Really Something

by Shirley Jump

  “Thanks. If you do, I’ll owe you again. Maybe another dinner or…something else?” Allie smiled at him, and he promptly forgot exactly why the color of her hair bothered him at all.

  Chapter 14

  The last light faded, the teleprompter went black, and the crew headed off the set and back to the green room to scarf up any remaining donuts. Duncan, however, remained behind the anchor desk.

  Waiting to feel excited. Thrilled. Something. Anything.

  This was, after all, his dream. To become a reporter, to go after the truth. And he had that dream in his hands, albeit only until Klein returned, yet it didn’t fill him with the triumphant, excited, climbed-that-mountain feeling he’d expected.

  If anything, it left him feeling even more empty than predicting six inches of snow.

  Steve came up and took a seat on the edge of the particleboard anchor desk. “I don’t know what I was thinking, giving you this job.”

  “Hey, I didn’t miss a line.”

  “Exactly. You were a natural.” His boss gave him a clap on the shoulder. “A couple more days of this, you’ll have a good resume tape together and before I know it, some hotshot network in Boston will steal you away from me.”

  Boston. New York. Chicago. Any of the major metro networks. That had been Duncan’s dream the minute he’d met that reporter from CNN. The guy who had stood in front of Duncan’s father and actually made the great John Henry quiver.

  “You always were bigger than this place,” Steve went on. “Frankly, I’m surprised you’re still here.”

  “I’ve got my sister to think about,” Duncan said. Steve was one of the few people who knew any of the specifics about Katie, beyond the paper’s speculations and town rumors. And even he knew very little.

  “Yeah. But you know, there’s doctors and stuff on the coasts. You can move her.”

  Duncan swallowed. “She wouldn’t like that.”

  “You deserve a life too, man. Can’t spend your days being a nursemaid. You’re her brother, not her keeper.”

  Duncan rose. “Thanks for this opportunity, Steve. Appreciate it.”

  “Dunk—”

  Duncan left the room, skipping the after-broadcast snacks and beer down at Smokey’s Bar. He loosened his tie and headed out of the building, home to Katie, and hopefully, to Allie, if she was still there. More and more, he found himself looking forward to seeing her. To getting used to her presence.

  He’d had his dream, fleeting as it might have been. He’d savor it for a second alone, then hand the anchor chair back to Klein when he got back.

  Then go back to the weather and try to forget what those few minutes under the lights had felt like.

  Allie stood in Katie’s room, her hands on her hips, and regarded the stubborn girl. Things had gone well the first couple of days, but then Katie’s attitude had resurfaced. Maybe she’d read something in the obvious tension between Allie and Duncan. The push-pull of attraction—and Allie’s resolve not to get involved emotionally with a man who needed a shoulder.

  Uh-huh. So why had she stayed for dinner last night? And the three nights before that? Being here had become a regular habit, particularly the part where she saw Duncan.

  Each day, she found herself lingering longer and longer, for a glass of wine on the patio with Duncan, or a walk around the overgrown gardens, to watch a sunset, share a kiss.

  Because she didn’t want to get involved. Yet, every time she tried to remind herself that she was going to walk away at the end of this, leaving Duncan with the broken heart, something tugged her back.

  Whether that something involved lingering feelings from long ago, or growing feelings from today, Allie didn’t know. Wasn’t going to ask.

  Either way, she needed to get with the program, focus on the job at hand. Today was her last day with Katie, because Duncan had found a nurse, and she wanted to make these last few hours memorable.

  She refused to think about how it would feel at the end of the day to walk away from this house and not be here tomorrow when Duncan got home from work. To not have another meal with him sitting on the other end of Katie’s bed, laughing at jokes and smiling at her over a glass of iced tea.

  She shook off thoughts of him and regarded Katie, who had gone back to redefining defiant. “If you think I’m falling for that ‘I’m asleep’ crap again, you’re wrong.”

  “Screw you.” Katie twisted her upper body to the side.

  “And you’re not staying in that bed. Not today. Or in this damned room. Enough TV. Enough movies. Enough complaining.” Allie had kept Darla away, after Duncan’s warnings, which had added, she was sure, to Katie’s grumpiness. But the girl was sober, and that was good.

  Katie’s head swiveled back, insolence sparking her blue eyes. “What are you going to do, throw me over your back?”

  “If it comes to that, yes.”

  Katie snorted. “So where are we going on our grand adventure? The living room sofa?”

  “Outside.”

  Katie swallowed, then looked at the window. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t go outside.” Nor did she go downstairs or to the kitchen table or anywhere but this damned bed. Allie was tired of this single view, and she would bet a million dollars Katie was, too, but getting the girl to admit it was like getting a vampire to take a whirl on a tanning bed.

  “You do now.” Allie strode forward, flung back the covers, then handed Katie a summer dress. Allie glimpsed the fear in Katie’s eyes and for a second, her mind rocketed back to her own teen years. To the days when she’d watched the world go by from a bedroom window, too afraid of the teasing, the laughter, that too-small, too-mean world outside her door.

  Allie knew all about that. She wondered at the irony of Duncan picking her, of all people, to work with his sister. Maybe Fate had put her—the only person who could understand—with this self-imprisoned girl. If there was one thing she could do, for Katie, for Duncan, before she left today, it was to force Katie out of this room. Maybe that would help the girl see the possibility of a life beyond the disability the accident had saddled her with. Allie gestured toward the dress. “Get dressed.”

  “You can’t order me around.”

  “If you don’t get dressed,” Allie said, giving Katie a sharp-edged smile, “I won’t feed you.”

  “Hey! You can’t do that. That’s, like, against the law.”

  “Go ahead, call the cops.” Allie crossed her arms over her chest. “Or…”

  Katie waited, watching Allie with the wariness of a dog hit one too many times but hoping this time, the hand held a hot dog, not more hurt. Allie’s heart softened and she lowered herself onto the bed.

  “You can go outside with me, enjoy the sunshine, and have a picnic.”

  “A picnic?” Katie’s eyes widened, and a hint of a smile played on her lips.

  “Yep. So get dressed and we’ll go.”

  Katie looked down at her legs, then at the yellow dress beside her. Petulance returned to her pout. “I can’t get dressed by myself. You have to do it for me.”

  Allie was damned if she’d hear that girl whine one more time. “For the past five days, I’ve been dressing you, practically hand-feeding you. Your legs don’t work but your hands still do. And so does your brain.”

  “So?”

  “So I know what it’s like to be stuck in bed. To be stuck at home, to have no life. I used to be that way when I was younger—” Allie weighed the wisdom of what she was about to say next, then figured hell, Katie was, as Allie’s mother had said, a recluse, who was she going to tell? “When I was younger, I used to be heavy, really heavy.”

  “You? No way!”

  “Yes, way. So heavy that…” Allie drew in a breath. “I didn’t have many friends. I didn’t have a life at school or outside of school, because I didn’t fit the mold of what a girl should be or…I thought I didn’t. I used to lie in my room every night and think that if I were thin and pretty, every
thing would change. That people would see the real me.”

  Katie leaned forward, her attention rapt. “And so you did, you got thin. Obviously.”

  Allie nodded. “I dieted. I exercised. I worked my ass off.” She chuckled. “Literally.”

  “And did it work? Did everything change?”

  Allie paused for a long moment, tracing a finger along the light rose pattern of Katie’s comforter. “The real change came from inside me. I worked on the outside but it wasn’t until I changed my attitude and saw myself differently that I really escaped that prison.”

  “What do you mean?” Katie scoffed. “You’re gorgeous. All it takes is one look to get you a date.”

  “But that doesn’t mean that the men who look, or the men I go out with, are good choices. I fell into a lot of bad relationships and made a lot of mistakes. Even after I got thin, I didn’t see myself as fitting the mold, either, if that makes sense.” Allie struggled for the words to explain, to wrap up the emotions that had been so tangled up in pounds and body image for so many years. “That, Katie, was always the problem. It wasn’t the other people—it was me.”

  “You?”

  “Yeah. If I’d been confident in me, I wouldn’t have let the pounds or anything else hold me back. Once I learned to be confident in my own skin, that was when the barriers came down.” She reached forward and touched Katie’s hand. “That’s what you need to do. Be comfortable with who you are today, instead of wishing to be someone else.”

  Katie shook her head. “I’d rather be anybody but me. Preferably someone who can walk.”

  “Why? You’re already perfect, Katie.”

  She snorted and looked away. “Easy for you to say. You have two working legs. What man is going to want me, Allie? Like this?” She pointed at her legs, and Allie’s heart lurched.

  “A man who sees who you are inside,” Allie said softly. “And who loves that Katie. That’s the only man you want.” That, Allie realized, was all she really wanted, too. All she’d ever really wanted, regardless of her weight.

  But she wasn’t going to find that, not as long as no one knew her real identity.

  “Do you really believe that?” Katie asked, her voice small, hopeful.

  “Sure I do.”

  A ghost of a smile appeared on Katie’s face, then disappeared. Doubt crowded back into her features. “I don’t know. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “It’ll happen. I’m sure of it.”

  “Yeah. Let me know when Ashton Kutcher comes calling.”

  Allie laughed. “Soon as he and Demi aren’t an item anymore, you’ll be the first to now. For now, let’s forget about men and simply start with going outside. And to do that, you have to get dressed.”

  “I don’t feel like it,” Katie said.

  “If you don’t,” Allie said, sweetening the pot, “you won’t find out about the surprise waiting for you in the yard.”

  Katie flicked a glance Allie’s way, then practiced her ignoring technique, holding on to one last vestige of stubbornness.

  Allie left the room but stood outside the door. Inside, Katie cursed, grumbled several unflattering things about Allie. Then, finally, Allie heard the sounds of her slipping into the clothes, with a few more curses thrown in. “I’m ready now, Nurse Ratched.”

  Allie returned to the room. Katie had exchanged her nightgown for the yellow summer dress, its pale color making her skin seem more vibrant, particularly against her dark hair, which Allie noticed hung limp and slightly tangled against her shoulders. “Let’s brush your hair,” Allie said, rising to retrieve Katie’s brush and hand mirror from her dresser. “Make a whole beauty day of it.”

  “I don’t want to. Who’s gonna care what I look like?”

  “You.”

  Katie shook her head. “I stopped caring a long time ago.”

  Allie curled her palm around the soft boar’s hair bristles. Katie had a hell of a wall up, and every time Allie thought they’d taken out a brick, Duncan’s younger sister threw another one in its place. Time to pull out her personal sledgehammer and start knocking a few of those down. She couldn’t leave Katie like this, couldn’t return to L.A. knowing the girl was still in this bed. “Do you know I went on my first date when I was twenty-two?”

  “Bullshit.”

  Allie drew a finger under Katie’s chin, waiting until the girl’s wide blue eyes met her own. “I’m serious. When I was younger and overweight, I didn’t have boyfriends. I was only asked out once and I think”—Allie drew in a breath, surprised that the thoughts pained her still—“he only did it to get a laugh out of his friends.”

  “What kind of loser does that?”

  Your brother. The one guy I thought was different from all the rest. Allie shook off the thought and pasted a bright smile on her face. “Anyway, all I’m trying to say is that things can change. You can change.”

  Katie was quiet for a long while, then she reached for the hand mirror and traced a circle along the plastic rim. “I used to do this, you know. Worry about my appearance. I invested in more Revlon than RuPaul.”

  Allie laughed. “So you do have a funny bone.”

  “I used to.” Katie sighed. “I used to have a lot of things.”

  Allie’s hand covered Katie’s. “And you can again. You have a lot of gifts, Katie Henry, but they’re going to waste in this room.” Allie swiped at her eyes and saw Katie do the same, then the two of them shared a laugh that erased the emotional moment. “Come on, let’s brush your hair. Put on some lip gloss.”

  “That’s not much of a beauty day,” Katie said, brightening finally, a smile curving across her lips, her eyes glistening as they met Allie’s, the sadness giving way to a tiny sparkle of hope. “A true beauty day is when you paint your nails some ungodly bright color and pluck your eyebrows and try on really bad eye shadow.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.” Allie retrieved her purse from downstairs, then dumped the contents onto Katie’s bed. Three bottles of nail polish tumbled onto the comforter. “Pick a color.”

  A grin curved over Katie’s face. “Red, of course. Because I’m a bad girl.”

  Allie laughed. “Red it is.” She slid down to the end of the bed and moved the blanket aside. “Okay. Toes first.”

  Katie shook her head so hard, her hair whipped across her cheeks. “No.”

  “I can’t do your hands first,” Allie explained. “You won’t be able to brush your hair or do your makeup.”

  “Don’t waste your time on those,” Katie said, indicating her feet with an angry flick of her wrist. “They’re useless and ugly.”

  Allie put a hand on Katie’s bare, pale foot, not because she thought the girl might feel the touch, but to show her that her paralysis didn’t disgust or repel her. “You’re still a girl, Katie, regardless of what happened to you. And a girl paints her toenails.” Before Katie could protest, Allie had twisted the top off the bottle of OPI and began applying the vibrant cranberry color.

  Katie got busy brushing her hair, at first with quick, angry strokes, then with shorter, slower ones, her face turned away as though she didn’t care what color her toes were.

  But out of the corner of her eye, Allie saw a tear slip down Katie’s cheek, puddling in the dimple of her smile.

  Duncan stood outside his house, battling a lump in his throat. Shock rooted him to the spot as surely as the hundred-year-old elm beside him. “Katie?”

  His sister turned in her wheelchair and flashed a smile at him. “I’m not a painting, Duncan, so stop staring at me.”

  But he couldn’t help himself. His little sister looked radiant, with the kiss of sun on her face, the muted floral fabric of her dress. An afghan was draped over her lap, keeping her legs warm and hidden, but the rest of her was out in the sun, pushing her chair along the garden path as adeptly as Jimmie Johnson.

  Allie came striding up and slipped her hand into his. “She was being a brat so I made her go outside and play.”

  “I hear
d that,” Katie said, laughter in her voice. “And I am not a brat.”

  Allie arched a brow. “That’s right, you’ve been an angel all day. I must have you confused with your brother.”

  Katie threw back her head and laughed, the same teasing light in her eyes Duncan remembered from years ago, and had thought was gone forever. He had to remember to take a breath.

  “He is a brat,” Katie said. “Ask him about what he did to my Barbies. Forced them all into the army. For your information, Duncan, Barbie does not look good in camouflage.”

  Duncan chuckled. He remembered when he’d done that, back when he was eight, maybe nine. “Hey, I didn’t have enough GI Joes for my war.”

  Katie laughed again, then shook her head at him. She pushed off with her hands, sending the chair sailing down the brick path. On the opposite side, Duncan glimpsed a large, golden ball of fur trotting alongside her. “What the hell is that?”

  “Incentive,” Allie said. “His name is Ranger. He’s a Helping Hands dog.”

  Duncan turned toward Allie. “How did you do that?” A year ago, he’d put in an application for a dog to help his sister, a canine assistant to get the phone, open doors, keep her company. And been put on a waiting list.

  “Katie told me you’d applied for a dog and had been waiting for a long time. I happened to have a connection,” Allie said. “Someone owed me a favor.”

  “That’s a pretty big favor.”

  “It was a pretty big debt.” Allie’s face squinted up and she turned away. “My ex.”

  “Ex-boyfriend or husband?”

  “Husband. Divorce was final this week.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” But he wasn’t sorry at all. It meant Allie was a hundred percent available. Already, his interest had gone from merely piqued to completely intrigued. This woman had done more than open a window—

  She’d blown open every door and window that he’d thought he’d sealed shut.

  Duncan and Allie began walking the perimeter of the yard, a space that had once been tended by a full-time landscaper. Now the plants were overgrown, the weeds creeping in amongst the stone steps. “Were you married long?”