Standing at the kitchen door, Shamika studied Leah as she cuddled Val close. "Dinner is about ready. You
are
going to eat, aren't you?"
"I'm really not hungry. But thanks anyway."
"Just what went on with you and Johnny, Leah? You come home this morning looking like you'd been dragged behind a rogue horse, saying nothing, spending the next hours holed up in your room crying your eyes out."
Leah stood and swayed, Val's weight throwing her off-balance slightly as she moved toward the kitchen. "I got the job at the track. I begin assisting Jake Graham in the morning. Isn't that great? With a decent paycheck coming in here twice a month, maybe we can eat something more substantial than macaroni and cheese four nights a week."
"Val and I happen to like macaroni and cheese. Don't we, pal?" Shamika pinched Val's cheek as Leah walked by.
Leah situated Val in the specially built highchair next to the table and strapped him in. "I understand Jake is a real hunk. Thirty-eight years old. Divorced. No kids. Great sense of humor."
Shamika picked up a plate of fried pork chops and a bowl of mashed potatoes from the stove and set them on the table between a platter of hot-water cornbread and a pitcher of tea. "I don't care about Jake Graham. I want to know what's up with you and Johnny."
Leah headed for the bedroom, dragging the damp towel off and tossing it in the vicinity of the bathroom door. As she dug through her lingerie drawer for her cotton pajamas, Shamika entered the room, stopping short at the sight of Leah's scraped and bruised back.
"Good God, girl, you fall off that damned horse or what?"
"Which one?" She grinned and stepped into the pajama bottoms. "The
Whitehorse
or the paint?"
"This isn't funny, Leah. Just what went on between you two?"
Jerking the cotton top out of the drawer and tugging it over her head, Leah turned on Shamika so suddenly that Shamika stepped back in surprise.
"He fucked me, girlfriend. That's it in black and white. I went to him to offer comfort and reassurance. I naively thought that my giving him my body would alleviate his pain over Dolores and all the hurt he experienced over my breaking his heart those many years ago. Can you believe I was so arrogant to think that such a sacrifice would appease his turmoil? Guess he showed me. I simply got a little taste of what it's like to be humiliated by the one you so desperately love."
She returned to the kitchen, dropped into a chair next to Val's and reached for a patty of hot, crisp cornbread, which she covered in butter then broke into tiny pieces and put on a plate before her son, who watched her with serious eyes.
Shamika took the chair across from her and picked up the bowl of potatoes. "So when are you seeing him again?"
"Probably never. Since he—" She glanced at Val and shrugged. "He didn't speak to me the entire journey back to his grandfather's."
"He had a lot on his mind," Shamika pointed out.
"He hasn't called."
"There was his meeting with the police and the district attorney, not to mention Dolores's funeral. The man is probably wrung out. God only knows what his lawyers and agents have been heaping on him the last several hours as well."
"He always called. Always. Just to make certain I was okay and to tell me how much he loved me."
"He's not a starry-eyed love-struck kid any longer, Leah. There's a lot to consider. Same with you." She smiled and looked at Val as she popped a piece of corn-bread into his mouth. "You told him about Val yet?"
She shook her head.
"Why not?"
"No reason to. Not yet. The way things ended I'll probably never see Johnny again. Maybe that's just as well."
"Then you wouldn't have to tell him about Val's disability, hm?"
"Don't start." She stabbed a pork chop and began tearing at it with a dull knife.
"Yep. Better it end this way, Leah. Then you don't have to face the fear of him dumping you because he doesn't want the responsibility of becoming involved with a woman with a handicapped child. Of course, you could always give Sam a call. It's obvious the man adores you, and he has no problem with Val. Maybe you could learn to love him in time. I mean, if you have no intention of allowing the one you
really
love into your life because you're just too big a coward to risk his reaction, what alternative do you have other than to spend the rest of your life alone?"
Leah shoved back from the table, unbuckled Val's straps, and lifted him out of his chair. She kicked open the back screen door and left the house, entered the barn and allowed the smells of rich hay and manure to slide through her system like a sedative.
The pair of pygmy goats trotted out of a stall and let loose a noisy squalling of bleats that made Val raise his head and grin. "Val see goats?"
"Sure." She smiled and sat down in the barn aisle, resting Val on her crossed legs. The goats waddled toward them, curled tails flickering from side to side in pleasure, each shaking their little horned heads and skipping sideways in their excitement to be petted. Val squealed and squirmed, causing Leah to laugh as the black-and-white spotted billy climbed into Val's lap and proceeded to lick his cheek.
Taking Val's hand, Leah gently stroked it across the goat's back, inviting the little beast to peer at Val with a kind of adoration that caused her son to sigh in pleasure.
"Goat likes Val?"
"Of course. See? He's smiling."
The goat
baahed
and nestled closer, pawed at Val's chest and peered with its odd yellow eyes with their thin, horizontal pupils into the child's face.
"He's saying he loves you," Leah whispered and scratched the billy under his chin. "He says he's your friend."
Val laughed again as the goat tugged on his shirt, demanding more strokes. His laughter sounded sweet as birdsong, like that of any normal seven-year-old.
Hugging him close and laying her cheek against the top of his head, she said more to herself than to Val, "I got a job today that's going to pay me real money. We'll be able to buy you a bigger wheelchair, maybe a powered one that you can learn to drive yourself. But most important, we can try out the injections of Botox. Sometimes they help to supple your muscles. Then petting the old billy here wouldn't be so hard. You could even give him a hug. I'm sure he would love that … to feel your arms around him."
"Mama hug Val?"
She turned Val to face her and wrapped her arms around him tightly as his head rested on her shoulder. She felt his body stiffen as he tried desperately to raise his arms around her neck, knowing even as he struggled it was not going to happen.
The foal in the stall at the far end of the barn nickered and Val's smile widened. "Horse, please," he said.
Leah stood and moved to the stall where Johnny's mare and foal both whinnied in greeting. The swelling on the mare's stifle had improved tremendously. She would be sure to call
Roy
first thing in the morning and remind him that he could take the pair back to Whitehorse Farm, and she would suggest that he find another vet.
She simply would not have time for private practice when she began working at the track.
"Val pet?"
Leah shoved open the stall door and stepped in. Val's body strained and swayed, his flesh turning warm from his exertion as he attempted to lift his hand toward the mare.
"Val fly…"
Smiling, Leah moved to the mare's side. The horse turned its beautiful dished head and nuzzled Val's hand, her big brown eyes regarding him with a softness that made Leah's throat tighten.
Turning his eyes up to Leah's, Val repeated, "Val fly?"
"I don't understand," she said. "You want to pet—"
"No! Val fly!" He squirmed his body closer to the mare and his hands opened just enough to grab fistfuls of mane. "Val fly," he cried.
Leah peeled his fingers out of the horse's mane and struggled to hold him as he bucked and flailed his body against her. She stumbled from the stall as he wailed, looking around frantically as Shamika ran down the aisle.
Shamika grabbed his hands and held them firmly. "Hush. Hush now."
"Val want fly! Val want horse!"
"You are not to scream," Shamika said firmly, looking into his face. "Be nice, Val, or you'll go to your corner."
He closed his eyes tightly and wailed again, the sound intensified by the metal barn.
Shamika took him from Leah, her strong arms entrapping his. "Okay, buddy. You know the price for tantrums. Off we go." Shamika marched out of the barn as Val peered back at Leah over Shamika's shoulder, his big blue eyes brimming with tears.
By the time Leah entered the house, Shamika had situated Val in his wheelchair and sat him facing a blank wall. Shamika returned to the kitchen table and pointed to Leah's plate of cold chops and potatoes. "Sit and eat. Don't look at me like that. You cannot allow him to throw fits—"
"He's just a child—"
"Just because he's disabled doesn't mean he's allowed to act any differently than any other seven-year-old who throws temper tantrums. Let him get away with that kind of behavior and you'll soon have a problem on your hands. Try wrestling a hundred-pounder who gets pissed because he doesn't get his way."
Leah sank into the chair, glancing again into the living room where Val sat silently, head fallen to one side as he stared at the wall. "He must be hungry."
"He'll eat just as soon as he's had time to think about his behavior."
"I don't understand what set him off—"
"I'll tell you what set him off." Shamika spread butter on her fried cornmeal patty. "He wants to ride."
Leah sank back in the chair.
"Don't get that stubborn look on your face, Doc Starr. Your son wants to ride. Simple as that. He enjoys it. I don't blame him for being angry. It's the one thing he does that rewards him with a sense of freedom and accomplishment. He said it himself. To ride is to fly."
As Shamika ate her cornbread she studied Leah's face. "Just what are you so frightened of?"
"He's too damn vulnerable, Shamika. He can't catch a cold without suffering for it. A fall from a horse—"
"He's not going to fall."
"You can't guarantee that."
"You can't guarantee that he's not going to fall out of his bed or his wheelchair or choke on a noodle, for heaven's sake." Shamika reached for her iced tea. "It's the guilt thing, isn't it? You still blame yourself for his condition. If you allowed him to ride and something happened you'd blame yourself—again. You think by smothering him with safety you're going to somehow make up for giving birth to him three months early. How many times do the doctors have to assure you that his condition is no fault of yours? It was the hospital staff who brought in that germ, Leah. You sued them. They admitted fault and paid you a million dollars. The annuity check you receive each month should be a reminder that you are in no way to blame for Val's brain damage."
Shamika left her chair and rummaged through a kitchen drawer. She tossed a stack of papers and brochures on the table next to Leah's plate. "At least read the stuff with an open mind. Come out to Rockaway and watch the children ride. The instructors and volunteers are incredible. Their highest priority is safety." Smiling, Shamika added, "Do it for Val."