Authors: Ruth Logan Herne
“I canceled it. We'll make it up later in the week, or they can get a refund for the day. This is much more important.” Reaching over, she rested one of her delicate hands over his much larger one. “On the way here, I said a prayer for Olivia to be okay.”
Knowing how she'd felt about God not long ago, her revelation astounded him, and he turned to face her. “You did?”
“I'm not sure it will help,” she confided, “but it felt like the right thing to do.”
“It was,” he agreed with heartfelt gratitude. “Thank you.”
Suddenly, she seemed uncomfortable, as if her gesture had surprised her as much as it did him. “Can I get you anything?”
Settling his arm across the back of the couch, he gave her shoulders a light bump. “This works for me.”
“Well, you'll be hungry soon. There's a deli down the street, so let me know what you want, and I'll get it for you.”
“That'd be great. We ate here a lot when Granddad was a patient, and the cafeteria's not the best.”
“They never are,” she agreed with a grimace. “The hospital I was in after my accident would make a good weight-loss camp. Mom smuggled real food in to me, or I would have starved.”
“Sounds pretty awful.”
“Don't get me wrongâeveryone on the staff was fantastic. I still hated every second of it, not being able to sleep, having people tell me what to do all the time. I wasn't crazy about having to move back in with Mom while I rehabbed, but at least she didn't expect me to be a cheerful patient.”
“After what you went through, it must be tough for you to be here,” he said gently. “I really appreciate you coming to keep me company, but if you want to go, I'll understand.”
“You've done so much for me, and I thought this would be a good way to start repaying you. I'll hang around until Olivia's ready to leave.”
“I didn't sign on to the show to make you feel like you owe me something,” he argued. “I wanted to help.”
She rewarded him with a brilliant smile. “I know that, Galahad. That's why I'm staying.”
With that, she snuggled a little closer and rested her head against his shoulder. He wasn't in the mood to talk, and he appreciated her allowing him to sit there in silence. Most women he knew felt compelled to fill every silence longer than three seconds, but not Amy. She seemed to understand that he needed to focus all his energy on absorbing what had happened during what should have been a busy but ordinary day.
Instead, he felt as if it had gone on forever, and it wasn't even lunchtime. Considering what could have happened, Gram had gotten off lightly, and he thanked God for watching over her. Just having Amy there made things look brighter, he realized. Accustomed to fending for himself since leaving home, he hadn't had anyone to lean on. Even when he and Rachel were together, he'd been the one to take care of everything.
Despite the rocky start he'd gotten, he'd been raised by a family of strong, loyal people who supported each other through every conceivable peak and valley life could throw at them. Paul and Chelsea were the next generation in the Barrett chain, and he'd watched them with growing respect while they built their future with hard work and love.
Rachel's betrayal had soured him on making that same commitment himself, but now he was beginning to think that with the right woman, he could have the kind of relationship he longed for. The kind where two people took on life together and made the best of what God handed them. Over time, he'd realized his mistake with Rachel had been to treat her like a doll, keeping her on a pedestal while he handled everything himself.
He'd never even consider doing that with Amy, and if he went astray, he had no doubt she'd jerk him back into line. And very clearly warn him never to do it again. The thought of it amused him, and in the middle of that sterile waiting room, he couldn't keep back a smile.
He and Amy might look like two mismatched socks, but in his gut he knew that no matter what happened down the road, pairing up with her would be a decision he'd never regret.
Chapter Nine
A
my left Jason and his grandmother in the hospital parking lot with hugs and a promise to check in with them later. As she drove back to Arabesque, she mulled over what had gone on and what it meant.
Mostly, she tried to analyze what had compelled her to appeal to the God she'd been so angry with. Jason had clearly been stunned by it, and she could relate to how he felt. Maybe attending services with him and singing all those uplifting Christmas hymns had mellowed her attitude, chipping away at the grudge she'd carried for so long. Whatever the explanation, she couldn't deny feeling liberated, as if a huge weight had been taken from her.
Even more surprising, throughout the afternoon, that light feeling stayed with her. To her, that meant it wasn't a fluke or some lingering effect from an emergency situation that had turned out well. It was sticking because it was real. Understanding settled in, and as she cued up her favorite section of
The Nutcracker
score on the studio's sound system, she glanced up with a smile. “Thank you.”
A warm softness brushed her cheek, as if someone had reached down to reassure her. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she resolutely blinked them away but held on to the emotion they evoked in her heart. It was comforting to know someone was watching over her, even when she thought she was alone.
Jason and Brenda were right, she finally admitted to herself. God had never deserted her, but had seen her on the wrong path and manipulated her circumstances to correct her direction. That fateful course shift had brought her to Barrett's Mill and a man who could see beyond her imperfections to who she truly was.
Suddenly anxious to hear Jason's voice, she thumbed through her contacts list and chose his number. While she waited for him to answer, she impulsively added him to her very short speed-dial list. It was only for people she spoke to frequently, and since they talked at least twice a day, she figured he belonged there.
After a few rings, he picked up. “Hey there. What's up?”
From the background noise, she knew he was at the mill. She didn't think now was the right time to share her epiphany, so she kept things light. “Checking in, as promised. How's Olivia doing?”
“Home with Mom and Granddad. Gram's supposed to be resting, but I hear she's trying to come up with a way to make dinner one-handed.”
“Can't your mother take care of that?”
He let out a tired-sounding laugh. “Sure, but that's not how it works in Gram's kitchen. She's in charge, and everyone else assists. I think that's where Paul got his bossy gene from.”
“I heard that,” his brother chimed in from a distance. “Are you assembling that rocking chair or flirting?”
“Both.”
Paul groaned, and Amy interpreted the sound of a slamming door as her cue to finish up. “You're busy, so I'll let you go.”
“I've got three more of these rockers to do, but I'll be in after rehearsal to paint that marble detail on the fireplace.”
“Why don't you just go home after work?” she suggested. “The painting can wait another day.”
“Are you sure? That'll put us off your schedule.”
Her
schedule, she echoed ruefully. After the long, trying day he'd had, he was willing to stretch it even further to keep her happy. She hated the idea that her inflexibility was putting more pressure on this kind, compassionate man. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Certainly not anything that warranted him wearing himself out during the holidays. “We'll get it done. If we really get in a jam, I'll ask Jenna to come help us out.”
“Oh, man,” he groaned. “Don't do that. She'd never let me hear the end of it.”
“Everyone needs a hand now and then. Even big, strong lumberjacks like you.”
“I'll finish those sets myself if it kills me,” he assured her. “I made a commitment to you, and I never go back on my word.”
Amy was more than a little impressed. She'd given him an out, but he stubbornly refused to take it. Most people she knew were quick to choose the path of least resistance, but not this one. Even though he had a perfectly viable excuse, she trusted him to deliver exactly what he'd promised her, in time for their show. That was the kind of guy every girl needed in her life, she mused with a smile. The kind who stood up and took his responsibilities seriously instead of dodging them at the first sign of trouble.
“All right, but I'm willing to help if you tell me what you need.” The line went quiet, and after a few seconds she said, “Jason?”
“Yeah, I'm here.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, it's justâ” Heaving a sigh, he went on. “I guess I'm more tired than I thought is all. I'll see you tomorrow.”
Something in his voice sounded off, but she couldn't quite peg it, so she accepted his explanation. After all, he'd been through a lot today. She'd experienced enough of that herself to understand how draining it could be. “Have a good night.”
“You, too.”
She'd no sooner hung up than her phone rang again. Checking the caller ID, she was surprised to see it was the doctor who'd led the surgical team that operated on her after her accident. They hadn't been in touch recently, and she couldn't imagine what he wanted. “Hello, Dr. Fitzgerald. How are you?”
“Excited,” he replied in his usual brisk way. “I think you will be, too, when you hear what I have to say.”
Amy felt her pulse spike, then cautioned herself to remain calm. Her hopes had been raised many times in the past, only to be dashed later on. Steadying her voice, she said, “Go ahead.”
In a tone laced with more of the same enthusiasm, he described an experimental procedure he and some colleagues had developed for treating injuries like hers. Their initial trials had gone well, and they were looking for volunteers to undergo the treatment for real.
“Based on your age and general health,” he continued, “I think you'd be an excellent candidate.”
“Why haven't I heard about this on the news?” she asked warily.
“It's experimental, and we don't want to publicize it until we have some solid results to report. I have to warn you, there is a potential downside.”
Of course there was, she groused silently. There was always a downside. “I'm listening.”
“If it's successful, this surgery should restore your full range of motion through your back and legs.”
“And if it fails?”
“You could be paralyzed.”
Could be,
she echoed silently. Two tantalizing words she'd heard so often, clinging to the slender hope that somehow her body would find a way to heal itself and function the way it was supposed to. But that hadn't happened, and she wasn't certain she could muster the emotional energy to risk suffering through that kind of disappointment again.
Still, the idea of walking freelyâmaybe even dancing againâwas incredibly tempting. She wasn't foolish enough to think she'd ever be a prima ballerina. That dream had died long ago, but she might be able to take on secondary roles in a small company somewhere. It wasn't her ideal, but at least that way she'd be doing what she loved.
“I'll have to think about it,” she finally said. “When do you need my answer?”
“Tomorrow, at the latest. One of our original volunteers opted out, and we have to fill the spot quickly to keep everything on track. We've reserved a section of the hospital for our patients, and we need to do quite a bit of prep work beforehand. You'd need to be here in New York right after Christmas, and the actual procedure would be done in early January. If you decide you're not interested, I have to start going down my list and find someone else.”
Oh, she was interested, all right. The timing would allow her to finish up
The Nutcracker
and spend time with her family before leaving for New York. Since her mother was coming for the show, she'd catch a ride back with her and be able to stay at her Manhattan apartment following her surgery.
Was she really considering this? While her mind clicked through the things she'd have to do to make this work, it became obvious that part of her was already on board.
Another part, the one she'd only recently begun to discover, whispered a singleâbut very importantâobjection.
What about Jason?
Putting aside a question she couldn't easily answer, she wrapped up her call. “I'll definitely get back to you, one way or the other. Whatever I decide, I'm so grateful you thought of me. This is a wonderful opportunity for someone like me.”
“We'll talk tomorrow, then. Goodbye, Amy.”
She hung up, watching as the wallpaper on her phone's screen faded back into place. It was a picture of Jason and her at the Starlight Festival, gazing upward as the star on top of the town tree was being lit. Chelsea had taken the photo and texted it to her, and it had immediately become Amy's favorite. He stood behind her in the protective way she'd come to associate with him. Although he wasn't touching her, she could almost feel those strong arms wrapped around her, shielding her from the press of the crowd.
It was a comforting sensation she'd come to rely on as their unexpected friendship continued to grow. If she agreed to the surgical trial and it went well, what then? In her heart, she knew that if there was even a sliver of a chance for her to perform again, she wouldn't be content teaching no matter how adorable her students were.
But if it turned out to be another failure, she might never walk again. Then what would she do to support herself? Beyond that, if she was confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life, her flickering hopes of marriage and adopting a child might be gone forever.
Completely overwhelmed by the choice she was faced with, she did something that not long ago would never have occurred to her. Looking up, she said, “I trust that You brought me to this point for a reason. Please help me do the right thing.”
Nothing.
While she hadn't expected an immediate response, some kind of sign would have been nice.
The alert on her phone chimed, reminding her it was almost time for rehearsal. As if on cue, the front door jingled and high-pitched voices blended with the classical Christmas music she'd left playing in the studio.
Her answer would have to wait, she supposed as she stood to meet her early arrivals. Because if this turned out to be her final
Nutcracker
production, she was determined to give it everything she had.
* * *
“It's me!” Jason hollered on his way into Arabesque the following day. “Don't shoot!”
Amy was onstage adjusting the long drapes that hung around the fake bay window in the ballroom. When she turned to look at him, his heart rolled over in his chest like a lovesick hound. Even though he'd been engaged before, this sensation was like nothing he'd ever felt, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. He'd just seen Amy yesterday, but it felt as if it had been much longer.
Oh, man,
he thought with a mental groan. Somehow, when he wasn't paying attention, he'd stumbled into some dangerous territory. It was one thing to admire a pretty girl, but for a guy like him who'd been dropped hard, doing emotional cartwheels wasn't smart. If only he knew how to stop.
“Hi there,” Amy said when she met him in the wings. “How's Olivia today?”
“Better, I think. She never complains about anything, so it's hard to tell.”
“I wish more people were like that,” Amy commented wryly.
“Tell me about it.” Setting down his toolbox, he mentally reviewed where they were on her list. “So tonight, it's the bookcases and fireplace, right?”
“Jason, we need to talk.”
Not what he wanted to hear. Those were troublemaker words every man dreaded, and he braced himself for the worst. “Okay.”
“I'm sorry,” she began, twisting her hands in obvious distress. “I didn't mean to jump into it like that. Would you like a snack or something?”
“No, I'm good.” She looked so upset, he wanted nothing more than to chase away whatever was bothering her. Even if it turned out to be him. Taking a seat on the steps leading down from the stage, he patted the one above him. She hesitated, but finally sat down, and he gave her an encouraging nod. “Go ahead.”
Another pause, then she plunged right in. “One of the surgeons who operated on me after my accident called me. He and some of his colleagues have developed a new procedure that could restore my full range of motion.”
“Amy, that's awesome!” When she frowned, he felt his expression fall to mirror hers. “It's not awesome?”
“It could be,” she allowed, avoiding his gaze while she picked at a stray piece of tape on the stage. “But if it doesn't work, I could end up being paralyzed.”
For a few seconds, Jason was so stunned he couldn't think of a single thing to say. When his brain began functioning on all cylinders again, he understood why she was so skittish about sharing her news with him. “You're seriously thinking about doing this, aren't you?”
“Yes.”
She didn't say anything more, but when her eyes met his, the defiance glittering in them spoke for her. She wasn't asking for his opinion, he realized, or his permission. But he couldn't stand by and watch her risk her health this way. “I think it's a bad idea.”
“I didn't ask you.”
“That doesn't mean I don't have a few thoughts on the subject.”
Jumping up, he began pacing in front of the huge Christmas tree they and the kids had decorated for the show. He'd lifted Clara up to place the star on top, and like a moron he'd envisioned doing that with his own little girl someday. The memory surfaced from nowhere, and he firmly pushed it back down to wherever it had come from.
Staring up at the pulleys and cables that operated the stage curtains, he closed his eyes and sent up a fervent prayer for patience. When he felt calmer, he turned to face Amy. “Please explain to me why you're considering this.”