Waiting for You (RightMatch.com Trilogy) (8 page)

Leaning back in his chair, Joe felt like a grounded teenager. “I wish I could go.” He even sounded like one.

She indicated his clothing. “Looks like you were going
somewhere.”

“Yeah, I think I can jog today. I’ve been building up to it. My arm’s a lot better.”

“Why don’t you come with me?” Her face shadowed. “Unless you don’t want to. After what I did, disobeying a direct order.”

“It turned out okay, Evie.”

“You got shot!” She shook her head, sending chin-length hair flying. “I guess I was so nervous I didn’t think about what I was doing.”

“Forget it. We all make mistakes.”

Her face brightened. “So want to go with me? It would make me feel better if I could ease your cabin fever.”

“I probably couldn’t climb as fast as you.” But he’d damn well try. And being in the gorge, surrounding by the serenity of nature might soothe his troubled soul.

“I’ll take it easy, or go on ahead and let you hike at your own pace.” She reached out and grasped his hand. “Please, come with me. Then I’ll know you’re not upset with me for acting so stupidly.”

“Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.” Besides, what could it hurt?

In an hour, they were standing in front of a trail at Letchworth Park. The sun was hot, the climb steep, and a slight breeze ruffled the leaves of trees that were indeed more lush down here. Joe was enervated by his surroundings.

“I’m so glad you wanted to do this,” Evie said as they started up. “After the school problem, there were several human-interest stories about you in the paper. In an interview, you said you were going to miss working out and running.” She gave him a purposely sexy look. “I’d like to know about
all
your favorite athletic activities.”

Huh. Her unfiltered, full-of-innuendo response was fun and flirty. He tried to flirt back, vowing to enjoy himself today.

When they got a ways up the trail, she asked, “Want to bet who makes it to the top first?”

Chuckling, he shook his head. “A sucker bet, if I ever heard one. You hike this trail all the time, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh. I’m advisor to the hiking club at school and we come out here a lot.”

“I’ll pass on the bet.”

The incline was a snap, but still he went slow. She took the trek faster than he did, and that had its benefits—when she got ahead of him, it was a pleasant sight. Hell, he was guy. He noticed these things, no matter what he was trying to decide about Dana.

Nope, he told himself, Dana wasn’t coming here today. It would be good for Joe to see how much he could enjoy other women’s company after having met Dana. Touched her…kissed her…

They climbed for a half hour. When the sun peeked through the trees, its rays gently beat down on them. Joe’s legs ached with the strain and his lung capacity stretched, both of which felt great. For a while. But after another half hour, his shoulder began to hurt.

Evie stopped at about the same time. “Ready for a break?”

They sat on a large rock near a grassy area off to the side. She removed the water bottle she’d brought in her pack and sipped it. He did the same with his own, took a swig and admitted he was tired already. Damn, he’d wanted to work up a sweat and release some of this pent-up energy. But he wasn’t stupid. “Sorry, babe, this is it for me. I can’t go any farther.”

Evie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll stop, too.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll wait here while you finish.”

She glanced at the watch on her wrist. “It’ll take another forty-five minutes to reach the top and get back here.”

“I can amuse myself.” He indicated to a patch of grass next to the rock. “Maybe I’ll take a nap.”

“If you’re sure…”

 He stayed where he was until she was out of sight, then he lay down in the grass, put his backpack under his head and sighed. Closing his eyes, he tried to appreciate the warmth of the day and subtle sounds of nature surfacing now that he was still.

But he couldn’t. A thought niggled at him. Finally, it crystallized in his head. He was getting the tiniest taste of what it meant not to be able to do physical activities that had been a big part of his life. How on earth did Dana stand this, live with a permanent disability, after being so active? He didn’t think he could do it.

She must be such a strong person, a sane one. It made him ashamed to think he might not be able to get past her disability in order to date her. His father would be ashamed of him, too.

Later that day, when Joe got home, the notion of his dad being ashamed of him drove him upstairs. The box of letters was on the bed. He sat down and opened the lid. Long ago, he’d written the subject of each letter on the envelope and put them in alphabetical order. He started with
First letter.

Dear Joey,

I’m writing this series of letters because I want to share my thoughts with you and help guide you through adulthood since I won’t be here to do it in person. I’m hoping that you’ll grow up to be a good man, someone people can depend on, look up to. I think those are important qualities to possess in life. I won’t be able to tell you exactly how to do that, but remember those traits when you make choices for your future and in your daily life.

Huh, Joe thought. In most ways, he
had
grown up to be the kind of person his dad wanted, even though he’d done some things where he didn’t live up to his own expectations. He hoped he wouldn’t falter with Dana. Leafing through the stack, he came across a letter labeled embarrassment. Would Joe be embarrassed by Dana if they began to date? Jesus, he hated the thought.

Dear Son,

I want first to address an issue of how you’ve been embarrassed by me at your ballgames. I know you are, and I want you to know your reaction’s understandable. Don’t try to squelch your feelings. If you stuff them, they’ll surface at bad times. You have to admit how you feel. You have to face what’s going on inside you. On the other hand, know that you can get over feelings like that, too. Think about who really counts in your life. If they’d be embarrassed (by me or any situation you get yourself into), are they really worth spending time with?

Well, that helped him some. He went on to another letter. Its topic was
helplessness.

Dear Joey,

I saw again today how my being in this chair, how my disease, is affecting you. You feel helpless and you hate it. I truly believe you’re going to grow up to be a fearless individual, one who affects and controls things. That’s good, Joey, really good, but you’ve also got to remember that you can’t fix everything. Some things are way beyond your control…I know this now.

Joe sat back into his pillows and sighed. This piece of advice was important. Because Joe knew in his heart he’d struggle with Dana’s condition—hell, he’d already felt it when they’d left the restaurant.

Joe had to stop reading. The letters were always hard to get through, but he did it because it made him feel closer to his dad. This time, however, was completely different from before he knew Dana. His dad’s advice took on a whole new meaning. Once again, he was mesmerized by his dad’s strength of character, his wisdom from working on the streets, and the utter sensitivity the man had gained toward people. On the other hand, Joe felt like so much less of a person than his father for considering dropping out of Dana’s life because she was in a wheelchair. As he’d thought earlier, his dad wouldn’t be proud of him. With every word he read, Joe was sure of that fact.

He also knew if he didn’t give his relationship with Dana a shot, he wouldn’t be very proud of himself either.

o0o

Ten days had passed since their lunch at The Red Apple, since Dana had confessed all to Joe, and he hadn’t contacted her with a decision. He’d emailed her once after the congratulatory one, saying he was thinking things over—he wanted to be sure, make the right choice—and he’d be back in touch.

He hadn’t been. So when she was feeling particularly low one night, Dana accepted an invitation to meet Craig, whom she’d continued to email. Before agreeing, though, she told him about her disability. He said he was okay with it, that he still wanted to meet. He had a cousin in a wheelchair, so he’d understand her situation realistically.

Unlike a certain cop.

This time, she’d let him pick the place and was pleased that he’d chosen a beautiful city park. As always, she was early and pulled into the handicap parking space, noting there weren’t many cars in the lot. Usually, she was wary of grass—most people didn’t think about terrain in regard to wheelers and she’d had some bad experiences—but Craig knew better. He’d directed her to an accessible, paved entrance and told her he’d arrive early to claim an appropriate table, hopefully under a tree. The August evening registered eighty-five on the thermometer.

Buzzing down the windows, Dana turned off the engine and sat in the van, letting the warm air soothe her. She’d put on a pretty, sleeveless, white blouse and seersucker-striped pants—the coolest she had. As always, she wore slip-on shoes that covered her feet. She wondered briefly what it would feel like to dress for Joe, then chided herself for the thought.

A gentle knock on the side of the van. “Hi, there.”

Startled, Dana looked over to see Craig had come to the door. Though she’d seen pictures of him online, he was much more attractive in person—tall, over six feet, with longish blond hair, blue eyes and a nice smile. He gave her a big grin. He didn’t have JoeyD’s dimples, but his smile spread pleasantly across his face.

She returned it. “Hi, Craig.”

“Hey, Dana. I gotta say you’re even more beautiful in person.”

She blushed.

“You found the spot all right?”

“Easily.” She glanced at the sidewalk cutting through the grass. “I haven’t been on a picnic in twelve years.”

She’d never even tried. Since the accident, new experiences made her anxious. She’d found a way to cope in the insular world she’d created for herself but not always outside of it. Those times had been frightening as well as embarrassing. And one thing she was certain of, JoeyD would require her to live in that world.

“That’s a damn shame.” His voice pitched low, he added, “I’d never put you in a position where you couldn’t function.”

“Of course not. You know, from your cousin.”

“Who’s like my brother. We’re both only children.”

Again, a weak smile. “Then let’s get to it.”

Without having to be told, he stepped back and allowed her the physical and emotional space to maneuver herself out of the van. Again, she thought of Joey watching her get into her vehicle that day at The Red Apple. The look on his face, the way his fist had clenched and unclenched had told her he was restraining himself from coming to her rescue. Something she absolutely hated.

As they wheeled and walked down the path, Dana was glad she’d brought her manual chair. She had three, but this one was smaller, weighted at the bottom and navigated the terrain perfectly. Craig made innocuous small talk, and Dana was able to concentrate on where she was going. When they emerged from a copse of trees, she saw the picnic table.

Perfect. No attached benches. Height designed for wheelchair access. On a concrete slab. It sported a red-checked tablecloth—real, not paper—dishes and cloth napkins. Food, still wrapped, had been set out, and a cooler kissed the legs of the table. “How sweet, Craig.” More than sweet. Thoughtful, insightful, impressive, making Dana feel really special. She’d missed
that
feeling from a man, too.

“I’m trying to impress you,” he said as if reading her mind. A really cute smile now. “How am I doing so far?”

“Great, just great.”

Now, if she could only get JoeyD out of her mind, tonight would be perfect.

Chapter 5

Inside one of the studio’s classrooms, Dana wheeled in front of the mirrored wall and barre. She favored this room because it had an expanse of windows facing the instruction area. Positioning herself in the middle, poised in front of the mirror, and because she was in the specially equipped wheelchair she used at work, she pressed the pneumatic lever which raised the seat—and her—into a standing position. She didn’t need the chest bar to stay straight, but she activated the one around her thighs for support of her lower body. Due to the nature of her injury, she couldn’t sustain an upright position all day long. The stance put too much pressure on her thigh and back muscles for getting around, though it was a Godsend for her dance instruction. With it, she could demonstrate some moves for the students.

She stared into the mirror, recalling vividly how she’d cried when she first stood like this because it underscored the woman she used to be. Her physician had recommended the chair and at first she’d balked. Any kind of dancing was off-limits. But a patient, insightful psychologist had helped her get over the “if I can’t be what I used to be in dance, I don’t want any part of it,” syndrome. And besides, the lure had been too great; eventually, she’d overcome the absolute humiliation of her limitations. Now, years later, she took pleasure in her five-eight frame standing erect, how her leotard—which she’d put on this morning so she could practice—gloved her upper body, showing curves, muscles and sinew to be proud of. Her hair was up in a knot and she wore an ankle-length skirt to cover her legs but allowed herself dance slippers. Squaring her upper torso into the traditional dance stance, she moved.

Regardless of the class level, she began each workshop or semester with a review of the classical dance movements. As natural as walking, her arms drifted low in front of her body, barely touching her dance skirt. Palms rose into the air, thumbs turned inward, fingers supple, arms tracing an ellipse. She held the pose as she had thousands of times in the past. Then she went into first position. Her arms extended forward horizontally, hands at the level of her chest, kept carefully curved. Her shoulders automatically remained low and her chin stayed steady.