Strong

by Rivard Yarrington, Jennifer

  “My sister dropped me off. I wanted to do a little shopping. I'll text her and tell her I don't need a ride back.”

  I'm mildly shocked when my mom invites Chase to stay for dinner, considering her repeated hints that I'm not ready to pursue a relationship with him.

  It's one of the few nights she doesn't have to work, and she loves to cook. She makes a scrumptious chicken pot pie and we all eat way too much. As always, she scoops out the last bit to save it for Dad since he's working again tonight; otherwise Marcus would pile-drive the stuff no matter how much he'd already eaten. Fiona has arrived just in time to salvage a small portion for herself as well.

  The boys volunteer to clean up, meaning Chase volunteers and Mom forces Marcus to help him.

  Mom, Fiona and I head to the den. Mom puts on a soothing Christmas CD. I don't normally find Christmas music soothing. I'm subjected to every possible rendition of every single Christmas song, sung by every single celebrity, during the entire month of December. But this particular CD contains very calm, relaxing piano renditions of Christmas favorites, with no obnoxious singing.

  We sit and relax a bit before Mom asks, “So, have you asked Chase about his...condition...yet?”

  I feel a little irritated at her choice of words. It sounds like she thinks he has some contagious illness. I give my mom the “No, why would I?” look, and she continues. “It would be helpful to know what you're facing if you two are becoming serious. If it was an accident, then you know it won't get any worse. But if he has some kind of disease...” She stops and seems to re-think her choice of words. “Or if it's a genetic condition, it could be degenerative. I think you would want to know if it's going to get worse. That can affect a lot in a relationship.”

  My emotions fluctuate between irritation and fear as I try to figure out how to address my mom's question. Leave it to her to find another angle from which to pitch her “you're-not-ready-to-get-serious” campaign.

  Finally I just say, “Mom, stop worrying so much. We're not serious.” Yet, I think.

  Marcus enters the room, catching my last sentence. “Yeah, she's just going out with him because she feels sorry for him.”

  My mom gives him a stern, “Marcus!” as if that's the only thing she has to say to address the idiocy of his statement. Sometimes I wish she would duct tape his mouth shut.

  “Shut up, you freak!” I tell him fiercely, but quietly enough so Chase won't hear.

  A moment later, Chase finds his way into the den. “I should be getting home,” he tells me, and then abruptly heads for his coat.

  Chapter 5

  Chase is unusually quiet as we climb into my truck.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, fishing my keys out of my purse.

  “Is that the way you really feel?” Chase asks me the question with a look on his face that I haven't seen before. He's always confident, so sure of himself. But now, he seems less sure and even a little self-conscious.

  “Is what the way I really feel?”

  “Are you just hanging out with me because you feel sorry for me?” He asks in such a serious tone that I know there is no way he's joking this time.

  I lean back in my seat and let out a disgusted sigh. “Ugh, Marcus can be such a jerk. I'm sorry you heard that. Eagle Canyon might be a world-renowned attraction, but the people here are still pretty small-town. Sometimes that means small-minded. And my brother has a brain the size of a grain of rice.”

  Chase continues to stare at me with stoic expression. I realize that I have not yet answered his question.

  I'm almost whispering when I look at him because I've never been so forward in all my life. “Chase, I really like you.” I emphasize the word like so he knows that I mean I'm attracted to him and that I'm interested in him as more than a friend. Obviously I can't say love yet, although there are things I already love about him.

  I try to communicate in some unspoken way that I'm one hundred percent serious. I can't stand the thought that he might think I'm not really interested, or worse, that I think he's just a charity case. I search his eyes for some sign that he understands what I mean. The small space between us begins to feel like it's charged with electricity. I lean in closer and surprise myself with my boldness as I tilt my head and press my lips against his. I hold still for a moment and have a sudden sinking feeling. A thousand thoughts rush into my mind all at once. Oh, my gosh, he doesn't feel the same way. How do I pull away from this kiss and recover some of my dignity?

  But a moment later, he presses back into the kiss and reaches his right hand up to my face. He slowly runs his fingers across my cheek and then entwines them gently into my hair.

  I breathe a mental sigh of relief. I let myself relax further into the kiss and my heartbeat doubles its pace. Chase pulls away for a moment and whispers, “I really like you, too.”

  He catches my smile with his lips, and this time, I feel flutters all the way through my body. He snakes his left arm around my waist, moves his right hand to the base of my neck and he pulls me impossibly close. I can't believe how strong his arms – or his lips – are. It feels like time has stopped and we are caught in an endless kiss. I want it to last forever.

  All too soon, however, Chase pulls away. He leans back in just a bit to press his forehead against mine.

  “I'm glad we like each other.” He hugs me tight and buries his face in my neck for just a moment. He looks back at me and whispers, “Katie.” I flinch at the childish-sounding name. I pull back and look at him with my obvious displeasure written across my face.

  “Can I call you Katie?” He winks and gives me another quick peck on the lips.

  “I'll have to think about that one. No one has called me Katie since I was five years old.” I turn to start the truck and notice that there is a fog around the interior of the truck. “Wow, we steamed up the windows!” I laugh. “I hope my family doesn't notice.”

  I'm about to shift the truck into gear when I turn back to Chase and ask quietly, “Chase, what happened to you? Why do you need the crutches?”

  “I was in a car accident when I was 17.”

  Chase begins to tell me the story that has re-created his life in the past four years. “My dad was driving. He made it out with only a broken wrist. I had to be extracted with the 'jaws of life.' My spine was messed up pretty bad. I was in the ICU for a week. At first, my doctors thought I would be completely paralyzed from the waist down. During those first few days, they prepared my parents for the worst. I didn't really comprehend what was happening because I was on a lot of drugs, and I slept a lot. I knew my parents were beyond worried, but I figured the doctors would sort it all out and that I would get better in no time.”

  Chase sits back and shakes his head. “I can't believe you don't know any of this. I feel like I've known you for longer than, what? A couple weeks?” He takes a breath and goes on. “I think it was nice to meet someone with a fresh perspective on who I am. You know? Someone who only knows me as I am now and doesn't try to compare me with who I used to be. My focus for the past four years of my life has been the accident and therapy and recovery. When I met you, I had something new to focus on. I didn't really feel like I had to tell you all about it right away because we just clicked.”

  “Do you feel like I'm taking that away from you by asking you to tell me all of this?” I ask.

  “No, no. Of course not. I can't really explain it, but you're the first person I've met in a long time who is interested in me, not what happened to me.” He leans in and gives me another small kiss. I'm tempted to make it last longer, but I want to hear the rest of Chase's story. “I want you to know what happened,” he assures me.

  “The third or fourth day after the accident, I knew I could feel my legs, but I kept hearing the doctors talking to my parents about paralysis. It was weird because they didn't really include me in the conversation unless they were asking direct questions about how and what I was feeling. Finally, I just lost my temper and yelled, 'I'm not paralyzed! See?' I tried
moving my toes and I couldn't. I got this really sick feeling and thought, Oh no! I really am paralyzed! The doctor started doing all of his pinpricks on my legs again, and I could feel everything. I just couldn't move my feet or my legs on my own. They told me I had an incomplete spinal cord injury and that, even though I could still feel my legs, they weren't sure if I would ever be able to move them on my own.”

  “After that, I asked the nurse to stop giving me pain meds and she agreed to back the dose down a bit. I wanted to be able to feel as much as I could so I knew what I had to work with. In my mind, I thought, If I can feel something in my legs, then I should be able to move them. I stayed up all that night, trying and trying to make my toes move or make my muscles twitch or make my feet flex. I eventually drifted off to sleep, but I woke up to hear my mom laughing. I remember that I was starting to feel really annoyed because I thought my mom was tickling my feet and I just wanted to go back to sleep. But then I remembered what I had been trying to do before I fell asleep. My eyes shot open and my mom practically screamed with laughter, 'Chase, you were wiggling your toes!'”

  Chase stops to take another moment, another breath before continuing. I want to say something, but I'm not sure what to say. My emotions are everywhere. The thought of Chase trapped in a mangled car sickens me. It almost breaks my heart to think that I came so close to never meeting him. To have him here next to me seems extraordinary now that I know how close he came to death.

  And of course, I'm still floating on air from our kisses.

  “Do you want to come back to the cabin?” Chase asks. “I can make us some coffee and tell you the rest of the story.” He uses a goofy Paul Harvey voice and I agree that his cabin would be far more comfortable than my truck.

  It is surprisingly quiet at his cabin. It seems that everyone went off to bed early. Soon we have fresh cups of coffee in our hands and a small blanket over our laps. The blanket is a wild creation of colors as many small crocheted squares have been joined together. I wonder if Oma made it. It seems like a grandmotherly creation.

  Chase resumes his story. “So, where was I? I was wiggling my toes, right?” He flops his feet around for emphasis, nearly making me choke on a sip of hot coffee.

  “I don't know who was more excited, my mom or me. When the doctor came back in, he did all sorts of movement and strength tests. I was a little discouraged to realize how weak my legs were. I couldn't do everything he was asking me to do, but he kept assuring me that, if I could wiggle my toes, it was a 'good sign.' A few days later, I was transferred from the hospital an inpatient rehab facility.”

  “It was more like 'impatient' rehab. At first, I was so frustrated with what I couldn't do. But one day, early on, I just decided to bust my butt in therapy. I knew I didn't want to be in a wheelchair forever, and I knew that I had some potential to move my body on my own. I just tried not to focus on how far I had to go.”

  “Wow, I can't imagine going through that,” I tell him. “I don't think I would have even a fraction of the courage you had. The courage you have.” I stop to admire his strong features, the line of his jaw, the depth of his eyes. I imagine that some of that strength, the determination in his face, came from going through the challenges of the past four years.

  “I don't think anyone has the courage before they're faced with the decision to either move forward or give up. You can't do it half-heartedly. Believe me, I had days when I just said, Screw this. I'm never walking out of this place.”

  “But four weeks later, the day I left rehab, I walked out with these.” He lifts one of his crutches high into the air. “We brought the wheelchair home, too, and I used it a lot. I got tired very quickly for the first several months. The accident was in March and I decided I was going to go back to school in September, no matter what it took. I wanted to graduate with the rest of my class. And I was NOT going back in a wheelchair!”

  “So, you didn't finish school your junior year?” I ask.

  “My dad home-schooled me. It wasn't his fault, but he seemed so angry about the accident that he kind of went overboard trying to help me get better. He brought me to physical therapy five days a week, kept me educated, and somehow found time to teach classes at the university and coach his teams at the high school.”

  I can think of nothing to say, but I feel immensely grateful that Chase is sitting right next to me, telling me his story. I'm so proud of him for working so hard to recover. It reveals a lot about who he is. I look up and express all that is in my heart with another kiss.

  We sit together quietly for a long time.

  “What helped you to keep going? It's one thing to decide to work hard. It's another to decide every single day for four years. I mean, how did you keep such a positive attitude?” I ask.

  “God,” Chase answers simply. “I mean, all my life, I believed that God was real. But after the accident, it was very strange. It was as if, all of a sudden, I just knew He was close to me and that He was helping me, giving me strength that I didn't know I had. I can't explain it. I've never experienced anything like that before. I realized that instead of just knowing about God, I was starting know Him. Personally. You know?”

  I nod, although I haven't had the experience with God that Chase is describing.

  “My friend Scarlett had a big impact on me, too,” he continues.

  I listen intently.

  “We've been friends since we were five years old. She moved in three houses down from my family.

  She was tough. She used to push me so high on the swings that I would start crying because I was scared. She would tell me to suck it up and be a man!”

  I bite my lip to stifle a giggle.

  “I can't believe I just told you that. You are not allowed to use that piece of information against me,” he demands with a smirk.

  His face turns serious again. “Scarlett is a Christian. If I thought she was tough when were little, she was an absolute drill sergeant after my accident. She never let me get discouraged. She gave me a lot of pep talks, and she even came to therapy with me once in a while.”

  “She sounds like a great friend,” I comment.

  “My dad used to push me hard, too, but Scarlett was more gentle about it, I guess. Well, as gentle as a drill sergeant can be.” He finishes that thought with his gorgeous smile.

  He tells me softly, “She used to tell me this Scripture verse and make me repeat it when I got discouraged: But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. It's Isaiah 40:31. It didn't matter how many times I heard it or said it or read it, it always gave me the hope I needed to keep going. But I think the most important thing is that Scarlett prayed for me.”

  It slowly dawns on me. The something different that I see in Chase is his faith. I knew he went to church, but he seems to have an inner strength that I haven't encountered before.

  I want to know more, but I'm still digesting everything he has just told me.

  Before I rest my head on his shoulder, I give him one more kiss.

  I really want this kiss to say, “I love you,” even though I know I can't possibly be in love with Chase Nichols.

  Yet.

  Chapter 6

  I wake up with light streaming onto my face from an unfamiliar window. I had fallen asleep with Chase's arms wrapped around me. I know that nothing more happened but my family doesn't know that. I scramble up to find my phone.

  Fell asleep on the couch at Chase's. Be home soon.

  I hope my mom believes the quick text I just sent. She should – it's true. I hope she knows me better than to think I would have done anything else with Chase.

  I wake Chase with a quick kiss and yelp, “I have to go!” He stretches and looks at the clock, “Yeah, you do!” After another kiss and one of his famous winks, I rush to my truck.

  Fiona is sitting in the kitchen at home with two cups of coffee. As soon as I enter, she motions to the second
cup. “It's for you,” she smiles mischievously. “I saw the text on Mom's phone. She's still asleep. Now, spill, or I will disown you.”

  I feel a flash of embarrassment and guilt. I have always felt a substantial amount of responsibility to set a good example for my younger sister. Now I feel like I've thrown all of that out the window with my seemingly blatant indiscretion.

  “Nothing happened!” I began.

  “Oh, gosh, I know that!” I'm sure my face is visibly relieved as Fiona reassures me that she believes the best about me. She continues, “I just want to know more about the guy who's stolen my sister's heart.”

  “Is it that obvious? Oh, my gosh, Fi, I've only known him for a few weeks! What is wrong with me?”

  I then proceed to pour out every bit of information about Chase and me. About Chase. About his accident. About our first kiss the night before.

  Every time I think that Fiona has got to be getting bored with my re-telling of every detail, I look at her and find her gaze completely fixed on my face, eagerly awaiting the next part of our tale. When I think I've told her every possible thing that has happened in the past week, I ask, “Do you think I'm crazy, Fi? I can't really be in love already...can I?”

  Fiona responds with a very unhelpful, “Who knows?” Followed by a huge, playful grin.

  “Thanks a lot,” I roll my eyes at her. But then I lean over to hug her and tell her that I'm glad she's finally up to speed on my “love life.”

  I start to clean up the dishes that have been left from the night before. My mom stumbles in and heads for the coffee. She is about to reach for her phone and it occurs to me: I could have erased that message. She doesn't even know I was out all night. Why didn't I think of that before she woke up?

  But it's too late, and sure enough, a moment later, she holds up her phone and questions: “Kate?”

  “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Chase and I talked almost all night, and we fell asleep...on the couch,” I emphasize. I'm trying very hard to sound nonchalant, but my apprehension is getting the best of my voice.