Woodrose Mountain

by RaeAnne Thayne

  “Almost five years. My husband was a chef and Mr. Thorne hired him to work one of his restaurants up at the ski resorts.”

  “Oh, is that where you learned to cook so well?”

  “I taught him everything he knew,” the other woman said, the first hint of a smile Evie had seen just barely lifting the corners of her mouth. It faded quickly. “We moved from our home in Minneapolis just six weeks before he was diagnosed with liver cancer.”

  “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

  The other woman shrugged. “I thought for sure Mr. Thorne would fire him but he didn’t. He continued to give him a paycheck even when he couldn’t work anymore. After David died, Mr. Thorne asked if I would like to come to work for him, helping him with the house and with Taryn. I’ve been here ever since.” She fidgeted with her apron, her pale blue eyes darting to the driveway again. “He’s a very good man, Mr. Thorne. Though I’ve always been a good cook, I had no real job experience at all. I married young and all I’d ever done was be a mother to my boys, who are both in college now. Mr. Thorne didn’t care about that. He hired me anyway.”

  She should never have asked. Evie fidgeted. She didn’t want to hear these glowing words of praise for Brodie. It made him seem kind and generous, not the stiff, unpleasant man she’d always thought him to be.

  “It seems to me a lifetime of taking care of your family made you eminently qualified to handle things here. If those delicious smells coming from the kitchen are any indication, I’m sure you do your job exceptionally well.”

  The woman seemed to warm a little, some of the reserve in her expression thawing. “I try. I don’t have any experience with therapy either but if you need my help with Taryn in any way, I can always offer an extra set of hands.”

  “Thank you. I might take you up on that.”

  She knew Brodie had hired personal nurses to be help with Taryn’s medical needs, but the plan for now was for Evie to work with the girl on an intensive physical therapy program six hours a day, between the hours of ten and four, until Brodie could find someone to replace her. In addition, an occupational therapist who had worked with Taryn at the rehab facility would come to the house three times a week for two hours at a time. Evie would reinforce the skills she was working on during her own time with Taryn on the other days.

  Only a few weeks. She could handle this, she reminded herself.

  She had dreamed of her adopted daughter the night before, of Cassie’s sweet smile and loving heart and endless eagerness to please.

  They had been lying in the hammock under the trees behind her bungalow in Topanga Canyon, telling stories and humming silly little tunes and listening to the creek murmuring by and the wind in the trees. Cassie had been laughing and joyful, just as Evie remembered her—and then she had awakened to the grim awareness that her daughter was gone.

  It had been nearly two years since she died and the grief still seemed so much a part of Evie, despite the peace she had found in Hope’s Crossing. The raw pain of it had eased over the last year during her time here and she had begun to think that perhaps she was finally growing a protective scab over her heart.

  The trick was going to be preventing Taryn Thorne and her entirely too appealing father from ripping it away.

  Switzerland. Stoic and aloof, with no trace of emotional involvement. She could do it, even when her friendship with Katherine complicated the situation.

  She was still trying to convince herself of that when a silver minivan pulled into the circular driveway.

  “Oh. She’s here,” Mrs. Olafson breathed. Evie smiled and squeezed the woman’s hand, then rose to greet them.

  Brodie seemed to hesitate a moment in the driver’s seat before hitting the button for the power ramp and Evie was aware of another unwanted pang of sympathy. She remembered well that panicky what now the first night she’d taken Cassie home after Meredith’s funeral, when she had to shift instantly from friend and therapist to parent.

  That compassion urged her forward with a broad smile of welcome, down the gleaming new graded concrete walkway that had been artfully designed to accommodate a wheelchair. “Hi. Welcome home! How was your drive?”

  He blinked a little as if he hadn’t expected such an effusive greeting. “Good. She’s been a real trouper but I’m sure she’s tired.”

  Mrs. Olafson had followed her toward the van. “Mr. Thorne, the home-nursing company called and said their nurse was running late. She should be here in another hour.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. O.”

  He stood helplessly for just a moment as if not quite sure what to do next. Evie wanted to hug him and whisper that everything would be okay. As the mental image formed in her mind she almost laughed. She could just imagine how he would react to that.

  Instead, she took charge, leaning in and placing a hand on the armrest of the wheelchair. “Hi, Taryn. Remember me? Evie Blanchard from the bead store?”

  The girl nodded and her mouth stretched into a half smile. “Hi.”

  What are you doing here? Though Taryn didn’t say the words, Evie could see them clearly in her eyes. One lesson she’d learned well with her patients was how to read all kinds of nonverbal cues and right now Taryn was completely confused by her presence.

  “You want to know why I’m here, right?”

  Taryn dipped her chin down and then back up again, which Evie took as agreement.

  “Great question. I’m not sure if you knew this but back before I came to Hope’s Crossing and started working for Claire at the bead store, I was a physical therapist in California. Your dad and grandmother have asked me to help set up your home therapy program with the aides and nurses that will be working with you. Is that okay?”

  She lifted one shoulder, though she didn’t look thrilled at the idea of therapy.

  “I would guess you’re ready to head inside, aren’t you? I know my butt is always tired after I’ve been sitting in the car for a while. Let’s go stretch out, shall we?”

  “O—kay.”

  “I’ll bring your shave ice,” Katherine said.

  “Shave ice. Yum. And blue. My favorite.”

  “We saw that little shack near the end of Main Street on our way here and Taryn made it clear she had to have one.”

  That must have been the reason for the delay, Evie thought. At this evidence that Brodie wasn’t so impatient and inflexible he couldn’t fulfill one of his daughter’s wishes, she felt a little scrape against that scab over her heart, like a fingernail prying up the edge.

  Evie stepped back while Brodie wheeled the chair down the ramp and pushed Taryn toward the front door. When he turned her through the doorway leading to her suite of rooms, Taryn jerked her head back toward the stairway. “My room. Up.”

  “T, we talked about this. For now you’ve got new digs down here.”

  “No. My room.”

  Brodie shot Evie a frustrated plea for help and she stepped forward. “You want your old bedroom up there?”

  Taryn nodded firmly.

  “Then you’re the one who will have to work your tail off to get there. Are you ready for that?”

  “Yeah,” Taryn said, a rather militant light in her eyes that heartened Evie.

  “Excellent. I am, too.”

  “Come on, sweetheart,” Katherine said. “Let me show you your new room.”

  Her grandmother pushed the wheelchair down the hall and, though Evie wanted to start working with the girl right away, she was aware of that twinge of unwanted compassion for Brodie as he watched his mother and daughter together—a stark, hopeless expression on his features.

  She again wanted to comfort him, to promise him everything would be okay, but she wouldn’t lie to him.

  “Did Taryn enjoy the shave ice?” She gestured to the cup Katherine had handed him when she’d taken over pushing the wheelchair.

  “She only had a few tastes but I think so. I, on the other hand, could have done without the company.”

  When she gave him a blank look, he sh
rugged. “I saw that little prick Charlie Beaumont at the shave-ice stand. And before you ask, no, I didn’t punch him—though I’ll be honest, I almost dumped my peach coconut on his head.”

  “Admirable restraint,” she said with a smile. She decided not to tell him she felt a little sorry for the kid, who had been vilified by everyone in town.

  “On a lighter note, I also talked to one of Taryn’s friends. She’d like to come visit sometime. Since you have requested absolute power, I guess that’s your call.”

  “I don’t need absolute power,” she muttered.

  “Visitors weren’t really a problem in Denver where we were nearly two hours away. She didn’t have that many visitors after the first few weeks out of the coma. Now that she’s home, I anticipate more of her friends may want to drop in. What do you think?”

  “Why do you consider it an issue?”

  He inclined his head toward the suite of rooms. “You saw her. She can’t carry on much of a conversation with anyone. I thought maybe it might be hard on Taryn, the constant reminders of everything she’s lost.”

  “Regular social interaction is important to teenage girls, no matter what physical challenges they’re dealing with.”

  “I can see that. Before the accident, she always had a friend or two around the house. If you think it’s all right, I’ll call Hannah’s mother and let her know the girl can visit.”

  “Maybe we can incorporate social interaction into her therapy plan somehow. I’ll speak with the speech therapist when she comes tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.” He paused, looking uncomfortable. “I’m afraid I didn’t say that the other day when you were here. I know helping my daughter isn’t something you want to do. My mother wouldn’t tell me why, only said you have your reasons but…thank you for helping us anyway.”

  Discomfort crawled up her spine when she thought of how pissy and pouty she’d been inside her own head since Sunday when he’d first approached her. If circumstances had been different, if she had been stronger, she should have been eager to take on the challenge. Any decent person would have jumped at the chance to help a girl who had already endured so much. It shamed her that she had been dragging her feet all week and manufacturing a hundred different excuses to wriggle out of the obligation.

  She supposed even the Swiss sometimes wondered if they ought to occasionally step up and take a stand.

  “You’re welcome,” she finally said, feeling her face heat.

  He gazed at her out of those dark-fringed, impossibly blue eyes and for just an instant she was almost certain his gaze rested on her mouth. Her breath caught and she fought the sudden wild impulse to lick her lips.

  “I’d better get in there and help your mother transfer Taryn,” she said quickly.

  He blinked a few times. “Right. Do you need my help? I’ve got some phone calls to make but they can wait awhile.”

  She shook her head. “We’ll be fine. It will be good practice for all of us to use the lift system you’ve got in there.”

  “My home office is down at the end of the hall. If you need me, just yell.”

  She nodded and watched him walk away, his body tough and athletic. Oh, she definitely would have to be careful around this dangerous but infinitely appealing man. She had a feeling it was going to be very tough to remember she was freaking Switzerland, especially when she suddenly wanted to throw open every border to him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LESS THAN A WEEK LATER, Evie threw Switzerland out the window and decided she would far rather be Napoleon marching across Europe, cannons blazing, swallowing up borders and taking no prisoners.

  Despite her best efforts, she wasn’t aloof and detached anymore. Instead, she was frustrated, tired, achy and cross. Every minuscule shred of patience she might have once thought she could claim lay in ruins.

  In nearly a decade of her private practice in Los Angeles she had known her share of stubborn patients. Kids who refused to do their exercises unless they were in the mood or insisted on working to a particular song or who had to have the lights just so before they would even consider doing as she asked.

  They were nothing compared to the sheer unbreakable will of this fifteen-year-old girl. “Come on, Taryn. You can do this. I’ve read the notes from your therapists at the rehab center. According to them, you’ve been standing on your own for up to twenty seconds at a go for the last two weeks but you haven’t done it one single, solitary time for me. Is everybody lying or have you forgotten how?”

  Taryn managed a shrug and Evie wanted to scream. Every time they worked on standing, Taryn’s legs would collapse as if they were filled with mascarpone. “I just want you to show me. One time. Come on, honey. How are we going to work on walking up those stairs to your bedroom if you won’t even show me how well you can stand?”

  Taryn sent her a sidelong look then glanced away as if she didn’t understand a word. Evie wasn’t fooled. Taryn understood everything, even if she couldn’t always communicate her needs. She knew just what Evie wanted of her, she simply didn’t want to cooperate.

  “I want…to watch TV,” she said.

  Taryn inclined her head toward the big flat-screen TV set in a niche of the wall, and Evie was by turns frustrated and heartened. Already, Taryn was doing a better job of stringing together words, which forced Evie to wonder what she was doing wrong and why she was meeting roadblocks at every turn.

  “Fine,” she said. “You stand for thirty seconds to show me you can do it and then you can watch whatever you want for fifteen minutes. Deal?” Taryn favored reality-TV shows with no redeeming value but if that’s what it took to get the job accomplished, Evie was willing to try anything.

  The side of the girl’s mouth lifted in her half smile. “Deal.”

  Evie pulled her from the chair, feeling the strain in her back as she took most of the girl’s weight. Taryn was still thin, her wrists spindly as twigs. Before the accident, she had been vivacious and fit, always surrounded by other teenagers. When she used to come into the bead store, she seemed to bring a glow with her that lit up everyone else with her smile.

  Brain injuries sucked, Evie thought as she supported Taryn’s weight. Two people could suffer the exact same injury—same location, same intensity, same everything—and manifest completely different outcomes.

  She completely understood now why the staff at the rehab facility had thrown up their hands and suggested giving in to Taryn’s wish to be home. The only trouble was, now that she was back in Hope’s Crossing, Taryn didn’t seem any more motivated to do the exercises necessary to regain as much function as possible than she had when she’d been in rehab.

  Evie had to figure out a way to reach her, but she didn’t have the first idea how to accomplish that. Every technique she’d tried thus far had been a big bust. If Taryn would work in exchange for the dubious privilege of watching a few minutes of some reality-TV crapfest, Evie wouldn’t quibble.

  “I’ve got the walker right here for you to hold on to if you need it. Are you ready for me to let go?”

  At Taryn’s nod, Evie released her grip on the girl, though she didn’t move her hands away far. Much to Evie’s pleasure, Taryn actually took her own weight and stood, though she kept her hands on the walker.

  Evie had only counted to fifteen when she noticed movement out of the corner of her gaze and saw that Brodie had come into the room.

  “Dad,” Taryn exclaimed, sagging backward.

  Evie caught her before she could fall. “That wasn’t thirty seconds. You stopped about ten seconds short. I guess no Snooki for you then.”

  Taryn made a face but she straightened again. Exactly ten seconds later, she collapsed into her chair again.

  Evie laughed. “Look at you, counting in your head. All right. I guess you’ve earned it. Fifteen minutes, okay?” She pushed the girl over toward the big screen and handed her the adapted remote pad with the large buttons that Taryn could easily press.

  “Interesting choice of motiva
tor,” Brodie murmured from beside her. She couldn’t tell by his tone whether he approved or not.

  “Hey, if I find something that works, I’m going to use it. Even if it’s ridiculous trash.”

  As her solitary patient would be occupied for a few moments, Evie began to clean the exercise ball and the walker and the rest of the equipment they’d used that day—anything to distract her from the ridiculous simmer of awareness that bloomed whenever Brodie came in to check on things.

  “You don’t have to do that. Mrs. O. could probably take care of it for you.”

  “It’s an old habit. When I was in private practice, most of my clients were medically fragile. We had to sanitize everything between patients for their safety. I just figure it can’t hurt, even when only Taryn is using the equipment.”

  “Is she? Using the equipment, I mean? Has today been any better?”

  Since she’d started the week before, Brodie had checked in with her every afternoon. She didn’t want to admit that some silly part of her actually waited in anticipation of these visits.

  “The last few minutes have been her best in several days, even if I had to use MTV to motivate her. I’m earning every penny of the exorbitant fee you’re paying to the Layla Parker scholarship fund. How is the search for my replacement coming?”

  “I’m interviewing another possible applicant tomorrow. Would you be willing to sit in again and give your opinion?”

  So far the applicants for the position either had been underqualified or looking for something a little less nebulous and a little more permanent. She was flattered that Brodie apparently was willing to trust her judgment on a couple of them. When she’d voiced concerns after the respective interviews, he had agreed to continue looking.