Small-Town Dreams (31 page)

“Is it my breath or do I need a shower?” Jim Dillon asked with a crooked grin.

Jeff chuckled. “I’d say it was more your profession. Cole has a real mad on about God. He has since his mother was killed. He blames Him and his father for her death, but I really think he blames himself more.”

“Ah. The prodigal son. I’d forgotten about him. Meg’s been praying for him for years. I’m sorry if my arrival chased him off. Do you still need to talk or was Cole’s parting advice enough help? It sounded right on the mark to me.”

Jeff raked his hair off his forehead again. “I can’t take his advice. It’s more than my not wanting to burden Hope with half a man.”

“What exactly is the extent of your injury? Are you saying you couldn’t be a real husband to her?”

Jeff thought of the effect her nearness had on him. “No. That’s not the problem. I just can’t continue to be a burden on her. I may never be whole. Never be someone she can lean on.”

“People have all different strengths and we all need different things from others.”

“There are other problems. Her father, to be exact. The man can’t stand the sight of me.”

Jim frowned. “Is it your disability or her living on your estate that’s causing the problem?”

Jeff sighed. “Neither, really. In defense of the man, he didn’t want me near Hope before I got hurt. I don’t even know if the chair has made it worse or not. He was here on Thursday. I heard the doorbell and by the time I got to the living room they were deep in conversation. At first I didn’t want to intrude. Then, before I knew it, I was the subject of heated words between them. The wheels sometimes squeak on the marble so I was trapped in the hall, listening.”

Jim shook his head, a rueful expression on his face. “They say you never overhear good about yourself.”

“True. He called me selfish and worthless. Selfish I’ll own up to, or Hope wouldn’t still be here.”

“We talked about Hope’s guilt and her need to work through it being one of her reasons for wanting to be here helping you, Jeff.”

Jeff didn’t know whether he wanted that to be the only reason she was there so she wouldn’t be hurt if a deeper relationship between them became impossible, or if he wanted her to love him too much to leave.

“Jim, what you may not realize is how much I needed her when she came here. I’m not going to kid you. I was seriously contemplating suicide. That’s when Hope forced her way in here and saved my life.”

He couldn’t fight the sudden helpless grin memories of her throwing his things out his window brought to his face. “I think she was determined to either shape me up or kill me.”

Jim looked around at the exercise equipment. “Well, you aren’t dead yet, and she seems to have inspired you to take on life again.”

Jeff stared at the floor, and his seesaw emotions plummeted. “But am I still worthless? For a lot of my life my father told me exactly that. Hope’s tried to disabuse me of the notion but it’s always in the back of my mind. What good am I like this?”

“God doesn’t make junk, Jeff.”

“So Hope claims.”

“Well, here’s another truism. People don’t get tossed on the scrap heap when they get broken. If Hope’s father wants to relegate you to one, you can’t let him. You have a lot of things to offer. There are things you can’t do. Sure. But there are just as many things you could share with Hope. You can probably even ride again with a special saddle and a horse trained to obey a different set of commands if those are necessary. Besides which, Curt says you’re getting better. Who’s to say you won’t be running rings around her father in a year?”

“He’d still hate me,” Jeff replied.

“Let me ask you something. Were you going to let his feelings stop you before the accident?”

Jeff thought back to the night of the Valentine’s Day dance and Cole standing behind him on the edge of the dance floor urging him to make up his mind whether he was going to let Ross stop him or not.

“No, I wasn’t. But I had more things in the plus column then. Here’s a question for
you.
The night I realized I had feelings for Hope, did God know this would happen to me?”

Jim didn’t blink. “The Bible says He did. I don’t know why He chose not to stop it but I’m sure He could have. That’s something between you and Him. And quite frankly that’s the only thing I see standing between you and Hope. It’s not the weakness of your legs that’ll make you less than Hope needs, but the weakness of your faith—of your spirit. That’s the strength she’ll need you to have. You fell apart when this happened to you. And that’s because you had nothing to grab hold of when your body failed you.”

“It was better when I wasn’t sure He even existed. Hope says God never fails us, but it feels like He failed me.”

Jim pursed his lips and nodded. “Right now I bet it does. I can
tell
you He didn’t. But that’s something you need to believe for yourself. That He didn’t is something He has to
show
you. And He will if you give Him a chance. Think about it.”

Jeff promised himself he would think about it later, and they got on the subject of the kitchenette. Then he helped Jim measure the area they decided would make a nice-size kitchenette, and they settled on a counter height that would work for someone in a wheelchair. Jim promised to bring drawings back with a variety of wheelchair-accessible configurations within a week. Jeff had only one stipulation. Nothing colored white unless it couldn’t be avoided.

After Jim left, Jeff thought about all they had talked about but he couldn’t understand what kind of chance God could possibly need from him. If God could create the world, it seemed to Jeff that He could just wave His hand and fix it all. He should be able to perform a miracle and wipe the last two and a half months off the face of time. But then he remembered a conversation he’d had with Hope about blaming God for the world’s ills, and that pesky free will thing got in the way of his theory.

Logic told him it was all double-talk, but his heart—his heart told him the answers lay in the pages of the book Jim had silently left behind on the massage table. And that book was a Bible.

H
ope heard the wonderful sound of Jeff’s laughter mingled with that of several other men a couple of weeks after Cole dropped Mischief off. She followed the sounds of male camaraderie and good humor down the first floor hall to the exercise room and found Jim, Curt and, surprisingly, Cole with Jeff. They were gathered around some drawings and a catalogue.

Jim had done a preliminary set of drawings and had given them to Jeff at church on the Sunday after he’d been over to look at the room. He’d asked Jeff to think about any changes he might want, and they’d worked on them together later in the week. Jim had painted the walls a muted parchment color in preparation for the rest of the work.

“So you can put these components into cabinets and countertops?” Jeff was saying as he examined the catalogue.

“It’s a little more expensive, but I think you’ll be happier with the versatility. I wish you’d come down to the kitchen place with me in the morning.”

“You don’t need to be carting me around with you, and you’d have to drive the big clunky van or I would.”

Jim shook his head. “Bad attitude. I won’t be carting you anywhere. We’ll take my wife’s car instead of my truck or your van. You can get in and out of your chair easily enough in here. Why can’t you get into the front seat of a car as easily? Just roll up next to it and transfer in. I’ll stow the chair in the trunk. No problem. I’d really feel better if you came along to order all this.”

“I told you to get anything—as long as it isn’t white, I don’t care.”

“You can’t tell me that you don’t care,” Jim said with a sigh of exasperation in his voice. “Emily told me you worked very closely with the decorator on the kitchen and breakfast room and that most of the ideas came from you. Come on, Jeff. Ask anyone. I’m uncomfortable spending other people’s money.”

Jeff sighed. “All right. I’ll come. But don’t say I didn’t warn you how much of a production this is going to be.”

“Don’t worry. So what was this question you wanted to ask me? Something about the Gospel of John?”

Hope tiptoed away from the door, not wanting to intrude. She’d seen the Bible Jim had left for Jeff but hadn’t been sure he was reading it. Her heart was gladdened that he apparently was. Jeff had been quiet and a bit withdrawn with her since she’d made the appointment for him with his doctor. And it hurt, but knowing he was questioning and studying helped ease the ache in her heart.

Later that night she saw a light gleaming under his door and wondered if he was all right or if he was suffering from cramped muscles again. She was reluctant to disturb Curt. When she peeked, Hope was surprised to find him sitting up, reading. She could tell from across the room that he held a Bible. About to back out rather than intrude or disturb him, Hope gasped when Jeff looked up.

“What brings you out at this hour?” he asked. He was dressed in sweat clothes, and his hair was mussed as if he’d been asleep but had awakened.

Hope shrugged. “I guess the same thing that has you up and reading. I couldn’t sleep. I was passing on my way to the kitchen and noticed your light. I thought maybe you were in pain and being too brave again.”

“Nope, chicken to the core.”

Curious about what he was reading, she nodded toward the book in his lap. “A little light reading?”

Jeff held up a notepad and grinned. “Hardly. I have a million questions for Jim tomorrow.”

“What kind of questions?”

Jeff chuckled, sounding a little mysterious. “This and that. Jim says I keep him on his toes. So far he has an answer for everything,” he confided then poked the pad with his pen, “but I’ve got him this time.”

Hope quirked her eyebrow. Jim Dillon knew the Bible inside out and backward. “You think so? He’s pretty quick,” she warned, grinning. “And speaking of quick, I understand he was here today about the kitchen plans. What did you think?”

Jeff chuckled. “I think you should have just come in and seen them when you were lurking in the hall.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt the male bonding.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Hope, are you avoiding me?”

She shrugged and bit her lip, fighting the tears that sprang too readily these days. He’d been so distant, as if he’d thrown up a wall between them. “I thought it was the other way around,” she said as she moved to sit in the chair by the bed.

Guilt flickered in his eyes. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Maybe I’m just preoccupied.”

“No. You’ve been angry about the doctor’s appointment I made for the day after tomorrow. I just want what’s best for you.”

“I know how that feels,” he said cryptically and rushed on as if he’d said too much. Unfortunately, Hope had no idea what he meant.

“I’m not angry,” he continued. “Dreading bad news but not angry. If I ever was, it was because you held a mirror up to my own monumental cowardice and it wasn’t easy to look at. Sorry I shot the messenger.”

Hope chuckled. “It’s okay. I’ll recover. In fact, I just did.” A yawn grabbed hold of her, and she covered her mouth.

“Oh, stop that,” he ordered, smothering his own expansive yawn. They looked at each other and laughed.

“I think maybe I can skip the warm milk. How about you?” she asked sleepily and yawned again. “Ready for bed?”

Any sleepiness that had been there vanished from Jeff’s gaze in a nanosecond. The look in his eyes turned suddenly hot. He looked away and snapped his Bible shut. “Go to bed, Hope,” he ordered, his voice husky and strained.

Hope stood and retreated to the peace of the homestead house. Unfortunately, her tiredness had fled and her heart pounded even as she pondered the full meaning of what she was nearly sure had been desire in Jeff’s gaze.

Did he want her or had she just put them in a compromising situation that would have caused him to react to any woman? A long time later she fell into satisfied sleep, thinking that a sister of any kind would never garner that sort of reaction in Jeff. Jeff seemed to forget she had a brother to compare him with. And this was like comparing apples and oranges.

Two days later Hope pulled up in front of the medical building and glanced at Jeff. He was nervous. Silent and nervous. Wondering exactly what had him so unsettled about this trip, she turned off the engine and pivoted in her seat.

“Want to talk about it? Are you nervous about going out? I thought yesterday’s trip with Jim went fine.”

“It did, and no, I don’t want to talk about it. Why bother? It won’t change whatever they’re about to find.”

Hope was sorry she’d had to force him to do this, but she’d had no choice. She loved him. How could she live with herself if she let him destroy his chance for a normal life?

She had been truthful with herself all along. She knew that by stepping in and taking over, there was a huge chance she could destroy any feelings Jeff had begun to have for her. She no longer thought that had happened. Not after the last couple of days.

A jumpy nervous feeling was her constant companion every time she was in his presence. His gaze on her, shining with desire and tenderness, followed her constantly. But she still had to wonder how long he could withstand the anger she had felt radiating from those same stormy gray eyes all too often before they’d spoken in his room.

“I’m still sorry I had to force you into this,” she said. “It’s been hard prodding you along, Jeff. But there’s no choice for me. Could you stand by and let someone you care about hurt themselves?”

Jeff looked annoyed. “Why do you think I—”

“Why do I think you what?” Hope asked when he abruptly cut off his thought.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Forget it. Let’s just get this over with.”

Hope nodded and turned to open her door as Jeff pushed the side door open and set the lift into motion. She got out and busied herself locking the front door while trying to hide a smile. Had he been going to say, “Why do you think I tried to get you to go home?” She didn’t know for sure but she prayed that was what he’d been about to blurt out.

Jeff looked around the waiting room. It was decorated with comfortable sofas and chairs and there were paintings on the walls by a local watercolorist. A kid sat across the room, his arm in a cast. He was busy asking his mother if she thought he’d be able to pitch that season. An older woman with a walker sat reading a magazine, and a young guy with his crutches propped against the wall glanced around the room, clearly impatient to be on his way. Once Jeff would have thought all of them unfortunate to have had their lives interrupted by injury, but now he saw how lucky they were.

Hope put her hand on his shoulder as she walked around him on her way to the reception desk. Her touch startled him and dragged him from his musings. He looked into her concerned gaze. It seemed as though whatever he did hurt or worried her. He tried to smile to put her mind at ease.

When she’d come to his room the other night, he’d been surprised that she’d noticed the reserve he’d tried to hold her in ever since Cole noticed the feelings Jeff couldn’t hide. But she had noticed, and worse, she’d misinterpreted his actions and clearly had been hurt, thinking he was angry with her. So he’d dropped the wall he’d been trying to build. He couldn’t stand to hurt her.

A memory surfaced of her sitting by his bed during the small hours of the night wearing a pair of old worn hospital scrubs, her eyes suddenly wide and alert as she became aware of the way he’d been looking at her. Jeff fought a grin, remembering how she’d scurried away the moment she’d understood what was in his thoughts.

He wondered who she’d been more afraid of—herself or him. It didn’t matter. He liked that he could still make her feel the hidden danger of desire and that her attraction to him could worry her, as well.

I have to get better, Father. You have to help me. I don’t think I can stand to cut her out of my life and hurt both of us that way. I will if I have to, but seeing her hurt that way will kill me. I love her so much. Please help me walk again so I can be the man she needs.

“Jeff, are you all right?” Hope asked.

His vision cleared, and Hope’s beloved features, tight with concern, came into focus. Jeff realized he’d been praying while staring into space. Which had to mean he believed God listened to prayer and that He must touch the lives of those who call on Him. He grinned at Hope, his heart feeling light in his chest. Jim was right. There probably weren’t any atheists in foxholes.

“What are you so happy about all of a sudden?” she asked. “I thought this visit had you nervous.”

“I just realized that he can’t tell me anything worse than what I’ve believed all along. And he may have some encouraging news for me instead.”

The wait seemed like a year but was really only ten minutes. It seemed as if a whole team of doctors and technicians had something they needed from him, then finally, an hour later, he sat in Dr. Chin’s office waiting for the verdict. And verdict really wasn’t too strong a word, because whatever the doctor said would affect the rest of Jeff’s life. He wished Hope were there, but she hadn’t wanted to intrude, saying she’d done enough of that already. He no longer felt that way but she did so he didn’t push her. He wished he had.

The doctor walked into the bright office and sat behind his chart-strewn desk. After polite greetings he got right down to business. “I was surprised when I saw your name on the patient list today. I thought you’d given up on me.”

“No, I’d given up on me,” Jeff replied honestly. “I’m not going to kid you, I really need good news.”

“Then I hope I can give it. The prognosis is still about the same.”

Jeff felt his heart stutter in his chest then fall still. But wait—he’d said he hoped he would be giving good news. That made no sense, and Jeff said so.

Doctor Chin smiled. “I wondered if you’d even heard me when you were in the hospital. Now I know you didn’t. I told you improvement could be slow but as long as there was improvement and as long as you don’t plateau at any stage for too long, there’s every chance for you to regain full use of your legs.”

“It didn’t sound like that.”

“No. I don’t imagine to a young vital man at the top of his sport that it would have sounded encouraging, but that’s what I said and it was meant to be encouraging.”

“I felt as if I wasn’t getting better when I was released.”

“That’s because nowadays hospitals are to save lives. Often people go home to mend and do it much faster away from the hospital environment. The rehab we recommended would have been such a place. I have to agree that though, when I look at your progress at home with a private therapist, yours was a better course of action. So now for further encouragement. Thus far you haven’t stopped progression. The muscles in your legs are strong. The swelling in the spinal cord is slowly reducing. I would have liked it if it had gone down sooner as it does in others, but it was pretty bad and every individual is different. You have much better sensitivity and reflexes in your legs and feet, as well. The gluteus muscles are responding, as Curt Madden mentioned in his report. You just need to keep going with your therapy. Try not to get discouraged. Curt wants to have you fitted for braces to get you up using parallel bars, and now that I’ve seen your progress, I agree that it’s nearly time. Keep your eye on the prize, Jeff, the way you must have with the gold medal, and you’ll win this battle.”