Indelible (21 page)

“Did you really win a gold medal?” the little girl asked.

“He won three. It was super-G, Dad.” The taller of the two boys knew his stuff. “I’m Jason. I want to climb, but I’d rather you taught me to ski.”

“Oh, Jase. Mr. MacDaniel might not ski anymore.” His mom gave an apologetic shrug. She’d obviously witnessed his catastrophic crash.

“I do. Not like before, but I’ll do some ski patrol when the new runs open.”

“Are you teaching?” Doug’s eyes lit.

“No.”

“Would you? If the price was right?”

Yeah, he’d pegged this guy. “Sorry.” He’d been asked, the Kicking Horse CEO all but begging to have him as their pro, but that wasn’t happening, and no rich guy oozing charm would change that.

“I’m Kayla.” The little girl beamed. “I want to ski too.”

“I want to climb.” The middle kid, on his own drumbeat.

“Scotty’s been climbing everything since he first pulled up in his crib.”

Trevor grinned. “Well, maybe we can give you some technique.”

Finished with them, he went into the office to get their lessons on the schedule. He leafed through the mail and scowled. Another envelope addressed to him.

“Hey, Whit.” He called him into the office. “When did this come?”

Whit’s face fell. “Must be today’s mail. And that reminds me of something else.” He went over and fished around on his desk, picked up a pad, and held it out.

Trevor took the drawing, his chest constricting. “What is this?”

“Natalie’s reproduction of something Jaz got in the mail.”

“Jaz?”

“Sent to the magazine that ran her piece on you.”

“What’s with the wings and rays, that fiery sword?” He frowned. “And how did Nattie—”

“She was here when Jaz stormed in.”

Trevor laid the pad on his desk and stared again at the envelope.

Whit nudged him. “Open it.”

He slit it open and drew out the photographs—an infant in a tree. Nestled between the trunk and the upturned, spokelike branches of an evergreen, it was a somewhat secure perch. But the next photo, shot
upward from the ground, showed the height of the branches where the baby rested.

Whit’s hands fisted as he took in the pictures. “This has gone too far.”

The others could have all been accidental situations. This was intentional.

Showered and changed, Natalie took Trevor’s call with a much clearer head, real affection replacing giddy energy.

He said, “Sorry I got held up.”

“That’s okay.” She smiled. “I have some news.”

“Yeah?”

“They’re discharging Cody from the clinic. I just got the update from the nurse.”

“He got his prosthesis?”

“It’s still in production. But he’s going home, Trevor.”

“That’s excellent.”

Did she imagine less enthusiasm than she’d expected? “I hope things can be as normal as possible for him.”

“Having a robot arm is not normal. That’s superhero stuff.”

Warmth flushed her. “I wish you could tell him that.”

“I’d have spent time with him, if they hadn’t shut you out.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to. Hold on, I’m getting a call.” She accessed the other line. “Aaron!”

“Nattie, I have a problem.”

Her heart thumped. “What’s wrong?”

She listened in stark disbelief. “Of course. But, Aaron … are you sure?”

She went back to Trevor, hardly able to breathe. “That was my brother. Paige lost it at the thought of bringing Cody home. She can’t do it.”

“What?”

“Aaron’s bringing him to me.”

Silence.

“He’s really scared for Paige.” Trevor didn’t realize the toll it had all taken.

“Can you do that?”

“Keep Cody?”

“I mean, with everything …”

Her heart sank. “I can take care of my nephew.”

“I’m talking about the gallery, your work. Taking care of a kid is full time.”

And, in his experience, perilous. “I make my own hours. I don’t have to go in.” True for a while, anyway.

“When’s he coming?”

“Aaron’s bringing him now.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No, but I need to childproof the house and—”

“It’s fine. You focus there. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Threading her fingers into her hair, she scanned the rooms of her house for anything that might endanger a curious two—no, three-year-old. He’d had a birthday in the hospital. The time they’d spent before was the interaction of two curious minds and capable bodies. Now Cody was handicapped, and she didn’t know how this turmoil had affected his spirit. She did know the fear and confusion of things beyond her control.

Aaron hadn’t said how long, but it was a huge sign of trust that he’d ask it and an indication of his deep concern for Paige. How much of that had Cody witnessed? She clenched her jaw, hoping Aaron had the sense to shield him. What mother would not want her baby home?

But that wasn’t fair. Paige had no more control over what was happening to her than she’d had over the mountain lion. Given her own dreams, she could only imagine the trauma and guilt assailing her sister-in-law. The personal attacks and rejection could be the desperation of a mother helpless to save her own child.

Natalie baked cupcakes and checked that she had milk. A little while later, Aaron entered on one metal arm crutch. She snatched Cody from him.

“Hey, I told you no more growing. You’re too big.”

“I have to grow. Bigger and bigger.”

“Bigger than me?”

He gave a huge nod.

“Bigger than your daddy?”

Cody looked at Aaron and gave another huge nod, then collapsed in giggles. After too many hugs and kisses for his taste, she put him down to explore and turned to her brother. She had never seen him so hollow.

She hugged him hard. “I’m so sorry.”

They stood that way for long beats, then he said, “Are you really okay with this?”

“Of course. I’ll do whatever you need.”

“I’m not deserting him.”

“Not even close.”

“Paige is. I’m scared, Nat. I’m so scared she’ll hurt herself.”

“That’s your focus, of course. Will she get help?”

“Top priority. I can’t do it unless I know Cody’s …” Tears flooded his eyes.

“He’ll be fine, Aaron. I promise. And the minute you’re ready for him, he’ll be there.”

“My worst fear used to be getting traded.”

She squeezed his arms. “Take care of your wife. Don’t even think about me. Whatever she needs to get healthy, that’s what we all want.”

He gave her a grim smile. “Have you heard from Mom and Dad?”

“They tried to get through the other night, but we couldn’t hold a signal. Service is iffy up here and abysmal down there.”

“I’ve talked to them once. They know what’s happening.”

“They’ll be praying.”

He nodded, a little of the tightness leaving his mouth. “I’m throwing you a curve.”

“You’ve never thrown anything I can’t hit. That’s why you’re not a pitcher.”

He laughed. “I love you, Nat.”

“I love you too.” Tears blurred her view when he kissed her, then squeezed his son, who clung to him.

“You be good for Aunt Nattie.”

Cody started to cry, and it broke her heart.

“As soon as Mommy’s better, I’ll be back, okay?”

“Get her better now.”

“As soon as I can, buddy. I love you.” They hugged again. Her brother sent his anguished thanks over his son’s head, then handed him over and left.

She spent what was left of the evening reminding herself of Cody’s favorite things. Tomorrow she would get him a bed, but tonight, she tucked him in against her and held him until he cried himself to sleep. When she woke in the middle of the night to urine-soaked sheets, she stripped everything, then finished the night with his weight on her chest in the reclining chair by the fireplace.

Cody had been potty trained by twenty-one months and out of nighttime Pull-Ups at two and a half, but he’d been diapered in the hospital, and shock and stress could cause relapse. It had for her when things fell apart in her tiny mind.

She dressed him from the designer things in the suitcase Paige had packed for him when they had come to help her move in. He’d been dressing himself pretty well, but struggled with only one arm. The overlapping skin at the other shoulder filled her with sorrow, and not knowing whether it was still painful, she avoided touching the wound, then stopped herself and asked, “Does this hurt, Cody?”

“When I bump it.”

“I’ll be very careful.” She ran her fingers over the red, puffy skin, touching him, studying the broken part, every detail filling her view. Then she pulled his shirt on over his head, drawing one small arm through one sleeve while the other sleeve hung limply down his side.

“Come here, you.”

He climbed into her lap. She settled him in the nest made by her crossed legs and pulled on a pair of tennis shoes with zippers. A simple fix to the problem of ties. Not everything would be so simple.

The robotic arm being made specifically for him, a smaller version than they’d fashioned yet, would be a whole new challenge, but his mind was young and eager. She thanked God for the skills he’d given her brother that would pay for such a miracle. For now, she had a little
one-armed boy who missed his mommy and his daddy and needed all the hugs he could get.

“Natalie?” The call came from her front door. She’d left it unlocked after bringing in the paper, and she heard Trevor wandering through to the bedroom.

He poked his head inside. “I brought breakfast croissants.”

“Don’t try denying you’re an angel,” she said, and that reminded her of Jaz’s mail. “Trevor, did Whit—”

“He showed me.” His glance said they’d discuss it later. “Hey, Cody.” Trevor folded his impressive height into a crouch for the child. “How’s it going?”

Cody pressed his head into the hollow beneath her chin and stared at the big man.

“Remember Trevor, Cody? He chased away the lion.”

That registered in the little one’s eyes, but he said nothing.

Trevor wiggled one little shoe. “Your auntie’s hungry. Should we show her what I brought?”

Cody nodded.

She helped him up from her lap. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“The outdoor season’s winding down. Today’s forecast is for snow.”

“Down here?”

“We’re still eighty-one hundred feet.”

“Right.” They’d had snow higher up, but only a few flurries in town. Soon the Kicking Horse ski resort would open and bring a fresh flood of wealthy visitors. Good for the gallery, she hoped. Cody tugged her hand, and she said, “Okay, I’m coming.”

Trevor raised her the rest of the way, then up to her toes for a hug, nuzzling beneath her ear. “Good morning.”

She reached an arm around his neck, and their mouths met. His kiss was strong and confident. She took in the line of his mouth before looking away. “I told myself this is going too fast.”

“Mmhmm.”

“That I need to catch my breath.”

“About that …”

She socked him.

“Don’t hit, Auntie Nattie.”

“Now see, you got me in trouble.”

His eyes were imps of mischief. She slipped away, realizing she was now a role model. She lifted the bag Trevor had dropped on the floor and carried it to the kitchen. “Come on, Cody. Let’s share the spoils.”

After laying it all out on a platter so Cody and Trevor could dive in, she slipped over to the desk, took a pad of paper, and drew Cody’s wound in awful detail. Turning, she saw Trevor watching, but joined them without discussion.

The croissants were buttery clouds of heaven. “How does she do this?”

“She’s a magician.” He reached over and took her hand. “Okay?”

Nodding, she made a mental note to bring clay home.

“Thank you for bringing breakfast.” She repackaged the remainder and set it on the counter beside the crockery canisters she’d thrown and glazed a forest green over speckled tan. “What’s your plan for the day?”

“Do I need one?”

“I have to shop. Cody needs some things.”

He rose. “We ought to go early, before the snow.”

“You want to run errands with us?”

“I’ll drive.” He scooped Cody up with one arm.

Her breath caught, the images flooding back in a visual barrage hitting her mind like blows. Cody in the lion’s mouth, Trevor leaping over the side, wielding the rock, lifting the bleeding child. She gripped the table.