave. This would be the first time she dismounted with her prosthetic leg. What if she stumbled, fell? She swallowed over and over. “Please.”

He strode to her and patted Cinnamon while he looked up at her. “It’s okay to need help.”

“I need to do this by myself, and I don’t want an audience.”

“Okay.” He pushed his hat off his forehead, revealing his smoky-gray eyes, soft with concern deep in their depths. “I’ll be in the barn. Howard is meeting me down here.”

“Thanks.” She waited until he’d disappeared inside before slipping her right foot out of the stirrup and planting it on the block, and then she swung her left leg over Cinnamon. The past half an hour had drained her energy, and her thigh muscles burned. She sank down onto the piece of wood, holding Cinnamon’s reins while she gathered her strength to finish taking care of her mare.

Kit led Cinnamon toward the barn to remove the saddle nearer where it was stored. She heard murmurs as she approached the back entrance.

“Give it a try. It might work,” Howard said to Nate as she entered.

“Try what?” Kathleen asked, stopping at the saddle rack.

Her brother shot Nate a look as though to say, You tell her.

Nate cleared his cough. “I have a gift for you.”