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“Still have the occasional clumsy episode, as you can see.” He nodded toward the spilled coffee.
“We all have the occasional clumsy episode in the morning, Joe.” She picked up the two pieces of his prosthesis he had ready on the table and inspected them. “Do you want to go ahead and don this?”
He massaged antiseptic lubricant into the area and examined the cosmetic silicone glove for damage. Then he disconnected the charger from his myoelectric prosthesis, snapped together the hand and forearm and applied the device to what remained of his right arm.
He held it up for her review. “There you go. Bionic man reporting for duty.”
“Are you always this hard on yourself?” she murmured.
“I deserve to be hard on myself. I messed up. I should have asked for help, as everyone keeps reminding me. If I had, I wouldn’t have this. I’d be normal. A normal rancher.”
Her jaw sagged slightly as she stared at him. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
“What’s there to say? I’m not the guy I used to be.”
“That’s not true, and believe me, normal is highly overrated.”
“Becca, I’m sure most people appreciate platitudes, but I deal in reality and I’m sorry, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She stiffened. “Joe, your arm doesn’t define you.”
“Sure it does.”
“You’re wrong. You’re a person who happens to be an amputee. That integral person inside is what people imprint in their minds when they define who you are.” She stared past him. “No matter how hard something else tries to change a person’s core, it generally doesn’t change.”
“What exactly is my core, Becca?”
When she met his gaze, she reached out to lay a hand on his arm.
Joe moved from her touch.
The rebuff only seemed to make her more determined to make her point, and she leaned closer.
“You’re an intelligent, kind, godly man.”
“Are you sure you’re not confusing me with someone else? God and I haven’t been buddies for some time, and I’m not as kind as you like to think.” He shook his head. “Sometimes our mind blocks out the not-so-memorable things about people we haven’t seen in a long time. We tend to remember people in a skewed positive light. I’m not that boy from high school.”
“Trust me. I don’t have that problem. I’m cynical enough to remember everything from the past.” Becca chuckled softly. “I’m absolutely certain you haven’t changed as much as you’d like to believe.” She refused to give him eye contact; instead, she reached for her tablet, her fingers sliding across the keys on the screen once again.
“It’s been over a year since your accident. You began prosthesis fittings and training six months ago. Why didn’t you complete certification then?”
“It’s taken me a while to actually commit to the whole prosthesis thing. After the accident and a couple of surgeries and rehab and all, I’d already been going back and forth to Denver so many times for preprosthetic therapy, and interim prosthetic therapy, that my head was spinning. I admit I didn’t adhere to the usual patient guidelines.”
“You aren’t exactly the usual patient,” she said.
“Bingo.” He took a deep breath. “Dan ran the ranch and my mother helped. I needed to take that load from them as soon as possible.”
“Is your mother still living in the main house?”
“Yeah. She and my niece just left for California. They’ve gone to visit my sisters, then meet up with Dan and his wife.”
“Dan’s married?”
“Yeah. Sort of a newlywed, too. He postponed his honeymoon for me.”
“That’s a great brother.” She paused, thinking. “Family is everything, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets me through the day.”
“And faith,” she said softly, her eyes averted.
“Truthfully, I’m not sure what faith is anymore.” Joe cleared his throat. “No disrespect. I know you’ve been through a lot, and if your faith is what helped you, then good for you.”
“Good for me?” She offered a scoffing laugh. When she met his gaze, her eyes were hard and unflinching. “But we’re not here to talk about me, are we?”
He nodded. “Understood.”
“I need you to fill out this paperwork.”
Joe groaned. “More paperwork? OrthoBorne is big on it, aren’t they?” He glanced at the clock. “Could we save that for another session? I’m getting behind on my day.”
“I promise this is the last of it.”
He looked her in the eye. “You know what’s been the most difficult part of this transition?”
“What’s that?”
“Learning to write with my left hand. I’ll do anything to get out of paper shuffling.”
Becca paused. “We are in the field. I’m willing to compromise. We can skip that and go straight to shadowing. However, don’t be surprised if I come up with some unique teaching sessions while I’m shadowing you.”
“Deal.” He looked at her. “What do you mean by shadowing?”
“That means that I show up tomorrow and follow you around for a couple of days, asking you the questions. I basically need to document the tasks that make up the majority of your workday so I can create a plan of care for your specific occupational therapy.”
“I get up at four thirty, and I’m ready to start the day at five.
“Seriously?”
“Too early for you?”
“No. I meant you’re okay with me following you around from dawn to dusk for a few days?”
“I’ll do anything to avoid wasting my time—” he glanced with distaste at the paperwork “—checking little boxes and writing answers to inane questions. But five seems a little early for someone who isn’t punching a clock.”
“I understand my job, thank you. This is all about getting to know your world. So if you start your day at five, so do I, at least to start with.”
“Fair enough. I’ll meet you at the barn.” He glanced at her outfit. “You do have boots, right?”
“Yes. Several pairs, in fact.”
“Ranch boots. We’re not talking city girl, fancy boots.”
“Yes, ranch boots. You seem to forget that I worked on a ranch with my father practically my whole life.”
“I didn’t forget.” He paused. “But people change.”
“I’m still the same ranch girl I was twelve years ago.”
“I guess we’ll see,” Joe murmured.
“I guess we will,” Becca answered without missing a beat. She closed the cover on her tablet.
“What time does your crew arrive?”
“Nine thirty.”
“They’re late,” he observed with a glance at the big stainless-steel clock on the wall.
“I don’t want to keep you from your chores.” She began to pack up her briefcase. “I’ll wait outside for them.”
“You’re welcome to wait in the house.”
“Oh, no. I’ll wait outside.”
“Your call.” He reached for his keys, with his left hand, and fumbled. The keys clattered to the oak floor.
An awkward silence ensued as they both stared at the ground between them.
“I got ’em.” Joe scooped up the keys with his other hand and shoved them in his pocket.
“Do you mind if I give you a little impromptu lesson?” Becca asked.
“Okay,” he said slowly.
“You’re using the myoelectric hand statically.”
“Pardon me?”
“Static. Like a placeholder. I’ve observed your hand mostly in the relaxed position. You have quite a few positions available. Utilize them. The more you do, the more it will be automatic. Like the lateral pinch. You could have picked up the keys that way.” She demonstrated, putting her own keys on the table. “See how much more accurate?”
He nodded. “I’ll, ah, give it a try.”
“I hope you will. Why not maximize the technology? After all, it’s yours, and the photographer will want to see you taking advantage of their product.”
Becca was right. He might not be paying for the prosthesis in cash, but he was paying for it by agreeing to OrthoBorne’s offer. And he had been pretty much ignoring the technology, thinking maybe if he did, maybe he could ignore the fact that he was an amputee.
All he’d really wanted was for life to go back to the way it was before the accident. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe his way wasn’t working. Maybe the Lord had other plans despite the fact that he’d been ignoring Him, as well.
But was he ready for what was in store?
Chapter Three (#u3d19a0ef-d253-53a5-a874-528d3db98c43)
Rebecca leaned against her Honda. She checked her watch and then focused her gaze on the main road. Late was an understatement. Joe had been gone two hours. Her stomach growled, and she wondered what the day’s special was at Patti Jo’s Café and Bakery in downtown Paradise.
Things with Joe had gone better than she expected. He wasn’t nearly as surly this morning as he’d been on Saturday at their unexpected reunion. She pushed away the worrisome thoughts that hovered nearby. This was going to work out. It had to.
That was, if the team would show up. She pulled her cell from her pocket to call the OrthoBorne offices in Denver. When she looked up, a big white pickup truck, with rooftop bar lights and the logo of the Paradise Sheriff’s Department, appeared on the road to the ranch, moving to the arched entrance. Behind it was a black SUV, kicking up a cloud of dust on the gravel road.
A police escort to the ranch?
She hurried to the drive and met the sheriff’s vehicle as it pulled up.
The uniformed officer unfolded his tall form and stepped out and placed a tan Stetson on his head. “I’m Sam Lawson.” He reached out to grasp her hand in a strong handshake. “You must be Rebecca Simpson.” His eyes were warm with welcome.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Joe mentioned you.” He nodded toward the car pulling in behind his truck. “These folks say they’re from OrthoBorne Technology in Denver. Sound right to you?”
“Yes. They’re Joe’s media team.”
“I found them driving through town. After the third pass through, I decided to take pity on them. According to the driver, they were here an hour ago, at another gate, but couldn’t find the road.”
“Thanks for bringing them here, Sheriff.”
“Better not thank me. This crew is greener than the grass, and I’m feeling guilty for delivering them to the ranch. In fact, maybe you could not mention to Joe that I brought them.”
She laughed.
“Oh, sure, you’re laughing now, but you won’t be when you figure out that I’m right.” He waved as he left.
A tall man in his midforties got out of the SUV. He shook his head and released a breath. “Gallagher Ranch, I hope.”
“It is, and I’m Rebecca Simpson.”
“Our liaison, right?”
“Yes. I’m also doing the certification.”
“Great. I’m Rod, photographer and videographer.” He stepped forward to offer a grin of relief, along with a brisk handshake.
She took his hand while returning the smile.
“Looks like we’re all in the family. OrthoBorne family, that is. Sorry we’re so late. The GPS on the rental went wacky once we hit the outskirts of town. We thought we were here once, but there was no road beyond the gate. For all I know, we were on another ranch somewhere around here.”
“No worries,” Rebecca said. “The good news is after the first time, you won’t forget your way to the ranch. It’s pretty easy. There’s only one paved road in and out of Paradise. Take it until you come to the arched entrance.” She pointed to the wrought-iron archway with the large entwined letters G and R.
“Easy. Yeah, that’s what I said until the third or fourth time we passed Patti Jo’s Café and Bakery, and I realized I was driving in circles.” He turned to the vehicle, giving a wave for the other occupants to join him. “I brought Julian, our intern, and Abigail, one of our staff copywriters.”
