The Color of Courage. Patricia Davids
broke a bone in his front leg when we fell.”
“Oh, no!”
“He’s had surgery and we think he is going to be fine.”
Karen pressed a hand to her forehead. “No wonder Abigail thought there was something you weren’t telling us the last time you called.”
“I didn’t want to keep secrets, but I wanted to be sure of things one way or the other before I gave Danny that news.”
“Are you sure of things now?”
“Not really.”
“Lindsey, you have to tell him. Danny is stronger than you think. If you could only see the way he tackles his therapy sessions. He’s able to raise his right shoulder now and he’s up to almost two hours off his ventilator each day.”
“He’s working hard because he has a goal to reach. That is exactly why I’m not going to tell him yet. I can’t risk taking away his motivation. I have faith that Dakota and I will both be in Washington, D.C., and Danny will be strong enough to be there to see it.”
“I don’t agree with you, but I won’t say anything for now.”
“That’s all I’m asking. Thank you. So, are you going to open that can for me or not?”
Smiling, her sister tossed the can in the air and caught it again. “I’ll give it my best shot.”
Karen successfully extracted the yellow kernels from their stubborn metal prison while Lindsey put the kettle on to boil. A minute later the oven timer rang. Karen snatched up the pot holder before Lindsey could reach it and opened the oven. She pulled out a cookie sheet with a small pizza on it.
“This is your lunch?”
“That and the corn.”
“Pizza and corn?”
“It’s not as weird as it sounds.”
“Yes, it is. You need something healthy.” Karen set the cookie sheet on top of the stove.
“This is healthy.”
“At least drink some milk with it.” Karen pulled open the refrigerator door.
Lindsey winced. She knew there wasn’t any milk. In fact, there wasn’t much of anything in her fridge except a half-empty bottle of ketchup and one lonely dill pickle in a jar. “I haven’t had a chance to get to the commissary.”
Karen shut the door and frowned at Lindsey. “Since when?”
“Since before the accident.”
“Obviously, it’s a good thing I stopped by. Eat while I have a cup of tea and then I’ll drive you to wherever you need to go.”
Lindsey used a spatula to transfer her overly crisp pizza to a plate and then set the plate on the table. “You don’t have to run errands for me.”
“I can see that no one else is. Where are the tea bags?”
The kettle began to whistle. After finding a cup and filling it with hot water, Karen joined Lindsey at the table. Waiting until after her sister had fixed the tea, Lindsey asked, “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”
Karen raised her cup to her lips and blew on the steaming brew. She took a sip and set the cup down. “This is very good tea. What kind did you say it was?”
“Earl Grey, and don’t change the subject.”
Taking a deep breath, Karen closed her eyes and said, “It’s Dad.”
“I don’t understand.”
Karen leaned her elbows on the table. “He won’t stop fixing me up. I’m only twenty-one but all of the sudden he acts like I’m the only chance he’ll ever have for grandchildren. There has been a steady parade of guys who just happen to stop by our apartment. He’s driving me crazy.”
“I’m sure Dad—like the rest of us—is having a hard time adjusting to Danny’s condition. Do you want me to talk to him?” Lindsey took one bite of her pizza, then pushed the unappetizing concoction to the side.
“Thanks for the offer,” Karen said gently. “But I’m hoping a little separation will be good for both of us. That’s why I’m at your door begging to stay and nurse you through this injury. And before you say no, I did discuss this with Abigail. She can do without me for a few weeks. Please, can I stay?”
Lindsey patted the orthopedic brace and sling the specialist had fitted her with. “I don’t need a nurse, but a roommate who can grocery shop and run the can opener will be a welcome addition until I’m out of this contraption.”
“Honey, that sounds great.” Karen’s relief was evident.
“Don’t be too sure. This is a one-bedroom apartment and that means you get the sofa.”
Karen’s tinkling laughter was music to Lindsey’s ears. During their frequent and lengthy phone conversations, the sound of happiness had been sadly lacking in her sister’s voice. Danny’s injury had affected everyone. They were all trying to find a new “normal” for the family.
Picking up her teacup, Karen said, “Roommates pay rent. What’s space on a lumpy couch going to cost me?”
“The use of two good arms and your skill as a chauffeur. If you really don’t mind driving me, I’m dying to get over to the university to see how Dakota is doing. But what about school? Can you afford to take the time off?”
Setting the white cup down, Karen picked up her spoon and began to stir. “I had already decided to take a semester off. I couldn’t concentrate in class. There was no use flunking out on top of everything else.”
Seeing Karen’s grief made Lindsey acutely aware that her baby sister was dealing with a lot more than their father’s matchmaking. “I wish I was closer so that I could help, too.”
Rising, she carried her plate to the counter. After dumping the remains of her uneaten lunch in the trash, she laid the dish in the sink and turned on the water. It was then that she felt Karen’s hands on her shoulders turning her around.
Tears blurred Lindsey’s vision and she loathed the fact. She had tried so hard not to cry. “I hate that this has happened to him.”
“I know.” Karen’s voice was low and brimming with emotion. “But Danny believed that protecting his country was more than a job. It was something that he knew in his heart he had to do.”
Lindsey squeezed her eyes shut against the pain that swallowed her heart and made it hard to breathe. “But the price…was too high. He is the best…and the brightest…and this seems so cruel.” The words, when she finally managed them, were ragged and broken between her sobs.
“I know you love him. He knows it, too.”
“I haven’t told him that often enough.”
“You don’t have to. He sees it. I wish I could hug you, but I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
“My left side is fine,” she hiccupped. To prove it, she embraced Karen with one arm and the two of them clung together as they wept.
From the corner of his eye, Brian caught the fugitive movement. Without looking up from the grant application on his desk, he said, “Isabella, don’t chew on that pencil.”
The culprit ignored him.
He tried injecting more menace into his tone. “Isabella, I said, no!”
The oversize brown lop-eared rabbit perched on the corner of his large desk chose to disregard his warning. She pulled her prize from the purple Wildcat mug he used to hold his writing utensils. Settling the yellow number two under one paw, she began to nibble it to bits.
“You little minx.” He rose from his chair