A Soldier's Heart Page 12

  “Thanks to your mom and the doctors.” Luke grabbed the walker and used it to help him switch from the chair to the bench next to Michael. He wouldn’t have thought, two weeks ago, that he’d be doing that much.

  “Pretty soon you’ll be able to play basketball without using the wheelchair.”

  The child’s innocent words were like a blow to the stomach. “Well, I don’t know about that.” He tried to keep his voice casual. Playing basketball was probably only one of a long list of things he wouldn’t be doing again. “They might not be able to fix me that much.”

  Michael stared at his sneakers again, tipping the scuffed toes up. “Did you ever hear the story about how some guys brought their friend to Jesus, and they cut a hole in the roof to lower him down?”

  “Yes, I remember that one. I always thought they must be pretty good friends.” He was afraid he knew where this was going, but he didn’t see any way to head it off.

  “Jesus made the man better.” Michael didn’t look up. “In church every Sunday, we pray that you’ll get better.”

  Something twisted in him at that. He should have realized that Pastor Brendan would put him on the prayer list, no matter how many casseroles he turned away. “That’s nice of you. I appreciate it.”

  “Do you ask God to make you better?” Michael asked the question an adult would probably feel too uncomfortable to ask.

  “Yes. Sometimes.” But I don’t think He’s listening to me. He could hardly say that to a child. “I guess everyone doesn’t always get healed the way they want to.”

  The sneakers stopped swinging, and Michael looked up at him, his small face crinkling as if he were on the verge of tears. Panic swept through Luke. He wasn’t capable of dealing with the child’s grief. Where was Mary Kate when he needed her?

  “Why didn’t Jesus heal my daddy? If he could heal other people, why not my daddy?”

  He clutched the bench with both hands, the rough wood biting into his palms. “Michael, I’m not a very good person to ask. Why don’t you talk to your uncle Brendan? He’s a minister, so he knows about things like that.”

  “I’d rather ask you. ’Cause you got hurt, too, and you wanted Jesus to make you better.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “My daddy didn’t want to go to Heaven.” The words burst out of him, as if they’d been dammed up too long. “He didn’t! He wanted to stay here with us.”

  “Of course he wanted to stay with you. He loved you, and he’d have done anything not to leave you.” His throat went tight with strain. He wasn’t the person to deal with this. He couldn’t even cope with his own unanswered questions.

  But he was the one Michael was asking, and he couldn’t ignore that. If You’re listening, You’d better give me some words, because I sure don’t know what to say.

  He took a deep breath, focusing on the kid’s face. “Look, Michael, I don’t pretend to have all of this figured out. It’s really a tough one. Maybe sometimes we can’t understand, because we don’t know enough. But your daddy’s in Heaven now, and he understands why things happened the way they did. Someday we will, too.”

  Michael looked as if he wanted to argue that one. But he couldn’t, because his mother came toward them from the porch, carrying a tray with a pitcher and glasses.

  “Lemonade,” she said, her voice light.

  But blue sparks shot from her eyes when she looked at Luke, leaving him in no doubt. Mary Kate had heard his feeble attempt to answer Michael’s questions. And she was absolutely furious with him.

  Mary Kate set the kids’ empty glasses back on the tray. The smile she’d had clamped on her face for the past ten minutes felt as if it were frozen there, but anger bubbled hotly behind it. When she got Luke alone, she’d tell him just what she thought of his interference.

  “Okay, you two. It’s time you went over to Grammy’s house. Luke and I need to work some more.”

  Shawna nodded, getting up, but Michael’s lower lip came out in a pout.

  “I don’t want to go yet. I want to play basketball with Luke some more.”

  “Well, you can’t.” She hated the way that sounded, so she reached out to ruffle his hair, trying to make the smile a bit more genuine. “You’ve been here for quite a while, but now you have to leave. Say thank-you to Luke for helping you.”

  It might be the last time—or at least the last time she left Michael alone with him. He didn’t have the right to talk to her son about his father’s death. No one did.

  “Thank you, Luke.” Michael slid off the bench and scuffed his toes in the grass. “I wish I could stay longer.”

  “Sorry, buddy, but I have work to do, like your mother said.”

  At least Luke had sense enough to back her up in that, but it didn’t begin to take the edge off her anger. They stayed in frozen silence until Shawna and Michael were well down the block on the way to her mother’s, and then she swung on him.

  “You had no right to do that.”

  “I know.” He didn’t pretend he didn’t understand. “But if you’ll listen to me—”

  “I heard you—” grief grabbed her throat “—talking to Michael about Kenny.”

  “Look, I didn’t want to.” Luke propped his elbows on the picnic table, looking up at her. “How about sitting down so we can talk about this?”

  I don’t want to. That was what she wanted to say, but it sounded petulant, even to her. She slid reluctantly onto the bench across from him. “There’s nothing to say.”

  “I repeat, I didn’t want to talk to him about it.” Frustration tightened his face. “Michael brought it up. I told him he should ask Brendan his question, but he asked me. He thought I would understand.” His tone was bleak.

  She clenched her hands together. “What question? What did he ask you?”

  “He wanted to know why Jesus didn’t heal his daddy.”

  For a long moment she couldn’t speak. She could only struggle to hold back the tears.

  Luke reached across the table to put his hand over both of hers. “Look, I’m sorry. He seems to have the idea that I’m kind of in the same boat, so I should know the answers.” He shook his head. “I don’t. I told him that. I just tried to reassure him as best I could.”

  She sucked in a shaky breath, staring at his hand covering hers. It was lean from his long struggle, but still strong. She couldn’t let herself rely on that strength.

  “I don’t mean to sound unreasonable. Believe me, I know how persistent Michael can be.” She tried to smile, but it was a dismal attempt. “Sometimes I think he was born asking why. But dealing with those kinds of questions is my job.” Not yours.

  His fingers tightened a little. “I know. But he didn’t ask you, Mary Kate. Don’t you wonder why?”

  That hit her like a blow, and all she could do was stare at him. She tried to yank her hands away, but he held them tightly. She clamped her lips together. She would not fall apart in front of him.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was soft. To do Luke justice, this seemed to hurt him, too. “I know it’s none of my business, but I can’t help seeing it. You’re so determined not to let anyone, especially the kids, see your pain.”

  “I can’t.” The words rasped her throat. “They’re children. I’m the grown-up. I have to protect them.”

  His hand moved absently on hers. Comforting, as she would comfort one of the children.

  “You’re really good at that stiff upper lip of yours. Trouble is, it’s rubbing off on them.”

  “No.” She shook her head, went on shaking it. She had to deny it. “That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it? Shawna’s exactly like you, determined to take care of everyone. If something’s bothering her, she’s not going to admit it. Again, like you.”

  The memory of Shawnie, walking into school alone, clutched at her heart.

  “And Michael, hiding the car from you because he didn’t want to hurt you.” Pain roughened Luke’s voice. “It’s none of my business. I accept that, but
I can’t help seeing what’s right in front of me.”

  “No, I guess you can’t.” She drew another shaky breath, knowing tears weren’t far away. She pulled at her hands and this time he let go. She put them up to her face. “I’m letting them down. Just like I let Kenny down.”

  There was a brief, startled silence, lasting long enough that she could hear the persistent chatter of the wrens in the birdhouse near the porch.

  “What makes you think you let Kenny down?” he said finally.

  She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. But the tears were already slipping down her cheeks, and she had to wipe them away with her fingers.

  “I should have taken better care of him. I was too wrapped up in the kids to see that something was wrong. Why didn’t I?” She tried to stop the words, but once her guard was released, they poured out in a torrent. “I’d have taken the kids to the doctor at the slightest symptom, but I didn’t even realize anything was wrong with him. If I’d noticed, if I’d pushed him to go to the doctor, have a checkup, maybe they’d have found it earlier, maybe he wouldn’t have died, maybe—” She broke off with a sob that she couldn’t control.

  Luke just sat, listening, until she ran down. Until she dropped her hands, palms down, on the table, as exhausted as if she’d been running.

  “How could you have realized something was wrong sooner if Kenny didn’t even see it?”

  She shook her head tiredly. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know because it’s impossible.” Luke clasped her hands again, very gently. “Think about what you just said, and tell me how you’d respond to anyone else who believed that.”

  She knew, even without thinking. “I’d say that was foolish. I’d say nobody could have known and—” She stopped.

  “And what?” He was implacable. He wouldn’t let her off the hook until she’d admitted it.

  “And nothing would have made any difference.”

  “So why can’t you do the same for yourself?”

  All the arguments welled up in her. Because I’m the one who takes care of everyone, because I’m the responsible one, because I should be able to fix everything.

  She didn’t say anything. She just confronted all her reactions and knew how ridiculous they were. She took a breath and realized she felt freer than she had in a long time.

  Lord, were these words from You?

  “I’m supposed to be your therapist,” she said softly. “Not the other way around.”

  She managed to look at him, and found a softness in his eyes that shook her. She felt an emotion in return that was so strong it frightened her. She’d known the attraction existed. She’d been prepared to deal with that.

  But this was much more than just attraction. This was caring and affection and a whole host of feelings that she very definitely didn’t want to face.

  Mary Kate pulled into the driveway that circled the clinic and the hospital several days later. She stole a glance at Luke as she parked in one of the handicapped spots near the hospital entrance. He was clutching the armrest, and he didn’t let go until she’d come to a complete stop.

  “You know, if I make you that nervous, you might think about getting strong enough to drive again yourself,” she said, her voice tart.

  He blinked. “Sorry. It’s not you, exactly. It’s just—”

  “You like to be in control.”

  “I guess.”

  “Your mother’s car is automatic. The way you’re improving, I think you might—”

  His hand closed over the door handle. “I’m not into wishful thinking.”

  “It’s not wishful thinking.” Shaking him was not an option, but she hated running up against that stubborn streak of his, especially when it limited him. “It’s perfectly reasonable to think that eventually you’ll have enough control to drive. A car with hand controls would allow you to drive right away.”

  “No. If I can’t do the real thing, I’d just as soon walk.” He pushed the door open and swung his legs around.

  Exasperated, she slid out, shut the door a little too hard and went around to lift the walker out for him.

  By the time they reached the hospital entrance, she’d gotten herself under control again. Really, this was ridiculous. She wasn’t the sort of person to let her emotions get the better of her. It seemed everything she felt had been out of kilter lately, especially where Luke was concerned.

  She held the door for Luke to go through. “If the brace and the canes work out, you’ll soon only need the walker occasionally.” She nodded to the right. “The orthotics department is down here.”

  He moved along beside her without comment. Because he didn’t have anything to say, or because he was apprehensive about this new step in his recovery? She wasn’t sure but decided not to push it.

  They reached the office, and Luke was swept off by the technicians who were eager to work with him but probably too polite to mention his military service as the reason. For once she had nothing to do but find a seat and watch.

  Over the next half hour, while they fussed over the proper fit of the brace, she found her apprehension rising. How was he going to take this? The doctor thought he was ready, but Luke might not agree.

  At least he wasn’t arguing with the techs the way he usually did with her. An unwelcome thought intruded. Maybe he’d have been better off all along with someone he didn’t know as well or feel so free to balk.

  Common sense asserted itself before she could go too far down that path. If she hadn’t intervened when she did, Luke would have continued turning physical therapists from his door. She was the one who’d gotten him started, and she was right to be pleased about that.

  She watched, heart in her mouth, as the techs hoisted Luke to his feet, helping him balance with two canes. His face was tight, lips set, betraying nothing, but she knew him well enough to read past that. He wanted this, and he was afraid to want it.

  Please, Lord. This would be such a big step, in every way, for him. Please, let this work.

  She held her breath as he steadied himself. His tension flowed across the room, striking her like a physical blow. She’d worry later about what it meant that she knew so well what he felt. Now she could only clench her hands on her knees and pray. Please. Please.

  He moved his legs, testing, getting used to the feel of the braces that helped support him. Then, slowly, very slowly, he took one step and then another. He looked up, smile blazing across his face at the triumph. But the smile wasn’t for the person who helped him. It was for her.

  Before she could identify the emotions that rocketed through her, he’d looked away, concentrating on the instructions he was getting. He moved forward, stopped, turned, balancing carefully, lurching a little so that her heart was in her throat. And then he moved again, walking away from her.

  Walking away from her. His smile had shown the sense of achievement she’d been longing to see. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

  Of course it was. And the sense that he really was walking away from her—well, that was her function. She was supposed to help him become independent, even when it took him away from her.

  She fought the unwelcome feelings throughout the rest of his session and even while she listened to the final instructions for his use of the braces and the canes. She’d best pay attention, especially to the cautions about doing too much too soon, because otherwise Luke would probably insist on doing just that. She’d had the sense all along that something could happen to turn all that stubborn will of his into getting better instead of fighting against healing. Judging by his expression, this might be it.

  Predictably, he wanted to use the canes to walk out to the car. It took the orthotic tech’s arguments, added to hers, to dissuade him. Finally, giving in to persuasion and threats, he took the walker, letting her carry the canes.

  She pushed the door open, and he moved through it to the top of the ramp. He paused there for a moment, tilting his head back to catch the rays of the sun. Then he loo
ked at her. “Feels good.”

  Her throat tightened as she realized he wasn’t talking just about the sunshine. “Yes,” she managed. “Yes, it does.”

  She was startled when he lifted the walker and went swiftly down the ramp. Faster than he ever had before, faster than he should have, probably. He beat her to the car and leaned against it, grinning with triumph, as if they’d been racing.

  “Okay, you won. No need to gloat.”

  She unlocked the car, opening the back door to set the walker and the canes inside. She shouldn’t let him see the effect that wide, easy grin had on her. It turned him into someone else, the boy he’d been once, a long time ago.

  When she closed the back door, she realized he hadn’t made any move to get into the car. He stood, arm resting against the roof, as if enjoying the sense of towering over her.

  “Tell you what—I feel like celebrating. Let’s go out to dinner.”

  It was so unexpected that she couldn’t say a word. For an instant she felt sixteen again, being asked out by the boy she’d dreamed of for too long. She looked up at him, acceptance trembling on her lips.

  Then cold common sense swept in. It wasn’t particularly comforting, but it was what she’d grown used to.

  “I’m sorry, Luke. That—that wouldn’t be appropriate. I can’t go out on a date with you.”

  “No?” His eyebrow lifted. “But we’re old friends. And we did that before.”

  I know.

  “That doesn’t make a difference. I’m your therapist. I can’t date a client.”

  “Well, I don’t insist upon it being a date. I just want to celebrate. Can’t we have a nice meal while we discuss the future of my therapy? You can pay your own way, if it makes you feel better.”

  What he said was logical enough, but all her instincts warned her of the danger of being out alone with him.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She tried to sound cool, professional, as if she didn’t care.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be working, because he was still looking down at her with that quizzical smile, as if waiting for a better explanation.