by Stacy Finz
Brynn turned to her son. “Henry?”
“You can leave it.” Using his arms and hands, he lifted himself out of the wheelchair and took a seat at the table.
“Is there a place we can stow the wheelchair, so it won’t block anyone’s way?” Brynn asked Mariah.
“I’ll put it against the back wall.”
Brynn started to fold the chair but Mariah stopped her. “It’ll be fine like this. I’ll send a server over to take your orders. Welcome to Nugget, you two.”
“Thank you. We’re excited to be here.” It was a charming town from what she’d seen so far.
Brynn leaned across the table. “After breakfast let’s check out the bowling alley and that big Victorian inn. What do you say?”
“Can I get a cowboy hat, Mom?”
“I think we should both get one. When we leave, I’ll ask Mariah where’s the best place for cowboy hats.”
Henry’s face lit up and Brynn could feel the warmth of it in her chest. Maybe this place would be good for him. Their apartment in New York served as a constant reminder of Mason and life before the accident. Her little boy survived that day but he wasn’t the same. And she wanted the old happy Henry back.
Despite trying to persuade Henry to try something different for a change, he ordered pancakes. She went with the waiter’s recommendation of chicken fried steak. The beef was local. When everything came, Brynn wished she and Henry had shared. The portions were big enough for five breakfasts.
She watched him tuck into the pancakes and turned to her own plate. It was her first chicken fried steak and she wasn’t sure whether she’d like it. She didn’t know it would be smothered in gravy. But after one bite she was sold.
“Henry, you have to try this.” She cut off a piece and tried to coax him into taking a mouthful but he scrunched his nose and shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
After a few bites of pancake, he pushed his plate away. “I’m full.”
“Just a little bit more, baby.” Getting him to eat had become a constant struggle. He always started out gung-ho but lost interest after only a few bites. Part of the reason was he suffered from stomachaches. His pediatrician thought they were associated with post-traumatic stress disorder from the accident.
He played with his food for a few minutes to appease her. But it soon became clear that he wasn’t going to eat anymore. She didn’t push it. When the server came with their bill, Brynn slipped him her credit card.
A new rush of diners came through the door. Brynn couldn’t tell if they were locals or tourists. The previous night, after Henry had gone to bed, she’d done a little research on her laptop about the area. Nugget started as a gold mining town and later, logging. But it wasn’t until the Western Pacific Railroad came to California’s Sierra Nevada in the early 1900s that the tiny village began to thrive. Now, it was a crew-change site for the Union Pacific and home to cattle ranches. The latest census data had the town’s population at around six-thousand people. A far cry from Manhattan, which had more than a million and a half people squeezed into fewer than 23 square miles.
“Shall we poke around?” she asked Henry. When the waiter returned with her Visa card and receipt she asked him where the bowling alley was.
He pointed her to the other side of the dining room where an archway led to a separate space. The two buildings were a study in contrast. While the restaurant looked like something out of the old west, the bowling alley was as modern as any you’d find in a big city, except smaller. Ten lanes, shoe rental booth, video-game arcade, and food concession stand.
About half the lanes were being used. The bowlers wore matching shirts, leading Brynn to believe that Saturday mornings were reserved for leagues.
“Maybe we’ll come back one evening and play.” She hadn’t bowled since she was a child. It might be difficult for Henry from his wheelchair but they could try.
Outside, Brynn zipped Henry’s jacket to his throat. And they strolled slowly around the square.
“Mom, you forgot to ask that lady where to buy cowboy hats.”
“If we don’t find something in one of these downtown shops I’ll pop into the restaurant again and ask her. And if she doesn’t know I’ll ask Dr. Daniels.”
He’d been wearing one this morning, looking like a model for a Ram truck commercial, an ad she’d actually created. The thing was the guy in the commercial wasn’t nearly as nice looking as Ethan Daniels. “Kay?”
Henry nodded. “Don’t forget.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
When they got to the big inn—the Lumber Baron, according to the sign—she was heartened by the ramp that led to a wraparound porch and the entrance to the hotel. The accident had given Brynn an intense course on the kinds of access difficulties a person in a wheelchair faced on a daily basis.
“Isn’t this pretty?”
Henry shrugged. He was less impressed with the inn than he had been with the Ponderosa. But the Victorian was right up her alley.
“Let’s take a peek inside.”
The foyer was gorgeous with nine-foot-high embellished ceilings and corner fans. The parquet floors extended to the front parlor where old photographs of the area lined the walls. Everywhere Brynn looked was the original gumwood millwork. The newel on the staircase was intricately carved and the wooden balustrade had been polished to a high shine. A giant stained-glass window let in a prism of color and light.
“Can I help you?”
Brynn looked up to find an attractive brunette about her age at the reception counter. “We were eating at the Ponderosa and I was dying to know whether the inside of the inn was as beautiful as the outside. Wow, it far exceeded my expectations.”
“Thank you.” The brunette stepped out from behind the desk. “You should’ve seen it before my brother and I bought it. It was ready for a wrecking ball.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. The place was a real eyesore. But we brought her back. Well, mostly Colin Burke did. He’s a local carpenter and furniture maker.” She nudged her head toward the front door. “He made all the rocking chairs on the porch. Also revived the Ponderosa when the new owners bought it.”
Brynn gazed up at the stacked crown molding. “He does beautiful work.”
“He does.” The brunette sighed. “Do you need a room?”
“No, we’re staying down the road, over at the Circle D Ranch.”
“Ethan Daniels’s place.”
Brynn noted that the innkeeper had only referenced Ethan and not a Mrs. Daniels. He hadn’t worn a ring the two times Brynn had spoken with him but she could think of a million reasons why a surgeon wouldn’t wear one.
“That’s right. Henry is Dr. Daniels’s patient. We’re staying in the cottage.”
“The cottage is great,” Maddy said. “Another one of Colin’s masterpieces. The main house isn’t too shabby either.”
No, it wasn’t.
The woman crouched down until she was eye level with Henry. “Are you enjoying your stay, Henry?”
He nodded and let his eyes drop to the floor. Since the accident he’d become shyer, often avoiding eye contact. Brynn was trying to break him of that habit.
“Henry?” She nudged her son.
“Yes, thank you,” he said.
The innkeeper smiled. “I’m Maddy Shepard.”
Brynn introduced herself and they stood for a while, talking. Brynn told her she and Henry were from New York and Maddy said she was originally from Wisconsin but had moved to Nugget via San Francisco.
“It’s such a sweet little town.”
“You should come for high tea tomorrow,” Maddy said. “In the winter we do one every Sunday at four. A lot of the women in town come and I could introduce you around.”
“That’s so nice of you. It’ll depend on Henry here. But I
’ll be around for a couple of months while my son recovers from his surgery. So if not tomorrow, I’ll come another Sunday.”
They were just about to leave when Henry brushed her leg and whispered, “Mom . . . stores.”
It took Brynn a second to catch on. The hat. “You wouldn’t happen to know where they sell cowboy hats around here would you?”
“Farm Supply. It’s just up the road about mile out of town.” She went behind the desk, got a map from the brochure rack on the wall and with a pen traced the route. “It’s easy to find and Nugget’s version of a department store.”
Ten minutes later, they were on the road with Brynn glancing at the map every few seconds. A mile in Nugget seemed to go on forever. She guessed that’s why they called it a country mile. Either that or it seemed longer because she rarely drove anywhere. In Manhattan, she mostly relied on taxis or a limo service to get around.
“There it is, Mom.” Henry pointed, bouncing in his seat.
Sure enough, on the left side of the road was a large Quonset hut, styled to look like a barn, and a good-size parking lot. She pulled into a space close to the building. A set of log rocking chairs, like the ones on the patio of their cottage, sat under the hut’s awning. She peeked at the price tag. Not bad as they appeared to be custom made. It was probably the work of that carpenter Maddy had mentioned.
Next to the chairs were a few chicken coops and a rack of cute sweatshirts that were on sale. They came in various colors with the Farm Supply logo. She found a black, extra small for Henry and a pink one in her size. It wouldn’t hurt to have something warm to wear until their clothes arrived.
With the sweatshirts draped over her arm, they went inside. Maddy wasn’t kidding. The place had a little bit of everything: Pet supplies, horse gear, a whole section of clothing, and even housewares. Henry zoomed in on the rows of cowboy hats and left her at the counter.
“Hi,” she said to the cashier, an older woman in a calico smock. “Do you mind if I leave these up here while I look around?”
“Of course. Let me know if you need help with anything.”
“My son is desperate for a cowboy hat.”
The woman followed Brynn to the hat shelves where Henry had on a black Stetson that fell over his ears and eyes.
“Let’s see what size you wear, sweetheart. Then we can get you into something that fits.” The lady pulled a tape measure from her apron pocket and wrapped it around the middle of Henry’s forehead. “Looks like you’re six and three quarters.”
“Hey, Grace.” A man came from the back, carrying two sacks of grain over each shoulder.
The cashier . . . Grace . . . shook her head. “Why didn’t you just pull your truck around back, instead of carrying those heavy bags?”
“I came in for dog wormer. The chicken scratch was an afterthought.”
Henry elbowed Brynn and pointed at the man’s felt hat, “I want one like that.”
“Don’t point.” She smiled at the man apologetically.
“What do you got on, Clay?” Grace asked him.
“This here is a Resistol.” He dropped the sacks of chicken scratch on the floor and began rooting through the children’s hats to find a black one that was similar. “Here you go. Is that his size, Grace?”
She checked the inside label. “Sure is. Six and three quarters. Let’s have a look.” She fitted the hat on Henry’s head and pointed him to a full-length mirror next to the dressing rooms.
“It’s perfect, Henry,” Brynn called to him.
He gazed at his reflection, turning his head from side to side, looking pretty pleased with himself. Then, just as suddenly, he frowned, took off the hat and handed it back to Grace.
“You don’t want it, baby?”
He shook his head. “Can we go home now?”
Embarrassed, Brynn took the hat from Grace. “He’s just tired. We’ll take it.”
She paid for everything at the counter and carried their purchases to the car. On the ride home, she slid a glance in her review mirror at Henry, who had turned his face to the side and was pretending to stare out the window.
“What’s wrong? The hat looked so handsome on you.” She saw his shoulders tremble and knew he was crying. “Henry?”
“Cowboys don’t need a stupid wheelchair.”
She wanted to say that he wouldn’t need one soon but she didn’t know that for sure. “Baby, no one cared about your wheelchair. That nice man and lady in the store sure didn’t. All they wanted was to help you find the perfect hat.” She wanted to tell him that everyone was special, that no one was exactly the same, but she could tell he was in no mood to hear it. “I get this is hard for you. It’s a big change, but we’ll figure it out together. Promise.”
“I want to go home . . . to New York.”
She reached back and squeezed his knee. “Just a couple of months, Henry, then we can go home.”
They rode the rest of the way to the cottage in silence. When they got there, Henry wouldn’t let her help him into his wheelchair. He managed to get inside on his own and went directly to his bedroom. She hoped a nap might change his mood. He’d always been a sweet and happy boy, even-keeled, affectionate, warm and extroverted, never mean or disrespectful. But after the accident and Mason’s death he struggled with bouts of depression and had turned introverted.
The doctors, the therapists, all the literature she’d read said it was normal behavior for a child dealing with death and trauma. She tried to be nurturing during these episodes but at the same time, give him his space.
After bringing in their packages, she realized she’d forgotten to shop for groceries. When Henry woke up, they could go back out again. In the meantime, she made herself a cup of tea and drank it on the patio. It was a little cold for outdoor sitting but she adored the smell of the pine trees and gazing out over the river.
She’d always loved Manhattan and the excitement of a bustling city, but a person could get used to this.
A couple of pickups came up the road and disappeared behind the trees. She assumed they were going to Dr. Daniels’s house. Perhaps he and Alma were having a gathering.
Not far away, she could hear a cow bellowing. There had been nothing in Ethan Daniels’s CV about him being a rancher, she mused. Just a lot of information about his education. He’d gone to Stanford for his undergrad and Harvard for medical school. His residency had been at Lucile Packard Children’s Hospital before joining the team at Renown.
He was your basic overachiever, Brynn laughed to herself.
He and his former partner had come up with the experimental treatment of using stem cells from bone tissue to repair severe breaks and deformities. Dr. Brunswick had been convinced that the cutting-edge procedure was a viable option for Henry.
Lost in her own world of hope and what ifs, she didn’t hear the woman and little girl walk up until they were standing on the patio.
“Are you the new boy’s mother?”
“You mean Henry?” Brynn smiled at the beautiful child, who had Dr. Daniels’s hazel eyes, though they were more green than brown, and a dimple in her cheek. “I’m his mother. And you must be Veronica.”
Veronica’s eyes grew wide. “How did you know?”
“Your dad told me about you.” Brynn stood and introduced herself to the child and the woman, who except for the hazel eyes—hers were blue—was the spitting image of Veronica.
“I’m Ethan’s wife, Joey.” The woman flashed a pleasant smile.
“Oh,” Brynn stammered. “It’s lovely to meet you. Thank you for your hospitality. We love the cottage.”
“How long will you be staying?”
The question threw Brynn. Not because Joey had asked it unkindly but it seemed like a topic her husband would have discussed with her. Brynn and Henry were staying on the woman’s property after all.
“Dr. Dani
els thinks Henry will be okay to go home in two months.”
Joey didn’t respond. Brynn got the sense that Joey was sizing her up in the same competitive way that some of the women in her Upper East Side circle did whenever there was a newcomer. It had always bothered Brynn. Women should lift each other up, not view each other as threats.
Perhaps in this case, though, it was only her imagination.
To break the awkward silence, Brynn nudged her head up the hill, “I thought you might be having a party or a gathering.”
“The guys are watching the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association championship. Roni and I went for a ride.”
“Where’s your son?” Veronica asked.
“He’s taking a nap. But he’d like to meet you. Your dad said that maybe later this afternoon you’d show him the horses.”
“I could show him now.” Veronica jumped up and down as if she was on a pogo stick.
“Roni, honey, Henry’s taking a nap.” Joey turned to Brynn. “How’s he doing?”
“Just tired. We flew in Wednesday night and I don’t think he’s used to the time change yet. And . . . he’s angry with his wheelchair today.”
Joey’s lips curved up in a commiserating smile, making Brynn reconsider her earlier assessment of Dr. Daniels’s wife. “Make sure he gets lots of fluids. That’ll help with the jet lag. The wheelchair . . . well, that’ll just take time. Make sure he eats plenty of foods with antioxidants. It’ll boost his immune system.”
“Are you a doctor, too?” Brynn asked.
“An orthopedic nurse practitioner.”
“Whoa, you and Dr. Daniels are a power couple.”
Joey laughed, then something akin to sadness flickered across her face and the laughter was gone. “We should get going. How ‘bout Roni comes back in a couple of hours?”
“That would be great.” By then she hoped Henry was in better spirits. If not, the horses might cheer him up.
Joey and Veronica continued up to the big house. And with them went Brynn’s theory that Dr. Daniels was single. For some reason the revelation that he was married made her sad. Not because she had designs on her son’s doctor. It was something more intrinsic. Loneliness she supposed. Even years before Mason’s death, her relationship with her husband had deteriorated. They’d become nothing more than roommates with benefits. And even the benefits had been scarce.