Spencer laughed. “I like that. So far, I have to admit you guys have made it very easy to be here.”

  “Oh, that’ll change once you get into your rehab program.” Dennis chuckled. “Don’t you worry. You’ll work for it.”

  “That’s fine. I’m not scared of work,” he stated calmly. “I’m just hoping that the work won’t be for naught.’

  “It won’t be,” Dennis declared. “I’ve seen it happen time and time again. Sure there are cases where people don’t show as much progress as they think they should, and they get depressed, and they can get angry. Then, all of a sudden, they see more progress than they thought even possible. They’re surprised and shocked and absolutely delighted. You might find no progress, or you might find a ton of progress, followed by a little progress.” Dennis shrugged. “Everybody’s different. It’s a matter of just being okay with the difference and letting yourself learn to do what you need to do to heal.”

  After those words of wisdom, Spencer couldn’t say a whole lot, except to thank Dennis for the excellent meal.

  As he pushed away from the table, Dennis asked, “Will you be okay with that until dinnertime?”

  “Yes, I should be fine. I’m pretty sore from the trip here,” he shared. “Yet when I left my room, I could smell the food. … That was enough for me.”

  Dennis laughed. “And lunch was a while ago,” he noted, “so the aromas weren’t all that strong by the time you got here.”

  “Enough to lead me, like the Pied Piper and the rats,” he joked. “I won’t miss too many meals, not if this is a sample of what’s to come.”

  “It’s a sample,” Dennis confirmed, with a bright smile. “Do you want to take a coffee or a bottle of water or some dessert back with you?”

  He looked at him in surprise. “We can take food to our rooms?”

  “Sure can,” he replied. “You can have a meal in your room too, if you need to. And, if it ever comes to a point in time where you’re just not capable of getting down here,” he added, “you give me a buzz, and I will make sure I get a meal delivered to you. Nobody goes hungry in Hathaway House.”

  And such horror filled Dennis’s voice at that concept that Spencer had to laugh. “Good to know. I think I’ll be fine though today. I ate so much that I’m scared I’ll be up all night.”

  “Oh, that’s not fun either,” Dennis noted. “Just so you know that you’re welcome here anytime. We may have put away the hot food, but we always have sandwiches and salads and yogurt and the like in the coolers next to the coffee station.” And, with that, he collected the dishes and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Spencer rolled his wheelchair slowly past a big coffee setup and a glass-fronted fridge full of food, sandwiches, and even drinks—milk and juices. He studied the contents for a long moment and then grabbed a bottle of water and slowly made his way back to his room.

  He had a lot to learn, but one of the things he already understood was that his body was the boss, and right now he’d already put in enough time sitting upright. To do anything else would probably cause him trouble. As he slowly returned to his room, he glanced outside. The sun was high in the far horizon. Spencer needed to tell Timothy that he was here. As soon as he got in bed, he texted his buddy. You need to get here and fast. If nothing else, just for the food.

  And then he shut off his phone and crashed. Again.

  Chapter 3

  Bella woke early the next morning, her mind immediately returning to the man she had met yesterday. “Spencer. Nice name,” she muttered to herself. He was also an interesting character. He seemed to be in terrible pain yesterday, but still he’d made the effort to get up and to get some food and to look after himself. She had to appreciate that dedication and perseverance, when he had been already pushed to the wall, and yet he still found something to get him up and to keep him going.

  A lot of people were here, and some were doing better than others. However, a few just seemed to never quite get it. But most of the time she was amazed at the resilience and the ethics that people put into their own care and healing. And they needed to because she was a huge advocate for looking after yourself, rather than trusting that the world would always be there to provide for you.

  When it came to Hathaway House, however, the staff were advocates of the ultimate individualized in-patient care needed for each and every person. It blew her away how every patient’s story was just so different. Yet the staff all rose to the challenge each and every time.

  For Bella, she just handled gardens and pathways and all the landscape-related things that went into keeping this place running, even for those with disabilities. She knew nobody really understood what she did or what the needs for these patients entailed, especially if people had never been on crutches or in a wheelchair. How could they understand her job?

  Plus, if you didn’t have any experience with gardens, then you weren’t aware of the miles and miles of pathways here—just what was involved to ensure their healthy growth and for their intrinsic beauty, plus knowledge that things could be dangerous for people if the grounds weren’t properly maintained. But, for Bella, this was a huge responsibility, and she took it seriously.

  By the time she’d worked three hours this morning, starting before sunrise, she was royally sweating already. She stopped, had a bottle of water, and noted her stomach was growling. She scooped up Hoppers and loaded him on her cart to return to his pen. She often took him out with her when she was doing work that allowed her to keep an eye on him. “I need food, Hoppers,” she said, as she placed him into his fenced area. “I haven’t been grazing all morning, like you have been.”

  His ears twitched, and he immediately stretched full out on his side, his nose twitching happily. With a chuckle, she headed up to the dining room, deliberately going through the patient hallways, looking to see if she could find out where Spencer was. But she found no sign of him.

  As she walked into the dining area, she noted it was empty. She smiled at Dennis and waved. “I’m a little earlier today.”

  “Great,” he greeted her. “Anything that spreads out the mealtime traffic is a good thing. How did you make out so far this morning?”

  “Fine,” she replied. “I’m working on the pathways at the back pastures. It always amazes me how far some of these patients can travel by the time they’re ready to leave here.”

  “And they can visit with loved ones and go down there often,” he added. “It’s also a very popular picnic spot.”

  “I had heard that. Saw a couple people there occasionally,” she noted, “and I was wondering about whether we should put in some picnic tables, so people can just sit and enjoy the animals.”

  “You mean the horses?” he asked, with a smile.

  She nodded. “Anything that gets people out and about, which also gives them the incentive to make it a goal and to go a little farther each trip. Pathways that don’t have benches don’t allow people to stop. But, if you put a bench out there for somebody who’s struggling to walk, they’ll make it that far, and then they’ll collapse and decide whether they want to keep going or not. At least if you give them a place to rest, they’ll spend that time reaching for a goal.” She pondered it for a few moments and then added, “I think we should try a couple.”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” he agreed. “And that’s the thing about this place. Everybody, including you, is trying to figure out how to make it better.”

  She smiled. “And I’ve been here long enough that it feels like home, and I care about what happens to the place,” she murmured. “I know not everybody has that attitude, but I do.”

  “I certainly do.” Dennis chuckled. “And people like us—whose work is rarely understood—can make a difference every time.”

  “Agreed,” she murmured. “It’s sad that nobody does understand all that we do to make our jobs work, but, at the same time, it’s not why we do it.”

  “Exactly.” He handed her an omelet.

  “I didn’t ask for that because I was gonna eat on the go.” Yet she studied it, wondering if she could take the time.

  “Maybe not,” he noted, “but you’ll still do better if you have food in your stomach. You think I don’t know that you’re always rushing and not quite getting the food that you need?”

  “That’s not exactly true,” she argued, with a smile. “It’s just that Saturdays are a little busier than others.”

  “This time, it sounds as if you need to take a moment and to not be quite so busy. And I just made it easy for you.” He pointed. “Go grab a chair, sit, and take five minutes.”

  She laughed. “I will, but today only.”

  “Ha. You need to do it more often.”

  “I have a lot of work to be done,” she murmured. “And it’s not so easy to ignore.”

  “No, of course not,” he replied. “We can’t ignore the work. It’ll just always be there.”

  “Always,” she murmured, with an eye roll. But she obediently took the plate, grabbed some cutlery, and walked to a table close enough to talk to Dennis, if he wanted. “It’s nice and quiet here in the morning, isn’t it?” she asked, enjoying the taste of the hot food. She stared at the herbs, wondering what was so different about it. “What on earth did Ilse put in this today?”

  “I think it’s basil and provolone,” he shared. “How is it?”

  “Divine,” she admitted. “But then the food here always is.”

  He chuckled. “And you make it sound as if it’s a bad thing.”

  “No, not a bad thing,” she disagreed, smiling. “When I’m here, I’m always aware of how good the food is. I hate to miss a meal.”

  “And yet you miss a lot,” he noted.

  “And that’s mostly because I’m in here so early,” she explained, “and you guys aren’t ready with the food yet.”

  “But there’s always other food,” he pointed out. “You can have yogurt parfaits, granola. Plus you can have all kinds of prepared food, as the kitchen’s always open. You know that.”

  “And I forgot how much of a worrywart you were,” she teased in an easy manner.

  “How could you forget that?” he asked in mock horror. “Here I figure I’m always around enough that people know what I’m doing.”

  “You are.” She nodded and continued to enjoy her omelet, as she sat here in the peace and quiet. She looked over at him. “The guy who was here yesterday, Spencer? Do you know anything about him?”

  “Nope, he just arrived. It’ll take at least a day or so before I get to know him,” Dennis joked, with a big grin. “After that, then he’s mine.”

  She chuckled. “I’m surprised you give him that long to adjust.”

  “I’m not sure I give it to him as much as the others insist that he take it,” he admitted. “And I know the adjustment can be bad. I did overhear something, as I walked past his room, with one of the doctors and Spencer discussing his head injury that’s caused him quite some trouble. Neck alignments, missing ribs, the whole nine yards.”

  “And any one of those can be bad all by themselves,” she noted. “The brain’s a fascinating part of the body, but, wow, injuries there are tricky. Although he didn’t seem fazed.”

  “Yep, we can’t deal with severe brain injuries here,” he murmured. “Other specialized centers are for that.”

  She nodded. “And that makes sense. He didn’t appear to be adversely affected in any way, so I’m happy for him.”

  “You seem to be interested in him.”

  “Curious,” she corrected cheerfully. “I don’t get as much exposure to the patients as you guys do. So, when I get a chance to sit and to visit, I always want to know more of the story.”

  “Of course. Spencer sounded interesting.”

  “They all do,” she noted, as she looked around. “Again, I don’t get that much hands-on interaction with the rehab patients.”

  “You can always do more in that arena, if you want,” Dennis suggested. “No shortage of people who need help.”

  “I know,” she agreed. “Dani’s setting up more riding sessions, and I’m building a loading area, so that the patients can get up and down more easily, as they mount the horses.”

  Dennis stared at her in surprise.

  She shrugged. “Just seemed to be a good idea.”

  “It’s an awesome idea,” he exclaimed. “See? I’m so busy here that I never even think about all that stuff. But that’s what you’re doing?”

  “Yep, that’s what I’m doing,” she confirmed, with a wicked grin. “At least sometimes. The rest of time I’m mowing lawns and trimming hedges and regraveling paths and pulling out weeds and all that other stuff,” she shared, as she got up and walked over with her plate. “And this omelet,” she murmured, “was delicious. Give Ilse my thanks, please.”

  And, with that, Bella dashed out again. As she exited the dining room, Spencer stood awkwardly on crutches at the entrance. “Well,” she greeted him, “you’re an early riser too.”

  He shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep. I was hoping there might be coffee.”

  She called back to Dennis, “Is that fresh coffee, Dennis?”

  “You know it is.” He poked his head up over the counter, took one look, and saw Spencer. “You looking for a cup of coffee, young man?”

  “If possible, yes, please,” Spencer replied. “I had a pretty rough night. I just wasn’t sure what the protocol was on getting coffee.”

  “It’s always available, not always necessarily as fresh if you hit the coffee urn,” Dennis explained, “but we always have the coffee pods.” He walked around the counter to join him and said, “Come on over here, and I’ll show you how to brew your own cup.”

  Spencer looked down at Bella. “Thanks.” And he awkwardly shuffled out of her way.

  He was missing most of his right leg. Something she hadn’t noticed yesterday. “No thanks needed. Dennis just gave me a beautiful omelet, so I’m in a generous mood.”

  “And when you’re not?”

  “When I’m not,” she replied, “I’m scary.”

  He laughed. “I highly doubt that. You’re much too nice to be scary.” And, with that, he unsteadily made his way to Dennis. She watched to make sure Spencer was okay, and then she dashed off again. The last thing she wanted was for her crew to think she was slacking off, while they were all hard at work.

  As she made it back outside, she immediately picked up a shovel and got to work. Yet her mind was on Spencer. He had been moving at least, but each movement had seemed hard, stiff, as if every step hurt him. Which she imagined it did. She didn’t know all his history; matter of fact she shouldn’t be privy to any of his history, unless he wanted to share it with her. Yet obviously, just being a patient in a rehab center meant he had so much pain in his body and in his soul. She didn’t know if just the journey here had caused the pain either. It would take time for all of it to calm down and to be something he could live with. She hoped that he managed to improve enough to get the life that he wanted for himself. And, on that note, she focused on work.

  Making his way back to his room on crutches, while carefully holding his half cup of coffee, was no small feat for Spencer. Even if it had a lid on it. But he knew he would need some caffeinated fortification for the day ahead. It had been nice to see Bella again.

  “Fascinating name too,” he muttered to himself. And yet he knew that no relationships were in his immediate future. There just wouldn’t be the time or energy for such a thing. He needed to devote everything he could to living life in his own body again. Forget about dealing with somebody else.

  As he sipped his coffee in his room, some of his uncertainty dissipated. Nothing like a cup of coffee to make you feel better. He looked at his iPad, trying to sort out his schedule, grateful that—at least for the next couple days—he wouldn’t have to do too much because he just didn’t feel up to it. When a knock came on his open door, he looked up. Shane. At least that’s what Spencer thought his name was.

  “Glad you found coffee,” Shane said. “I wanted to see if you needed a hand to get to breakfast.”

  “I wasn’t sure what to do,” Spencer admitted. “I managed to get coffee, and I’ve just been sitting here ever since.”

  “Come on with me,” Shane offered. “I have to spend some time with you after breakfast anyway. This way we can kill two birds with one stone.”

  Spencer stared at the crutches and winced. “If you say so. I used crutches to get there earlier, but I admit that I’m not sure I’m up for it again.”

  “I wasn’t even expecting you to get there on your own,” Shane noted. “So crutches this morning would have been fine, but let’s take the wheelchair now, unless you’ve got a problem with it.”

  “Of course I have a problem with it,” he replied, “but it is the lesser of two evils at the moment. So I will deal with it.”

  “Good man,” Shane said.

  Then Spencer slowly made his way into the wheelchair and added, “I can push.”

  “You can, but today you get service,” Shane declared. “After that, we’ll see how much you can do and see about getting you to do it as much as you can.”

  Spencer nodded. “Everybody here seems to be fairly friendly,” he noted cautiously, as they made their way to the dining room.

  “Of course they are, absolutely no reason not to be.”

  “Maybe there’s no reason, but that doesn’t mean that people will put themselves out to be nicer than they need to be.”

  “We pride ourselves on being a family,” Shane stated, “and family looks after each other.”

  “They also throw each other under the bus,” Spencer replied, without thinking first.

  Shane burst out laughing. “Wow, nobody can hurt you quite like family, right? I gather you don’t have too many good family memories.”

  “My parents both died when I was a baby. I was raised by my grandparents, mostly because duty wouldn’t let them put me into foster care,” he explained calmly. “But that duty is a very cold basis for a relationship.”