Her Hometown Hero. Margaret Daley
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now. With the company, my schedule was so busy that I usually ate out or had frozen dinners.”
“Carrie has been begging me to teach her to cook, too. Maybe I’ll work with both of you together. The three Somers girls.”
After appeasing her thirst with several large swallows of cold iced tea, Kathleen turned to the fried chicken again. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because this is my problem, not yours. I’ll overcome it like I have everything.” Kathleen tried to put conviction into her voice, but even she heard the flat tone as though there was no life behind the words. “Remember that summer I sprained my ankle? I was back dancing in six weeks.”
“This isn’t a sprained ankle, Kit. I wish it were. Let me help you.” Beth covered Kathleen’s hand.
She snatched hers away. “I’m fine. I wish people wouldn’t smother me. I’m not like a fragile china doll.” Or am I? She felt broken like one that had been dropped onto the concrete.
Beth’s eyebrows lifted. “Smother you? I’m not doing that. I’m being a caring sister-in-law and friend. That means being there for you—and helping you whether you think you need it or not. And it won’t just be me. Lots of people are going to want to help.”
“Why would they? No one knows what happened, right?”
“Yes, for now. But you can’t keep your injury a secret forever. Nate kept asking us why you were here, how long you would be at the ranch.”
“It’s none of his business.”
“That isn’t going to stop him. You two were in love once. I know it didn’t work out, but you all were so close in high school—the two of you, and your group of friends. They’ll all want to be there for you while you deal with this. Maybe it’s time you lean on the Lord, family and friends. There’s nothing wrong in doing that. We all need the comfort and strengths of others from time to time. It doesn’t mean you’re weak.”
“You think this is about feeling weak? I don’t feel weak as much as lost.”
“It’s not like your injury is a big secret. It was in the news in New York City.”
“A brief mention of a traffic accident buried in the paper. Hardly a big announcement and certainly nothing about my amputation.”
“I don’t want my children finding out from anyone but you, or at the least Howard and me. Just so you know everything, Reverend Johnson at church knows.”
Shifting toward Beth, Kathleen dropped her fork, and it clanged against her plate. “Reverend Johnson knows about my leg?”
Beth nodded.
“How? Who told him?”
“When Howard found out, he turned to Reverend Johnson for prayer and guidance. He was a big help. He won’t say anything, but I think you should at least talk to him. Hiding the seriousness of the injury isn’t the answer. You need to accept it and move on. Faith can help you with that.”
Kathleen struggled to a stand. Without her prosthetic leg, the movement made her wobble. Leaning into the table, she gripped its edge to hold her upright. “When something like this happens to you, then you can tell me what I need to do. Thank you for the dinner, but I’m exhausted and going to bed.” She fumbled for her crutches and positioned them under her armpits.
Painstakingly she hobbled toward the bedroom, weariness blanketing her like a blizzard covering the landscape. She sat on her bed, the sound of the front door closing.
Alone. The silence mocked her. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted? A quiet place to think and reflect on what she was going to do for the rest of her life. After laying her crutches on the floor, she fell back on her bed, swung her legs up onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling. She didn’t have any answers to her questions, but she didn’t have the chance to ponder them for long, either. That last physical exertion whisked her quickly toward sleep.
* * *
Nate stared at the computer screen, reading the story in a New York City paper about Kathleen Somers being hit by a car while crossing the street the day before the opening of the first ballet she was starring in. Other than the bare facts, not much else was written about what happened.
He dug deeper until he found another article about Kathleen being replaced in the ballet company by world renowned prima ballerina Rachel LeMasters. So was she out for the rest of the season? Did this mean she was out of the ballet company for good? Was she going to be here longer than a couple of weeks?
He shut his laptop, closed his eyes and imagined her crossing the street, the walk sign indicating it was safe, unaware that it wasn’t safe at all. In his mind he saw her being hit, tossed up into the air and landing on the concrete. Limp. Broken. Alone.
He rubbed his knuckles into his eyes, trying to wipe the vision away. His heart pounded a maddeningly quick tempo against his rib cage at the thought of her dreams shattered just before their realization. But that wasn’t the case. She was walking about with only a slight limp. Surely she would be back to her old self after she recovered. She’d been hurt before and came back stronger, more determined to prove herself.
The urge to drive to the ranch and demand to see Kit swamped him. He clenched his hands and hammered one fist into the arm of the lounger. If only he’d realized, he wouldn’t have insisted to know why she was back in Cimarron City. He wouldn’t have pushed to learn how long she was staying—as if he were protecting his own heart. He was vulnerable where Kit was concerned.
It had been hard to walk away from her, but he had realized he was no longer an essential part of her world. He’d never understood her total sacrifice for ballet. He’d been able to walk away from football without a backward glance after working years to excel in the sport.
What worried him the most was that he’d seen a Kit tonight who almost seemed defeated. Feelings stirred deep in his heart. He didn’t want to see Kit like that. If she was strong and doing what she loved, then his sacrifice of their relationship all those years ago was for something. If she wasn’t with the New York ballet company anymore, then he’d make her see she could be with a different one. She could continue her career after her recovery as she had before. And with her gone from Cimarron City, his heart would be protected.
Barney plopped his head on Nate’s arm and turned his soulful dark eyes up at him. “Ready to go for a walk?” Nate asked.
His Great Dane gave one loud bark. Nate needed the fresh air and some exercise while he figured out what he should do about Kit, if anything.
He pushed to his feet and grabbed Barney’s leash. When he stepped outside on his porch with his dog, the warm spring air, sprinkled with a hint of rain and blooming flowers, enveloped Nate.
As he walked with Barney, frustration warred with his sympathy and something more elusive. At one time, Kit would have told him immediately about what had happened to her. Finally sadness won out over myriad emotions surging through him. Their relationship had come to secrets and barriers.
When he returned to his house, a teenager stood on his porch, peering into the window to his living room. Barney tugged on the leash, and Nate released his Great Dane.
Steven Case, a large, muscular sixteen-year-old boy Nate worked with in the church youth group, turned at the sound of Barney racing toward him. The teen laughed when Nate’s dog pinned him against the window, his big paws perching on Steven’s shoulders, and licked him in the face.
Nate mounted the steps to his porch and took a closer look at the boy. Steven was always great with Barney and usually loved seeing him, but tonight Nate glimpsed the tension beneath the boy’s demeanor. “Barney, come here.” As Nate opened his front door, the Great Dane went inside. “Something’s wrong, Steven. What is it?” He leaned against his railing.
Steven stuffed his hands in his jeans’ pockets. “I wanted to