Fairy-Tale Family. Pat Montana
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“Okay, King, I have to lift you out.”
Just as quickly, she rushed back across the sidewalk. “Mitch, you can’t do that. He’s too—” But he’d already reached inside the car.
Omigod. He hadn’t set the wheelchair brakes.
She spun around, pressed both levers and flipped the foot rests into place. By the time she turned back, Mitch had King in his arms. She reached to guide King’s legs out of the car.
That was when she saw what Mitch had told them yesterday. One of King’s legs sported a plastic-type cast from his toes to his knee. The other leg stuck straight out in front of him with a cast that ran all the way from his foot to his hip. She felt herself getting light-headed.
“Ellie...there’s a lever on the side...to extend the leg rest. Can you find it?” Mitch’s breathing came heavy.
She whirled back to the wheelchair, searching frantically for the leg extension. “I found it. It’s up. Hurry.” Aching to help, she turned back, longing to soothe King, to give Mitch more strength.
King patted Mitch on the shoulder. “Tables have turned, haven’t they, son? Used to be I carried you around.” He drew in a sharp breath. “Diaper didn’t weigh half as much as these damn things, though.” He scowled down at his casts.
Ellie saw Mitch’s face freeze, felt tension spark the air again. She’d sensed it before. What was there between father and son that caused Mitch such anger? Resentment seemed to roll off him like sweat. What made him call his own father King?
Mitch lowered King carefully into the wheelchair, and Ellie guided his legs into place. Then she made the mistake of looking up at the older man. His face had gone taut. His swarthy coloring had turned chalk white. Moisture beaded above his lips.
Her heart clenched. “Are you all right?”
“Couldn’t be better.” He managed a labored grin as he blotted a jacket sleeve against his forehead. “Okay, kids, pretend I fell down a mountain. Mitch is going to rescue me.”
Ellie put her hand on King’s arm. “This isn’t a game. I think we should call the hospital for help.”
King patted her hand. “Mitch knows what he’s doing, Ellie. He’s a member of Mountain Rescue. Don’t worry, a pair of Fiberglas long johns isn’t going to keep me down. Besides, I’ve always wanted to see what this boy does in his spare time.” He grinned up at Mitch. “What say we get this over with, son?”
King might have thought he’d convinced her with his bravado, but she saw his strain. Mitch might be more than a ski instructor, but right now he looked as grim as an undertaker. She didn’t feel good about this at all.
But there wasn’t much she could do except help. She ran to hold the door while Mitch backed King up the step and into the entryway.
“Seri, Rafe, Michael—upstairs,” Mitch commanded. “Remember how we practiced? Wheel that new chair into the living room and be ready when I call you.”
They nodded solemnly, then raced up the stairs, Seri dragging the big pink rabbit, Bubba Sue barking the whole way.
“Gabe, I want you here to help your mom and me.”
Any other man, Ellie would have refused to let command her children this way. But Mitch seemed to know what he was doing. She trusted him on this. The realization startled her.
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