by Toni Shiloh
“Good afternoon, I’m here to see Mrs. Carter.”
There was no mistaking the frost in the air. Jo’s voice had traveled into winter territory. It took every effort not to gape. He couldn’t believe it. She acted like she didn’t remember him. Acted like she didn’t see him in the stupid chair. Everyone stared at the chair. Everyone.
He puffed up his chest, trying to appear taller. If she wanted to cop an attitude, he could definitely oblige her. “And hello to you, Four Eyes. Although, I suppose I’ll have to find a new name for you.” He gestured to her face, referencing the lack of glasses. Hopefully the snide look on his face came across as strongly as he intended it to.
“Ah, still up to your old ways, I see. Why did I ever imagine you could have grown up?” She walked right past him as he struggled to move out of the way. He rolled backward and let go of the door, hoping the weight would close it.
He turned and found her waiting impatiently. So, she did remember him. How dare she act as if seeing him in a wheelchair was an everyday occurrence. “High and Mighty.” The words slipped loose.
“What?”
“Your new nickname.”
She crossed her arms in front of her. “That’s absurd.”
He felt a tinge of pleasure at bringing her down a peg. “So is the way you waltz in here like you own the place. What are you even doing here? Did you buy a non-refundable ticket to the one-legged freak show?” He felt the anger rise and encouraged it. He refused to be treated like a sideshow.
Jo raised an eyebrow and looked down at him.
Evan bristled.
“If I had known you’d be home, this would have been the last place I’d come. However, your mother requested a meeting with me.”
Evan wanted to protest her presence. If he kicked her out, would his mother find out? He glared at her with indecision. “Whatever,” he said with a bite. Making a choice, he wheeled ahead of Jo. “She’s in the kitchen.”
Could this day get any worse? He’d never thought he loathed the chair more than he did now. Of all the people to see him in it, it had to be her? The girl who’d once been his friend. The girl who always had it together, no matter how many barbs he threw at her.
Should he be thankful she didn’t mention his leg? No one had ever ignored the glaring space where his left leg used to be. No one.
He continued down the hall and entered the kitchen, heaving a sigh of gratitude that there were no doors to prevent his entry. The tantalizing mixture of nutmeg and cinnamon did little to cool his anger. He watched as his mother pulled an apple pie from the double oven. Traitor. Why would she have any business with Jo?
As if his thoughts burned her ears, she looked up. A genuine smile spread across her face upon seeing Jo. Although gray strands were becoming more prevalent in his mother’s tiny braids, the headband she wore pulled them away from her face, giving her a youthful look.
“Good afternoon, Jo. Why don’t you have a seat at the bar?” His mother gestured to the barstools, and then turned to Evan. “I can cut you a slice of pie if you want to eat while I take Jo to the carriage house.”
“Why do you need to show her the carriage house?” The disrespectful tone of his voice was unintentional, but he needed to mask the dread pooling in his stomach.
“Jo’s going to give me an estimate on renovations.” His mom looked at him as if he should have known that tidbit of information.
“Wait, she’s the Jo who’s going to do the renovations?” Evan looked back and forth between his mom and Jo. When his mom said Jo was coming over, he had assumed it was some guy. Not his Jo.
Whoa, he didn’t mean it like that. He shook his head to dislodge the thought. How did she even know the difference between a hammer and a wrench?
“Who were you expecting?”
He managed to hide the wince as Jo’s voice dipped into icicle range. He stared at her, wondering if she knew how regal she looked. It should have appeared ridiculous on her, but she obviously didn’t get the memo that overalls weren’t high-and-mighty material.
“I just assumed Jo was a man’s name,” Evan said cautiously.
“Well as you can tell, I’m not a man. And I’m fully capable of handling a renovation.”
“I’m sure you are,” Evan murmured. He couldn’t believe it. Not only did he run into her again, but he’d have the possibility of seeing her every day while she renovated.
God this is torture!
He quickly stifled the thought. He and God weren’t on speaking terms. Not since the loss of his leg and Brenda.
Jo turned away from Evan and smiled at his mom. “Mrs. Carter, why don’t you show me the carriage house and tell me what your vision is?”
“Oh, I’d love to.”
They walked out of the room without a backward glance. In a matter of minutes, he’d been ignored twice.
Chapter Two
Mrs. Carter led the way to the carriage house, talking the whole time. How anyone could talk that much fascinated Jo. Did she ever run out of steam? Her friend Michelle could also chat the night away. No matter the subject, the girl had something to contribute. And Jo’s mind wandered away in a heartbeat.
Like now.
She ran her finger back and forth along the chain of her necklace. How did Evan lose his left leg? The fact that this piece of information had remained absent from the Freedom Lake grapevine was somewhat of a miracle. There’d been no word of his return or his injury. Had there been a split in the fabled telephone game?
What would it be like to lose a leg? What did that do to one’s psyche? Sure, Evan appeared more brusque than normal, but she chalked it up to his bitterness finally catching up to him. Yet, when they were in the foyer of the B&B, his features had vacillated between angry and sad.
Now, her earlier conversation with Mrs. Carter made sense. There was no way his wheelchair could fit through the doors of the butler pantry. It wasn’t even a decent-sized space for an able-bodied person. This wasn’t New York. How did he get in to go to sleep? If she took this job, she’d need to bone up on her wheelchair accessibility information.
“I’m so happy to have Evan back home.”
Mrs. Carter’s words refocused her wandering thoughts. “Is he home for good?” She hoped she sounded nonchalant.
“He’s taking it one day at a time. He still needs help, but once he becomes independent I have no idea if he’ll move away again. His father and I are praying he stays in Freedom Lake. However, we want the property renovated regardless if he’ll stay or not. Besides, maybe it’ll entice him to stay or at least visit more often.” Hope shined in Mrs. Carter’s round face.
If Evan hadn’t graced his parents with a visit in all these years, it seemed unlikely he’d be tempted to visit if he moved away again.
They stopped in front of the carriage house and Mrs. Carter entered a code on the side of the building. As the garage door screamed its way up, Jo cringed. Does no one use WD-40 around here?
Mrs. Carter gestured inside the carriage house when the garage door came to a stop. “As you can see, we no longer store the cars in here. But it’s big enough to hold three of them.” She gestured to the right. “Those stairs lead to a loft.”
Jo took everything in. “Do you plan on having Evan stay downstairs or do you want him to be able to access the loft?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” She wrung her hands as she spoke. “The loft is a little outdated, but it has a small kitchen space and room to have a bed and living area. My prayer is that Evan will decide to be fitted for a prosthesis, but even if he does, I’m still not sure how easy it will be for him to navigate stairs.”
Jo noted Mrs. Carter’s furrowed brow and the lines drawn down around her mouth. She’d been so focused on how this was affecting Evan that she hadn’t even considered how his parents were dealing. Way to go, Jo. She stepped closer to Mrs. Carter. “How are you handling this?”
Evan’s mother smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “One day at a time. T
he Lord’s carried us through and I know He’ll see us through to the other side. It’s just hard to watch him suffer.”
At the mention of God, Jo froze. Although she wanted to cover her ears like a child, she didn’t. Mrs. Carter had always been kind, despite claiming to be a Christian. She would just pretend God hadn’t entered the conversation.
“When you have children, Jo, you’ll understand.”
Children. Not something she wanted to rush toward. If her mother had her way, she’d already be married with 2.5 kids, a home, and a white picket fence—which was utterly ridiculous, considering how long it had been since she’d been in a serious relationship.
She offered a smile as she glanced around the loft. It was definitely outdated, and the thought of renovating the property left her unsettled. Seeking calm, she ran her finger back and forth on her necklace. A gift from her dad, it provided more comfort than the deep breathing exercise.
Could she manage this?
There weren’t too many people in Freedom Lake needing wheelchair access. Most of the seniors in town lived in one-story homes or at the senior community center, which was already wheelchair accessible.
Before she could voice her doubts, Mrs. Carter began speaking. “If you think it’s best to renovate the garage area into an apartment space versus the loft, I’m all for it. Just tell me how much money you’ll need to make it easy for Evan to live independently.”
“Mrs. Carter, I have to be honest. I’ve never renovated a space to be wheelchair accessible. Have you considered someone else?” She couldn’t believe she was giving her an out. The income would be nice, but would the loss of her peace of mind be worth it?
“I understand that, but I’m not sure I want to put my trust in someone I’ve never met.”
Jo smiled. “Well then, if you don’t mind, I’d like to contact an architect I use for big jobs and get her opinion on the space. By any chance do you have the original blueprints for the carriage house?” She held her breath, hoping for a ‘yes.’
“I sure do. Evan, Senior I mean, has all that stored away. He’s an organizational freak,” she answered with a twinkle in her eye.
“Great. If I can take those with me, that will help. Meanwhile, I’ll take a look at the county’s laws and regulations on this type of renovation. Once I gather all the information I need, I can come back out here with a proposed budget and show you the plans. What do you think?”
“I think that sounds wonderful and I thank you for being honest. I saw the work you did on the Deans’ home and I just knew you’d be the person for this.”
Jo warmed at the praise. The Deans’ kitchen had been a fun remodel. She shook Mrs. Carter’s hand and made plans to meet up in a week.
THE NEXT DAY, JO CALLED Michelle. Since her friend lived in Kodiak City, an hour north of Freedom Lake, a phone call sufficed for catching up.
“Hey girl, you on your lunch break?”
Michelle snorted. “Please, I’m eating at my desk. Why? What’s up?”
“So,” Jo said, in a drawn out note. “I have a potential renovation project.”
“Okay,” Michelle replied, matching her tone. “Judging by the way you said that, you don’t want the project.”
“It’s Mrs. Carter.”
“Really? Why? Didn’t the B&B just get a remodel a couple of years ago? What could she possibly want to change?”
Jo took in a deep breath before she began. “She wants the carriage house renovated into an apartment for Evan.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
Jo pulled the phone away from her ear at Michelle’s loud exclamation.
Michelle continue on, “She wants you to renovate a place for Evan? You, the girl he mercilessly teased all throughout high school?”
Jo could practically see the look on Michelle’s face. Her friend’s hazel eyes were probably flashing with indignation.
“I know. I was shocked as well. But once I saw that Evan was missing a leg and in a wheelchair—”
“What?” Michelle yelled, cutting Jo off in the middle of her sentence. “How on earth did he end up with a missing leg?”
“Chelle,” she said, reverting to her friend’s nickname. “I have no idea what happened.” Jo started to reach for her necklace and stopped. “He looked so angry when I saw him, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much I cared. I gave him the cold shoulder instead.”
“Glad to hear it. That man deserves none of your kindness.” A slight pause filled the air. “Are you going to do it?”
Jo was glad this conversation was taking place over the phone; otherwise, Michelle might try and treat her to “the look.”
“The look,” as they referred to it, served Michelle well at her job. Since she was the only female attorney in her firm, she needed to show she couldn’t be messed with and it worked.
Jo wanted to remain silent, but she knew the silence was probably killing her chatterbox friend. “Okay, okay. Yes, I’m going to take the job. I was on my laptop all last night reading up on accessibility standards.”
A sigh filled the air. “Well, knowing you, I can’t change your mind. Plus, I like Mrs. Carter. It’s not her fault her son didn’t get her kindness gene.”
She laughed. “So true. I’ll be coming up to the city Friday to meet with Skyler to go over blueprints.”
“Fantastic! How about you stay the night? We can watch chick flicks and go shopping Saturday before you head back.”
Jo rolled her eyes. She hated shopping, but knew Michelle wasn’t complete without making a visit to the mall at least once a week. “Sounds like a plan.”
After hanging up, she left the comfort of her porch chair and leaned over the rail. As the sun made its descent, a burst of color filled the sky. The sunset colors were amazing over the reds and yellows of the trees. An image of Evan popped into her mind.
It wasn’t fair that he had all his hair and a trim waistline. He looked just like she remembered, except the boyish look of youth had faded. His oblong face still held the same full lips and thick eyebrows and his hair had been closely shaven, the hairline meticulously straight. His jaw had become quite chiseled, and his warm brown skin had the same gorgeous earth tones. Evan’s thick, wide nose added character and spoke to his ethnicity. And his eyes...she sighed thinking about the anger in the depths of his dark brown eyes.
Despite the hurt he’d caused, she hated to see him hurting. But that didn’t mean she wanted to be near him. Taking the Carter job would increase her chances of seeing him more than she’d like. If her luck would just hold, maybe the job wouldn’t be so bad.
And maybe her luck just ran out.
SILENCE FILLED THE car as Evan’s dad drove into the city. His occupational therapy appointment loomed over him like a dark shadow. He hated that he couldn’t drive himself. How much longer did he have to depend on his parents?
Forever.
The corners of his mouth sank downward in resentment. If it weren’t for his missing leg, he’d still be on his own. Living with his parents again at thirty years old, after tasting the sweet life of adulthood was like a slap to the face. Failure greeted him in the mirror daily. He leaned back against the headrest, stifling a sigh.
“Chin up, son. Life won’t always look as bleak as it does now.” His father, affectionately known as ‘Senior,’ spoke in a calm tone. Nothing shook his dad.
Instead of feeling comforted, he bit back a retort. The platitudes and patronizing comments were driving him insane. The bitterness inside spread through him like a vine overcoming a trellis. Life was bleak and there was no mystical light at the end of the tunnel. All his mom and dad wanted him to do was to trust in God. Well, the last time he had trusted God, the doctor cut off his leg.
“Whatever,” he huffed.
“Look, boy, I know you’re grown, but I’m still your father. You’re not the only one who’s been dealt a bad hand. But you can’t forget that the Lord will always be with you.”
“Y
eah, I don’t seem to remember Him hanging around when my leg was being cut off.”
“You watch your mouth, boy. You might not see it now, but He was there. He was in just as much agony as you.”
Evan grabbed his iPod and put his headphones on. He had no desire to hear Senior drone on and on about a God who would let something like this happen. Everyone wanted to talk about his leg and how he was ‘feeling’ but he refused. Talking wasn’t going to bring his leg back. And expressing his feelings just alienated what little friends he had left.
While in the hospital, his parents had asked him to see a counselor. He conceded just to get them to stop hounding him. And after one session, he never went again. How could he bare his soul to a person perpetuating the myth that they had it all together?
He wasn’t truly mad at the counselor. The guy was only doing his job. Yet, it had quickly become apparent that the man had no real experience with Evan’s type of loss, so he stopped talking and sat in silence for the remaining thirty minutes. Unburdening himself to someone who truly didn’t understand wasn’t going to help any.
His dad touched his arm, but he ignored him. The sweet sound of Miles Davis poured forth from his headphones. He closed his eyes and let the sounds of the trumpet transport him to another world.
When they arrived in the city, he removed his headphones. Still, he made sure the don’t-talk-to-me-because-you-don’t-know-how-I-feel sign remained posted on his forehead. As he and his father sat in the waiting room, the noise from the TV filled the space.
“Evan Carter,” a woman’s voice called out.
“We’re coming.” Senior pushed his wheelchair toward the nurse.
Why did the man insist on pushing his chair? It’s not like Evan had lost his arms. He clamped his mouth shut. He wasn’t going to argue in front of witnesses.
His dad lifted him out of his wheelchair at the nurse’s prodding. Evan could feel his face heat with shame. He stared at his cargo pants, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Senior was treating him like a baby, instead of the grown man he was. Injustice burned up his throat like bile.