Chapter Nineteen
L ucas eased himself onto the motel mattress, exhausted from the visit with Heather Hudson. Heather Malone, he corrected. Imaginary wife of a missing man. It was gutting, hearing about what she’d gone through before and after their traumatic birth.
She’d been shocked at their arrival, yes, but when she realized who they were, she hadn’t been angry. She hadn’t ordered them out.
If anything, he realized, she’d been . . . kind.
Overcome, certainly. But almost awe-struck, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, as if she couldn’t believe her luck and wasn’t prepared to trust it.
She looked, he thought, like he’d felt when Bayleigh had first smiled at him.
Heather had made mistakes, a young dumb girl looking for love in all the wrong places, like she said. She’d tried her best to fix things but she couldn’t. And then she broke, herself.
Emmet, she’d finally explained, after much prodding, was part of her atonement, a foster child that was like a daughter to her.
Atonement or not, it still rankled that this stranger had been the recipient of their mother’s love and care, and they had not.
His phone dinged, indicating a text. Bayleigh.
How are you doing out there? she wrote.
Don’t know where to begin, he replied. It’s intense. A lot to process.
Will you see her again?
Yes.
Oh, Lucas, that’s good news, isn’t it?
He supposed it was. But now that this trip was over, he had to go back to Colorado and face the Schneiders.
Yeah. It’s good. I just wish I was out on the range somewhere. I miss Stella. And Patch. I miss ordinary life.
He hadn’t appreciated his ordinary life, before Tanya Schneider had tumbled off her horse. Before a DNA test revealed another whole chunk of his life.
Before he met and then left Bayleigh Sutherland.
You’ll get it back. You’ll get through this, Lucas. I promise. You’ve got so many people on your side.
Her words were like balm. This is what he needed. Bayleigh always knew the right thing to say. He was, he realized, in a situation similar to Heather’s. Surely Tanya Schneider had questions about the events of that day. She’d been unconscious before she’d hit the ground; later, she’d been siloed off so completely that all she knew was what she’d been fed by people who hadn’t been there and wanted to blame him.
He wished he could tell her what had happened, how he and his team had handled it, explain himself. This was a trauma they’d experienced together; they ought to process it together.
But it wasn’t his trauma.
He turned over and punched the pillow into a more comfortable shape. He needed to get some sleep but the images of two young women, damaged in such different ways, kept invading his thoughts. Heather Hudson, blinded by love, bludgeoned by loss, painting herself out of the pain and into a new life. Tanya Schneider, wishing away one problem only to fall into a worse one.
Heather hadn’t discarded him. All his life he’d avoided thinking about his birth mother, certain that she had left him behind because of his defects. But in fact, she had wanted him, desperately, both then and now. His cerebral palsy meant nothing to her.
He’d been wrong about her.
They were leaving for Grand in the morning, but Heather had invited them to return with Brade and Diana, too, if she was willing. Lucas found he was eager to pursue this relationship. He wanted his parents to meet Heather, and his siblings.
He wanted nothing more than to go to Belle Vista again, to talk to Bayleigh in person, to tell her about everything that had transpired since he’d last seen her. Mostly, he wanted to tell her that he wanted more, that he wanted a real relationship.
But first, he had to take care of business. He couldn’t sit in suspended animation anymore. It was time to take action. He grabbed his phone, pulled up Tanya’s Instagram account and hit the direct message function. Before he had time to change his mind, he texted:
I’m not your enemy. You’re not my enemy. Can we talk?
His finger hovered over the send button for a moment, then pressed it.
Done.
Probably for nothing. Like him, she’d have been advised not to talk to him. But maybe, like Heather, he could fill in some blanks for Tanya. What did he have to lose, right?
He put his phone on the night table and settled back in bed, remembering the whirlpool at Belle Vista and how good it had felt. His hip throbbed. But it was the hollow ache in his chest that bothered him more. He missed Bayleigh. If he lost everything to the Schneiders, so be it. But at least he’d be able to start over. He’d have nothing to offer Bayleigh, but the dreadful weight would be gone. He’d be free.
*
By the time Lucas got home to his condo in Denver, he was aching all over. He’d picked up Patch, taken him to the nearest park and thrown the ball until the dog flopped onto the grass, panting and joyful. After the long drive, he’d needed the activity, and now he was paying the price. He ran a hot bath, dumped in a pile of Epsom salts, and set about the lengthy process of soaking and stretching. He couldn’t stop thinking about the last time he’d been in the hot tub with Bayleigh. That was a woman who wasn’t afraid to enjoy herself. Did she have any idea how much that turned him on? How powerful it made him feel?
What were the chances that a relationship of such short duration could actually be successful long-term? Probably not great. But as long as there was a chance, he was going to take it.
His phone buzzed as a message came in.
Tanya.
I’m at Montgomery Shepherd. Meet me at 10 am.
She was willing to meet. That was a start.
The next morning, he went straight to the rehabilitation facility. For once, he wasn’t self-conscious about his crutch.
He announced himself at the front desk at nine thirty and was directed to the visitor’s lounge. While he waited, he studied the collections of framed photos and cards celebrating the history of the facility. It had been started in the late Sixties by George Montgomery, a businessman who’d been frustrated with the lack of resources available for his young son.
That one-room medical clinic had already become a ten-bed facility when an ex-con cowboy named Slim Shepherd arrived, his neck broken in a violent encounter with someone from his past. Slim’s legendary rodeo prowess was finished, but he’d gone on to make a fortune in the stock market, money he used to turn the small center into the multi-level center it now was. The cowboy, who’d never married and had no children, bequeathed his entire estate to providing the center with the resources to help patients recover, as best they could, from spinal cord injuries of all types and degrees of severity.
Slim Shepherd had made up for the mistakes of his youth. He was too old to be Heather’s mysterious JP Malone, but it made him wonder about all the ways a life could be cut short, flipped on its head, changed beyond all recognition. Also, what was it with cowboys and nicknames? Surely Shepherd’s mother hadn’t named him Slim any more than JP’s mother had given him only initials. Did they all wish for anonymity?
“Lucas?”
The voice made him jump.
He hadn’t seen Tanya in person since that awful day they’d dragged her out of the bush. She was thinner now, and her dark hair hung limply around her pale face. She wheeled herself into the room.
“Tanya. It’s good to see you.” He took a step toward her and reached out his hand in greeting.
Hesitantly, she took it, then quickly pulled back. “Why are you here, Lucas?”
He swallowed. Now that he was face-to-face with her, he wasn’t sure what to say. I’m sorry seemed so... trite. So useless.
“I’m not sure,” he said, finally. “Can we sit down and talk?”
“I’m already seated,” she said, rolling past him. “Let’s talk here, by the window.”
He followed, kicking himself for his thoughtless words.
His acquaintance with her was minimal. On their backcountry trip, she’d spent the days before her fall chattering with her pals, racing through the brush with them, sitting around the fire laughing, their three dark heads leaning in toward each other like their secret conversations were the most important thing in their lives. They were friendly enough with the other participants, but they were there to celebrate each other, to have a memorable time, maybe one last adventure before going off on their demanding careers.
Had she been snide then? No. She’d had no reason. Now, he guessed she was in full self-pity mode, pretty natural under the circumstances.
“My parents want to take you for everything you’ve got,” she said.
He couldn’t tell from her tone if she was pleased about this or not.
“I know,” he said.
“Are you here in hopes of convincing me to talk them out of it?”
“Is there any chance of that?”
She sniffed. “No.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Tanya tilted her head. “Then, what? You want to gawk at the cripple?”
He flinched. “You’re not a cripple.”
“Oh, I am. And so are you. Which is why you shouldn’t have been out there acting like a leader. You’re not fit to lead anything. Just like me.”
Her voice was thick with tears now, but she was trying furiously to keep them inside.
“I’ve spent a lot of time telling myself the same thing,” he admitted.
“Good.” Her lip twisted. “Too bad you didn’t start a little sooner. I might still be walking.”
He was quiet for a moment. He’d gone through a few bad years where he raged against God and the universe about his condition. There was no avoiding it. You just had to get through it, feel the injustice, the loss, the grief, let it wash over you until you were finished. Only then could you move on to the next stage and even then, the tsunami might return at odd times. That’s how grief worked.
He was mostly through his, though he couldn’t claim to be fully Zen about it all the time. Obviously.
This trauma belonged to Tanya. She was the one whose life had changed, irreparably.
“I’m here now,” he said, “because I was with you that day. This happened to both of us.”
“Sure,” she said with a sneer. “But you didn’t end up in a wheelchair.”
“This is your trauma, Tanya, obviously.” He leaned forward, forcing her to look at him. “But it affects me too. Not the same—I’m not saying that. But we share this awful day and for most of it, you weren’t even conscious. Aren’t you curious? Don’t you wonder?”
“I know what happened.” She didn’t sound certain, though.
“You know one version.”
She looked away, without responding.
He hated thinking about that day, let alone talking about it. How could he convey the horror when they realized she wasn’t waking up, the endless minutes and hours of that awful trek through the woods, where they feared every bounce, every tree root or rock or slippery slope could be the one that killed her? Would it hurt her to hear it? Or would hearing the full story help her make peace with what she’d been through?
She hunched into herself and shot a quick glance through her hair. “You think I’ll forgive you if I hear you out.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Or maybe you’ll hate me more. What I’m really hoping... is that it will help me forgive myself.”
She swallowed. “Fine. I’ll listen. It won’t make a difference, but if it’ll get you to leave, then it’s worth it.”
Bitterness and self-pity dripped from her voice but whatever anger Lucas had felt toward her was gone, replaced by sadness. Tanya’s journey would be long and difficult. She would play the blame game as long as she needed to. It wouldn’t help, but the timing wasn’t his to decide. He could only control his actions.
“Thank you.”
He’d spent most of last night thinking of what he would tell her. Forcing himself to go over it all hadn’t been easy but at least he knew where to start.
They’d been five days into a seven-day trip and it was a good group. Tanya, Mia, and Alana were giddy with relief, having just passed their exams as engineers. They were all competent riders, if a little rusty.
Jeff and Kaylea Ventura were more experienced riders. Kaylea had a prosthetic leg, due to a below-the-knee amputation following a car accident and sometimes required a walking aid, like him. The group was rounded out by a pair of forty-something buddies named Joe Hayes and Lamar Jones. Lamar, who’d recently been diagnosed with Parkinson’s, wanted to enjoy what he could, while he could still do it.
“I wondered why you and your friends chose my outfit, since none of you had special needs,” he said. “Some people want the luxury and are willing to pay for it and I knew this was a special week for you. I should have been suspicious.”
She didn’t reply.
He’d been dumb enough to believe that self-reporting was sufficient. Respectful.
Mistake number one.
“The day had been going well, though you three stayed a little apart from the others.” There had been nothing, no warning, that Tanya wasn’t feeling well.
“Chandra got to you first,” he said.
His head wrangler, a registered nurse, was the closest and had seen Tanya slip sideways in the saddle. She yelled and leaped off her horse but couldn’t get there before Tanya struck the rocky ground. Lucas saw the awkward wrenching crunch of her landing. Together they carefully pulled Tanya into the recovery position.
“We protected your spine as best we could,” he said. “But airway always comes first.”
Chandra yelled at Steve, who carried the first aid kit in his saddle bag.
Everyone who rode regularly fell off a horse at least once in their life; Tanya had a nasty cut on the back of her head that was bleeding profusely.
“We applied pressure and waited for you to come around.” He blew out a breath. “But you didn’t.”
It was every bit as hard as he expected and it didn’t help that Tanya sat and listened as if she was carved from stone.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to continue.
“I felt the moment your posture changed.”
He’d felt her neck stiffen. Then her back arched and her limbs tightened like concrete, moving in ways surely not intended by natural physiology.
“I’d never witnessed a tonic-clonic seizure before, but Chandra knew immediately what was happening.”
Tanya looked away.
For the first time in his life, Lucas had been grateful that his own brain-body miscommunication had been stamped on him early. His was an indelible mark that would never leave him, but he preferred it to the devastating unpredictability of Tanya’s condition. Chandra grilled Mia and Alana until they admitted that Tanya had epilepsy, that she’d been experimenting with her medication dosage, that she’d been seizure-free for long enough that she thought she no longer needed it.
Lucas still felt the impotent rage that had welled up within him at how she’d put herself and the entire camp at risk. He’d radioed the chef back at base camp and told him to forget about meal prep; they had a casualty who needed to be transported out of the backcountry as soon as possible.
A medical evacuation wasn’t possible until they’d brought Tanya out of the rocky woods. Brodie, his chef, could get close enough with the four-by-four to have them meet a suitable helicopter landing area, but that would take time.
Mia and Alana clung together, in tears, comforted by Kaylea Ventura. Joe and Lamar helped Steve move the horses away from the scene.
“You threw up. Chandra made sure you didn’t choke. You were still unconscious.”
Her posture had been slack, and even the work of vomiting was done without her participation. It was as if Tanya had exited the scene.
“That’s when it occurred to me that this was more serious.” He cleared his throat. “That’s when I got really scared. When I thought you might... die.”
“But I didn’t.” Tanya was listening soberly now.
“You didn’t. We got you to the helicopter. Safely.”
She sniffed. “So you say.”
They’d reached the crux of the issue. Because, despite Lucas and Chandra’s careful treatment, Tanya’s spinal cord was injured. The damage may have occurred in the original fall, or it may have been damaged on the trek out. The neurologists couldn’t say definitively.
Her parents, blind with grief and fury, didn’t need them to. When they learned their daughter would likely never walk again, they began their campaign to ruin Landry Adventures.
Lucas could hardly blame them.
He blamed himself.
“Why didn’t you tell us you had epilepsy?” he asked.
“Do you ever get tired of it?” She turned her chair so she was facing him, then looked pointedly at his bad leg. “Being ‘special’ and ‘different’ and whatever other word they want to use. I hate my epilepsy, Lucas. I’ve always hated it. I wanted one week where I didn’t have to think about it. Where I could just be normal. Was that too much to ask?”
He understood that.
Tanya was crying now. “Wasn’t a short-circuiting brain bad enough? No! I had to fall off a horse and break my back, too.”
“It’s not fair,” he said.
“No shit,” she shot back.
“And even if we’d have known, you still might have had a seizure, still might have fallen like you did. It might not have made any difference.”
Tanya blinked. “Exactly.”
“But you didn’t tell us, and you didn’t take your meds,” he said. “So, no matter how your family wants to fight, they won’t win.”
She glared at him sullenly. “You don’t know that.”
“Nobody will win,” he said. “All we’ll do is make our lawyers rich.”
“I don’t have time for this.” Tanya grabbed the wheels of her chair.
“You’re that busy, are you?”
She stopped. “You’re such an asshole.”
“Sometimes,” he agreed. “Your friends lied, you know.”
“I don’t know that. I was unconscious.”
“For most of it, yes. But you talked to us a bit.” He fought the rising tide of panic as he recalled the harrowing trip. “We didn’t drop you and I think you know it. Mia and Alana were right beside you the whole time. Why are they doing this?”
For a moment, they stood bathed in the afternoon light shining through the window. Beneath them, cars moved on the roads, people walked to and fro on the sidewalks, all small worlds within worlds, everyone with their own agendas, their challenges, and triumphs.
He could hear Tanya’s labored breathing. She was fighting hard for composure.
“I don’t know.” Her voice was hoarse. “They... they haven’t even been to visit me here. They both started new jobs. New lives.”
Loneliness underscored her words. They were probably uncomfortable with their friend’s tragic outcome and didn’t know how to behave around her, but all she would feel was rejection.
“Tanya.” He swallowed, took a quick inhalation. “I’m so sorry. I wish this hadn’t happened.”
“Yeah, you and me both,” Tanya said.
“I don’t know how I can help,” he went on. “But paying money to my lawyers won’t do either of us any good.”
“Might make me feel better,” Tanya said.
“Maybe,” Lucas said. “But that’s going to happen regardless.”
“Right,” she said with a snort.
“It will. You can’t see it now, but it will. And when it does, you’re going to be thinking about your future, what your role in the world is, how you can make it a better place now that your abilities have changed. I want you to think about that.”
“My life is over, Lucas,” she cried. “My parents are retrofitting their house. They want me to move home so they can take care of me. My apartment building’s so old, I can hardly get my chair through the hallways, so I’ll have to move anyway. I was just about to start a new job and now I don’t even know if I can work at all. My boyfriend dumped me.”
“Then he’s an asshat. You deserve better.”
She shook off his words. “I’ve lost everything! Don’t you understand?”
“I do understand!” A man at a nearby table looked up, and Lucas lowered his voice. “Better than anyone. I know how it feels to be left out, sidelined, ignored, incapable, invalid. That’s why I do what I do. I’m fully aware of what I cannot do, so I push the boundaries to find out what I can do.”
She glanced up at him, anguish in her eyes.
“When you’re ready,” he said more quietly, “you’ll do the same. But you have to get past the anger, first.”
Tanya dashed the tears off her face. Her lips trembled. “But Lucas... I’m so angry.”
He wished he could go back in time and lead the horses down a different trail, or look up in time to see Tanya fade out, or get to her in time to cushion her fall. A misplaced hoof, a misplaced rock, a misplaced human. When blame couldn’t be easily assigned, there was nowhere for that anger to go.
But anger was energy, and energy was power. And power could be harnessed.
Suddenly he recalled the words he’d heard on the podcast that day: You have the power to change your life.
Maybe . . . if they worked together . . .
“Listen.” He scooted to the edge of his chair. “I have an idea that might help both of us.”