The Plan (23 page)

Callum cocked his head, his striking eyes looking at her curiously.

“At least…” Claire could feel her face reddening. “I imagine some girls have gotten lost in them…I…um…Can I ask you a question?” Claire needed to change the topic and quickly.

“Shoot.” The day was losing its light, but Claire could still see a smile on his face.

“I heard Alison and Wyatt talking about a bunch of wheelchairs and walkers being shipped to one of our upcoming events and…well, how many could you possibly need?”

Callum let out a loud, hearty laugh. Claire could feel the blush rising up her cheeks again.

“They're not all for me. Boy, you really took a leap of faith, didn't you? I would've thought you'd know a little bit more about our mission before signing up.”

“There wasn't much time to do a whole lot of research.”

“Apparently not. Yes, a big part of what we do is travel the world to speak to large crowds. But the part that excites me the most is the equipment we're able to provide to disabled people all over the world. When we go to impoverished places, we bring wheelchairs, canes and walkers. You have no idea the freedom mobility can add to someone's life. Not being able to walk or get off your bed and then, suddenly, having a chair that will take you anywhere? It's life-changing.”

“That's incredible.”

“In a lot of Third World countries, people have never even seen a wheelchair.”

“You're kidding.”

“I'm not,” Callum said.

“You're a very giving person, Callum Fitzgerald.”

“To whom much is given, much is expected.”

As she listened, Claire tossed the pebble she'd been playing with into the lake.

Four.

“You really believe that, don't you?” she asked.

“Don't you?” Callum asked her with such intensity, she was worried she might actually give a wrong answer.

“Well, sure. But, what I mean is, you really seem to feel like you've been given a lot, despite…” She motioned at him and his chair with her hand. “Everything.”

“Despite my only limb being an arm, you mean?”

Claire hesitated, fearing she was offending him, but wanting to be truthful. She nodded.

“You wait, Claire,” he said. “Just wait until we go to India or some African countries and you'll see I have been given a lot. I have immense fortune. Maybe not the monetary type, and certainly not the physical kind, but the blessings I've received are enormous compared to the suffering that's out there.”

She picked up another rock and tossed it.

Three.
Damn.

“Are you not going to let me try?”

“Try what?” Claire looked up at him, startled.

“Tossing pebbles. You're sitting here, having all the fun while we're talking and not once have you offered me my own pebble.”

“Oh! I'm sorry.” She reached behind her and grabbed a handful of gravel. She put her hand out to Callum, who dug through it for a bit and then selected his stone.

“Now, Claire, watch carefully as I show you how it's done.”

Callum swung his arm to the side and then, with one easy motion, tossed the pebble into the pond.

Seven. He'd gotten
seven.

“Well, now I'm embarrassed.”

“As you should be,” Callum said, chuckling. “You might be able to outrun me, but very few people can out-skip my pebbles on a lake.”

“The world record is eighty-eight skips.”

“Is it?” Callum looked surprised at her knowledge.

“Yep. It was set in Pennsylvania.”

“You have to wonder at the amount of free-time that man must have had to get that good at skipping pebbles.”

“We all have our gifts.”

“That we do.” Callum smiled. “And, it seems yours might be random facts.”

Claire laughed. “Can I ask you another question?”

“You just did.”

Claire smiled and took his teasing as an invitation to proceed. “What's Mitch's job?”

“He's my caregiver.”

“Your what? Don't caregivers work on estates with gardens that need to be weeded?”

“First of all, m'lass,” Callum said slowly, his Irish brogue getting thicker, as he intentionally spoke to her like a small child. “That's caretaker, not caregiver.”

Claire blushed again. Of course. She knew that.

“And, I am much more work than
any
estate. He assists me in my everyday tasks, the ones most bucks take for granted. You know, dressing, showering, cooking.”

Claire stared at him, a look of confusion on her face.

“Have I lost you?”

“By bucks, you don't mean deer, do you?”

A loud “ha” escaped his lips.

“A buck, in Ireland, is a boy. A man.” Callum smiled.

“Gotcha.” Her eyes twinkled to indicate she'd been teasing him.
She hadn't known the term, but hadn't needed it clarified, either. “I have to say,” Claire continued. “I didn't realize you needed that much help. I mean, of course, you would. But…well…you seem so self-sufficient.”

She felt a little uncomfortable and was suddenly wishing she hadn't brought up the topic. She'd been curious. After all, who
wouldn't
be curious? She'd never met anyone with no legs and one arm before. In fact, before Callum, she'd never really even heard of anyone like that.

She found Callum so fascinating. Claire had this great curiosity and wanted to figure him out. Everything about him seemed so foreign, and not just his accent. His disability. His limitations. The way he overcame them. His outlook on life.

Even his chair. Claire had seen many a wheelchair in her life, both in person or on television, but she'd never seen one like this. It was black and electric, with four small wheels, instead of the traditional two larger ones in back. And, instead of having handles where someone might push him, there was a large black box. On that box was a lift which could lift his seat up and down. The first time Callum had hit the control and he'd risen up, not quite to her eye level, but to a considerably higher height than a typical chair, she'd jumped back.

“Weren't expecting that, huh, love?” he'd said with a laugh and a wink.

No, she certainly hadn't been expecting that.

“I am self-sufficient.” Callum's voice took Claire by surprise. She'd been lost in thought, once again staring at his chair and wondering how it worked. She hoped he hadn't thought she was gawking at him. “In fact, it would probably be more politically correct to call Mitch my assistant. Though, I did enjoy your reaction to the word
caregiver.
” Claire could see his grin. “Don't get me wrong, Claire, I'm perfectly capable of living on my own. In fact, when we're back in
Atlanta, I do. I have my own house and live all by my lonesome. But when you're working with less than half your parts, all those daily activities take up a lot of energy. And, though I hate to admit it, traveling is full of challenges for someone like me. I have a routine and a system at home. On the road, I never know what roadblocks I'm going to encounter, hour by hour. I've learned my strength is better spent preparing my speeches and meeting with people who come to hear me. You get the idea.”

Claire nodded. It all made sense. If she were to lose most of her limbs, she'd need more than one guy named Mitch to help her out. She'd need a full-time staff.

“It's not ideal,” Callum continued. “I'd love to be able to travel and not worry about all the logistics. But, that's not my reality. Thus, it's more convenient to have someone help me out.”

Claire nodded.

“Listen,” Callum said, “it's getting late and I know we both have a full day ahead of us tomorrow. But I also felt like we spent a whole lot of time tonight, talking about me. I'd like to get to know
you
better.”

“I'm sure there's plenty of time for that. No rush.”

“Well, that's where you and I disagree, Ms. Matthews. I would like to rush it along a bit, if you don't mind. The Irish are not known for their patience.” He winked at her.

“Oh, by the way, I appreciated your wink today. I meant to tell you that.”

“Ah, did you? That's wonderful. Did you feel the magic?” He grinned at her, and even with only the moon to light the lake, Claire could tell his eyes were sparkling with mischief.

“I felt something ,” Claire said. “But I think it was the hotdog I ate for lunch.”

Callum laughed again. Claire liked his laugh. It made her smile, even if she didn't always let her lips show it.

“As I was saying, I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me tomorrow night. I know we'll both be tired after tomorrow's seminar, but we'll be done by mid-afternoon. I thought dinner after that might be nice.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes. You know, that meal you eat a few hours after lunch?”

“Just you and me?”

“Yep.”

“Um.” Claire didn't know what to say. She suddenly felt very awkward sitting here with Callum. They'd been having such an enjoyable time talking this evening. For the first time, in years, she'd actually gotten lost in the moment. She hadn't forgotten her family or the sadness of the past couple of years, but she'd felt like Claire again. The Claire who used to feel a good conversation was one of the greatest joys in life.

But he'd asked her to dinner. Alone. It was one thing to sit outside at night, talking to her boss, while the rest of the team was twenty-feet away, but…
Dinner. Alone.
She couldn't get her mind past those two words.

“Did that sound like I was asking you on a date?”

Claire felt her face blush for what must be the twentieth time that night.

“Oh…no…I…” Now she was completely mortified. She must be coming across as pathetic and desperate to him.

“Well, then, I must not have asked correctly.”

“Oh.” Claire was speechless. Now she really didn't know what to say.

“So?” Callum looked at her, expectantly.

“So…what?” Claire asked.

“You're leaving me hanging here, love, and I don't have very good balance. Should I take your non-answer to be a no?”

“No…it's just…I don't…”

“Eat? Now, I know that's not true because I've seen you. Just this evening, in fact.”

“No, I mean…I don't…date.”

“Well, then, I guess it's time we changed that. We can come back, rest and change and then how about I pick you up, at your room, around six o'clock? Does that work?”

“Um…I guess. Okay.”

“Great, then. It's a date!” Callum pulled the joystick on his armrest, backing his chair up. Claire stood from the log and wiped any attached bark pieces off her bottom. “I've enjoyed spending time with you this evening, Ms. Matthews.”

“Me, too,” Claire said, her voice barely above a whisper. Ten minutes ago, she'd been laughing and playfully teasing Callum and now, she felt so nervous around him, she was bordering on embarrassed.

“Ready to head back?”

She nodded and followed him up the path.

Just as they reached the porch, Claire heard Mitch call out, “Hey, Callum. You want to make sure all your stuff is laid out for tomorrow?”

“You bet,” he said. “Night, Claire. I'll see you in the morning.”

Claire nodded and hurried off in the direction of her room, thankful Mitch had appeared when he did.

She had a date for tomorrow night.
A date.

How had this happened? How had she
let
this happen? Her first date since becoming a widow. And it was with her boss.

She wanted to slap herself for getting into such a situation.

She wasn't ready to date. She had no desire for any of that. She was here to sing. To see the world. To make new friends.

Not to meet a man.

Yet, she had.

And, to her surprise, she didn't feel nearly as nervous or uncomfortable, or
guilty
about it as she'd thought she would.

Claire spent most of the night looking at Callum.

Not the actual man. He'd left her to head back to his room and she'd made her way back to her own.

Instead, Claire stared at his photo. She'd found a number of them on the Internet when she'd Googled his name. Some of them were from his own website, but many were snapshots people had taken when they'd met him after an event, and then posted online.

Claire knew it was silly, but she felt the need to fixate on his image, very carefully, for hours before their date. Many women would want to look at a photo or two of the guy they were about to go out with. That was only normal. But Claire's reasoning was anything but normal.

She was staring at his photo, at his body, from every angle, so she didn't embarrass herself by doing it tomorrow night.

Claire hated herself. She felt small and petty and superficial. Callum was a handsome man. His upper body was fit and trim. His face looked like it belonged on a billboard in Times Square. When they were together, she had a difficult time tearing herself away from his piercing eyes.

But that was part of the problem. She'd been spending so much time lost in those baby blues, she hadn't really spent much time looking elsewhere. And she knew she'd have to. In fact, she'd want to, if for no other reason than morbid curiosity. She just didn't want him catching her doing it.

Callum's physique was so odd. That was the only word she could come up with while she scrolled through the photos on her laptop screen. From the shoulders up, he was, perhaps, the most stunning man she'd ever seen. His blue eyes contrasted spectacularly with his jet-black hair. He had a dimple on his right cheek that popped out with delightful regularity. Callum smiled a lot and it was downright impossible for Claire not to smile back.