“Yeah, I just found out about Daisy.” Cody set the plates next to the pan of eggs and gave his dad a tentative smile. “I guess I never thought about Carl Joseph having, you know… a girl.”
“It isn’t like that.” His mother pulled a stack of napkins out and set them on the counter. “Come and eat, Carl Joseph.”
Come and eat? Cody started to say something, but he stopped himself. The last time he was home, Carl Joseph was served at the table—same as always. He wasn’t stable enough to fill his plate and carry it across the room without spilling or dropping it altogether. Cody tapped softly at his mom’s arm. “He learned this?”
“Yes.” His mom looked proud. “And table manners, too.”
“Really?”
His dad joined them in the kitchen. “Really. Carl Joseph is capable of much more than we ever thought, Cody. It’s amazing.”
Carl Joseph was still on his way into the kitchen from the dining room, so he hadn’t heard any of their conversation. Cody stared at his father and tried to think of a comeback. His comments bugged Cody. Maybe because Cody knew he was never happy about having a son with Down Syndrome. Back when Carl Joseph was two years old, their dad had left home and stayed away for nineteen years because he couldn’t bear to be the father of a handicapped child.
So what was this? His dad’s attempt at making Carl Joseph more like normal kids? Cody kept his thoughts to himself. He hung back and watched Carl Joseph choose a plate, scoop up a serving of eggs, and take a napkin and fork from the counter. He carried the plate back to the dining room table and sat down without even a little shakiness.
“Okay…” Cody filled his plate and took the place across from his brother. “Buddy, you’re doing great.”
“Thanks.” All his life, Carl Joseph had held his fork like a shovel, and after a few bites when his balance weakened, the food would fall back to the plate and he would shovel it into his mouth with his fingers. Then he would chomp hard, his mouth open, bits falling back to his plate as he chewed. Not today. He was concentrating, no doubt. But he lifted a forkful of eggs into his mouth, chewed with his mouth closed, and swallowed. Then he used the napkin to dab at the corners of his mouth.
“Cody’s right.” Their dad smiled at Carl Joseph. “You’re doing very, very well. We’re all proud of you.”
“Daisy’s proud.” Carl Joseph put his fork down and folded his hands in his lap.
Cody watched his brother for a few more minutes. The classes must’ve been a very good thing for his brother. A few lessons on social graces, a little social interaction… Carl Joseph should’ve gone to the center years ago.
Carl Joseph focused on his breakfast, and Cody turned his attention to the reason he was home. He set his fork down and looked at his parents. “I need a change.”
His mother hesitated midbite. “A change?”
“Yes.” He pushed his plate back and rested his forearms on the table. “I’m not under contract for the rest of the season. They want me, but I haven’t agreed yet.”
His parents waited for him to continue.
“I love bull riding, don’t get me wrong.” Cody raked his fingers through his dark hair.
“Me, too.” Carl Joseph looked up. “Brother’s going to teach me to bull ride, right, Brother?”
“One day.” Cody smiled at him. He turned back to his dad. “I want to do something different, something that matters. Maybe open a sports center, or raise bulls here at the ranch. So I can be around family more.”
“You could do just about anything.” His dad sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. “I didn’t know you were considering a change.”
His mother sat a little straighter. Her eyes were thoughtful. “I’ve been hoping for this.”
Cody took a drink of his orange juice. “That I’d leave the circuit?”
“Yes.” She dragged her fork through her eggs. “Because until you do, you’ll never get over Ali. You carry her with you every time you hit the road.”
For a long moment, Cody held his breath. His mother meant nothing by her comment, he knew that with every heartbeat. But how could he make them understand that he wasn’t a victim of Ali’s memory? He was the owner of it. He didn’t want to move on or let her go. He just needed a place where her image wasn’t around every corner.
“Don’t be angry, Cody.” She reached toward him and put her hand over his. “I loved Ali. We all did.”
“But Ali makes you sad, Brother.” Carl Joseph waved his fork in Cody’s direction. At the same instant, he seemed to notice what he was doing. He brought his fork back down to his plate. “I think Ali makes you sad.”
“What your mother’s trying to say, son, is… well, it’s been four years.” His father’s voice was tender.
Anger rose inside Cody. He focused on his eggs and ate them more quickly than he planned. When he was finished he stood and took his plate to the kitchen. “I’ll be out back.”
“Cody…” his mother called after him. “We’re only saying that—”
He was out the door before she finished her sentence. He knew what they were saying, and it wasn’t their fault. Four years was a long time. But not for him. He stormed out to the barn and a memory flashed bold and brilliant in his mind. The time when Ali had rushed out of her parents’ house, the day she found out that he knew the truth about her illness.
She ran to the barn and climbed onto Ace just as he reached her.
“Ali, get down. We need to talk.” He stood in front of her, his heart pounding.
“I didn’t want you to know. Not yet.” She pressed her fingers to her chest. “It was my place to tell you.”
No matter what he said, she wouldn’t climb down off the horse, so finally he climbed up behind her. With her at the reins, the horse raced across the open field to the trail and on out to the back fence. By then, Ali was so upset she could barely breathe. She fell into an asthma attack. He held her and coaxed her, and by some sort of miracle she found space in her damaged lungs to grab a breath.
Cody held on to the memory as he rounded the corner of the barn and saddled Ace. He brought the horse to a full run and set out on the trail that led to his house on the other side of the property. Atop Ace, he could almost feel Ali in front of him, almost sense her slight back against his chest, her hair in his face.
When his parents’ house was out of sight, Cody stopped. His sides heaved and he had to concentrate to catch his breath. It had been that way ever since the transplant operation. He stared at the sky, at the white cumulus clouds dotting the blue. Of course he carried Ali with him every time he hit the road. Was he supposed to leave rodeo because of that?
Cody leaned over Ace and rested his forehead on the horse’s mane. No one understood. It wasn’t only the rodeo. He carried Ali with him everywhere he went. This break was supposed to give him a chance, an hour or two when he didn’t see her face or hear her voice. When the sights and sounds and smells didn’t make him think it was eight years ago and she was still by his side.
But now he was home, and things were no different.
She was still there when he fell asleep, there when he woke up. He saw her whenever he saw Ace, and when he looked into the wide open Colorado sky, and when he heard the crunch of dirt beneath his boots on the walk from his house to his parents’. She was everywhere, and until now that had been fine with him.
But his mother was right. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t shake the anger.
Four years was enough time, enough that it was no longer healthy to see her face and feel her breath against his skin every hour. Every few minutes. And so he was here because he was running from that truth and trying to find a way to embrace it—all at the same time.
“Ali…” He lifted his chin and stared into the blue.
There was no response. Only the whisper of wind in the distant pines.
How was he supposed to move on? The rodeo was over. He could feel it as soon as he stepped onto the plane in Nampa, Idaho. He couldn’t take
another cowboy coming up and offering condolences, couldn’t stand another sad glance from the friends who knew how he was feeling, the way he was stuck back on some long-ago spring day when Ali was still alive, still sharing his bed and his life. When the lung he’d given her was still working.
He was finished with rodeo. He knew that for sure now.
So what was next? He’d read once in a book on grief that the only way to find new life was to get out of bed each morning and put one foot in front of the other. Breathe in, breathe out… and go after the next thing. In time, the pain would dull. One day, morning would come and the memories would no longer be part of every breath. Rather they would have stepped to the side, a favorite friend in a favorite place. Worth visiting every now and then.
Cody drew a long breath and ran his fingers through Ace’s blond mane.
The horse whinnied and turned slightly, as if to say, “Well, where is she? Hasn’t she been gone long enough?”
“Atta boy, Ace. It’s okay.”
He touched the horse’s sides with his heels and they started moving. One foot in front of the other, huh? If that was true, then he had to find something to do with his time. He’d invested well. His prize earnings, his pay for three years’ announcing on the circuit, and a consultation fee for two cowboy movies: All of it added up to a seven-figure bank account and land investments in three states. Money wouldn’t be a problem, but what job would allow him to be as passionate as he’d been about the rodeo?
He removed his cowboy hat and ran his fingers through his hair. Only one person besides Ali had ever made him love so much it hurt. His brother, Carl Joseph. He thought about the conversation over breakfast, the idea that Buddy seemed smitten with a girl named Daisy.
Cody worked the muscles in his jaw. Of course the kid was smitten. He’d never been exposed to any sort of social environment until now. A group of friends was a good thing for Carl Joseph. But how was a daycare ever going to help him find long life and health here at home? His brother was forty or fifty pounds overweight, plagued by the same weak muscle tone that afflicted most people with Down Syndrome. That and the epilepsy and heart disease.
A few years back, Cody had studied the idea of rehabilitation, finding exercises and routines for Carl Joseph that would help him overcome the limitations of Down Syndrome. At the time, he thought Carl Joseph would gain strength if he rode horses. And once in a while he’d helped his brother onto the back of a horse and led him around an arena. But that wouldn’t help him find the strength and health he needed to live a long life.
Maybe the answer was a sports complex. He could look around the Springs and buy out a failing gym. Then he could turn it into a place where disabled people could come for physical training. Sort of a rehab program. The exercise would make Carl Joseph stronger, maybe buy him a decade of good health. Cody could run the place and the people who attended could be matched with trainers or placed in special classes. That way people like Carl Joseph could use their energy on something productive, something that would build their self-esteem. It would be a program that would complement the daycare thing Buddy was already involved in.
Cody eased Ace around and galloped the horse back to the barn. As he did, he was struck by a thought—something that proved the accuracy of the information he’d read a long time ago in the grief book. Do the next thing, the book’s author had stated. And here—over the last few minutes—he’d done just that. He’d thought about his next move, his next career. His next passion. The book said that by doing such a thing, the memory of a lost loved one would naturally be pushed to the side. That must’ve been true, because when he was thinking about a center for kids like Carl Joseph a surprising thing had happened. Nothing else had filled his mind.
Not even his precious Ali.
Chapter Five
Elle sat with her mother at the kitchen table and tried to concentrate on their heated game of Scrabble. But Daisy’s distractions were relentless. She was dancing in the kitchen, twirling and spinning and singing a song she was making up about field trips and the steps of a bus. It was Thursday, which meant tomorrow was another field trip day. Daisy would be dancing and giggling and celebrating until bedtime.
Field trips had that effect on her.
“Your turn.” Her mother stood and headed toward the sink. “Elle, I’d swear your mind is somewhere else tonight. You don’t usually let me get this close in Scrabble.”
“I’ll still beat you.” Elle leaned down and scratched Snoopy’s ears. The beagle was ten years old now, the hair around his eyes and nose more gray than brown. “I haven’t had good letters all game.”
“Shoulda swapped ’em!” Daisy twirled past Elle’s chair. “I’d swap ’em.”
“You’re probably right.”
Their mother poured three glasses of iced tea. She set one on the counter for Daisy and brought the other two to the table. “You ignored my observation.”
“What?” Elle lifted her eyes and feigned innocence. “About beating me at Scrabble?”
She raised one eyebrow. “About your mind being somewhere else.”
“Nah. Just thinking about tomorrow’s field trip.” Elle reached for her tea and took a sip. “Thanks for the drink.”
“Tomorrow’s field trip!” Daisy jumped in the air, both hands straight out in front of her. She began to hum. “I could’ve danced all night… I could’ve danced all night.”
Their mother looked doubtful. “Where are you going?” She raised her voice so she could be heard over Daisy’s gleeful singing.
“The park and out to lunch. Everyone’s bringing money.” Elle took four of her letter tiles and built the word “guilty” down along a double-word square. She grinned at her mother. “There. That should put me ahead.”
Daisy stopped, out of breath, and dropped to the chair next to Elle. “Do you like bull riders, Elle?”
Elle looked at her sister and blinked. What was the fascination with bull riders lately? Ever since Carl Joseph mentioned his brother and how the guy had ridden bulls, Daisy brought it up nearly every day. “Not particularly.”
Their mother leaned on her elbows and looked from Elle to Daisy. “How’d you hear about bull riders?”
“From CJ.” Daisy beamed. “His brother’s a bull rider.”
Elle gave her mother a side glance and the slightest shake of her head. With her eyes she conveyed her doubt. “He’s probably an accountant or something. Just moved back to the Springs.”
“He’s a bull rider.” Shock and indignation filled Daisy’s face. “I said he’s a bull rider and he’s a bull rider.”
“Okay.” Elle patted her sister’s hand. “He’s a bull rider.”
Daisy took a long drink of her iced tea. One ice cube plopped onto the table, and she quickly picked it up and dropped it back into her cup. “You didn’t see that, okay, Elle? But he is a bull rider.” She finished her tea with three big swallows and stood.
When she was out of earshot, Elle whispered toward her mother: “And I’m a ballerina.”
Her mother smiled. “It doesn’t really matter.”
“Except Daisy’s all caught up in the idea of bull riders now. Today at class Carl Joseph wore a cowboy hat and announced that he was taking up bull riding and one day he’d be a world champion like his brother.” She made an exasperated face. “It’s getting a little out of hand.”
“I could’ve danced all night…” Daisy spun around the kitchen counter and into the living room. “I could’ve danced all night.”
Her mother grinned. “Watch this.” She used six of her tiles with the word “sugars,” placing the s at the end of “cage” and racking up points for both words. “That should seal it.”
“Okay, okay.” Elle added her mother’s points to the score sheet. “I have to let you win once in a while. Otherwise you won’t play.”
“So”—her mother leaned back and ran her fingers along the damp sides of her iced tea glass—“is this bull rider brother guy single?”
“Mother…” Frustration poked pins at Elle’s mood. “You promised.”
Daisy skipped up to the table. “His wife was a horse rider. That’s how he met her.”
“Oh.” Their mother sounded almost guilty. “So he’s a married bull rider.”
Elle was surprised, but not because she cared particularly. She hadn’t heard about the guy’s wife until now. “They’re all married.” Elle stared at her letters. “And that suits me fine. I’m not looking for a relationship, Mom.” She lifted her eyes. “Remember?”
“I know. It’s just…” Her mother checked the Scrabble board. “You need more than Thursday night Scrabble with us. You have your whole life ahead of you, Elle. I keep thinking God’s going to bring the right man into your life, but weeks turn into months, months turn into years—and still nothing.” Discouragement filled her tone. “It isn’t right.”
“You know what?” Elle met her mother’s gaze straight on. “People think my students are handicapped. They look different, so they’re disabled.” Her voice fell and she looked at the board again. “But all of us are handicapped one way or another.” She looked up. “The men I’ve met don’t know how to love. Or they’re married and looking for a cheap affair. That’s more disabled than Daisy or Carl Joseph. Don’t you think?”
Her mother sighed. “You’re jaded, Elle. You had one bad experience.”
“One?” She looked at her mother, astonished. “I got left at the altar on my wedding day! That’s a little different.”
“I’m just saying, you can’t condemn all men because of what happened.” Her mom sounded tentative, as if she knew she was pushing the subject a little too hard. “I’ll drop it, but please, Elle… maybe talk to someone at church. Broken hearts are meant to be healed.”
Elle had a standard answer when people asked her about love. She steeled herself against the pain and smiled at her mother. “I’ve said it before. If I’m supposed to fall in love, it’ll have to find me. Grab me around the neck and sit me down face-to-face. Because I’m no longer looking.”
Daisy pushed a button on the CD player that sat on the kitchen counter. Waltz music filled the room, and she leaned her head back, overcome with joy. “I wish CJ was here.” She swept around the table and held out her hand. “Come on, Elle. Dance with me.”