Authors: Yolanda Wallace
Tatum blushed. “That’s a pretty loaded question, don’t you think?”
“There are more connotations of shagging than Austin Powers movies would lead you to believe. I read somewhere that shagging is the kind of dancing you do to beach music.”
“It’s kind of like swing, except it’s never gone out of style.”
“Right.”
“And you’re asking me about it because?”
“The Beach Music Festival’s coming up in a couple of months. I’d love to go, but I don’t want to go by myself. If you’re not doing anything, perhaps we could go down to the pier and check out one of the sessions.” Tatum didn’t answer right away, so Jordan kept talking to fill the silence. “If you don’t want to go or you have other plans, that’s okay. I could ask Larry if I could be his and his wife’s plus one.”
“August is two months from now. I don’t know what I’ll be doing two weeks from now, let alone two months. But I don’t have any entries on my social calendar for the foreseeable future, so I’ll be sure to pencil you in.”
“Could you make that pen instead?”
“Anything to make you stop reading the brochures I see you poring through in the lobby. Otherwise, you’ll want to try kiteboarding next.”
In the new extreme sport that was steadily taking over the beach, kiteboarders harnessed the power of the wind to glide and flip over the water or jump the waves.
“I’ve already read that brochure. It sounds like a lot of fun. Are you sure you don’t want to go?”
Jordan rested her hand on Tatum’s leg, the one a Taliban sniper’s bullet had left riddled with scars. Could Tatum feel the weight of Jordan’s hand against her leg? Could she feel its warmth? Jordan felt the atrophied muscles in Tatum’s thigh spasm. Tatum’s right foot began to twitch, causing her knee to bang against the underside of the desk. The noise sounded like machine gun fire. Horrified, Jordan drew her hand away. “Did I do that?”
“No.”
Tatum lowered the desk chair and slid into her wheelchair. She looked like she was having some kind of seizure. Jordan felt trapped. She didn’t mean to stare, but she didn’t know how to help. She just wanted whatever was happening to be over.
Tatum reached for her ankle, pulled her leg straight, then propped it on the bottom drawer of the desk.
“Whenever your body gets tired of sitting in the same position, you can get up and walk around to ease the tension,” Tatum said. “I can’t.”
As Tatum kneaded the muscles in her leg, her foot flopped around in the junk drawer like a fish out of water. When the tremor finally—mercifully—stopped, Tatum put her hand under her knee and positioned her foot above the metal footrest attached to her wheelchair. Then she let her leg drop into place.
“There. That’s better. Now what were you saying about the Beach Music Festival?”
“Um.” Jordan looked across the lobby. The family of five she had checked in a few minutes ago was staring at her and Tatum with disgusted looks on their faces. From their vantage point, they hadn’t been able to see everything that had gone on, but they’d apparently been able to see enough. And Jordan had seen too much. Hoping her expression didn’t match the guests’, she turned back to Tatum. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“The Beach Music Festival. Did you want to go?”
Jordan realized she had been fooling herself when she told Hayden and Willow she could date someone with a disability. There were so many things she didn’t know about Tatum’s condition. Things she needed to know if she planned to go out with her. Things she didn’t know if she could handle.
“We should poll the employees and see how many would like to go as a group,” she said, opting for safety in numbers. “We could treat it as a company outing. Instead of embarrassing trust exercises everyone hates, we could have a few drinks, listen to some good music, and get to know each other better.”
“And you could hide in the crowd instead of being forced to deal with me or my issues on your own.”
Tatum’s voice was filled with disappointment. As if she had gotten her hopes up and been let down. Jordan hadn’t expected Tatum to see through her explanation or call her on her BS. Tatum’s familiarity with enhanced interrogation techniques probably allowed her to see through even the most well-crafted lies. The flimsy one she had come up with on the fly never stood a chance. “No, that’s not what I meant at all.”
“Right.” Tatum wheeled around the desk. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you in front of the guests. I’ll hide myself away in my office so I won’t embarrass you any further. Lincoln, come.”
Lincoln jumped to his feet and followed Tatum across the lobby. He looked back before he rounded the corner, his soulful eyes giving Jordan a silent rebuke that was just as devastating as Tatum’s verbal one had been. He needn’t have bothered. Jordan didn’t think she could feel much worse.
She hadn’t meant to hurt Tatum’s feelings, but she had been thrown by both the episode and her reaction to it. An apology was in order, but for some transgressions, “I’m sorry” just wasn’t good enough. And this one? This one definitely qualified.
Meredith tucked Natalie’s copy of
To Kill a Mockingbird
under her arm as she and Jordan slowly walked up the hall of the Peaceful Manor nursing home.
“I’m thinking of changing my major,” Jordan said.
“Again?” Meredith smiled at the amused exasperation she hadn’t been able to keep out of her voice. “To what this time?”
“Hotel and restaurant management.”
”Your job at the hotel must be working out well if you’re thinking of turning it into a full-time occupation.”
Jordan looked thoughtful—despite her I’m with Stupid T-shirt. “My other forays into the service industry drove me crazy after a few days, but this one’s different. I’m working with a bunch of great people and the guests are really interesting. I know it’s only been a few weeks, but I’m really having a good time.”
“At work or in general?”
Jordan stopped walking. “I’ll be honest. I wasn’t having very much fun the first few days after we arrived. I’m sure I owe you an apology or three. I doubt I was a joy to be around.”
“But then you met Hayden. Isn’t that her name?”
“Get with the program, Gran. Hayden’s old news.”
“Good. Because I wasn’t very fond of her. Are you seeing someone else now?”
“Not really. I’ve been hanging out with the people at work because there isn’t anyone else to talk to during the wee hours of a late shift, but I’m not seeing any of them.”
“What about Tatum, Natalie’s niece? Have you been spending time with her, too?”
Jordan shifted her weight from one foot to the other as if the question made her uncomfortable. “We had dinner once. At work, I mean. She’s quite a fascinating character. Gruff on the outside, but tender on the inside. A little flinty until you get to know her.”
Meredith chuckled. “Sounds familiar. Must be a family trait.”
“Did Natalie tell great stories, too?” Jordan asked wistfully. “The day we met, Tatum told some that made me want to listen to her all day.”
“Natalie kept to herself as much as she could because she didn’t want to lie about her sexuality, yet she couldn’t be honest about it and expect to be allowed to stay in the military. Not in 1967. Unlike some other female service members who were in the closet back then, she didn’t make up stories about an imaginary boyfriend waiting back home or serving at some remote outpost. She always craved respect rather than recognition. I’ve always admired her for that.” Meredith had never told her so, but she intended to rectify the error as soon as she could. “Work kept us so busy we didn’t have many opportunities to share stories about our personal lives or the loved ones we’d left back home. The few times we did, though, are moments I’ll always treasure.”
Jordan seemed solemn today. Meredith had initially attributed it to their surroundings, but now she thought something else might be to blame. Something Jordan either didn’t want to talk about or didn’t want to face.
“Has talking with Tatum changed your opinion of the war?”
“No, I still think most differences could be settled diplomatically rather than militarily. But between the two of you, you’ve given me newfound respect for the people who have chosen to wear the uniform. I used to think of military service as a way to pay for college for those who couldn’t afford it otherwise or an alternative to a jail sentence for delinquents who were running out of options, but it’s more than that. It’s patriotism at its highest level, and it requires a serious commitment I, for one, would never have the guts to make. But you did. So did Tatum. I’ve always suspected you were a real badass back in the day, but Tatum puts you to shame.”
“No argument there.”
“She’s one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. I’ve never known anyone so dedicated to protecting others at the expense of herself. Even after everything that happened to her in Afghanistan, she’d re-up if she could. Can you believe that?”
“You sound smitten.”
Jordan didn’t receive the jibe with the humor Meredith had intended.
“It isn’t like that,” Jordan said testily. “Like I said, she and I are just friends. At least, we used to be. Now, I’m not so sure.”
“What happened?”
Tatum leaned against the wall and blew out a breath. “When Hayden and Willow asked me if I’d ever date someone with a disability, I said, ‘Sure. No problem.’ But the night Tatum and I had dinner, she had some kind of spasm in her leg and it freaked me out. If I can’t handle a freaking muscle spasm, how am I supposed to handle the more serious stuff?”
“Like what?”
“Urine catheters or colostomy bags or—”
“But Tatum might not have either.”
“I know. I was using those as an example. But you get the point, right?”
“I do, but the real question is, do you?”
“I have a three point seven GPA, Gran. I’m not an idiot. I know the wheelchair is part of the package.” Jordan put her hands in her hair and drew it away from her face. “I thought I’d be able to handle it, but I can’t.”
“When you look at her, I’m sure she wishes you’d see her, not the chair.”
“I do. That’s why I’m kicking myself right now. Because I see her and I like her, but I’m not ready to tackle anything that life-changing. I’m on vacation. I came down here looking for a good time for the summer. Nothing serious and nothing long-term. Tatum deserves more than that. She deserves someone who’s going to be in her life for the rest of her life. That isn’t me. I’m only going to be in town for two more months. Then I’m out of here. I don’t want to start something with her knowing it’s going to end badly, but I guess I already did.”
Meredith smoothed the front of Jordan’s shirt. She wished Jordan’s ruffled feathers could be tended to just as easily. “How can you possibly know how your relationship with her will end when you’ve barely begun?”
Jordan rolled her eyes and tried to defuse the seriousness of the situation with humor. “Stop being so logical, will you? I’m trying to be noble and you’re poking holes in my balloon.”
Meredith took Jordan’s face in her hands and forced her to look her in the eye. “Put the jokes aside and tell me what you’re really thinking, sweetie.”
Jordan was a few inches shy of six feet tall. At the moment, though, she seemed much smaller.
“I love spending time with Tatum, but I never imagined myself getting involved with someone who has a disability.”
Meredith suspected Jordan had never said the words out loud before. The confession seemed to take something out of her. Like the balloon she had just mentioned had started to deflate. Jordan’s chin trembled as she tried not to cry.
“I don’t know if I’m cut out to play nursemaid.”
“You never know what you can do until you’re asked to do it.”
“Maybe. But you’re forgetting one thing, Gran. I’m not you.”
“You’re forgetting something, too. You don’t have to be.”
Meredith gave Jordan a hug and waited for her to regain her composure before they resumed their journey.
Meredith knocked on the door of Billie’s room and poked her head inside. She had been coming to see Billie every day for the past week. If Billie was having a good day, they would talk for a while and Meredith would read to her until Billie fell asleep. If she was having a bad day, the only thing Meredith could do was be there for her and wonder how long it would be before her suffering came to an end.
How, Meredith wondered, would Billie react to having Jordan’s unfamiliar presence added to their now-familiar routine? Billie didn’t always respond favorably to change, but perhaps having Meredith in the room would help matters.
“Billie, this is my granddaughter, Jordan. I told you about her, remember? You said you wanted to meet her.”
Billie screwed up her face in concentration as if she were trying to see through the thick fog shrouding her brain. Then her features relaxed and she flashed a relieved smile. “Of course I remember. Come closer, Jordan. My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be. Then again, neither is the rest of me.”
Jordan stood next to Billie’s bed. “It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am. Grandma Meredith has told me so much about you, I feel like I already know you.”
Billie slowly shook her head, her thinning hair fanned around it like a silver halo. “You remind me so much of your grandfather. You’re a lot prettier than he was, but you have his mannerisms.”
Jordan rubbed the back of her neck like George used to whenever he was flustered or, as in this case, received a compliment he didn’t know how to take. Meredith’s heart filled with love as her past and present collided.
After Jordan found a seat on the far side of the room, Meredith sat in the chair next to the bed and made small talk with Billie for a while before she opened the book and picked up where she had left off during her previous visit. She was only a few pages into the chapter about Scout Finch getting into a fight at school when Billie became confused.
“Who are you,” Billie shouted, “and what are you doing in my room?”
“Billie, what’s wrong?”
“You’re trying to steal from me, aren’t you?”
Meredith closed the book and followed Billie’s line of sight. Across the room, Jordan was holding a moldy dinner roll over a plastic wastebasket. “Honey, stop.”