Part 17 (1/2)

”But can we wait until Sat.u.r.day?” I ask. ”There's so much to do here...for my dad. And, well, would you mind?”

”No. Sat.u.r.day's fine.” His voice sounds deflated.

”I'm really sorry.”

”No, don't be. Sat.u.r.day's good. I'm looking forward to it.”

”Me too.”

”Well, listen, I'll let you go. Get some rest.”

”Okay. Thanks.”

”Bye, Rose.”

”Bye, Ben.”

Hanging up with him at that point seems wrong, premature, but I shut off Friends, turn off the lights, and place my phone on the nightstand, putting the conversation, and my hesitation, out of my mind.

The following morning, I wake at the call of the rooster and take my coffee to go. With my mug in hand, I head out to the barn and drink it with Cloud.

”You wanna ride?” my father asks as he enters the barn.

”What?” I ask, confused. ”No. 'Course not,” I whisper.

”Cloud misses you.”

I look at Cloud, then to my dad. ”I'm right here.” I run my hand along Cloud's coat to prove my point.

”You know what I mean. It's been ages since you took him out.”

”Yeah. Been kinda busy and all.”

”You're not now.”

Stilling my hand on Cloud, I ignore my father.

”There's no reason you can't ride, Rosebud. It's all in your head. That new leg o' yours is perfectly fine for riding.”

I can feel my father's stare, but I won't turn toward him. I concentrate on breathing in and breathing out, and returning to petting Cloud.

My father pats Cloud's side. ”Cloud here'll getcha feelin' like yourself again.”

I'd love to feel like myself again.

”Come on. We're takin' him out,” my father insists.

”Not today, Daddy. Maybe tomorrow, 'kay?”

”No.” He walks away, but I know he's coming back.

My stomach rumbles, knowing he went to get my saddle. When he comes back, I'm standing against the side of the stall, afraid to move. I loved riding Cloud. Before. What if my leg doesn't move the same? What if Cloud misreads my instructions? Will I fall? Will I get hurt even worse? I don't think I could live through another serious injury.

Dad comes back with the saddle and flips it on to Cloud's back. ”I know you like riding bareback, but I think we should start again with a saddle. Just for now, bud.”

”Not today. Not today,” I repeat and walk out of the barn.

In my room, in a box on the floor of my closet, is the leg my parents paid for to get me dancing again. Aside from testing it out in the doctor's office when it first came in, I haven't put it on. The leg sits in the box, a high-tech promise to give me back my dignity.

I don't believe in promises.

Not anymore.

I don't trust them, nor do I make them.

My future on Broadway had been promising. We've seen how that turned out.

I finger the machine-like leg and decide to take it out of the box. Mom's at the grocer, Dad's doing his thing on the farm, Beth's out getting new accounts for Daddy, and Patti's at school. It'd be the perfect time to try it on and maybe dance.

No.

Not yet.

I put it back in the box and tuck it away in the closet.

Then I climb under the covers and take a nap.

When I wake up two hours later, I'm too late to feed the animals. I'm sure my father took over when I ran out, but after I pick up the p.o.o.p, I lug some bales of hay over to the barn. The day is long, and I suspect each day from now on will just get longer.

20.

BEN.

My a.s.s hurts.

My whole body hurts.

I thought the only pain I'd have after practicing with the team for three days would be my knee. No such luck. I may not be running bases, but I am playing the field and I am pitching and d.a.m.n, am I out of shape.

I got here Wednesday morning, happy to be back on the mound. Coach is making me take it easy, but I'm itching to just play a whole game again. Enough is enough already.

Tonight the guys decide to go to the bar. I'm not one for drinking much, and I certainly don't spend much time in bars, but since I have nothing to study, and they agreed to my suggestion to go to Donny's, I tag along. I'd really like to see Holly.

”You're looking good out there,” my first baseman says on our way to Donny's.