The Plan (27 page)

“You're not kidding?” Claire asked, as she watched Mitch lift Callum into the driver's seat.

“Nope. Not one bit.” A grin spread across his face. “Feel free to drive with Wyatt in the truck if you'd prefer. Though, I should warn you,
you'll have to listen to Merle Haggard and Willie Nelson for the next four hours until we stop.”

“I like Willie,” Claire admitted.

“You won't once you've heard Wyatt sing along for hours on end.”

“But…” Claire looked around the group. The others seemed nonplussed at the idea of Callum behind the wheel.

“How can you drive a vehicle when you're missing…?” She gestured at his body, embarrassed to have to do so. She didn't want to seem insensitive, but she'd lost her family in a car accident.

“Some bits and pieces? Well, to risk sounding rude, I just can.”

“Here you go,” Mitch said, handing Callum his prosthetic right leg. “Sorry. I'd already packed it.”

“I hate when that happens,” Frank said, coming up behind Alison. “You want shotgun, Claire?”

“Um, none of you seem worried about this.” Claire's eyes bounced from one team member to the other.

“Worried about Callum driving? He's okay. A little too slow, in my opinion. Wyatt will have drunk all the beer in the hotel bar by the time we get there, but Callum will definitely get us there in one piece.”

Callum put the key in the ignition, as Frank threw his laptop bag into the van. “I'll take the whole middle row,” Frank said. “We'll let the lovebirds have the whole back.” He nodded in the direction of Mitch and Alison, who were looking over some paperwork, their heads bent toward each other. Claire noticed Mitch's hand was resting on the small of Alison's back.

“I guess that leaves you to ride up here with me, Claire,” Callum said, pulling the sock for his prosthetic onto his knee.

“I guess.”

“You have no need to worry. The van is equipped for my, um, limitations. I've never had an accident. I promise. At least, never one where I lost a limb.”

“Ha. Very funny,” Claire said. She walked around the van and got in on the passenger side. “Okay, I'm going to have to trust you on this one.”

“You should trust me on all things.” Callum attached his prosthetic and then turned his body in the seat. Claire saw him position his leg on the brake. “Would you a like a quick lesson in adaptive driving so you don't feel the need to white knuckle the armrest til Houston?”

“Yes, please.” Claire was feeling a little less nervous. She did trust Callum and if the others weren't nervous, then there was no need for her to be.

She was, however, extremely curious.

“I've got quite a bit of control over my leg muscles and so, though my ankle doesn't rotate, I've no difficulty switching my foot between the gas and the brake. I can actually even drive a standard, but I need two legs for that so I can use my left for the clutch. Good thing this is an automatic, as I hear my other leg is somewhere in the trunk.”

Claire couldn't help but shake her head. She enjoyed how Callum joked about his situation. He never came across as bitter and his jokes were never forced or embarrassing.

“Everyone have their seatbelts buckled?”

“Yes, sir!” Mitch called out.

“Then it's time to hit the road.” Callum pressed down on the brake as he shifted the car into drive and they began their journey to Houston.

•  •  •

No one spoke for the first thirty or so minutes. Claire was busy marveling over how Callum handled the vehicle.

“You're awfully quiet,” Callum finally said, breaking the silence. “Happy to just watch me drive? Or are your palms still sweating?”

“I'm impressed with your skills.”

“As you should be. I'm looking forward to showing you some of
my other skills in the future.” Callum's eyes glimmered, mischievously. “What's everyone doing back there?” He glanced in the rearview mirror.

Claire turned around so she could see the group. “Frank is dead asleep.”

“I figured by the snores.”

“Alison and Mitch have headphones on and are watching a movie on Mitch's tablet.”

“Wonderful,” Callum said. “We're virtually alone.”

“You're right! What should we do with that alone time?”

“How about you tell me about your kids.”

“My kids?” Claire asked. She hadn't been expecting him to say that.

“Yes. I know it's difficult for you, but I'm pretty sure you have a million wonderful memories of them. If you'd like to share some, I'd love to listen.”

Claire smile at Callum's thoughtfulness and gladly launched into tales of her babies—some sentimental, but most funny.

After Claire had enumerated her children's likes and dislikes, she rested her head back on the seat and quietly watched Callum as he drove. “Do you like kids?”

“Oh, yes. I love them! My brother has four, and a fifth one on the way. He and his bride seem to feel it's their responsibility to populate Ireland. I don't get to see them much, just when I go back for a visit. Fin, my brother, says there's no way he's taking his large clan on an airplane. So, I've got to settle for playing the role of Uncle Callum only on my trips home once a year.”

“Does your brother look like you?”

“Nope. He's got all his parts.”

Claire felt her face redden. She hadn't meant for Callum to find her comment insulting. By the way his lips were turned up, though, she realized he hadn't taken offense in the least.

“I mean, does he look like…I guess, your face.”

“Oh, so that's what you meant, love? No, he's not as handsome as I.”

“I imagine that wouldn't really be possible, now, would it?” Claire teased.

“I'd say not!” Callum laughed. “Actually, he looks nothing like me. He has light-blond hair.”

“Really? I can't picture you having a brother who doesn't have hair as dark as yours.”

“Neither could my parents, apparently. I'm not sure if they were more shocked when he popped out about his correct number of limbs or that he looked like a little German! They were going to name him something like Donavan, which means Dark Warrior, but instead decided to call him Finbar, which means fair-haired.”

“Finbar?”

“Exactly. He hates it, too. That's why he goes by Fin.”

“Your parents changed his name because of how he looked?” Claire asked, surprised. She and Jack had selected each of their children's names long before the delivery day. She couldn't have imagined anything that would've made her change those names once each child had been born, no matter what they looked like.

“My dad has always been very into the meaning of names.”

“And what does Callum mean? I've never heard it before.”

“No, it's yet to make the top ten baby names in America, but I keep hoping,” Callum said, his eyes on the side mirror as he changed lanes. “It means dove.”

“Dove? Like a bird?”

“Well, certainly not like the soap!” Callum joked. “My dad was a Senator when I was born. He thought if he gave me a name that had to do with peace, his constituents would somehow think he was going to be the one to bring it about.”

They rode in silence for a few moments as Claire thought about that.

“Thanks,” she finally said.

“For what?” he asked, briefly casting his eyes on her.

“For asking about my kids. Most people don't do that.”

“Well, other than Frank, I don't think the team knows.”

“No, I don't mean the team. I mean people in general, the people who knew about what happened. Everyone around me, except for my friend, Gia, stopped saying my kids' names. It was as if they'd never been born at all. No one wanted to bring them up, as if mentioning them was going to remind me they'd died. But what people don't realize is, I never, for one second, forget. They're never, ever out of my mind. When people act as if they were never here to begin with, it hurts.”

Callum nodded. “I can understand that. People often like to pretend they don't notice my missing limbs. I mean, it's like this huge fluorescent polka-dotted rhinoceros. They know I'm missing parts, but they don't want to say it, in case I haven't noticed it.”

“That's exactly it,” Claire said, a feeling of relief that someone understood her.

“So I usually begin with a joke, something that puts them at ease with my lack of limbs. To break the ice, you know?”

“Like,
I'm standing before you, metaphorically speaking, of course?”

“Ah! You've been paying attention to my talks!”

“I don't really have much of a choice,” Claire teased.

He smiled at Claire, again, before moving his eyes back to the road. “What I'm trying to get across is that when I begin with some self- deprecating humor, everyone chuckles. They're usually nervous at first, unsure of whether I'm joking or not. Then, when they see I'm okay with making light of the situation, they seem much more relaxed about me and not as worried they'll say the wrong thing.”

Claire nodded.

“Listen, Claire,” Callum said, his voice getting serious again. “The timing is all up to you, but have you thought about telling the team?”

“I've thought about it.”

“I don't want to pressure you. The ball's totally in your court, but as I've said, we're a family. We all have struggles and things we deal with and we've found it's best to share those things with each other. We can't help one another if we don't know what's going on. For example, Alison told you she's diabetic, right?”

“Yes.”

“And Wyatt's mom has Alzheimer's. We all usually go to the nursing home to visit her and the other residents while we're in Texas. We know he'll be away from the team quite a bit while we're in the state so he can spend as much time with her as possible.”

“He told me about his mom yesterday when we talked about this trip.”

“Everyone's got something going on and none of it's a secret, so I'm not betraying any confidences by telling you. Frank's wife left him and his daughters when they were in elementary school. He raised them all by himself.”

“And Mitch?”

“Mitch has got it
goin' on,”
Callum said, with a laugh. “We haven't figured out Mitch's problem yet. But believe me, he's gotta have one!”

“Maybe being wrapped around Alison's little finger?”

“Could be. Anyway, I think you should consider telling them. You'll feel better once they know. Trust me. It's no fun to keep secrets around this group. We spend so much time together it will begin to feel like you're lying by omission if you don't get it all out.”

“Okay. I'll think about it.”

“Good.” Callum flicked the turn signal, pulled off the highway and into an Exxon gas station. Silencing the ignition, he said, “I need to take a break. Get out and stretch my legs.”

Before Claire could say a word, Callum turned to her and exclaimed, “See! That's another one I use. Stretch my legs!” And then, taking his hand off the steering wheel, he flicked his wrist, up and down, playing an air drum. “Ba dum bum. Thanks, folks. I'll be here all week.”

“I think it's time for the lovebirds to have the back row,” Mitch said, as the group returned to the van. Claire had gone inside the gas station to use the restroom. The men were already standing outside the van, except Callum, who was now in his chair, his one leg gone and assumedly safely back in the trunk.

“You and Alison already had the back row,” Callum said. “It's your turn to drive now.”

“Oh, I wasn't referring to me and Alison,” Mitch said, his eyes dancing a mischievous jig. “Now was I, Frank?”

“I've no idea what you're talking about,” Frank said.

“Sure you don't, buddy,” Mitch said, patting the man on the back. His eyes then floated back to the door of the store. “Hey, babe. Ready to hit the road?”

Claire turned and saw Alison exiting the store. She was holding a bottled water and a large bag of tortilla chips.

“Okay, Callum, you and Claire in the back. Alison and I will take over the driving for now. Frank, buddy. You think you can stay awake for a bit? Your snoring will cause me to lose my mind and I might just run us into a house.”

“I'll see what I can do,” Frank said as he opened the side door to their vehicle. Mitch lifted Callum out of his seat and into the van. Callum quickly skirted his way into the back row and, once again, Claire was amazed by how he managed to maneuver himself, no matter what the situation.

“Gonna join me back here, Claire? Or would you prefer to sit with Frank?”

Claire looked around the group. All eyes were on her. She wanted to sit with Callum. She enjoyed his company. But she didn't want to provide any fuel for the gossip fire. Plus, she and Frank were the ones who, musically, worked together. It'd make the most sense to sit with him.

“I think I'll sit with Frank.”

“Suit yourself,” Callum said. If he was disappointed by her response, he didn't show it.

“You can keep me awake,” Frank said, helping her up into the van. “I wouldn't want the narrowing of my airway to be the cause of our demise.”

As soon as the words were out of Frank's mouth, a look of mortification crossed his face and he leaned over to Claire. “I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me.”

“No, Frank. It's fine. Really,” Claire said. “You can't act like car accidents don't exist in this world. People die every day in them.”

Frank's pale skin beneath his dark beard showed how awful he felt about his flippant comment.

“I've already told Callum, so you don't need to worry about accidentally saying anything to him. He and I've been discussing how I should probably tell the others sooner rather than later. Maybe once we get to Houston, okay?”