Heat.
Excitement.
Breathlessness.
What was her deal?
Angela sat there for a minute to compose herself.
Jason would have called her already.
She wasn’t sure what would happen if she phoned the captain of the love boat, whether he’d answer or not.
Angela knew that if Jason Ward ever called her, she’d answer.
And whatever he asked her, the answer would be yes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WALKING OUT OF the classroom after his first bout of public criticism felt a bit like how Jason remembered the last day of school before summer break. He’d been through a lot and now there was nothing but freedom on the other side.
At least Angela had been there for it all.
Getting her verdict before class started had been what he needed to make it through. When he’d stopped in at her office before class, he’d been on the verge of telling her he’d drop out of the class, Sawgrass University and public life if she’d give him the two poems back.
No one should experience the sweaty panic he’d suffered when he imagined people reading his words.
He’d done hard things.
Forcing himself to come to class that morning had required real fortitude.
Then she’d said it was good.
And he’d realized it didn’t matter so much what other people thought. Angela approved. She was the expert. The Poet expected him to write more and better.
The feedback from his “peers,” the eleven people suffering a summer semester class with him, had barely registered. Their notes about the titles were expected. He needed to work on those.
Looking up to find Angela staring at him...
Expected wasn’t the right word but he hadn’t been shocked, either.
He’d caught her attention as he’d left her office before class. That last line of his had been good. As good a line as he’d ever delivered. And it was true.
Without the class and the student-teacher thing and the whole problem with his amputation, he’d have called her more than once already. Not as many times as he’d pulled his phone out to consider light social media stalking that week, but enough that she’d have no doubt he was into her.
That ship captain was a fool for not asking her out on the spot.
Shaking his head as he walked, Jason dug around in his pocket for his keys. A woman from his class, Nikki, was propped against the wall outside the door. “Hey.” He hadn’t made many friends at Sawgrass. He hadn’t tried. The age difference was a lot.
“Hey,” she called before trotting down the steps, “your stuff was good.”
Jason stopped. That was nice. “Thanks.” He shifted the backpack he’d decided to get to fit in. “Have we read anything of yours yet?” He was sure he’d remember. Everything she’d said in class was smart.
“I turned in a poem but we haven’t read it yet. I don’t know if I can make myself turn anything else in. The nerves are killing me. I better drop the class.” Nikki bit her lip. The conflict was clear on her face.
And Jason knew where she was coming from.
“I get that.” He glanced back at the building, hoping that Angela was headed in their direction. He could let Angela give her a pep talk. No luck. “I had the same problem. Sent my stuff in late, but Dr. Simmons was nice enough to grant the extension. She also gave me feedback on my work before class, so I had some armor going in. She’d do the same for you.”
Nikki stared hard at her flip-flops while Jason waited. Were they done? He didn’t feel like he could walk off yet.
“At least give it a shot. You thought you wanted to be a writer or you wouldn’t have signed up for the class.” She hadn’t said a word about the easy A on the first day. “It’s okay to be afraid. This gives you a chance to show how brave you are.” He’d had a drill sergeant say that once, right before he’d bellowed how worthless the whole unit was. Someone had gotten a letter from home that included a pillow with the phrase stitched on it. It worked better here.
Eventually, she nodded. “Good advice. Thanks.”
He returned her nod and watched her run back up the steps. He’d done his good deed for the day.
When he stepped carefully off the curb into the parking lot, relaxing as his leg held, he noticed a tiny blue convertible blocking his truck. His mother.
“How was school?” she asked, one arm draped over the door as she watched him approach. “You’re moving almost like you trust that leg again.”
Jason slowed to a stop. “What are you doing here?”
His mother whipped off her sunglasses. “Is that any way to speak to your mother?”
Jason tipped his head back and studied the bright blue sky. In his opinion, his tone had been fine. Since they had no plans together that would require blocking his truck, his question was reasonable.
“Sorry, Mom.” He cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”
She huffed out a breath. What other way was there to ask the question?
“I made you an appointment with the prosthetist we met in the hospital. If we go now, instead of fighting about why you don’t need to go or how it’s too soon or how a new leg for running is too expensive or why you don’t need me holding your hand, we might even make it on time.” She tapped her fingers in a rapid rhythm on the door.
“An ambush. Is that what this is?” Jason asked. He’d wanted to enjoy his day a bit longer.
“Yep. Get in.” She pointed at the passenger seat. “Daylight’s wasting. I have a sunset cruise around the harbor planned and I don’t want to miss it.”
Since it was early afternoon, Jason wondered how long this appointment was going to last. “Fine. We can argue on the way, but let me drive.” He wanted to be in control. His mother might rearrange his life, but at least he could be behind the wheel. “Park and hop in my truck.”
“I can’t leave my car here. I don’t have a parking sticker.” She grinned widely. “Besides that, I don’t trust you.”
Jason dropped his backpack in the gap between the front seat and the trunk. Two seats. She was lucky he had a truck. “You don’t trust me. I’ve done everything you suggested. Concord Court. Sawgrass University.”
“Creative writing instead of accounting. A complete and total lack of any life outside of Concord Court and Sawgrass University. I wouldn’t say everything.” His mother sniffed. “Buckle your seat belt.”
Jason followed orders and braced one arm on the door. If he had any friends here, he might be concerned about how being driven in this tiny car by his mother would damage his manly reputation. Finally, a bright side to being a social outcast.
She patted his hand. “Once we do this, get you back out and running, and we consider a new prosthesis for daily wear, one that matches your activity, your life will change again. You won’t be a dull hermit anymore.” The parking lot was almost empty, so she accelerated quickly and turned out toward the main road as Angela Simmons paused on the curb. “Oh, good. I was hoping your friend might show up. She’s pretty. You should ask her out, get her to show you around. Might have to ask her twice. Bet she’s got options.”
Since he had watched Angela’s eyes spark when he’d told her he would have already made the call, Jason was certain he knew what her answer would be when he got the opportunity to ask.
Had he told his mother she was his professor? No.
He might regret that. It would have made this moment a bit less awkward. Or more. With his mother it was hard to say whether that would have deterred her from braking in front of Angela or compelled her to stop.
Besides that, he’d already tried the tour guide as dinner companion angle.
“Hello there! I’m so happy we’ve had a chance to run into you again.” Mae Ward’s public voice was sugary sweet, as if she’d never met a strange
r. “How is your summer going?”
Jason blinked up at Angela, curious about how she’d take the situation. She straightened the strap on her shoulder, checked with him for something—he wasn’t sure what—and said, “My summer is going well. I have a great class. Students with so much talent.”
Then she tilted her head to the side, as if she was assessing what his mother said to that.
Jason turned to see what his mother thought about this. Now she knew Angela was a professor.
“Oh, isn’t that nice.” His mother tightened her hands on the steering wheel. “And what do you teach?”
Jason tipped his head down. The quiet had been nice while it lasted.
“Creative writing. Your son is a good writer.” Angela was trying an innocent expression, but the amusement gleamed in the shadows of her eyes. She was enjoying this.
His mother tilted her head to the side as she studied him. “Well, now, that does not surprise me a bit.” But it did. He hadn’t told her about the Poet because he knew she’d never stop encouraging him to ask her out.
He’d had a couple weeks of breathing room.
“Are you off to some new adventure today? I’ve always wanted to try parasailing. How was it?” Angela asked as she crossed her arms over her chest. He had his suspicion that she was lying about the desire to try parasailing, but she’d said it twice now. At some point, he’d have to believe her and that would be a problem. “I ran into Jason while you were both at the marina this weekend.”
Jason closed his eyes. Now he was really going to hear about it.
It must have taken a minute for his mother to recover.
“I will tell you I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. I mostly went because someone told me I couldn’t. I confess that’s a surefire way to make me prove I can.” His mother tapped his hand. “Works on all of us Wards, doesn’t it?”
There was no good way to answer that, so Jason stared straight ahead.
“You got any people in your life that know exactly how to push your buttons? Some people need to be dared. Others need to be shoved real hard out of the nest. One or two won’t budge until you’re dragging ’em like one of them weightlifters that pull trains with their teeth or some such.” His mother waved her hand airily. “The worst ones? They take all three. Jason’s one of those. I couldn’t get him out parasailing, but I haven’t given up.”
He scratched his chin and wondered how far his mother would go.
“A pretty lady might get farther faster than his old mother has.” She took off her sunglasses. “You ask him to go parasailing sometime. Let’s test my theory.”
Before Angela could shut that down, Jason said, “She’s my professor, Mom. Dr. Simmons operates with professionalism and high standards. You wouldn’t want to strain those, would you?”
His mother’s jaw dropped.
“Well, not for two more weeks anyway.” Angela widened her eyes as he looked at her. Was his mouth hanging open? “Adventure can wait that long. I can see the resemblance between the two of you.”
His mother’s smothered chuckle was cute, but it was nothing compared to the devilish pleasure Angela was taking in the moment.
“Two weeks, huh?” his mother drawled. “I’m a hold you to that, hon. You have a real good afternoon.” She put the car in Drive and pulled away from the curb, her obvious pleasure growing with every rotation of the tires. “I like her.”
Jason did, too, but some of his confidence drained away. “How do I measure up against the options when I have to tell her I can’t go parasailing. Or worse, when I have to toddle off like an old man while she’s out there soaring. I wish you hadn’t done that.”
His mother stopped abruptly at the stoplight. “Now, you listen here. You cannot live the rest of your life afraid to do the things you want to do. There’s no way I’m going to let that happen. If I have to rope in every pretty girl that crosses your path, hijack you to deliver you to whatever professional I can find to help, or fill your ear nonstop, I will do so. You are my son. I love you. I almost lost you and I will not allow you to throw away a perfectly good life because it’s going to be different than you expected. Do you hear me?”
Jason shifted in his seat. That tone brought back memories. She’d asked, “Do you hear me?” in that tone at the end of every single dress-down she’d delivered. Over eighteen years, he’d learned it very well.
“I do hear you, but what makes you think you can work miracles?” Jason asked. “There are limits for everyone. I had ’em before, too. It’s just... They’re a whole lot closer.” He straightened his legs and wished for one quick second for a pair of shorts. “Will jeans work for this visit?” The stray question popped out of his mouth before he realized it. He didn’t want to go and it had nothing to do with his clothes.
A cheerful beep from behind them convinced his mother to accelerate again. How long the light had been green neither one of them could guess. As she navigated the streets and the interstates toward the veterans’ hospital, Jason rested his head against the seat and enjoyed the hot breeze in his hair. A convertible had seemed like a foolish choice for his mother. She’d need more seats, more room, better safety features. But that afternoon, the wind in his hair was medicine.
The parking deck attached to the hospital was cooler, and there was very little moving when they made it in, but his mother snagged one of the compact car spaces and turned off the engine. “Grab that bag behind my seat. They wanted to do an evaluation, so I brought you a change of clothes and shoes.”
Of course she had. Jason was shaking his head when he yanked out the bag. “Mom, you’re going to have to learn I need to do things on my own schedule.”
She slid her sunglasses onto her head. “Fine. Tell me why your schedule has changed.”
Confused, Jason dropped the bag into his lap. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve never had an ounce of patience in your life. At eighteen, you could not stand the idea of wasting four years at a college, so you enlisted. What did you say? You wanted to live.” She tapped his cheek. “Where did that go? Your surgery was over months ago. Were you planning to die on my couch, son? Physical therapy. That was the only reason you left the house, and I guess that was because you didn’t want Terry coming to get you. She’s little but she’s scary. Concord Court. Sawgrass. Even this creative writing class. You wouldn’t have done any of it, and how does it make you feel now?”
Jason studied the concrete pillar in front of the car. “You’re right, but you don’t know what it’s like to consider life with this prosthesis. Parasailing? How would I even manage that? I’ll be lucky to afford one prosthetic leg and it won’t be for water or swimming, so it’s crutches. Removing my leg while everyone stares and pities me. Giving up parasailing saves me all that, so what’s the harm in not doing it?”
The anger was back.
She sighed. “Not wanting to go parasailing? Okay. I guess I get that. Even being afraid of parasailing itself. The height. The water. Whatever. Those things I get. Being afraid to try it because you have to remove your prosthesis? I don’t get that.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed hard. “You are a hero. That’s what I see. That’s what other people will see. And if they don’t? Who cares?” The last words were almost a shout. “You have one life to live. Forget those people and do what you want. It’s you and me here. Forget Rosette and your daddy and whatever you thought it was to be a man before your accident. Some of that—maybe most of it, I don’t know—is gone, but you’re going to live a good life if I have to drag you kicking and screaming. You see if I don’t. Now get out of this car. We’ve got an appointment and it’s rude to keep people waiting.” She swung around, opened her door and slid out while Jason was processing.
The anger. Jason stared at his balled-up fist. Then he realized how ridiculous the situation was, a loud argument in a deserted parking deck.
“It’s rude to keep people waiting but shouting at them in a parking space is perfectly acceptable behavior.” He slid out and walked around to meet her. “Aren’t you going to put the roof up?”
She blinked slowly at him. “It’s a rental. I bought the crazy insurance. It’ll be fine.” Then she straightened her hat and shook out her skirt. “I wasn’t shouting. I was being emphatic.”
He was laughing as she marched away to punch the elevator button that would take them to the ground. “Emphatic is loud sometimes.”
“Yes, it is.” She stared hard at the numbers over the elevator, her shoulders hunched tightly.
“You sure I’m ready to talk to the doctor? What if I need to heal more? Build my strength?” Jason draped his arm over her shoulder and waited for her to relax against him. His mother was a force of nature, one who’d convinced countless kids to fall in line through the years. She hadn’t lost a bit of that iron will in retirement.
“I talked with several different people before I set this up. You’re ready for the evaluation physically. I don’t know if you ever will be mentally.” The elevator doors opened and she stepped inside.
Failure was a hard thing to face. If he had to guess, that was what his mother was afraid of. Failing him.
“Okay, so we’ll do the evaluation.” Jason stepped back out on the sidewalk across from the entrance when the elevator doors opened. “‘I’ll never be ready mentally.’ I don’t like the way that sounds.”
She snorted. “Right. That’s the part that got to you, a potential threat to your manliness.”
It stung when she put it that way. “I meant more about wasting one’s life, but whatever.”
“Uh-huh.” She wasn’t buying it.
They navigated the hospital and found the waiting room for the prosthetist before she continued the conversation. “You’re a poet now. Interesting.”
His inward groan was long and loud but Jason maintained a firm grip on his voice when he said, “Thanks for not outing my trip here.”
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