by Rachel Hanna
“How about we split one?”
“Okay,” she said, trying not to show the disappointment in her face. “Pick your poison.”
Emmy held out the bag and Nash peered down into it. “Let’s go for chocolate.”
She pulled one of the muffins out of the bag along with a couple of napkins and split it in half.
“Don’t spoil your supper,” she said with a smile.
“Don’t remind me,” Nash said, rolling his eyes before taking a bite.
“Did I hit a nerve? I thought supper was a pretty safe topic.”
“It’s my Dad.”
Emmy stilled for a moment and struggled to keep her face neutral. Brick had never been her biggest fan, and she definitely wasn’t his.
“Your father?”
“He announced to me today that not only has he been seriously dating some woman named Lana for two years, but they’re engaged. And he wants me to meet her tonight at dinner.”
“Ohhhh… That explains the look and the mood and the need for chocolate.”
“No, I need hard liquor but I don’t want to lose my job.”
“Chocolate is safer.”
“I guess.”
“Listen, Nash. I’ve never been your father’s biggest proponent, but everyone deserves to fall in love. Maybe he finally found the person who can…”
“Put up with him?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to say that exactly.”
“But you were thinking it,” Nash said, smiling as he devoured the last large bite in one move.
“A lady doesn’t speak ill of others.”
Nash let out a deep laugh at that one. “You still have that dry wit, Emmy Lou Moore.”
She’d always loved when he said her full name. Something about the intimacy of that took her back to their high school days sitting at the ice cream shop talking about life for hours until the street lights came on. Those were simpler times.
“Hello? You in there?” Nash asked, waving his good hand in front of her face.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I was just thinking.”
“About?”
“Nothing really.”
“Nope. Not fair. I spilled my guts. Now it’s your turn.”
“Fine. I was just remembering the old days at Libson’s Ice Cream Shop.”
“Man, you really are a sugar-holic!”
Emmy threw a wadded up napkin at his face as he ducked out of the way.
“Those were good times, don’t you think?”
Nash sat for a moment, looking at her carefully. “Most of them. Some not so good.”
“Well, that’s life,” she said, sitting back and sighing.
“Why are you here, Emmy?”
“I thought we were clear that it was the sugar that brought me here?”
“No. I mean why are you back in Whiskey Ridge?”
She went silent for a moment, trying not to look him in the eye. Nash could always tell when she was lying.
“I told you I came back because of my mother.”
“Yes, and I know that’s partly true. But that isn’t all of it, Em. Tell me.”
“Nash, I don’t think this is a good idea…” she said, starting to stand up.
“You were my whole world back then.”
“What?” she said, slowly sitting back down.
“You were everything. And we were friends once, even before we started getting serious. I knew you better than I knew myself.”
“Your point?”
“There’s no one else you can talk to about whatever is going on that will understand it like I do.”
“You’re awfully full of yourself, Nash Collier.”
He grinned. “And that surprises you?”
“Actually, no.”
“Tell me.”
She bit both of lips and then took in a deep breath.
“I’m in the middle of divorcing my cheating husband who stole my life savings from me.”
Nash’s eyes grew wide, almost like he didn’t know what to say.
Emmy continued. “I heard from my attorney today, and our divorce is being fast-tracked but I’ll basically be left in financial ruin once this is all over.”
“What a freaking jackass. You know, I know some people in Atlanta. Want me to make a call?”
“Nash! I don’t want him killed!”
Nash chuckled. “Fine. But if we scared him enough to get him to at least run into the ring with a certain bull…”
“Stop. That’s not funny.”
Nash stopped talking for a moment and then reached across the table and put his hand over Emmy’s.
“Look, I don’t know who this guy is, but he obviously didn’t appreciate what he had.”
“You don’t have to try to make me feel better, really.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel better. I’m just saying that if I had another chance…”
He yanked his hand back and avoided eye contact for a moment.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. Must be the drugs. Or the chocolate. Look, I gotta go. My Dad expects me for dinner and so forth…”
He started trying to back up from the table, but his wheel was stuck.
“Let me help you,” Emmy said, standing up.
“No, no, it’s fine. I’ve got it. Listen, thanks for the muffin. And I’ll see you Monday, okay?”
Before Emmy could say another word, Nash was quickly wheeling himself down the sidewalk toward his father’s house. And Emmy was left to wonder what had just happened.
Chapter 8
“Nash, this is Lana. Lana, this is my long lost son, Nash.”
Nash stared at the woman. She was a far cry from what he’d expected. She was professional looking with shoulder length black hair, very minimal makeup and a welcoming smile.
“Nice to meet you,” Nash said.
“Oh, Nash, I’m so happy to finally meet you. Your father is so proud of you.”
Proud? His father. Surely she had him confused with someone else.
Brick was on the back deck working the grill with Billy while Nash got acquainted - albeit awkwardly - with his soon to be new step mother.
“Proud? Of me?”
“Of course, sweetie. He’s talked about you in such glowing terms since I met him. I couldn’t wait to meet you!” She continued chopping the lettuce for the salad, tossing each piece into a large colander in the sink.
“Wow. That’s interesting. I’m not sure he told you the full story…”
“Sure he did. Honey, family stuff can be hard. I have a grown daughter, and we didn’t speak for six months because of a stupid argument. These things happen. But your Daddy was proud of you even when he didn’t agree with your choices.”
“Good to hear… I guess…”
Nash was having problems processing all of the information he was getting lately. His father’s engagement. Emmy’s cheating, stealing husband.
Things had changed a lot in Whiskey Ridge, it appeared.
“So how did you meet my father?”
Lana smiled as she started shredding purple cabbage over the bowl.
“Oh, now that’s a story in itself. You see, I’m a large animal vet. I had a practice back in Nashville… that’s where I’m from… but hadn’t set up my practice in Whiskey Ridge just yet…”
“How on Earth did you end up in Whiskey Ridge?”
“Well, now, which story do you want to hear?” she asked with a giggle.
Nash found himself smiling. This woman was actually nice. And she loved his father, evidently. A nice woman was in love with his father. Miracles apparently did happen.
“So here I am, my first day in town, when I run into Danny at the pet store…”
“Danny?” Nash said.
“Your father?” she responded laughing.
“Sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone refer to him by his real name. Everyone calls him Brick.”
“Yeah, well I’m not everyone. And Brick makes him
sound like he either has rocks in his head or he’s a linebacker for the local football team.”
“Sorry, I interrupted you…” Nash said, taking a handful of chips from a bowl on the kitchen island.
“Anyway, I saw Danny looking at some dog supplements. You know, for that old hound dog he keeps at the barn? Well, I knew he could order them online for half the price, but I sure didn’t want the manager to hear me say that. No need to piss off my new fellow citizens, right?”
She was so easygoing as she spoke. Smiling and giggling to herself as she continued preparing what was sure to be the world’s largest salad. And Nash, despite himself, couldn’t help but smile with her. She was light. She had no pretense. She was just vivacious and elegant and funny. And he found himself feeling a little bit jealous of his father’s good fortune to find such a woman so late in life.
“Well, we ended up chatting for so long in the aisle of the store that the place closed and asked us to leave. So we walked over to Duke’s and had a nightcap. And we’ve basically been inseparable ever since!”
“Wow. That’s great.”
Lana looked up from her salad preparation and smiled at Nash.
“I know your father was a bit of a curmudgeon in his younger days, Nash. This isn’t my first time at this rodeo, so to speak. But just because a person has made mistakes in the past doesn’t mean they have to continue making them in the future. Give your Daddy a chance. I promise you won’t be sorry if you just leave open the slightest possibility that he’s a better man today than he was when you last spoke to him.”
“Sounds like he owes that transformation to you,” Nash said softly, being careful that his father wasn’t back in the house yet.
“People don’t change unless they really want to, my boy. And Lord knows, change is hard. Danny wanted to be a better man for you boys… and probably for me too a little bit,” she said with a wink.
Before Nash could speak, he heard the back door open. Brick appeared behind him and then leaned over to kiss Lana on the cheek as she cut up onions and struggled not to cry.
“Goodness gracious, woman, how big of a salad are you making?” Billy said as he walked into the house with a plate stacked with steaks.
“It’s just like Southern hairstyles. The bigger they are, the closer to God!”
Everyone laughed at that, and Nash had a momentary glimpse of what a normal, happy family felt like - something he’d never known in his whole life. And something he’d never realized - until just now - that he needed so much.
Emmy sat nervously in the chair. Her mother, on the other hand, sat beside her without a care in the world, reading some trashy magazine while smacking her chewing gum.
“Mother, could you please stop cracking that gum?”
“Could you please stop correcting me?” Pauline said without looking up. “Good Lord, would you look at her butt? That has to be fake. God don’t make butts that shape…” She held out the magazine to Emmy.
“Stop it! Aren’t you the slightest bit anxious to hear what Dr. Gaines has to say about your bloodwork?”
“Nah. I’ve had more blood drawn over my life than ten people combined. No big whoop,” she said, looking back down at her magazine.
“Well, I wish I could be as anxiety free as you are.”
“Emmy, you’ve never been anxiety free a day in your life. You came out of my loins all wound up tighter than a ball of yarn.”
“Thanks a lot for that visual image, Mom.”
“Hello, ladies,” Dr. Gaines said as he walked into his office. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Doctors always keep you waiting, mainly because they’re usually arrogant people in general,” Pauline said flippantly before tossing her magazine on the side table.
“Mom!”
“It’s okay, Emmy. Your Mom and I go way back,” he said with a smile.
“Apologize,” Emmy said under her breath.
“Apologize for what? The doc here knows I was just messing around. Right, Doc?”
“Of course,” he said, shooting a grin at Emmy. “I have your blood test results.”
“Am I pregnant?”
Emmy put her head in her hands. “Do you see what I’m dealing with here?”
“I understand, Emmy. And it’s okay. Your mother has always had her own particular sense of humor. Anyway, Miss Pauline, you have one smart daughter here. She was totally right about your B12 levels. They are incredibly low. Have you been feeling tired lately?”
“I’m old, Doc. Of course I feel tired.”
“What about pins and needles in your hands or feet? Any of that?”
“Sometimes.”
“Well, what we’re going to do today is start you on some B12 shots. You will come in regularly for shots and then we’ll reassess in a few weeks to see what your levels are, okay?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Pauline said before digging through her purse for another piece of gum. “Say, Doc, do you happen to have any gum?”
Dr. Gaines smiled. “Why don’t you go talk to Kathleen at the front desk. I think she has some treats we give the younger kids.”
Pauline grabbed her purse and left the room in search of more gum.
“Sorry about her. She can be a bit…”
“It’s okay, Emmy. Your mother has been seeing me for a good ten years. I know her personality well.”
“So do you think these shots might help her forgetfulness?”
Dr. Gaines sighed and sat back against his brown leather chair. “Maybe. I’ve been doing some research, and I want to try a regimen that has helped others with dementia symptoms. But don’t get your hopes up just in case it doesn’t work out, okay?”
“Any hope is a good thing right now. I really appreciate you testing her.”
As Emmy walked with Pauline to the car, she felt such a sense of gratitude for Nash. At least there was a possibility that her mother might get better, thus freeing her up to start her life over again.
The only problem was she didn’t even know where to start.
Nash groaned as Emmy worked his calf muscle. He’d only been in therapy for a couple of weeks now, but he was already seeing some progress.
He spent most of his day out of the wheelchair, but he was using a walker instead which made him feel a bit like he should be living at the retirement village. Maybe Pauline’s room was still available.
“How’s that pressure?” Emmy asked.
“It’s fine.”
“You okay?” Emmy asked.
“Yeah. Just wish I was progressing faster.”
“I’m doing the best I can, Nash.”
He tilted his head and looked at her. “It’s not about what you’re doing. It’s about the fact that I’m apparently getting old and decrepit, so my body isn’t bouncing back like I’d hoped.”
“You have to give it time, Nash. We’ve talked about this. Turn over.”
Nash gingerly turned over. He was getting faster at it, but certainly not back to normal.
Emmy stacked more pillows behind him, and he scooted up to face her.
“Lift this arm,” she said as he started working on his range of motion exercises. Although she threw other things in each week, he had a specific set of basic exercises they always did.
“Listen, you’re getting better every session. And if you’re doing your home exercises too, I expect exponential progress each week.”
“But when can I ride again?” Nash asked.
Emmy stopped for a moment. “There are no guarantees. We’ve talked about this. But…”
“But what?”
“I think you’re winning the fight against the physical injuries you have, Nash.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Of course. But I’m not so sure you’re dealing with the emotional stuff.”
Nash rolled his eyes. “Don’t get all woo woo on me, Emmy.”
She laughed. “It’s not woo woo. Emotional scars can have a great impact on the physical body. You
may not heal fully until you deal with those things.”
“Like what? How am I emotionally scarred?” he said, holding his hand up to his heart and fluttering his eyelashes.
“You think it’s funny, but it’s real. You haven’t dealt with the idea that you’re getting older and that riding bulls may not be in the cards for you anymore. You haven’t dealt with the emotions of being replaced by younger riders. You haven’t dealt with the issues with your father. You haven’t dealt our…” she stopped herself, her eyes widening for a moment as if she’d almost let something slip out.
Nash stared at her for a moment, not breaking eye contact. “I haven’t dealt with losing the love of my life?”
She cleared her throat and looked down at his arm. “We don’t discuss personal issues here, Nash. This is therapy. Remember our agreement?”
“Then let’s go somewhere else.”
“Where’s your Mom?” Nash asked as they walked into her small house.
“My cousin Debbie took her out for a day of beauty,” Emmy said as she opened the mini blinds and created a plume of dust. She coughed and fanned her hand across her face.
“And what does a day of beauty include?” Nash asked with a laugh as he lowered himself to the 70’s styled sofa.
Emmy sat down in the arm chair next to him and smiled. “Well, let’s see. Eyebrow waxing, a hair cut, upper lip waxing…”
Nash put up his hand. “Please stop. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“Want some coffee?”
“Nah. I’m good,” he said. Emmy had to admit she was stalling. Never in a million years did she expect Nash to want to talk about their past. He’d never been an overly communicative sort, probably as a result of living with his hard headed, stubborn, jackwad of a father.
“So, what’re we doing here, Nash?” she finally summoned the courage to ask.
“I think you may be right.”
“Wow. You think I’m right about something? Has Dr. Miller upped your dosage?”
Nash chuckled. “I’ll have you know I’m one-hundred percent off pain pills and muscle relaxants, thank you very much. Just taking a little ibuprofen here and there.”
“I’m proud of you for that. I know how hard those medications can be to withdraw from.”
“It was hard, but Dr. Miller helped me taper the dosages.”