Page 86 of All We Thought We Knew
Mama never complained, so it was unsettling to hear her admit her frustration with her illness.
“Do you want to get back in bed? Nurse Bradford shouldn’t have left you here by the window.”
She patted my cheek. “I’m fine, Mattie. Just a bit worn out.”
“Maybe I should stay with you instead of helping Nash with Fred today.”
“Absolutely not. LuAnn is here all morning. You go on. I want a full report this afternoon.”
I promised I’d tell her every detail and left her after Nurse Bradford returned.
Wearing boots and a light jacket with my jeans and sweatshirt, I headed outside. Dad was just leading Dawn’s Rose from the horse barn, saddled and ready to ride.
“Mama seems especially tired today,” I said when I approached.
He gave a slow nod. “She doesn’t sleep well. The pain is getting worse.”
The two of us hadn’t discussed Mama’s condition since I arrived home. Now wasn’t the best time to bring it up, but I had questions. “Why didn’t you tell me Mama was sick when she was first diagnosed? I would have come home sooner if I’d known.”
He didn’t look at me and kept walking. “She didn’t want to burden you.”
His answer wasn’t good enough. “I understand her reasoning, but didn’tyouthink I should know? She needed me.”
He drew to a stop and met my gaze, sorrow in his eyes. “She needed you after your brother died.”
The words, said without malice, were a gut punch.
The sound of Nash’s truck crunching over gravel, however, prevented me from uttering a response, although there wasn’t anything I could say that would make what I’d done a year ago go away.
While Dad greeted Fred, I tried to compose myself.
I knew I’d abandoned Mama. I left home a week after Mark’s funeral, my anger burning hot. But once it began to simmer, crippling guilt soon replaced it. What kind of daughter forsakes her family after suffering such a tragic loss? Outwardly I pretended it was Dad and his mistakes that kept me from coming home, but deep inside I knew I was ashamed of my own behavior. I’d done everything I could to bury it, but no amount of drugs and free living could ever fully remove the stain.
Now, to hear it put so bluntly from my father, left me wrecked.
After Fred settled in his wheelchair, Nash came over, his keen eyes studying me. “You okay?”
I shook my head. “Not really.” When he gave me a questioning look, I said, “I’ll tell you later.”
He nodded, but I could see concern on his face.
We joined the others. Fred eyed Dawn’s Rose while Dad held her steady.
“I don’t know about this,” Fred said. “She’s a lot taller than I expected.”
I heard fear in his voice. I couldn’t blame him. Although I’d never been afraid of horses, I’d experienced more fear in the past year than I had in my entire lifetime. I still had a long way to go to overcome it, and I suspected Fred did too. We were on different roads, with different circumstances holding us prisoner, but fear, no matter what it looked like, would eventually destroy us if something didn’t change. Conquering Fred’s self-doubt was a step in the right direction and had to be accomplished before he could successfully ride again.
What did I need to help me overcome mine?
I wished I knew the answer.
“Come see the platform Nash built for you,” I said, forcing a smile. “He’s quite the carpenter.” I glanced at Nash, with a small nod toward Fred.
He took the hint. “It’s a thing of beauty, if I say so myself.” He got behind Fred’s chair and wheeled him toward the barn while Dad and I walked behind them with Dawn’s Rose. Nash pushed Fred up the ramp, chatting all the while about the wood, the design, the possible improvements. Technical things that had nothing to do with the size of the horse or the question of whether Fred could ride her or not.
Dad led Dawn’s Rose over, letting her head come even with Fred. I noticed the leather belt and strap were draped across the handrail of the platform, ready and waiting.
“Give her a rub,” I said to Fred. “She loves attention.”
