Horse Power

by Nancy Loyan

  After an aide came to get him ready for the day, he rolled his wheelchair to the dining room for breakfast. Conversing with other disabled clients was comforting. Some were better off, and others worse off physically than he. Life wasn’t fair. People were resilient, he learned. You didn’t know how strong you were until you hadn’t a choice.

  Mornings were filled with restorative and occupational therapy sessions. The new state-of-the-art facilities, and trained staff worked on his flexibility, balance and strength while preparing him to live on his own in a wheelchair.

  Step-training was an integral part of his therapy. His nervous system needed to be retrained in how to stand and walk again. Suspended in a harness over a treadmill, therapists moved his legs to simulate walking at a natural pace. For Travis, it was exhausting. He knew, though, of its importance in aiding his heart and lungs, his bone density, and keeping his muscles pliable.

  In occupational therapy, he was taught how to care for himself at home and in public. Adaptive showering, dressing, maintaining a living space, cooking were covered. His parents urged him to skip this step, as he could afford aides and household help. No, he insisted on learning to fend for himself. He was not planning on living his life as an invalid. Besides, all of this was temporary. Thinking it was all temporary gave him the motivation to continue. He thrived on hope.

  A therapeutic massage was next, to manipulate the muscles and aid in his relaxation.

  Lunch followed, before his afternoon equestrian therapy in the arena, his favorite part of the day. When he sat at his designated table for lunch, instead of his usual dining companions, Shelby Shane walked in to join him. Was she getting prettier, or was it his imagination? Her complexion glowed and her emerald eyes glittered. The black leggings accented her thin legs, and the tunic her lean frame. Before sitting, she approached his chair, leaned down and hugged him. The fresh scent of her hair and softness of her body were intoxicating. Though his manly parts couldn’t respond, his mind did.

  “Hey, Travis, I thought I’d stop by and check in on you. Time for a little catch-up. I thought lunch was a good time. We all have to eat.” She sat in a chair next to his.

  “You look the happiest I’ve ever seen you, Shelby. Horsepower has been good for you.”

  “Having my dream come true, thanks to your generosity, has given me a great deal of hope.”

  Hope seemed to be the word they both had in common, Travis thought.

  “So, how’s it going?” Shelby met his gaze, tilting her head in the way he found cute.

  “It’s going slowly. A little too slow.”

  “Better slow progress, than no progress.”

  He sighed. “You’re right. I shouldn’t complain. Therapy is a lot of work. The best part is being back with the horses. I didn’t realize how much I missed the barn and arena, the riding.”

  “I’ve been told that you’ve been doing some coaching.”

  “I bet Kat let it out of the bag.”

  Shelby nodded. “She thought that it was exciting how you are getting back into the swing of things.”

  “I hope that I haven’t been to critical of your staff?”

  “Not when your suggestions have been spot-on. You were absolutely right about Tristan. He’s my favorite therapy pony, but you have his number.”

  “He’s cute and knows it. Behind that sweet façade is a stubborn will and mind of its own. I just fear that one day he’s going to decide to defy his training, and take off into the paddock like a banshee, and whoever is on his back is going to have hell to pay. You don’t need that liability.”

  “You are far more perceptive when it comes to horses. At your suggestion, I removed him from therapy duties, and moved him to my private barn. He seems more content.”

  “Take him on long trail rides, and let him run free in the paddock and he’ll be happy. He’s a special horse. I love him. He’s just too independent.”

  “Your other suggestions about staff protocol were also right. I should put you on the payroll.”

  “I have a better idea. When I’m better and back to work at Culver, I’ll come back here on vacation days to volunteer.”

  “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

  Her genuine smile melted his heart. The best financial and personal investment he ever made in his life was in Horsepower, and Shelby Shane.

  A waiter appeared with plated dishes of vegetable lasagna and chopped salad.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I ordered ahead, the daily lunch special,” Shelby said.

  So, she planned ahead to join him for lunch? Interesting.

  “By the way, I’m sorry to hear about you and Penelope,” Shelby added.

  “News sure travels fast around here.” He didn’t tell anyone yet.

  “Penelope told me. She’s become a friend after your accident.”

  “I forgot.” He snickered. Strange bedfellows.

  “It was a difficult decision for her,” Shelby added.

  “Actually, it was he right decision for both of us. It’s funny how an accident can change things for the better.”

  “You’re not upset?”

  He shook his head. “No. Her true colors were revealed. She wasn’t going to be tied down to an invalid. Who can blame her, really?”

  “You’re not an invalid.”

  “Ha.” He grunted.

  “Recovery takes time. Be patient. And, even if this was permanent, you’re the same person you were before. Maybe you’d have to do things differently, but you can still do things. Hell, you can still instruct and ride.”

  “Work is one thing. Marriage is something else.”

  “I believe that adaptations can be made in every facet of life.” She winked.

  He chuckled. Did she mean it, or was it a joke?

  “I guess you’re here to cheer me up?” he asked.

  “Someone has to.” She took a bite of her food, and after added, “Hey, when are we going dancing again?”

  “When’s the next party?”

  “Your graduation from therapy.”

  “I have to wait that long?”

  “It will be worth the wait.” She winked again, and he liked it. “In the meantime, I’m sure you’re tired of this dining room and institutional food.”

  He shrugged. “It’s still better than my cooking.”

  “I’d like to cook you dinner some night.”

  “You’re an amazing cook. I’d like that.”

  “Problem is, my house really isn’t handicapped accessible right now.”

  “I have a solution. Come to my suite and cook. Thanks to your architects, I have a small kitchen and dinette.” And bedroom. Great thought, but what fun would he be in bed? The mind was willing, but the body was not able.

  18

  The visit from his father was unexpected. Travis had just completed therapy for the day. He was resting on a pleather sofa in the lobby of the main building. His legs were propped on a matching ottoman, and he was sipping a can of seltzer. Seeing his father bound through the main doors made his heart quicken, and face flinch. What the hell was Jonathan Harrington, Jr. doing at Horsepower? He had just spoken to him on the phone a few days before and he made no mention of an impending visit.

  The elder man, who was as tall as his son, was breathing heavily, his broad chest heaving with every breath. Travis knew that his father was a bit overweight and out of shape, but had never seen him so winded.

  “That’s a long walk from the parking lot,” Harrington said, plopping on the sofa beside Travis. “I was told that you would be in here.”

  Travis met his gaze, observing the redness of his face. “Are you okay?”

  His father nodded. “Damn cold out there.”

  “How’d you find me?”

  “I asked a lady in the parking, and she knew you. A Kat somebody.”

  Travis smiled. Katherine, Shelby’s right arm. His smile turned into a grimace. “What brings you here? Is something wrong?”

  “No.
Actually, I think things are right.”

  “How so?”

  “Your mother and I were talking, and came up with a plan.”

  Travis straightened, awaiting some news concerning him. Whenever his parents spoke of plans, they usually involved him, and not in a good way.

  “You’ll be finishing up your therapy here soon, and you’ll be needing a place to live, and some care while you continue to recover.”

  “Umm, I have a plan, My Culver apartment can be easily made handicapped accessible. My car can be adapted as well. I’ll have no problem going back to work, with some modifications. I’ve learned a great deal while here.”

  “Son, real life isn’t the same as here. You need to be realistic. You really can’t be living alone without help, and you are not capable of resuming your old position. You’re handicapped.”

  “I am?” Travis drew a deep breath to keep the bile rising in his throat. “I’m capable of a great deal more than you realize.”

  “Your positive attitude is impressive. However, your mother and I have made plans for your care when you leave here. We’ve adapted the East Wing of our home for handicapped living. An elevator has even been added. We’ve also contracted, a housekeeper, a driver, a nurse, and a therapist to help you. You will want for nothing.”

  “Except freedom.”

  His father chuckled. “Of course, you could come and go as you please.”

  “I’d be living in a wing of your home on your estate in the countryside?”

  “Of course. You’d be safe, and we can keep an eye on you.”

  “I’m an adult, with a job and a life. You really expect me to move back home and be treated as an invalid?”

  “Son, you are an invalid.”

  Travis shook his head. “My situation is temporary. Temporary. Hey, and even if it isn’t, I am quite capable of living on my own, and taking care of myself. I have abilities. I’d like you to know that handicapped people live everywhere, quite successfully.”

  “Son, we just want to do what’s right for you.” His father pointed to the wheelchair set near Travis’ end of the sofa. “You can’t live normally as long as you require that chair. You can’t do the things that normal people do. You sure in hell can’t run an equestrian program, and teach riding at a prestigious boarding school in your condition. Get real.”

  Travis swallowed hard. “Don’t come here telling me what I can or cannot do.”

  “I came here to offer a lifeline. Your mother and I are worried about you and your future.”

  “I have a future, thank you.”

  “Must you be so bullheaded?”

  “I get it from someone I know.” He met his father’s steadfast gaze.

  His father stood. “I didn’t come all this way to argue with you. I just want you to think about it. Give some serious, and realistic thought to your future. You can make a decision when your therapy here is over. I just want you to know that you have an option, and a home. Fair?”

  Travis took his father’s outstretched hand. “Fair.”

  “Good.”

  “Hey, you flew all the way here through a snowstorm just to say this?”

  “A phone call wouldn’t have been the same. Your mother and I love you, and really want what’s best for you.”

  Travis closed his eyes and blinked. “I know.”

  “Ever since you fell off that damn horse, our lives have never been the same.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “You know, Penelope is still grieving over you.”

  “I’m not dead.”

  “Your future together is. What a pity.”

  “Pen and I were really not meant for each other. The accident made that perfectly clear.”

  “Hey, can we discuss this over dinner? You keep saying how great the food is in the dining room here, I thought I’d like to give it a try.”

  “No use rushing back.”

  * * *

  Shelby’s invitation to prepare dinner in his suite wasn’t a surprise, though it caused Travis to tremble like a schoolboy planning a first date. The situation was awkward. He was a temporary therapy client on her property. The suite wasn’t his home, and lacked the personality and comfort of his own place. It was like living in an extended stay hotel. At least his apartment at Culver reflected his taste, and had familiarity. It also had a decent, stocked kitchen. The kitchen in his suite was minimal, and designed at wheelchair level. The galley space with mini refrigerator, single sink and two-burner stove was more conducive to snacks, and not meal preparation. After all, meals were served in the communal dining room. Shelby had insisted that she had it all arranged. This, he had to see.

  * * *

  Shelby drew a deep breath and punched the buzzer to Travis’ suite. She heard the latch disengage. The lever door handle move, and she stood facing Travis. She looked down, and met his amber gaze. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of his chiseled features, and effervescent smile.

  “Hi,” she greeted.

  She stood balancing a stacked casserole carrier, and an oversized tote bag slung over one shoulder.

  “Welcome,” he replied, waving her inside with his arm.

  He rolled back to let her inside. “Let me take something.”

  “I have it covered,” she said.

  “Put that bag on my lap, I can take it to the kitchen.”

  She hesitated, not wanting to burden him. From dealing with other patients, she knew that they wanted to be useful.

  “Hand it over,” he insisted.

  She drew an audible breath and placed the tote on his lap. “Thank you.”

  He pushed the door closed, and rolled into the kitchen with the tote. He placed it on the chair-level counter. She followed, setting down the casserole stack on an adjacent counter.

  “Let me take your coat,” Travis said, reaching up.

  Shelby slipped off her coat and handed it down to him. If this was to be the new normal, she’d better get used to it. Travis needed his independence and his pride. She watched as he rolled toward a chair in the sitting room, and set down her down coat.

  “Pretty cold out, isn’t it?”

  “Winter is definitely here.”

  “I keep forgetting how fast time is flying by.”

  He sighed, and Shelby could hear the resignation in voice. Months had passed since his accident, and progress had been slower than expected. She learned that the recovery of injuries like his took time. Even the experts were baffled, and couldn’t offer any real timeframe for progress. Patients grew frustrated. Working in the therapeutic field taught her that each case was unique.

  “So, Shelby, what goodies have you brought to my humble abode?” He wheeled around to her side.

  “I prepared everything in my kitchen. I know how small the facilities are in these suites.” She removed the covered glass casseroles from he carrier and set them down. “They’re still really hot.”

  “Smells great.”

  From the tote bag, she removed autumnal-themed paper plates, matching napkins, sturdy tableware and plastic tumblers. “I figured we wouldn’t have to worry about dishes.”

  “Smart move. No dishwasher here. There is a small dinette that conveniently sits two in the sitting room.”

  She glanced into the room and saw the round wood table with space for a wheelchair and a chair. Two fabric placemats were already set. Picking up the napkins and tableware, she set the table.

  “I have the wine,” Travis said, holding up a bottle of Chardonnay as he closed the fridge.

  “Where did you get that?” she asked, knowing there wasn’t a store nearby.

  “On the Internet, you can get anything.” Taking two plastic tumblers, he rolled toward the table. “I’ll pour.”

  “And I’ll get the food.”

  She plated the food and brought it to the table.

  Setting a heaping plate before Travis, she said, “I hope you like it.”

  “Whatever you make would be marvelous. You’re an
amazing cook. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal since the last time I dined with you.”

  “You are kidding?” She sat, fanning her napkin on her lap.

  “At Culver, I ate in the mess hall, save for instant oatmeal or toast for breakfast in my apartment. Here, it’s all been rather institutional.”

  “Sorry, I thought our kitchen was superior to most.”

  “The food’s great, but it’s not like home.”

  She smiled, “I guess it’s not made personally, with love.”

  “Exactly.” He looked at his plate and drew a deep breath. “This is a feast, and it smells wonderful. I haven’t had turkey, stuffing, and all the fixings since Thanksgiving.”

  Chuckling, she said, “FYI, it is Thanksgiving.”

  “What?” His eyes grew wide, and he stared at her.

  She nodded. “Yep. We are celebrating Thanksgiving. I dare say, we have a great deal to be thankful for.”

  Having Travis alive, and on the road to recovery deserved more thanks than she could fathom. Just being with him to celebrate the holiday deserved praise.

  She felt him take her hand under the table, and squeeze it. His strength and warmth permeated her being with gratefulness. She squeezed back

  “Thank you for being in my life.” He choked on his words.

  “Thank you.” She tried to hold back tears, but the dampness rolled down her cheeks.

  Releasing her hand, he said, “I guess we’d better eat before this gets cold.”

  “First, a toast.” She lifted her tumbler, and he lifted his mid-air.

  “To us,” Travis simply said, yet it meant more to her than just words.

  She “clinked” her tumbler against his, and they drank.

  “Not bad wine, if I must say so myself,” Travis said, setting own his cup.

  Setting down her cup, she added, “You have good taste.”

  He winked. “I’m with you.”

  His words were rather trite, but cute coming from him.

  * * *

  After clearing the table, and putting leftovers in the refrigerator, Shelby joined Travis in his sitting room. He had moved from wheelchair to sofa. She sat next to him with a sigh.