Beaten paths, p.1
Beaten Paths, page 1
Beaten Paths
Stephie Walls
Copyright © 2019 by Stephie Walls
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Dedication
For Maggie…your endless faith in me drives me forward.
Life isn’t always about paved streets, the adventures lie on the gravel roads and beaten paths. Take the route less traveled.
Contents
Prologue
1. Sarah
2. Charlie
3. Sarah
4. Charlie
5. Sarah
6. Sarah
7. Charlie
8. Charlie
9. Sarah
10. Sarah
11. Sarah
12. Charlie
13. Sarah
14. Sarah
15. Charlie
16. Sarah
17. Charlie
18. Sarah
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Stephie Walls
Prologue
Charlie
Hospitals do their best to be nice places. They keep the lobbies scrubbed, arrange leather furniture around fake hearths, and add little gardens to their walkways, but it is all still largely for the visitors. The cafés with their warm-coffee smells at the entrance, the small gift shops with fuzzy bears and big red hearts, and the fountains full of wishful pennies don’t do anything for the people inside. Just like everyone else, I’d stopped to grab a snack before facing whatever lie upstairs.
People latch onto anything that allows them to forget the pain and misery while paying their respect. Everyone wants a distraction. No one chooses to think about what is going on a few floors above their heads. The patients are the ones who have to live with the buzz of bright fluorescent lights, the sanitized and sterile smell, and the constant hum of electronics. That is why no one likes hospitals. When a patient is there for the long haul, they are left staring at a white wall with their stomachs in knots, thinking about what will come next. Meanwhile, their families and friends are in the lobby, chugging lattes and wishing them the best.
Not that I had strong opinions.
I wasn’t one hundred percent certain whether Jack would be at the hospital or not. But it was as good a bet as any. He was a difficult man to pin down, in general, and even more so these days. For good reason—not that any of us blamed him. But I couldn’t seem to catch him at home, so it was easier to show up at the hospital. It was the one safe bet for finding him.
I had just finished my snack—the saltiness didn’t bring nearly the pleasure I’d hoped it would before trudging down the hospital halls. I crumpled up the yellow-foil bag that had contained roughly a handful of chips and shoved it into a trashcan. I hated that I was as familiar with this place as I’d become in recent weeks, but I knew where Sarah’s room was by heart at this point. I hated walking down the long white halls. Each noise I made seemed to amplify in the empty corridors, and I felt like an organism under a microscope, not that people were staring. It was quite the opposite; the halls tended to be rather vacant. Every now and then I’d pass a doctor or a patient. But for the most part, it was just one long, empty stretch after another. Grey door after grey door, surrounded by endless feet of white drywall. Somehow, I managed to miss the little gardens on my path to Sarah’s room—no glimpses of flowers through the odd window, only flat concrete.
It was truly depressing. I tried to ignore it, and I kept walking toward Sarah’s room. I didn’t really know her, even though we’d grown up in the same small town and gone to school together our entire lives. However, the two of us hadn’t run in the same crowd, and I was closer to her younger sister than her. Coming here to talk business seemed like an invasion, but her dad needed my help with his cattle ranch while she was here, and I needed his answers to my questions.
There was no Jack Adams in her room. There was only Sarah.
She sat alone. If I had to guess, I’d bet that her dad had been there but had already left for whatever reason. Personally, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to leave my little girl alone after all she’d been through. It must have killed him to do it every time he had to step foot out these doors.
Sarah sat with one leg propped up on the edge of the mattress and the other hanging off. I assumed that to be a good sign. There’d been so many days that were touch and go that just seeing her off all the machines was positive. She reached down and stuffed her small hands under her thigh, moving her leg to prop it up next to the other one. It took effort, and I stood mesmerized by the willpower and determination she must possess to get through this. I wanted to help, but I wasn’t sure how. I just stood frozen in the doorway. She hadn’t seen me, and I wondered how long I could wait before it became too awkward for me to make my presence known.
She lifted her hand to her face and dragged her fingers across her nose. While I couldn’t see her expression, there was no denying the tears that streaked her cheeks. Maybe she had been crying the whole time I’d watched her. A tear clung to the tip of her nose while others dripped from her jaw, but she hadn’t made a sound. She did her best to keep her emotions under control, even when she believed she was alone. Her shoulders rose with each deep breath she took in what I assumed to be an effort to calm down, but every inhalation made her shudder, and her entire body shook.
I wanted to say something—needed to—but I wasn’t sure where to begin. Part of me felt ashamed. I shouldn’t be witnessing this extremely private moment. The other part of me felt guilty. There wasn’t anything I could do to ease her pain. Another small part of me wanted to comfort her. Even knowing that I couldn’t stop the discomfort or the struggle she faced, there had to be something I could do that was better than lurking in the hallway.
When I finally stepped into the room, Sarah lifted her head as I crossed the threshold. She immediately dragged her sleeve across her face, soaking up the tears with the arm of her cardigan. Her tiny hands furiously blotted a tissue beneath her lashes. I couldn’t discern whether her expression was a scowl or something else akin to mildly distressed—but whatever it was, it obviously hurt. Sarah cleared her emotion and returned to the blank slate I’d become accustomed to seeing.
I rapped my fist on the doorframe despite the fact that she’d seen me staring. “Can I come in?” I slid my hands into my pockets as I waited and tried to keep my posture relaxed, inviting. I didn’t want her to think that I was just walking in on her most vulnerable moment because I could.
Sarah nodded ever so slightly. “Of course, please.” There wasn’t a rude bone in the girl’s body. It didn’t matter how much pain she was in; she’d keep up the Southern demeanor of small-town Texas because that’s how she’d been raised.
I didn’t miss the way she flinched when she touched the tissue she’d used on her eyes to the angry red scars on her face. It appeared incredibly painful and tight, but I didn’t know her well enough to ask and needed to stop staring.
I tried not to read too deeply into the meek tone in which she’d invited me in. It didn’t take a genius to see that now wasn’t an opportune time for company, but there was a reason for my visit. And while it wasn’t Sarah, I did need to find Jack.
“Sorry to barge in. I was just looking for your dad.” I tried to appear properly chagrined for my intrusion. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she would rather be left alone.
Sarah hid her face, deliberately avoiding eye contact. “He isn’t here.” Even her swallow appeared labored. “If you hurry, you may be able to catch him at home.”
I nodded, but I didn’t leave. My feet were bolted to the ground, and something compelled me to stay. My boots were rooted in place, preventing me from leaving or moving closer.
“Is that all?” Her words broke the spell. They cut through the tension that lingered between us like a knife, but instead of pushing me back, they drew me a little closer.
The only time I’d ever seen something so fragile and defeated had been an animal in a trap. Sarah appeared to have lost her will to fight, and I had an overwhelming urge to pull her into my arms. Something in me wanted to whisper into her ear that she’d be all right, that everything would be okay. But despite just how downtrodden she appeared or how heavy her shoulders seemed, I wasn’t the person to bring her hope.
“Yeah.” I didn’t want it to be, but I sounded like an idiot to my own ears. My mind raced to find something to talk about, something to lift her spirits, but I stood there like a mute. I couldn’t imagine what she thought of me. “Are you doing okay?” That was brilliant.
She didn’t respond other than to swallow hard. The tears welled up again. I could see them getting caught in her throat as she tried to swallow them down, fight them back. She bit her bottom lip and lowered her head, closing her eyes. The tears beaded on her lashes and then streaked down her cheeks.
I might not be great at offering comfort or support, but I couldn’t stand to see a woman cry. “Hey.” That one word lifted my feet from where I stood, and I moved to sit next to her on the hospital bed.
I took a seat on the mattress not too far away from her but not close enough to make her uncomfortable, either. Sarah grabbed her thigh and shifted her leg toward her to create space for me.
She rolled her lips into her mouth and waved a hand in fron t of her face. “I’m not trying to make a scene. Daddy would be so embarrassed for you to see me this way.” It wasn’t a bid for pity.
The idea of anyone trying to make her feel bad about what she was going through mortified me. This was one of the hardest times of her life; hell, she was lucky to be alive. If I were ever privy to anyone trying to tell her to suck it up, I’d give them a clear message regarding their behavior. I’d be damned if I didn’t put them through a window.
“You’re not making a scene.” I wasn’t great with words and even worse at empathy, so I tried to keep my voice gentle. I tended to have a fairly deep timbre, and in this stark room, it reverberated rather forcefully. The last thing I wanted to do was come across as condescending. “You’ve been through a lot. I think you’re entitled to show some emotion.” I needed her to look at me, to give me an indication that she heard me, but I got nothing. “Most people would have cracked under the pressure. You are an incredibly strong woman.”
She shook her head, and her messy blond curls bounced with the movement. “I’m not.” Her voice cracked, and I felt it like a knife to the heart. “I’m not strong. Not like everyone keeps telling me I am….” Her shoulders heaved and shuddered as she fought to remain composed. Each time she peered at me through her dark lashes, she’d quickly duck her head to avoid my stare.
Sarah wanted to hide her fear. She tried to mask her insecurity. Despite whether or not she felt strong, she needed people to continue to believe she was. I felt that in my soul. And then I realized, it wasn’t just the weakness she hoped to shadow; it was the disfigurement. Her fingers hovered over the black thread of stitches where her head had been shaved for surgery, and she held her head at just the right angle to camouflage the scars on the other side.
My hand twitched. Before I even realized what I was doing, I reached out to touch her cheeks. But when she’d flinched, I rested it against her knee instead.
“Please, don’t look at me, Charlie.” It hadn’t been an admission exactly, but the sentiment was still the same.
I hadn’t been prepared for it, and I tried not to show her just how taken aback I was by her request. “Okay.” I didn’t want to push the issue, but I didn’t want her to believe I agreed with her. “I don’t have to look at you if you don’t want me to. But for the record, I would like to.” There was no chance I’d ever be accused of being smooth around Sarah Adams. This version of me was worse than the pre-puberty one.
She huffed out a hard laugh under her breath. It was fast and barely audible and clearly not born from humor.
“I’m not exactly at my best.” Her words wavered at her insecurity, and they shook just like her spine did when she inhaled deeply. She licked her lips and then lifted her bright eyes to meet mine—like she dared me to see her flaws. “There’s nothing redeemable about my face, anymore.” She straightened her spine as if to brace herself for whatever harsh criticism she thought I might impart on her, and her words were strangled as her throat tightened.
I was so far out of my element that I didn’t have a clue what to say, but I knew I wanted to keep her talking…about anything. “Is that why you’re crying?” I asked. “Are you afraid someone might react to your face?” That hadn’t come out as eloquently from my mouth as I had meant it in my head.
She shook her head. “It isn’t just that. It is, to an extent. But,” she sighed, “every day is harder than the last. Nothing gets any easier, and every time I think I’m making progress, I realize that I’ve gone an inch in an endless stretch of miles. I’m trying to stay positive. I want to be thankful that I survived and have the chance to recover. But today—heck, every day—is hard. So hard. And what’s the point? The physical therapists’ intentions are better than their capability. They aren’t God, and they can’t perform miracles.”
I nodded and kept listening.
“I’m at the end of my rope, and I think I need to accept that I’ll probably never walk again.” She dropped her head into her hands, careful to avoid the stitches and the abrasions. “I’m drained. I don’t have any more fight in me. I know that sounds like the biggest crock of bull you’ve ever heard, but…” Sarah stopped shaking her head long enough for me to really take her in—it wasn’t nearly as bad as she thought.
My heart melted. I wanted to reassure her, but I kept my distance. My hand remained on her knee, and I found myself stroking her soft skin with my thumb. The desire to pull her to me nearly overtook my willpower. God, I wanted to protect her like a runt calf, but I didn’t know this girl from Adam’s housecat. And thus, I remained still.
“You wouldn’t understand,” she whispered. “No one does. Everyone keeps telling me that I’m lucky to be alive. And I know I am. No one is more aware of that fact than me. And when it first happened, that support was almost suffocating. But the world kept spinning for everyone outside these walls. The clouds rolled away, and the threat of my dying passed. People went on with their lives. They stopped panicking. But when the dust settled, it was just me.”
I squeezed her knee, and she stopped talking long enough to give me a meager smile that hurt me more than it helped. But I didn’t let her go, and I didn’t stop caressing her skin. She might not realize how much warmth and life she still had in her, but I could feel it in the pads of my fingers.
“Other than Daddy, it’s just me, the physical therapists, and countless doctors who won’t remember my name the day I’m discharged. All I’m left with is grueling exercise that isn’t producing results. I hope you never know what it’s like.”
I wondered if anyone else had given Sarah the chance to vent, or if they expected the same woman in here that she had been on the outside. I didn’t know her well, but our families were intertwined. I knew how much she did for Jack and that she took care of Miranda after their mama left. She needed someone to take care of her for a change, and it didn’t seem she had that. So, I just let her talk and tried to commit every word she uttered to memory.
“All the medication zaps my energy and makes me foggy, but without the pain meds, there’s no way I can do the physical therapy. It hurts. All of it hurts so much.” A tear slid down her cheek, but she didn’t collapse. “What if I never walk again? What if this is the best any of this will ever get? I haven’t managed a single step. Not one. I’m just ready to throw in the towel.” And with that, she finally stopped. Her shoulders rounded, the tears streamed, and she appeared utterly defeated.
For a moment, my heart refused to beat, and I just stared at her. The absolute hopelessness created a fissure in my chest that cracked open. I ached for the woman in front of me, so much so that I reacted instead of thinking. My hands found her face, and I cupped her jaw without touching any injuries. My thumbs brushed aside the tears she couldn’t stop, and I couldn’t have torn my eyes from hers if I’d had to.
“Hey,” I said. “Listen to me.”
She didn’t say anything. But she didn’t look away, either. Her eyes held mine like she could see through them and into the very essence of me, deeper than anyone else had dared look.
“You can’t give up, Sarah.”
Her expression softened, but it changed, too. I couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but if she weren’t riddled with pain, I’d guess it was a hint of elation. I hadn’t said anything earthshattering. Hell, I hadn’t even said anything poetic. I started to pull apart, but before my touch left her skin, she lifted her hand. Her braced and bandaged fingers rested on top of mine, and she leaned into my palm.
Her eyes smiled, but the tears came faster than they had since I’d walked in the door, and the salty brine seeped under my hands, captured against her cheeks. “What?”
I’d never heard someone sound so panicked in one word—much less myself. “What did I do?” My erratic heart had started beating again, and now my racing pulse was the only thing I could hear. I didn’t have a clue what I’d said to upset her, but whatever it was, I’d move mountains to fix it.
