by Kara Lennox
He was glad Willow had come with him, though she was strangely quiet in the passenger seat of his truck. She’d brought some books with her, which she intended to study while he worked. One book, a fat medical text, was called An Introduction to Cognitive Dysfunction. Another was some type of workbook for children.
“So you didn’t discuss my fee with the Pattersons?” Wade asked.
“No.”
“I’m still not sure what to charge. But maybe the initial assessment should be free. I won’t know anything until I see the horse.”
“You could do it that way,” Willow agreed. “Then give an estimate based on how long you think it will take to solve the problem.”
“My estimate might be really high or really low.”
“You’re going to make some mistakes at first. It’ll take some practice before you figure out the best way to charge for your services.”
There was something in Willow’s voice that bothered Cal. She seemed a lot more distant than she had the other night during their planning session. A lot less enthusiastic.
“Have you decided this whole thing is a bad idea after all?” he asked.
“What? No, of course not. The Pattersons are very influential in Mooresville. Do a good job for them and they’ll recommend you around town.”
“I mean, the whole horse trainer thing. Now that you’ve had a chance to think about it.”
“No, I still think it’s a great idea.”
“You just seem kind of…withdrawn.”
She was silent for a few moments, and he could tell she was weighing her words.
“Come on, Willow, spit it out.”
“Okay, here’s the deal. I’m so excited about your venture that I actually get giddy. I keep thinking about it, jotting down ideas. And mostly I’m excited because you’re excited.”
“You don’t act excited.”
“That’s because I’m trying not to get too involved. It’s so tempting to throw myself into this with both feet, devote all my spare time and brain power to helping you make it work. But I have other commitments.”
“You mean the camp? You cleared it with Anne, didn’t you?”
“Not the camp. I should be studying right now. I should be reviewing class notes. I should be researching prosopagnosia at the library instead of checking out horse trainer’s Web sites. I should be doing everything possible to prepare myself for med school.”
“Proso—what?”
“Prosopagnosia. It’s the medical term for face-blindness.”
“I thought you were getting better.”
“I’m learning to disguise the problem, that’s all. But you didn’t see me this morning. I got so many names wrong at breakfast, one of the counselors thought I was on drugs.”
“But you know me.”
“You just think I do. When you walked up to me at the pavilion earlier, I thought you were Wade again. But I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut until I get some cue that clues me in. In your case, it’s your voice.”
Cal was stunned. “Wade and I don’t look anything alike.”
She shrugged. “Cowboy hats, cowboy boots, blue jeans, six feet with broad shoulders. That’s what I have to work with.”
It was like a kick in the gut, acknowledging the fact that Willow still couldn’t tell him apart from her employer. “I don’t mean to monopolize your time,” he finally said. “But I don’t see how studying about the face-blindness is going to solve it. It’s not like studying for a test.”
“I figure the more I exercise my memory, the better it’ll get. When you learn stuff, you create connections between brain neurons. Maybe it’s just a matter of reestablishing those neural synapses.”
“I don’t think it works like that.”
“Well, I can’t just sit around and do nothing!”
“You aren’t. You’re helping me.” But he could see that wasn’t the answer she wanted.
“Maybe your brain needs to rest rather than work. Sometimes healing requires inactivity.”
Willow shook her head. “It’s hard to explain, but it almost feels like all the memories are there, all the working parts are there, and that it just needs to be shaken up or worked loose in order to work perfectly again.”
His heart dropped. Only last night, Willow had tried to explain her problem to him, using almost those exact words. She’d repeated herself at other times, too, but he’d tried to tell himself everybody did that.
Deep down, though, he knew that wasn’t the case. Willow’s short-term memory lapses were pretty serious, and probably more of a threat to her aspirations than even the face-blind thing.
No wonder she didn’t seem overwhelmed with joy.
He turned onto the street where Willow had grown up, in a bucolic neighborhood where the houses sat on a couple of acres each and everybody owned horses. The street had a country feel to it, though it was less than two miles from the center of town.
He felt a little odd, returning here to the scene of the crime, so to speak. He’d hardly seen or spoken to Willow’s parents since the embarrassing incident. He’d seen them at the store once, and they’d spoken to him civilly, if a little stiffly. But then, Willow’s parents had never been the warm, fuzzy types, so he didn’t know if they still held a grudge against him for deflowering their daughter.
At any rate, they were probably safely at work at the bank this afternoon, so he didn’t have to worry about running into them.
Willow directed him to the house on the far side of hers.
“I haven’t seen the Pattersons in a long time,” she said, sounding a bit nervous.
She was probably worried she wouldn’t recognize them.
Before they could even get out of the truck, a large, square-shouldered woman in baggy jeans and a work shirt bustled out the front door and straight up to Willow. Cal had intended to introduce himself quickly so Willow wouldn’t have to—on the off chance that this was not Mrs. Patterson. But he didn’t get the chance.
“Willow, it’s so good to see you,” the woman said in a deep, gravelly voice. “Your mother told me all about your accident. You’re looking wonderful.”
“Thanks, Mr. Patterson. You look good, too.”
The woman’s face froze. “I’m Mrs. Patterson,” she said flatly.
“What? Well, of course you are. What did I say?” Willow did a good job of acting bewildered, as if she hadn’t just mistaken the missus for the mister. Granted, the woman’s appearance was slightly androgynous and her voice deep for a woman, but…oh, poor Willow. Here he was, all excited about his dreams, and Willow was facing the fact that the dreams she’d held forever were coming unraveled.
Chapter Eight
Mrs. Patterson recovered. “You just misspoke, Willow, that’s all,” she said, glossing over the awkward moment. But Willow’s face was as red as her shirt. She knew what she’d done.
“And this must be Cal,” Mrs. Patterson said.
Cal shook the woman’s hand. Then she wasted no time showing them to a small corral in back, where a black-and-white Shetland pony stood on the far side next to the fence. Small even for a pony, it looked skinny and unkempt, with mud on its shaggy coat and knots in its long tail.
“I know he looks awful,” Mrs. Patterson said, sounding embarrassed. “But we haven’t been able to get near him even to groom him. He’s always been such a dear little thing. All my children have outgrown him, but we can’t bear the thought of selling him.”
The “dear little thing” peered at them with malevolent eyes. It shook its head, as if warning Cal off.
“During the storm, the roof blew off Pepper’s stall and landed inside,” Mrs. Patterson went on to explain. “He was pinned inside against a wall. When my husband got him free, he went crazy, absolutely crazy. Now if anyone tries to approach him, he runs and kicks. And he puts down his head and shakes it like a bull ready to charge.”
Cal didn’t have much experience with Shetlands. He’d known one when he was a kid, a cream-colore
d mare with the inappropriate name of Buttercup, who was notorious for kicking and biting. But horses were horses, right? He climbed over the fence and entered Pepper’s domain.
“Be careful, Cal,” Mrs. Patterson said. “He’s little, but he kicks like the devil.”
Cal didn’t doubt it. Even as small as he was, Pepper easily outweighed Cal. Cal made no immediate attempts to approach the pony, but instead walked along the fence, as if he had his own agenda. The pony watched, tense, ears forward, listening.
Eventually Cal’s path led him closer to the pony. When he saw its muscles bunch, as if it was ready to flee, he changed direction.
Sensing no threat, the pony grew more interested in Cal’s seemingly odd behavior.
After about fifteen minutes of this, the pony decided to approach Cal. But when he got close, Cal waved him away. I don’t want to play with you.
To a horse, this was the worst possible insult. An animal with a herding instinct, no horse wanted to be told he can’t join the herd, even if it’s a herd of one human.
Cal soon had Pepper trotting around the corral in a circle. He watched for some signs that the horse was willing to acquiesce to Cal’s dominance. They came pretty quickly. Head down. Licking and chewing its lips. One ear cocked, listening.
Cal then turned his body slightly, indicating in horse language he was now open to being approached. And sure enough, Pepper walked up to him, completely trusting, wanting to make friends.
Cal pulled a carrot stick from his jeans pocket and offered it to Pepper. The pony took it eagerly, but just as quickly spit it out on the ground. Cal could see frustration in the pony’s eyes.
And something else: pain. It was hard to describe exactly what that expression was, but it had something to do with tension around the eyes and lips. He scratched Pepper’s forelock, then walked over to where Mrs. Patterson stood on the fence, watching.
“That is amazing,” she said. “Look at him. Docile as a lamb.”
Pepper followed behind Cal, heeling like a dog, eager for more attention.
“I can’t thank you enough—” Mrs. Patterson started to say, as if his job was over.
“Wait, I’m not done. Has Pepper been eating well?”
“Oh, no, that’s the other thing. He hardly touches his oats.”
Cal was pretty sure Pepper’s problem was organic, and not psychological trauma. He started with the most obvious theory, that Pepper had suffered a head injury when the stall roof fell on him. Thinking of head injuries made him think of Willow. Maybe Pepper didn’t recognize his family anymore, and that’s why he was so freaked out!
But once Pepper let Cal get a look inside his mouth, he immediately saw the problem. He gave the horse a parting pat and returned to Mrs. Patterson and Willow. “One of his teeth is broken off at the root, and now it’s abscessed. It probably hurts like hell.”
“But his behavior started so abruptly after the storm,” Mrs. Patterson argued.
“He might have gotten hit in the jaw when the stall roof fell in. It could have made a slight problem worse. A vet will have to sedate him and pull the tooth. But that should solve the problem.”
Cal opened the corral gate and allowed Mrs. Patterson inside. Pepper flicked his ears, but showed no other sign of distress as Mrs. Patterson petted his neck. “It’s okay, Pepper,” she crooned. “I’ll get Doc Chandler over here and get you fixed up.” She was almost in tears at the thought of her beloved pony in pain.
Cal smiled, glad he was able to help. He didn’t know for sure that the pony would remain calm until the dental problem was solved, but for now Pepper seemed confident that no one was going to hurt him further.
“I’ll go inside and get my checkbook,” Mrs. Patterson said, giving the pony a final pat. “How much do I owe you?”
Cal had been dreading this question. Before he could formulate an answer, Willow piped up.
“Cal normally charges a hundred dollars for a house call, plus a hundred an hour. But since you’re a good friend of my parents—”
“I’ll be right back.”
As soon as Mrs. Patterson was out of earshot, Cal exploded. “That’s too much money!”
“I was going to give her a discount. But she cut me off.”
“A hundred dollars an hour?”
“That’s what any professional charges. Lawyers, doctors—”
“I’m not a lawyer or a doctor. Or a vet.”
“Don’t undervalue yourself. It was a long drive over here.”
Mrs. Patterson soon reappeared and handed Cal a folded check. “Worth every penny. I’m going to call your grandfather right now.”
Cal didn’t look at the check until he and Willow were in the truck. It wasn’t for two hundred dollars. It was three hundred.
He grinned. His first professional consulting fee. The grin grew into a triumphant hoot. “I’m taking you out to dinner at Bremond’s.” Bremond’s was a premiere steakhouse in nearby Tyler and the most expensive restaurant in three counties.
“No, you’re not,” Willow said sensibly. “You’re going straight to the bank to open a special business account, and you’re going to set aside twenty-five percent for taxes.”
“Aw, you take all the fun out of it. How about a pulled-pig sandwich at Triple G Barbecue?”
“I have to get back to work.”
“You’re serious about this,” he said, sobering. “You’re going to shut me out.”
“I have challenges ahead of me. You just saw exactly how far I have to go. I thought Mrs. Patterson was her husband.”
“I still say studying and obsessing over the problem won’t make it go away.”
“I’m not obsessing. I’m focusing. There’s a difference.”
WILLOW WAS determined to stay away from Cal during the few days that remained of this session of the rodeo camp. She threw herself into her work, hanging out with the kids whenever she got a break from cooking.
She practiced figuring out the kids’ identities from a distance and memorizing visual cues besides clothes, which could change at any time. She realized people’s ears could be distinctive. Jan, one of the counselors, had five piercings in one ear. Willow got to where she could identify her instantly. And while Wade and Cal were particularly difficult for her to tell apart, she finally realized their walks were very different. Wade had a longer stride, and he swung his arms. Cal’s walk was smoother, with less twisting of the shoulders.
Whenever she spotted a cowboy with that gliding, graceful walk, she walked the other way.
Anne mentioned that she’d heard of the miracle Cal had pulled with Pepper the pony, and that two of the Pattersons’ friends had called Cal the very next day. One had a horse he’d bought at an auction that had a kicking problem. Another had a dog that wouldn’t come out from under the house.
“And did Cal help?” Willow asked, trying to sound casual, though she was dying to know how Cal was coming with his change of career.
“The kicking horse will require several sessions, but I’m sure he can cure the problem. He’s dealt successfully with kicking before.”
“What about the dog?”
Anne laughed. “She was having puppies. Cal managed to wiggle part way under the house, snag one of the pups with a loop of rope, and pull it out. The mother dog grabbed a second puppy and followed. Then she moved the whole brood to the back porch. Problem solved.”
“He should have gotten combat pay for that one. He’s lucky mama dog didn’t take his arm off at the shoulder.”
“I know. Can you imagine, grubbing around under someone’s dirty house? There were probably mice and stuff.” Anne gave a delicate shiver.
“I can imagine Cal doing it,” Willow said, “if there was an animal involved. Do you know that he accidentally ran over a snake in his driveway and then he rescued it? Took it inside, put it in the bathtub, nursed it back to health.”
Anne laughed again. “A man with a soft heart. Oh, Willow, he is something special. You’re not going to l
et him get away, are you?”
“I don’t need a boyfriend.”
“If you say you’re too busy, I’m going to scream. No one is too busy for love. Don’t put it off like I did. I was so focused on being a high-powered attorney that I almost let the best man in the world slip past me. What if you delay until it’s too late? What if Cal is your one-in-a-million, and by the time you’re ready for a boyfriend it’s too late and he’s found someone else?”
Willow waved away Anne’s concerns. “I don’t believe there’s only one perfect partner for each person.” But she couldn’t deny that the thought of Cal married to some other woman, raising that woman’s children, teaching them to ride and train horses, was a little disconcerting.
The fact was, in all the years they’d been apart, she’d never heard that Cal dated anyone else. She assumed he did while he was at school in another city. But she was glad she’d never had to witness it firsthand—Cal in line at the movies, his arm around the waist of some pretty thing, someone more easygoing, someone who didn’t always have her nose to the grindstone.
“You know what?” Willow said suddenly, slapping her book closed. “I’m a drudge.”
“Oh, now, I wouldn’t go that far.”
“It’s true. I don’t know how to have fun. I can’t remember the last time I went to a movie.” Of course, she couldn’t enjoy a movie in her current state. She wasn’t able to keep the characters straight, and by the time she got to the end she would have forgotten what went on at the beginning.
“Does this sudden self-discovery have anything to do with Cal?”
“Maybe.” She looked at Anne, a wild idea taking hold of her psyche. “What if I let down my guard and spent some time with Cal, got to know him again, put the past behind me?”
“I think it would be the smartest thing you could do,” Anne said point-blank.
“You, Nana, Cal—you’ve all been telling me the same thing. And I thought you were all wrong. But maybe I’m the one who sees everything cockeyed. I am the one with scrambled brains, after all.”
“Sometimes other people can see our situations more clearly than we can ourselves,” Anne said diplomatically. But her green eyes sparkled with mischief. “Cal is working with the yearlings this morning. Do it now, before you change your mind.”