Authors: Lenora Worth
W
hen the meal ended, Emily leaned back with her teacup poised in her hand. “I enjoyed dinner, but I think you have an ulterior motive.”
Greg’s heart gave a firm thud. Throughout the meal, he had wondered how he would present his offer and if she would accept his suggestion. He gazed at her tense face. “I wanted to make you a deal…of sorts.”
“I have surgery and you do what?”
“Wrong.” He watched stress vanish from her face.
“Here’s the deal. You want your garden planted, and I’m willing to be your gardener if—”
“No. No. You’re a therapist, not a handyman, Greg. You don’t have time to do that. Thanks anyway. Marti can help…or maybe, I’ll hire someone. I can sit in my chair and—”
“Hold on. Getting my hands in dirt isn’t a task. You know my mother has flower beds. So guess who digs my mother’s plots. Who totes the flats of flowers? Who helps water and weed?”
“You?” she asked, her face doubtful. “When would you have time for that?”
“When I’m exhausted from forcing people to exercise their arms and legs. Everyone needs a hobby. I have a couple. Special and Wheelchair Olympics, then playing in dirt. I’ve always enjoyed it.”
“You don’t seem the type.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen all sides of me…yet.” He watched her face to see her reaction. “I’m a man, Emily. Besides a career, I have a personal life like everyone else who feels, laughs, cries and loves.” He slid his hand across the table and rested it on hers.
She stared at his hand before lifting misty eyes to his. “I’m sorry that I’m so…edgy. I know you’re a man. One that’s kind and generous. All the things a Christian should be. Compassionate and humble.”
“You’re pushing it there.”
She ignored him and continued. “And you’re patient. I’m a testimony to that. And forgiving.”
“Stop. You’re giving me far more credit than you should.” His thoughts tugged back to Aaron’s death. Eight years old. Crushed beneath car wheels, on a sled that Greg should have been riding. He had yet to forgive himself.
“Thanks for the accolades, but this is about you. I’ll help in the garden if you’ll help me with the Special Olympics this year.”
Her forehead crinkled and her eyes narrowed with his offer. “I don’t get it. What could I do, and how does that help you?”
“I’m responsible for getting volunteers for the Olympics each year. It takes a lot of people to hold the competitions in the spring. I beat the bushes asking for help—senior citizens, professional athletes, coaches, teachers, business people.”
“But I’m not a professional.” She grinned. “And I’m not a senior citizen yet.”
“No, I’ll give you that.” He squeezed her fingers and withdrew his hand. “You could do lots of things. Assist with registration, greet the participants, work on telephone campaigns and mass mailings. A million jobs. Things that can be done from a wheelchair.”
Though she listened, he saw suspicion in her eyes. “Okay, but I see another ulterior motive here. Admit it.”
He wagged his head at her persistence. “Sure. I do have another reason. Two if I’m honest.”
“I’m all for honesty.”
“Good, because that’s what I want from you.”
He took a deep breath to quell his charging pulse. “I’d like you to spend time with children who have no possibility—beyond a miracle, that is—of getting better. Children with all kinds of mental disabilities. Children in wheelchairs with no hope of walking. And I want you to witness the joy in their lives.”
She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it and sank against the chair back.
“Please don’t get angry at me, Emily. But these kids have no other hope than to live with their problems, yet they love and laugh. They strive to do the best with what they have.”
“And I don’t.” She dropped her gaze to the table, dragging her fingers over the white-on-white design in the cloth.
“If you want me to make this easy for you to hear, I can’t. Yes. You have every potential to walk again, yet you choose to sit in this chair without hope.”
The air hung heavy with silence. Greg had so much more to say. For one, he’d mentioned two reasons. He hoped she didn’t remember that.
“I’m not brave, Greg. I’m not courageous like those kids I saw this afternoon. It’s plain old fear. I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of what? That the surgery will fail? That you’ll have pain? Because you will. Pain and frustration at trying to strengthen those underused muscles and tendons. I see that every day on the job. Is that what you fear?”
“That and…I don’t know. It’s something inside me.”
She looked like a frightened child and he longed to hold her in his arms. “I’d like you to have a second opinion, Emily. Maybe another surgeon has a different solution for you, but I long to see you walk again…not for me but for you.”
“I know you do, but I don’t need a second opinion. This was the second opinion. I just don’t understand why you care.”
“It’s the same reason I’d like you involved with me in Special Olympics.” His heart thundered as his second reason pushed its way into his throat. He saw the red warning light of his emotions, but he edged forward.
“What is it?”
“I care about you.”
“I know, Greg. You’re a kind man. I see—”
He raised his moist palm and captured her fingers against the table. “No, Emily, I care for you differently than I care for the kids.”
Her eyes widened, and she drew her hand away and clutched her chest. “It’s only your compassion. I don’t think that you should…” A deep gasp shuddered in her chest and covered her mouth.
“I shouldn’t have told you here, Emily. I understand that you’re still dealing with your husband’s death. The whole tragedy—”
“Greg.” She captured his attention with her direct gaze.
He faltered, letting the unspoken words slide back into his thoughts.
She studied him, her emotions a kaleidoscope. “I can’t forget Ted’s death, but I’ve dealt with it. What bothers me is my own life. My own lack of enthusiasm and courage. My own lack of faith.”
“That’s something you can fix.”
“I can’t fix it all. I’m not a whole person and—”
“Not whole?” Her words tore through him. “I never want to hear you say that.”
She gaped at him wide-eyed.
“Are those kids you saw today not complete?” he said. “Are they less than human beings?”
“N-no…I didn’t mean it that way.”
“They’re total kids. Whole and complete.” He captured her fingers in his. “And so are you, Emily.” Startled by his own emotion, Greg fought to keep his thoughts collected.
“You don’t understand, but if it will make you happy, I’ll volunteer to help the Special Olympics. I’ll enjoy it…and I’m thinking about the surgery, Greg. Thinking and praying.”
Startled by his reaction, Greg swallowed his emotion and managed a smile. “Praying is good, Emily.” He wanted to tell her he’d been praying since he’d met her, but he decided to leave well enough alone.
Emily sealed the last envelope and placed it in the cardboard box. Handling a Special Olympics mailing was well within her ability. She slid the package to the back of the table and hoisted herself up from the chair.
Days had passed since their dinner and the emotion that charged through her, and Greg’s words still rang in her ears.
Whole and complete.
The thought stung her heart. How could she tell him the truth?
He’d called daily and stopped by during the week to
drop off the envelopes. He’d even spent an hour spading some of the flower beds in her garden.
But tonight was different. Greg would be there for the evening to work on the planting. In preparation, Emily had purchased a few flats of annuals with Marti’s help. She picked up bags of peat moss and composite, too, and then threw in a box of bone meal.
Each time they’d been together, her heart grew closer to him. She hummed, warmed by their growing friendship. If nothing more, his company meant everything to her.
She heard a car door slam and inched toward the back screen. Greg waved and opened the hatch to his cargo area, bringing out a cluster of gardening tools. He lay them on the grass, then headed up the porch steps.
“You didn’t need to bring your tool shed. I have all that in the garage.”
He opened the back door and stepped inside, then slid his arm around her shoulder. “But not my favorite trowel.”
Standing beside him as she so rarely did, she admired his height inches above her head. The heat from his body and the pressure of his muscular arm around her shoulder made her feel cared for and protected.
He stretched his large hands in front of her. “And I bet you don’t have garden gloves to fit these beauties.”
His smile sent warm tendrils through her. “I doubt if mine would fit.” She shifted her walker toward the door. “I’d like to come out and watch.”
“Watch! No way. You’ll help. You have two perfectly good hands. I’ve got the knees.”
The
knees
reference dampened her pleasant thoughts. “Bad choice of word,” she said.
“Sorry. I’ll be more selective next time.” His eyes shone with apology.
“I suppose this conversation isn’t doing a thing for your
flower beds.” He patted the chair and she settled onto the seat. Then he grasped the handles, pushed open the door with his back and wheeled her onto the porch, then down the ramp.
The scent of sunshine and earth wrapped around Emily as he wheeled her into the garden. When he stepped around to face her, a new aroma nuzzled her awareness—orange and spice, masculine and fresh.
“Why don’t you have a woman in your life, Greg?” The question slid from her lips as easy as a heel in mud. Too late to catch herself.
He looked at her with surprise. Yet beneath his expression, she saw something deeper. “My work…and so many things. I dated in college. Not much since then.”
“You’d be a wonderful catch, you know. Besides handsome, you’re the kindest man I know.” She’d opened her mouth and decided to put her whole foot it in—muddy heel or not.
“I know. I have women dropping at my feet—”
“Maybe it’s only their bad knees.” She surprised herself.
He faltered, then his face broke into a big smile. “I’d hoped it was my charm.”
“I didn’t mean to ruin your dream.”
He ran his fingers across her cheek. “You’ll never ruin my dreams. You can only make them beautiful.”
Her heart lurched at the tone of his voice. Amazed, at his look and the tenderness in his voice, she scuffled to speak, wanting words to cover her emotions. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Only the ones I care about.”
The ones I care about.
The thought filled her as sweetly as custard in a cream puff. His words swelled in her heart and aroused her imagination.
In the high school’s wide hallway, Emily watched families stand in line, waiting to sign in for the Special Olympics competition. The large entrance buzzed with excitement.
Emily checked off names, smiling at eager-faced children and proud parents, then handed them programs. The experience warmed her as she greeted families she’d gotten to know from earlier practice sessions, and she was pleased she’d agreed to help.
When she finished the first round of registration, her replacement arrived and to her delight, Greg appeared beside her.
“Time for your break,” he said, grasping the handles of her chair. “Let’s watch some of the events.”
“I’d love to.” Images of familiar children marched through her mind.
Greg pushed her chair down the hallway. “How about some sunshine? We can watch the track competition.”
Though sunshine tempted her, Butch’s face settled in her thoughts. “Let’s take a peek at the basketball event first. Do you mind?”
“Not at all…and I’m guessing you want to watch Butch,” he said, guiding her wheelchair to a convenient space inside the gymnasium, then sliding onto the wooden bench.
“Thanks,” Emily said, touched again by his thoughtfulness.
Amazed at the large, exuberant crowd that filled the bleachers, Emily listened to their encouraging cheers, but she watched in silence until Butch’s eager movements caught her attention. Her heart melted as she thought of his upturned face and his words
He needs me.
“Block him, Butch,” she yelled. “That’s it.”
The crowd cheered as the ball bounced out of bounds.
Greg’s chuckle reached her ear, and she turned to him seeing the knowing smile on his face.
“I see what you mean,” she said.
He raised a brow as if he didn’t understand.
“I see what you mean about me,” she said. “The kids are brave and having fun whether they win or lose.”
Greg’s gaze locked with hers. “It’s that old saying—it’s how you play the game that’s important.”
Shame slithered through her, recalling her lack of faith. No trust in her surgeon or in God. She approached the surgery as if it were the guillotine, rather than a miracle offering her a chance to walk and live.
When had her faith vanished? She knew in part. She begged God for Ted’s life, but God hadn’t heard her. She altered her perspective. The Father heard everything. He’d answered no. But why?
That was the question that haunted her. Why had her loving husband died? And why did God allow her to walk after therapy, only to send her back to the wheelchair?
“Thinking?” Greg asked, his eyes questioning.
She nodded.
He tucked his hands into his trouser pockets and didn’t pry.
But Emily wished he had. She needed to face her frustration and deal with her questions directly. “Ready?” she asked.
“Ready if you are,” he said and guided the wheelchair out of the gymnasium.
The door leading to the outside stadium was nearby, and in a few moments, Emily filled her lungs with the warm spring air. She’d spent far too long inside her house with no sunshine to soothe her body or her heart. Her home had become a safe haven away from the world.
Greg took broad steps behind her, and they arrived at the stadium. The crowded area hummed with activity. Un
able to use the bleachers with her chair, Greg found a spot along the front in the middle of the action. A young girl, waiting for her turn to participate, stood nearby, gazing at Emily. The child grinned and Emily returned her smile.