by Nancy Loyan
“I have to admit that paper plates can come in handy,” she said.
Travis looped an arm around her shoulders. “Less time in the kitchen, and more time with me.”
For a moment, all seemed so right in the world. Seated so intimately close, the warmth of Travis’ body so comforting against hers, the scent of his woodsy aftershave tingling her nostrils, and his clasping her hand in his, she forgot about his disability. When he turned toward her and lowered his head to meet her lips with his, she didn’t hesitate to kiss him. His hand reached up to stroke her neck and fluff her hair. She turned into him, her breasts crushed against his chest. His kisses were more intense and deep. She answered him, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. Her mind was delirious, her pulse quickened by his taste and touch. She reached down to touch him … there …
He grabbed her hand, and pulled away. “I’m sorry. I can’t be the man I long to be. Not yet.”
She met his narrowed gaze.
“Hopefully, one day, when I recover more fully. Just not now. The mind is willing.” There was a catch in his voice.
“I understand. It doesn’t matter. You’re alive. You’re here. That’s all that counts.”
He shook his head. “No, it does matter. You deserve more. You deserve more than I can give.”
“Pleasure comes in many forms.”
“Shelby, let’s be realistic. I’m fighting really hard to get back to where I was before the accident. The doctors aren’t sure how much of a recovery I will make. Some of the damage may be permanent.”
“Doctors aren’t always right.”
“I just want to be the man you deserve.”
“Hey, Stephen Hawking had a sex life, and he was far worse off than you. Somehow, he made it work.”
His eyes grew wide. “Every case is different. I want to be normal.”
“It doesn’t really matter, Travis. I love you.” There, she said it.
He swallowed hard. “Love isn’t enough.”
“I beg to differ. Love is everything.”
“Was it with Abram?”
She froze and closed her eyes. How dare he bring up Abram, her late husband? “There’s no comparison.”
“Better or worse?”
She drew a deep breath. “What has Abram to do with us? He’s dead.”
“You were married to him. You loved him?”
“Yes, I loved him. I loved the man he was when I met him, not the man be had become,” she began.
Travis was staring at her with an intensity that made her squirm. For years, she tried to erase Abram from her memory. The pain and heartbreak he had caused was something she did not want to recall. Yet, Travis was insisting on an explanation.
She continued, “I met Abram on the rodeo circuit. I was a barrel racer, and he was a bronco and bull rider. We were young, daring, and crazy. Abram was successful and won many purses. He paid the price with his health. The public didn’t know about he concussions, the broken bones, the muscle and tendon injuries, and the pain. His body couldn’t take it, and he was forced to retire. When his mother died, his father had been gone years earlier, we moved to his family farm. It became our home. My home.”
“Where we are now?”
She nodded, and sighed. “It’s when I learned of Abram’s addiction.”
“Addiction?”
“He had been prescribed painkillers. You know, the usual … Oxycontin, Codeine, Vicodan, morphine and the like. This was before the opioid crisis.”
“You found out?”
“I knew he had been on pain pills. Heck, he was physically a mess, and it’s the only way he could function. I just didn’t know the extent. I didn’t know that he was draining our savings account, and using up all of his disability to feed his habit. I confronted him when our electric and gas were turned off for nonpayment.”
“And?”
“He became angry, and then he broke down in tears. He confessed, and apologized. He promised he would get help and quit.” Tears swelled in her eyes at the memory. She choked them back.
“Did he try?”
“In a small town, you can’t get much help, and no one at the time understood the addiction to pain killers. Doctors still prescribed the stuff like candy. Heck, for Abram, visiting the doctor was like Trick or Treat. How could he stop?”
Travis grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry that I opened old wounds.”
“You deserve an answer. You’d need to know sometime. Why not now?”
“Addiction is a monster.”
She swiped at tears drizzling down her cheeks. “At times Abram was higher than a kite, at other times a dazed zombie. I never knew what to expect. Walking on eggshells made life hell. Life was a roller coaster ride. As for sex, it ceased to exist. Abram knew that he wasn’t himself. He knew that he wasn’t the man I married. He told me how he didn’t deserve me.
I awakened in the middle of the night by the sound of a rifle. Feeling the bed next to me, it was cold. Abram hadn’t been sleeping. My heart began to beat wildly, and I grew hot and clammy. Intuition told me that something wasn’t right. Grabbing my robe and slipping on scuffs, I went downstairs. A light was on in the kitchen. I hesitated, fearful of what I might find. Walking in, I saw a half-empty bottle of whiskey and an empty glass set on the table. The back door was ajar.”
She drew a deep breath. “I peered out the door into the darkness. It was eerily quiet. I never felt so alone and scared. You must understand, I didn’t have dogs at the time. I don’t know what possessed me, but I grabbed a flashlight and stepped outside. The scent of whiskey wafted in the misty night air. I walked out back, I saw Abram’s red bandanna on the ground up ahead. He had taken to wearing a bandanna on his head. I walked toward it. As I flashed the light, I saw the silhouette of a person slumped against a tree at the edge of the forest.
“’Abram,’ I called, my voice shaky.”
There was no answer. I hesitated before moving forward. I was trembling with foreboding. My mind was reeling … the rifle shot, the whiskey and glass, the open door, the figure against the tree, and the silence.”
Travis squeezed her hand, and gripped it tightly. She began to quiver at the memory.
“I … I approached the body. It was Abram. There was no doubt in my mind. But, but his head was gone. His rifle lie nearby, tissue and blood were everywhere. I began to shake violently and crouched down to barf. The contents of my stomach were emptied, and it wasn’t enough. I gagged and gagged. I had to turn away and run into the house, slamming he door behind. I remember washing my face in ice-cold water over and over again, wanting to wash away what I saw. Finally, I dialed 9-1-1. Having to relive the scene with the police was a nightmare. They interrogated me, as if I were the murderer.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Of course, his death was ruled a suicide. After he died, I was left with memories, and unpaid bills.” She cleared her throat and looked up at Travis. “When the IRS came after me for back taxes, it was like living this nightmare all over again.”
“I’m glad that I was able to help. All I could offer was money. If I could wash away the past, I would. Yours, and mine.”
“Oh, Travis, I’ve been through a lot. I am a lot stronger than you realize. It is said that God doesn’t give you more than you can handle. I can handle your situation.”
“I don’t know if I want to put you through more heartache.”
“Let me decide, please.”
19
That evening, Travis lay in bed, thinking. Lately, he spent more time in thought than sleeping. What if his situation wasn’t temporary? What if he had to live the rest of his life as a paraplegic? These questions were the first he asked himself every morning and the last at night. Was he fooling himself that he could live on his own? Did he want to live alone?
The only person he wanted to live with was Shelby. From the moment he met her, he realized that she was “the one.” Yet, how realistic was it to pin your future hopes
and dreams on such an active and vibrant woman, when you were confined to a wheelchair? Would it be fair to her? She deserved a whole man, someone who could physically, as well as mentally be a part of her life.
Her revelation about Abram startled him. She had been through enough heartache already. Married to a man who was afflicted, she had sacrificed a good part of her life already. Abram had abandoned her through his physical pain, drug use, mental anguish, and lack of sex. Even in death, he traumatized her.
She deserved far more than a man in a wheelchair, whose future was questionable. She didn’t need to be a caregiver a second time around. Her hopes and dreams didn’t need to be dashed again. She deserved a life with a degree of normalcy, whatever that was, a life with a healthy and mobile husband. A woman like her deserved love, sex, children, and grandchildren.
He couldn’t give her what she deserved. Not now. Maybe never. The reality had him choke back tears. He loved her. He would always love her. Love was not enough.
* * *
Travis is awakened to an early morning telephone call. His mother’s news of his father suffering a stroke jolted him. If his reality hadn’t been difficult and stressful enough, he had another concern. This time he had to look beyond his situation. His mother needed him. She was at the hospital, alone and in tears. His father was in ICU with monitors and tubes, unconscious and unable to speak or move.
A family jet was summoned, and Travis made arrangements for an ability van to take him to the airport. He packed his bag of personal belongings, and left Horsepower as dawn was cracking. A dark indigo was lightening the night sky. A dusting of snow carpeted the ground, and there was an eerie silence on the grounds.
He made the decision not to call Shelby. He would have time to talk to her later, after he assessed the situation. Consoling his mother and seeing his father were his top priorities. Why worry Shelby?
* * *
A van was waiting for him in Connecticut when he arrived. It whisked him to the hospital. He wheeled himself through the lobby and up the elevator to ICU. Nurses and doctors scuttled through the halls with paper cups of coffee. Aides and technicians were subdued, and the hospital corridors were devoid of noise and conversation. Only the beeping of monitors broke the silence.
After asking at the cubicle nurse’s station, he was led to his father’s private room in ICU. His mother rose upon seeing him. Their eyes met, and she raced to reach down and hug him. He squeezed her quaking shoulders.
“Everything is going to be okay,” he assured, with hope that it would.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whimpered.
She straightened and motioned to the bed where his father lay motionless under the sheet and blanket. An oxygen canula was under his nose, IV bags and monitor wires attached to him like lifelines.
Travis rolled up beside the bed, feeling for his father’s arm, he grasped it. “Hey, dad, what are you doing putting a scare into mom. Didn’t I already do the trick?”
His mother cleared her throat.
Travis looked up at her. “What did the doctor’s say?”
“Let’s talk in the waiting room,” his mother replied, motioning to the door.
* * *
“Okay, what’s up?” Travis asked, when they sat in the ICU waiting room. They were alone in the cool, sparse space.
“He called out to me in the middle of the night, saying that he wasn’t feeling well, and was going to get an aspirin. When he came back to the bedroom, he was slurring his words, and just didn’t make sense. I turned on the light on the nightstand. One look at him, and I knew something was wrong.”
She drew a deep breath before continuing, “His face was drooping on the left side, and he appeared disoriented. I immediately called 911. He stumbled to the bed and lay down. By the time the rescue squad came, he was unconscious. They checked his vital signs and said that they suspected a stroke. They gave him TPA, to dissolve blood clots. Here we are.”
Travis reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry to hear this.”
“At least he’s alive,” his mother added.
Travis swallowed hard. His mother had said the same thing when he had been hospitalized after his accident. At least he was alive. Hadn’t his mother been through enough? His accident, and now his father’s stroke?
“What did the doctor say?” he asked.
“Luckily, his stoke wasn’t massive. Tests show minimal damage due to lack of oxygen. When he awakens, we will learn more, and the doctor can come up with a treatment plan.”
“How are you doing?”
She sighed. “Hanging in there. I’m still shaking from the trauma of this. It was so unexpected. I drove like a madwoman, following the rescue squad here.”
“You can calm down. I’m here to help.”
She met his gaze. “Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for sending the plane.”
“I didn’t know what else to do. If something happened to him, and you weren’t here, I’d feel so guilty.”
“Father is going to be fine. He’s in good hands.”
* * *
The next morning, his father awakened. Though his smile was crooked, it brightened the atmosphere in his room. The relief on his mother’s face made a tear escape from his eye.
“Tra-vis,” his father slurred.
He approached his father‘s bedside, and reached over to pat his father’s arm. “Glad to know you’re among the living. You put quite a scare into us.”
“I had to be like you.”
“You really don’t want to.” No, he didn’t want his father to face a disability. One handicapped person in the family was enough. Yet, the reality stung.
“I can’t move my left side. I feel for you, Travis. I understand what you’re going through.”
Travis swallowed hard. His father’s words were a bit garbled, and there was a droop on the left side of his face. His father didn’t deserve this.
“The doctor said that you should recover quite well,” his mother jumped in. “In a few months, you should be close to good as new.”
“Physical therapy really helps. For me, it’s doing wonders. I’ve regained feeling in my thighs, and before coming here, I was working on walking with braces and crutches,” Travis explained. It was the first time he told anyone of his progress. His goal was to one day walk without help, surprising everyone. If that day would ever come. He knew about frustration and impatience. He wanted to instill some hope on his father. Hope is what made him get up each morning, exercise in bed, and persevere.
“That’s wonderful, Travis,” his mother said.
His mother needed a good dose of hope, too.
“Hey, we can have therapy together,” Travis said. “Didn’t you tell me that you converted the East Wing into a handicapped suite?” Travis remembered that it had been built for him. Little did he know that his father would be the one needing it.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” His father met his gaze.
“Well, I’ll now have both of you at home,” his mother added.
20
Shelby sat in her office at Horsepower nursing a cup of strong coffee. After getting the news that Travis had left suddenly during the night, and his subsequent hurried phone call, she was left rattled. His father had a stroke, and he flew home to be with his family. She understood. He needed to be with his family.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. The door squeaked open, and Kat Gallagher stepped in. “Hey.”
“Hey, back.” Shelby swiveled her chair to face the statuesque brunette who strode in like a panther.
“The staff and volunteers are all asking about that handsome hunk, Travis. He missed his morning therapy sessions.”
“Oh, gee. I forgot to inform everyone that he left.”
“Left?”
“His father had a stoke, and he had to fly home.”
Kat slunk into a chair, facing her. “That’s sad. He was doing really well. Is he coming back?”
“Don’t know. I had a brief conversation with him, and it seems that his family had adapted part of their home for him. They even lined up therapists.”
“The news isn’t what you wanted to hear.”
Shelby sighed. “No, it’s not.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but it appears that you and Travis have had a past. From the look of things, I was beginning to think that you both had a future.”
“You think?”
“If he loves you, he will come back.”
She could only hope.
A part of her wondered if he would ever return. He told her how his parents had converted a wing of their home into a handicapped suite for him, even hiring aides and therapists. Now, he and his father would share the space, bond over therapy, and recover together. The arrangement sounded ideal … for him.
He did say that he would keep his promise to come back to Horsepower to volunteer. He had kept his promises in the past. Yet, he said nothing of their relationship. She didn’t know where she stood in his life. When she saw him last night, he said that he didn’t want to put her through more heartache. Didn’t he know that being without him was the real heartache?
Having him on the grounds of Horsepower bought joy back into her life. Watching him from afar in the riding arena was a highlight of her day. The way he sat so regally atop his steed, his command of the horse, and the way be cantered and galloped made her forget his disability. Knowing that he was in the guesthouse was comforting. Because of him, Horsepower existed, and to have him partake of its therapies and amenities seemed like some payback. He was as much a part of the riding center as she.
* * *
That night, she lay in bed dreaming about her future. Travis was always in it. Walking or not, she could see them living and working on the property as a team. She hugged her pillow, pretending it was him beside her. Her lonely days and nights would be over. She envisioned them growing old together, Horsepower as their legacy. He had given her hope for the future. Without Travis in her life, she would be devoid of hope. Yes, she would have her dream. Without someone to share it, it wouldn’t be the same.