The Nature of Love (Love in the Spotlight #3)

Chapter 36

Thirty-Six

When Chris was a teen, the thought of using crutches seemed kind of cool. Lean on something and let it take your weight, then you just propel your body forward. Fun.

But at forty-two, he could say crutches were for the birds. He hated them with every fiber of his being. They annoyed his arms, his armpits, and that soft skin no one talked about that covered the side of his ribs. But without the devices, the pain of putting his body weight on his right leg would be unbearable.

Next week, he’d start in-person rehab. But it seemed too late. Sure, he recognized that logically his body had suffered a traumatic event, and he needed to recover. However, being laid up meant he’d missed his friend’s wedding. Lamont had sent Chris a recording of the ceremony, but it wasn’t the same. Their wedding had been small and intimate but obviously with glitz and glam. Nevaeh dazzled in some kind of lace dress that reminded him of leaves. Lamont had cried, and Nevaeh couldn’t stop grinning.

He hated that he’d missed it. Chris had been in a funk since the ski resort, so to keep himself from taking it out on the girls, he’d remained holed up in the guest bedroom on the main floor—because he did not want to navigate the stairs going up to his bedroom. Christmas had come and gone, and the flip of the calendar had brought a new year.

Happy New Year to me.

This wasn’t how he’d imagined he’d be ringing it in. This year was supposed to be about new beginnings and things to look forward to.

You’ll look forward to the use of your leg without crutches.

Without a doubt, but he had to get through recovery first. The thought of dealing with this over the span of four to six months made his throat raw with unshed tears—the shed ones were saved for showers and rain. He prayed there would be no lingering limp afterward, but that wasn’t a guarantee. Chris didn’t have the kind of money it took to tip the odds in his favor. If his insurance determined after a certain point that he didn’t need more rehab and his leg didn’t heal the way he prayed ... then his life would forever be altered in ways he didn’t want to even contemplate. Yet still you do.

PathLight had been less than pleased to hear of his injury. The docuseries was on a definite pause since Chris couldn’t exactly go out on excursions and showcase the beauty of Colorado and native wildlife anymore. The thought of hiking or even climbing onto the back of an ATV made him wince with pain.

His coworkers at the nonprofit were more than happy to pick up his slack and post on YouTube for him. After all, his profile was the nonprofit name, not Christian Gamble. Still, he felt like dead weight. He was useless to his coworkers, unless answering the phone and applying for grants counted. That he could do at home, and he forced himself to do it so he didn’t become panic-stricken from all of the what-ifs.

Chris couldn’t even help Erykah the way he wanted. Cook ing dinner had become an Olympic event because of the crutches impeding his movements. He couldn’t pick up Ash and balance both her and the crutches. Just the walk to meet Cheye at the bus stop was agonizing. Still, he made himself do so. He didn’t want to be completely useless.

Heat pricked the back of his eyelids, and he looked up at the ceiling, hoping the threat of any emotions would recede. Instead, liquid ran down his temples and onto the pillow. It’s not raining outside. Get it together, Gamble.

But being flat on his back had messed with his emotions more than he cared to admit. Chris couldn’t remember the last time he was this still. There’d always been something to do or somewhere to be. Now he couldn’t go anywhere at the pace he wanted, so why bother moving?

In everything give thanks.

Was this a situation Chris was supposed to thank God for? And if so, what exactly would he be thankful for?

Not being dead, for one.

He winced. Okay, that was a concession he could make.

That an artery wasn’t hit.

Right, because then being dead would’ve been a surety.

That Erykah has done everything to help your recovery.

His heart warmed at the thought. Erykah had been a rock star since he’d been injured. Even Cheyenne had been sweeter to him. Offering to bring him a snack or just sit and watch TV with him—when he decided to move from the bed to the couch. And little Ash was comfortable just curling up in the crook of his arm. The ladies had given him more reasons to smile than he’d have if he were recovering all alone.

Then that’s another thing to be thankful for. You’re not doing this by yourself.

Even now with Erykah at work, Cheyenne at school, and Ash at the daycare, Chris wasn’t alone. Charlie lay at his feet as if his mere presence would bring comfort to Chris. Which it has.

Lord, You’re right. I’m sorry for throwing myself a pity party. I do have a lot to be thankful for. Thank You for all those things I begrudgingly thought of at first. I can see the true blessing of each and every one. You took away my loneliness by bringing Erykah and her nieces into my life. And now You’re with me and have ensured I’m not going through this by myself.

Tuck and Lamont continued to text and check on him. Even Piper and Nevaeh had sent him care packages. Nevaeh sent an ice pack made specifically for legs, along with an elevation pillow. Piper had sent a lavender candle to soothe his nerves. Of course the guys threw in gag gifts. Tuck had sent an Oh snap gingerbread shirt while Lamont had gifted a shirt that had an image of a man kicking a bear with the words I was fighting a bear.

All the gifts had moved him in some way. The biggest blessing of all was Lamont paying for his hospital bill. You know, the part the insurance wouldn’t pay. He’d tried to offer to pay his friend back, but Lamont had been adamant about not wanting Chris’s money. Apparently he’d done the same thing when Tuck had broken a shoulder earlier last year.

You have much to be thankful for, Gamble. Get out of this bed and walk around. The doctor wants you to do so a little each day anyway.

If he didn’t use both of his legs, the possibility of atrophying and losing muscle mass increased. Apparently that would only delay healing.

“Charlie, want to go outside?”

The dog barked, his ears moving forward.

“Let’s go, boy.”

The little dog jumped off the bed and ran to the doorway, turn ing back to watch Chris reach for his crutches and maneuver them under his arms. He stood, then hobbled after the dog, who moved quickly through the living room to the kitchen area and sat by the back door.

Chris twisted the lock, and the dog ran outside, barking at the sunshine. Charlie rolled around in the grass that had just been cleared of snow, thanks to the abundant sunshine and slightly warmer temps. Would he find the first mud patch?

Chris waited out there until the pain begged him to head back inside. He whistled for Charlie, and the dog came trotting toward the house.

“Wipe your paws.” A quick peek told him the dog had stayed out of any mud patches. Good. If he could avoid the extra work of bathing a dog, Chris would.

Charlie did as asked, then ran inside, straight to his doggy bowl, lapping up water. Chris grabbed a tube of crackers, holding the bag in between his teeth, then crutched his way to the living room. By the time he got his leg situated just right on the couch and YouTube running Michael Jordan highlight reels, his phone rang.

Mom flashed on the caller ID.

Since his accident, Chris’s mom had called every day to check on him. In the early days following the surgery, he hadn’t been surprised. After all, breaking a bone and getting screws inserted was considered major surgery. That phrase probably concerned her on some level, but then she kept calling. She’d even started texting Erykah. For the first time in ... ever , his mom appeared to be interested in what was happening to him.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, son, how are you feeling?”

Sad. Morose. Discouraged. “Fine.”

“Are you in a lot of pain?”

How was he supposed to answer that? There was a constant ache that had failed to go away. When it rained a couple of days ago, he’d wanted to curl into the fetal position. He didn’t want to take narcotics any longer than necessary, so he was left with your basic OTC pain reliever. But he could watch TV without lamenting the pain so...

“No.” But he was counting down the two hours left until his next round of pain meds.

“Have you started rehab?”

“Not until next week, like I told you yesterday. ” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Didn’t that sound curt? “Mom, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m not the one with the broken leg.”

“But you’re the one who visited me for Thanksgiving and have called consistently for the past couple of weeks.” He paused, his brain trying to make sense of it all. Every time she called, he was floored, then he tried to figure out why. Experience told him she didn’t care about the intricacies of his life. Her part ended when he’d turned eighteen.

His gaze narrowed. “Are you sick? Are you ... dying ?”

“What! No. Why on earth would you think that?”

“Tell me when’s the last time we talked so much before I got injured?”

Silence greeted his ears. Exactly. She couldn’t tell him when they last communicated so much because that never happened. Not when he went off to college. Not when he’d gotten a job out of state. Not when he returned to Colorado. With every major event in his life, his mom had given him radio silence unless it was his birthday or a major holiday.

“Chris...” She sighed. “I’m trying to do better. Be better.”

“Then you’re not sick or dying?”

“No. ” She chuckled.

“Is this some kind of strange New Year’s resolution, then?” No, the weirdness had started at Thanksgiving.

“Son, I want us to have a relationship where we talk to each other. Where we share what’s important to us.”

“Since when?” He winced. Okay, even he could hear the skepticism and a stronger coat of bitterness than he’d realized existed within.

Was he ... mad at his mom?

He’d always figured he loved her for who she was. A single mom who fed him, clothed him, and put food on the table. The fact that she didn’t do anything else wasn’t a shock to his middle-aged system. Only now he could feel anger stirring in the depths of his heart, and he didn’t like that one bit.

Whether it was because he didn’t want to be angry or because he’d have to deal with the source of his anger remained to be seen.

Get her off the phone first, then contemplate the phone call and her motives later.

“You’re right in thinking a sickness started it. But wrong that I’m seriously ill or dying.” She cleared her throat. “They found a lump in my breast, but after some biopsies and removing it, they determined the mass to be benign and not a threat to my health. Nevertheless, the whole ordeal put some things into perspective.”

Yeah, like how he had no clue his mom had gone through anything like that.

“When did you have the surgery?” he asked.

“Last September.”

“It’s January, Mom.”

She sighed. “Hence the reason I’ve been trying to connect more. I would’ve come to visit for Christmas, but you said Erykah wanted a quiet Christmas. When you got hurt, I wanted to come up and help, but you said you didn’t need it. So I’m calling instead.” She sounded almost hurt.

Despite hearing every word and listening to the tone of her voice and what she hadn’t said, Chris was having difficulty processing it all as true. “I’m not sure what to say.”

“How about we start with how you really feel?”

Could he? Could he accept the step forward she offered? “About the leg or the phone calls?”

She let out a short laugh. “Pick one.”

“All right.” He paused. “I hate being dependent on crutches and that I can’t move as freely as I want.”

“That’s understandable. You’ve always moved about, even as a child. I used to discipline you by telling you to sit still.” She chuckled. “You couldn’t stand it, and I’m not ashamed to admit that amused me.”

They were sharing memories now? He didn’t actually remember his mom disciplining him. Yet he’d known as a kid and teen that he’d better not break a rule his mom had put in place. Guess that meant he’d have to have been disciplined to understand that. Cheye liked to test Erykah’s boundaries on a daily basis. That kid had to apologize so many times throughout the day it wasn’t funny. ... Okay, yes, it was.

“I believe that, because this feels like torture.” He waffled between wanting to move and help out and wanting to crawl right back into bed and complain about how painful this all was. Mentally, spiritually, and emotionally. He was exhausted in all the ways.

“Are you allowed to walk?”

“Not without the aid of the crutches. Still, my leg just hurts. I’m not sure if I’m not used to the crutches, or if this is all part of the healing process.”

“Did you know you can buy cushions for the crutches? If they’re bothering you so much, add more foam to them.”

“Rea lly?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you a link. I used some when I broke my foot a few years ago.”

“You broke your foot?” His mouth dropped open. “When? Where was I?”

“You were in Wyoming for some work thing, so I didn’t want to bother you. All I had to do was wear a boot and get through the pain. Now I’m simply waiting for arthritis to show up. It will, as old as I am.”

This was too much. He’d missed so much. “Mom, are you going to call tomorrow?”

“I am.”

Chris bit his lip. “You know, you’re always welcome to come and visit again. Just give me notice so I can make sure you have clean sheets to sleep on.”

“Thank you.” Her voice sounded shaky, like she was suppressing tears. “How is Erykah doing? The girls?”

“Cheyenne is in school and Ash at daycare. They all have good and bad days. Erykah is trying to find a place to live but now doesn’t want to leave until I’m on my feet.”

Could he add that to the list of things he couldn’t stand? He felt like he was holding her back from starting a life that would benefit the girls. Cheye’s therapist mentioned how important a good home environment and routine was. She was a little concerned that Erykah would be moving soon, and Chris had finally begun to see the merit of her comment.

After all, his offer to share his home had always been a stepping stone. Would Cheye feel like she was losing someone all over again—no matter if he’d still come to visit? And Ash? She was used to seeing him every day and snuggling in his arms at least once. What were they going to do when that bridge arrived?

“Chris...”

“Yes ?”

“I’d be happy to come and help you all. If Erykah is putting her life on hold for you, then my arrival means she can maintain her house search. Once she secures a place, I can stay with you until you’re able to do everything on your own. I think I’m perfectly capable of watching over my own son.”

His breath stuck in his chest.

Having his mom move in temporarily was a dynamic Chris had never thought he’d face. However, if she was serious about the olive branch and wanting to deepen their relationship, then this was a good time to do that. It wasn’t like he could go anywhere.

Only now there would be nothing stopping Erykah and the girls from finally moving on to the next step. Cheye needed to be able to heal from the trauma of losing her folks, though she’d most likely grieve for the rest of her life. Every day the girls lived in his house cemented the idea of permanence in Cheyenne’s mind. The last thing Chris wanted to do was hurt that precious little one simply because she changed addresses.

What am I going to do?