A Conard County Homecoming. Rachel Lee
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mild amusement. After locking himself in place, he pressed a button. The van door pulled open. The pneumatic lift extended itself, carrying him outside. Then another button lowered him to the ground. When he’d rolled off, Nell jumped to do her part. She nosed yet another button, the lift rose and retracted, and the door eased closed. He scratched her ears, letting him know he was pleased with her. She grinned back at him, happy.
“Go do your stuff,” he told her.
She didn’t need a second suggestion. She dashed immediately to the grass and began sniffing around. Apparently, the choice of where to relieve herself required some investigation.
Smiling faintly, he reached for the wheels of his chair and pushed himself toward the ramp. It felt sturdy beneath him; the slope was gentle enough, with a surface that had been roughened with outdoor carpeting to prevent slipping. Safe in the rain. Heating wires below for the snow. Perfect for his needs.
He reached the porch and pivoted, waiting for Nell. For the first time, it occurred to him that he might need to hire someone to clean up after her. He could do it unless the ground became soggy enough to bog down on, or the snow too deep. Little things. It was most often the little things that caused him problems now and often took him by surprise. He already had a handle on most of the big things.
Sitting still, waiting for his dog, he allowed the autumn chill to start reaching him. A lot of warmth came from movement, as he’d learned, and he wasn’t moving much at the moment. Still, he waited patiently. Nell was on new ground and probably needed to check it all out. He didn’t have the heart to interrupt her.
At last Nell finished up and came racing to his side. He unlocked the front door with a key that was as old as he was, and together he and his dog entered his old home, flicking on lights as he went. He ignored the stairway to the two upstairs bedrooms. That part of the house was unavailable to him—not that he needed it.
The house smelled different, but it had been thoroughly cleaned, and work had been done inside to ready things for him, like a new shower and a sturdy framework over his bed. Eventually, if he decided to stay, he’d have to change the kitchen as well, but that was going to be an expensive proposition. Right now he could manage well enough with standard counter heights and sinks. He’d had to learn.
The dog bowls were waiting, and he quickly filled one with water and bent to place it in Nell’s new feeding stand. Most things he’d been able to ship ahead, but some had had to be replaced. This was one of them. While she lapped water eagerly, he went to the pantry and found that the housekeeper he’d hired had filled it as directed. Everything was on the lower shelves or floors, nothing too high for him to reach. The bag of dog food in one corner was the first thing he grabbed. Nell had been awfully patient today, and she danced eagerly as he filled her bowl. Instead of putting the bag away, he set it to one side for the moment.
Opening the refrigerator wasn’t exactly easy, as it was a tight space for him in his chair. He knew Nell could do it for him if he just tied a towel to the handle, but he was jealous of every bit of independence he could protect.
Opening it, he found everything he’d requested. For now he just grabbed a beer.
Home. He wondered if he’d ever feel he was home again.
Then he heard the knock on his front door and almost decided not to answer it. He’d come here to be by himself and didn’t want a tide of well-meaning or curious neighbors sweeping through. Ignore it, he thought.
* * *
Ashley Granger knocked on Zane’s front door, a little nervous but determined. His housekeeper, Carol Cathcart, had worked with her for years as an aide at her school before taking this job with Zane, and the two had become friends of sorts. Carol had been the one to mention Zane was arriving today.
In her hand, Ashley held a warm Dutch apple pie she’d made after school as a welcoming gift for Zane. Ashley had thought a pie would be a nice gesture. Especially her famous Dutch apple.
She remembered Zane from school, sort of. She’d been five years behind him, which had precluded a friendship of any kind, but it was hard not to be aware of him. A great athlete, popular, good-looking...everyone knew Zane, if only at a distance. Then he’d left to join the military, and the last time she’d seen him had been at his father’s funeral years ago. His mother had died a year earlier.
Which meant he had few ties with this town, nearly twenty years later. She was kind of surprised he’d choose to come back here, but he had, and it seemed to her that an apple pie was the least she could do.
She rapped again, but there was no answer. He might need time to get to the front door—she really had no idea how mobile he was now—or maybe he was already in bed. He must have had a long drive. Glancing at her watch yet again, she thought that nine o’clock didn’t seem so late, but this was probably a different time zone for him.
Well, the pie would hold until tomorrow.
She had just started turning away when the door opened and a rough voice said, “What do you want?”
Okay, that was a pleasant opening. She had a bit of a temper, and it flared now. She faced him. “Nothing. I was just going to give you a pie.”
But in an instant her mind took a snapshot of a broad-shouldered man, still wearing a jacket, sitting in a wheelchair. Beside him, a golden Lab stood watch. God, was it possible the years had made Zane more attractive? The boy had become a man, even more appealing.
Dark eyes, dark hair a little on the shaggy side, the same strong jaw, but older. Much older. The years had taken a toll, leaving his face weathered and a bit lined. Harsh suns and winds, and maybe losing the use of his legs.
“Of course,” she continued stiffly, “if you don’t want it...”
But then he pushed his chair back from the door. “Come in,” he said gruffly.
On legs that felt rigid for some reason, she entered a house that was a clone of her own, except for the decorating. There was little decorating here except that left behind by his parents.
She started to reach for the door to close it against the growing chill, but the dog beat her to it, nosing it shut until she heard the latch click.
“What a beautiful dog,” she said after clearing her throat.
“Nell. My service dog.”
“Then I guess I shouldn’t pet her.”
“Only with my permission.” Then he pivoted his chair with amazing ease and led the way to the kitchen. “No coffee,” he said over his shoulder. “I didn’t make any.”
She hesitated. “I didn’t come to stay. I just wanted to give you this pie. You don’t have to entertain me.”
“Good.”
Well, that was blunt, she thought as her initial irritation began to give way to an unexpected, inexplicable amusement. So he was a hard case. Well, if that’s how he wanted it, fine.
“I’m Ashley Granger, by the way,” she said as they entered the kitchen. “You probably don’t remember me.”
“No.”
Ah, monosyllables. When he waved at the kitchen table and its ancient Formica, she placed the pie on it. There was only one chair, and she wondered if she should even sit. But then he pointed to it, so she pulled it out and sat.
He wheeled himself closer to the table and picked up the beer that was sitting there. Then, as if suddenly remembering himself, he asked, “Want one?”
“No, thank you. Anyway, I live next door and Carol mentioned that you were arriving tonight, so I made a pie. No big deal. And I promised I wasn’t here to visit. You must be tired after your trip.”
She felt a poke on her denim-clad thigh and looked down. Nell was looking up at her with great interest. “Um...”
“Does she frighten you?”
“No,”