A Conard County Homecoming. Rachel Lee

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СКАЧАТЬ McLaren pulled into the driveway after dark. Operating the hand controls of his van with the ease of familiarity, he parked so that the newly constructed ramp would be near the sliding door in the side of the van.

      It was ready. His old family home had been prepped for his wheelchair existence, and only the service dog on the front seat beside him seemed happy to realize the journey had ended. Nell, a golden Lab, woofed her approval as he turned the engine off.

      Arriving after dark had been a choice. By now everyone in Conard County, Wyoming, who cared to hear about it knew that Zane McLaren was coming home for the first time since his parents’ funerals nearly fifteen years ago, and the ramps he’d had constructed before his arrival let them know his condition if they hadn’t already heard from workmen or his housekeeper.

      The fat had probably already been chewed over by those who remembered: great high school athlete in a wheelchair nearly twenty years later as a result of his military service. Heads had shaken, and curiosity had awakened.

      The thought of that curiosity had brought him home in the darkness. He wasn’t ready to face a parade of well-wishers, many of whom would be mostly interested in discovering how bad off he was.

      He’d lost the use of his legs two years before. Rehab had followed, then adaptation to his new life. Now he just wanted to be left alone. He’d have been more anonymous in a city, but the wars had left him with other scars, too. He couldn’t handle the noise, the traffic, the constant crush of people. He needed quiet and solitude, and he figured this was the best place to get it. Once everyone understood he just wanted to be left alone, they’d leave him alone. As he seemed to remember, people in this town were mostly respectful.

      If it didn’t work out, he’d sell the house and move on. There was nothing holding him anywhere now.

      He pivoted the driver’s seat and used his arms to lift himself into the wheelchair behind. Ready to go. Nell jumped off her seat and came to stand beside him, her tail swishing happily.

      She was probably desperate to hit the grass, he thought with mild amusement. After locking himself in place, he pressed a button. The van door pulled open. The pneumatic lift extended itself, carrying him outside. Then another button lowered him to the ground. When he’d rolled off, Nell jumped to do her part. She nosed yet another button, the lift rose and retracted, and the door eased closed. He scratched her ears, letting him know he was pleased with her. She grinned back at him, happy.

      “Go do your stuff,” he told her.

      She didn’t need a second suggestion. She dashed immediately to the grass and began sniffing around. Apparently, the choice of where to relieve herself required some investigation.

      Smiling faintly, he reached for the wheels of his chair and pushed himself toward the ramp. It felt sturdy beneath him; the slope was gentle enough, with a surface that had been roughened with outdoor carpeting to prevent slipping. Safe in the rain. Heating wires below for the snow. Perfect for his needs.

      He reached the porch and pivoted, waiting for Nell. For the first time, it occurred to him that he might need to hire someone to clean up after her. He could do it unless the ground became soggy enough to bog down on, or the snow too deep. Little things. It was most often the little things that caused him problems now and often took him by surprise. He already had a handle on most of the big things.

      Sitting still, waiting for his dog, he allowed the autumn chill to start reaching him. A lot of warmth came from movement, as he’d learned, and he wasn’t moving much at the moment. Still, he waited patiently. Nell was on new ground and probably needed to check it all out. He didn’t have the heart to interrupt her.

      At last Nell finished up and came racing to his side. He unlocked the front door with a key that was as old as he was, and together he and his dog entered his old home, flicking on lights as he went. He ignored the stairway to the two upstairs bedrooms. That part of the house was unavailable to him—not that he needed it.

      The house smelled different, but it had been thoroughly cleaned, and work had been done inside to ready things for him, like a new shower and a sturdy framework over his bed. Eventually, if he decided to stay, he’d have to change the kitchen as well, but that was going to be an expensive proposition. Right now he could manage well enough with standard counter heights and sinks. He’d had to learn.

      The dog bowls were waiting, and he quickly filled one with water and bent to place it in Nell’s new feeding stand. Most things he’d been able to ship ahead, but some had had to be replaced. This was one of them. While she lapped water eagerly, he went to the pantry and found that the housekeeper he’d hired had filled it as directed. Everything was on the lower shelves or floors, nothing too high for him to reach. The bag of dog food in one corner was the first thing he grabbed. Nell had been awfully patient today, and she danced eagerly as he filled her bowl. Instead of putting the bag away, he set it to one side for the moment.

      Opening the refrigerator wasn’t exactly easy, as it was a tight space for him in his chair. He knew Nell could do it for him if he just tied a towel to the handle, but he was jealous of every bit of independence he could protect.

      Opening it, he found everything he’d requested. For now he just grabbed a beer.

      Home. He wondered if he’d ever feel he was home again.

      Then he heard the knock on his front door and almost decided not to answer it. He’d come here to be by himself and didn’t want a tide of well-meaning or curious neighbors sweeping through. Ignore it, he thought.

      * * *

      Ashley Granger knocked on Zane’s front door, a little nervous but determined. His housekeeper, Carol Cathcart, had worked with her for years as an aide at her school before taking this job with Zane, and the two had become friends of sorts. Carol had been the one to mention Zane was arriving today.

      In her hand, Ashley held a warm Dutch apple pie she’d made after school as a welcoming gift for Zane. Ashley had thought a pie would be a nice gesture. Especially her famous Dutch apple.

      She remembered Zane from school, sort of. She’d been five years behind him, which had precluded a friendship of any kind, but it was hard not to be aware of him. A great athlete, popular, good-looking...everyone knew Zane, if only at a distance. Then he’d left to join the military, and the last time she’d seen him had been at his father’s funeral years ago. His mother had died a year earlier.

      Which meant he had few ties with this town, nearly twenty years later. She was kind of surprised he’d choose to come back here, but he had, and it seemed to her that an apple pie was the least she could do.

      She rapped again, but there was no answer. He might need time to get to the front door—she really had no idea how mobile he was now—or maybe he was already in bed. He must have had a long drive. Glancing at her watch yet again, she thought that nine o’clock didn’t seem so late, but this was probably a different time zone for him.

      Well, the pie would hold until tomorrow.

      She had just started turning away when the door opened and a rough voice said, “What do you want?”

      Okay, that was a pleasant opening. She had a bit of a temper, and it flared now. She faced him. “Nothing. I was just going to give you a pie.”

      But in an instant her mind took a snapshot of a broad-shouldered man, still wearing a jacket, sitting in a wheelchair. Beside him, a golden Lab stood watch. God, was it possible the years had made СКАЧАТЬ