Chapter Forty-Four
Wednesday, April 11th
The sun shone brightly on a perfect spring day. Sitting on the rail of the corral, the smell of sun-warmed earth and manure wafted around her. Eleanor watched the second group of veterans working with the horses. She smiled seeing Troy working with Brandon. Today, Kyle was his companion.
Kyle was splitting his time with Gwen. Everyone on the executive staff wore the weight of Wes’s trauma across their backs. All she was told was he’d been struck in the head and had to have surgery to relieve the bleed. She begged to see him. They wouldn’t let her, for both their security.
She hopped down and walked into the stable. “Hey, boy. Doc Baker said I could go for a slow easy ride.” Her voice cracked. “I miss him too.” She petted the blaze on Alamo’s Pal.
“Hey, lovey, Mr. Stone said he’ll be happy to ride with you,” Luke said.
Eleanor concentrated on the gait of Alamo’s Pal beneath her, the swish of his tail, and the colorful wildflower-speckled pasture. Josh Stone rode beside her, an occasional butterfly circling their heads.
“When did you learn to ride?” she asked him.
“High school. I wanted to impress a girl,” he chuckled.
“That’s sweet.” Her mind drifted to a memory of a soft kiss shared with Wes.
“Never had a boy try to impress you?” he asked, scanning constantly.
“No, I wasn’t that type of girl.” Eleanor shrugged.
“Too smart to be fooled,” Josh stated.
“Quite the contrary.” She squeezed her thighs against Alamo’s Pal’s flanks, asking for him to pick up the pace.
Josh’s skill level was stronger than Eleanor anticipated. She couldn’t outpace him, not that she was sure she wanted to. She needed to outpace her grief. She slowed to a walk and stretched along the horse’s neck. All she could do was sob.
On foot, Josh returned to the barn, holding the reins of his mount and that of Alamo’s Pal. Troy, Kyle and Kip stood waiting. “C’mon, Ellie.” Josh helped her down.
The three executives surrounded her. “Come with us. You need to get some rest.”
Eleanor let them lead her to Wes’s home. Since she was well enough to leave the clinic, Troy insisted she stay in a guest room. She did her best to avoid Wes’s parents. They were warm and caring, but she didn’t have the strength or desire to face another loss. She was already losing Wes. She didn’t want to like them and lose them too.
They walked her to the elevator, but only Troy stepped inside with her. She didn’t notice Troy press three. The doors opened.
“Hey, Curly.”
She turned and stepped into Wes’s suite. She watched as Troy gave Wes a two-finger salute and a wink as the doors closed.
Her chest expanded and shrank in little stalls of air. She opened her mouth to try to breathe, her nose stuffed, and tears poured. Her hand reached for his cheek.
He turned into it and kissed her palm. His other arm wrapped around her, his lips against her head. His legs wobbled, and he held her tighter. “Come, we both need to sit down.” He smiled.
Once on the loveseat, she ran her fingers over the bandage protruding from a thick hat. “I thought I’d lost you. That day…in the cafeteria, I made my decision. I told Starr I wanted to give us a chance. My last chance. And I almost lost you,” she repeated.
He hugged her. “I’m here.” His hand rubbed her back.
She pushed back to look at him. His eyes were still blackened, and it felt as if he lost twenty pounds. “What are the doctors saying?”
“The bleed has subsided. Rest and more rest. Walking to start. The see food and eat diet. And to hug my girl as much as possible.” He pulled her to him again.
“Your girl?” she asked tentatively
“That is, if you want to be.”
Eleanor answered him with a hug, her warm tears shared cheek to cheek. She pulled back. “Are you hungry?”
