Page 11 of Inherited Light
The handicapped ramp in the front of the house did, indeed, make her place easier to see than the numbers on the house. I parked behind the hulking shadow of her van then took a moment to assess the property. It needed work, to say the least. It reminded me a bit of a haunted house with the shutters hanging catawampus and the yard in need of a mowing. The handicapped ramp was steep and led to the front door all at one dizzying angle. She must struggle to get up the ramp every time she comes home, especially if she has something on her lap. I gave my head a little shake and unbuckled my seatbelt.
I angled out of the car reaching back in for the flower and box, then closed the door carefully. She had the front door open, so I strode up the ramp. Near the top, my foot caught in a loose board and I fell forward, catching myself in the nick of time, before I fell or dropped anything. I paused and bent down over the offending wood plank. The nails on the bottom on each side were broken, leaving only the top nails in place. I set the gifts down and barely tugged on the board. Those nails gave way, and the board was in my hand.
Oh, this is cute. I’ve been here three minutes and I’ve already managed to break her ramp. I set the board upside down on the next plank and stepped over the hole it left. I would get my hammer to fix it once I knocked and let her know I was here. When I made it to the door, she waited behind it, smiling at me from her chair.
She motioned me in and I grabbed the handle of the screen door, stepping through. “Hi, Cat,” I said softly. Her beauty reminded me of a butterfly in a field of clover. Subtle, but stunning. “Gosh, you’re beautiful,” I said breathlessly.
She gazed at her soft pink dress which flowed past her knees in her wheelchair, brushing at it absently. “Thank you,” she whispered self-consciously. She wore black boots and a black beaded necklace around her neck to finish the outfit. Her hair was curlier than ever and I wanted to run my fingers through it. Instead, I knelt in the doorway and handed her the vase.
“I know traditionally you bring flowers on a first date, so I hope my single flower doesn’t disappoint you. I hope you know I made it especially for you with your beauty in my mind’s eye as I carved.”
She accepted the vase and spun it all the way around before glancing back to me, still kneeling by her chair. “It’s stunning, Ren. You made this?”
I took her hand and kissed the back of it. “I did, for you. You told me you’re a wildlife artist and I wanted to make you something to last a lifetime, not just an evening.”
Her eyes met mine and she squeezed my hand. “Thank you, I will cherish it. I love the contrast of different types of wood and the stain technique you used to draw out its natural beauty. It makes it appear lifelike. You have great talent with wood.”
I smiled, probably more like grinned, from her praise. “Thank you. It’s something I like to do when I’m home alone. It relaxes me and passes the time.” I shut my mouth before I sounded desperate. I thrust the other box toward her. “Miss Mary also insisted I take this when I told her I had a date tonight.”
She set the vase on her lap and took the box, opening it and inhaling deeply. “Miss Mary’s apple pie,” she said on a sigh. “You remembered?”
I nodded and shrugged to make it appear less desperate. “You said you loved it.”
She laughed as she handed me the box and backed up her chair. “I did say that, didn’t I? Would you put it in the kitchen? I’ll grab my purse and we can go.” She pointed straight through a doorway and the kitchen sink beyond. She was running her hands over the planes of the flower and vase when I returned from the kitchen.
“This is truly exquisite in every way,” she said again.
I knelt next to her. “I’m thrilled you love it. I almost stopped making it a hundred times because I wasn’t sure if you would. I’m glad I finished it.”
She held it near her chest and smiled a smile which shot an arrow straight into my heart. She was mine. I no longer had any doubt about it. “I am, too. Seriously, Ren, I’ll cherish this. It will go by my bedside, so when I see it I think of you.”
I grinned and kissed her hand again. “Good, because I think about you all the time.” I kept the smile on my face, but groaned inwardly. Why did I tell her that? To cover, I pointed backward. “You have time to put it by your bed before we leave, if you want. I need to repair the board on your wheelchair ramp. I kind of broke it.”
“Is that why you were bent over out there staring at the ramp?” she asked.
I was blushing, but it didn’t matter, I had to tell her the truth. “Funny story, I caught the toe of my dress shoe in a board. When I attempted to fix it, the whole board popped off in my hand.”
She nodded as though I wasn’t telling her anything new. “I know, the ramp is falling apart, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t even have a hammer.”
I chuckled. “I have one in the back of my car. I’ll grab it and a couple nails. I’ll have the board back in place in no time. It seems like the whole structure needs some work, but I’ll come a different day when I’m not dressed up and inspect it.”
She watched me closely until I finished speaking. “Why do you kneel next to me?”
I shrugged unsure of myself, finally forcing my lips to open and my brain to force out words. “I kneel because we’re equals and I love the way your eyes hold mine when we talk. I respect you Cat, so if you don’t want me to kneel, I won’t.”
She shook her head slowly and fussed with the metal strap on her purse. “I…no…it’s just, well, no one has ever bothered to get down at my level to hold a conversation before. I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.”
I gave her one head nod. “I’m glad I could be the first then. If you wait here I’ll fix the board so you can get down the ramp safely.”
I stood and she waved somewhat unsure of herself as I left the house. I stepped over the empty hole and jogged to the back of the BMW. I grabbed my small emergency toolbox I kept in the car and used the hammer to pry out the old nails. If the board split when I hammered new, strong nails into the wood, I’d be screwed. If the beam split, I would be carrying her out the back door, because it would render this rickety ramp useless.
I aligned the board again and once it was as flat as I could get it, I pounded in one nail on each side, below the old nail holes. The ramp braces kept splintering and I had to find part of the frame to hold the nail tightly. It seemed easier said than done. When I got one nail in on each side, I let out a sigh of relief. At least I managed to replace the board. I took another nail and pounded it in right below the first two nails. When I didn’t hear splintering or cracking, I took it as a victory and stood, putting the hammer back in the box and closing it.
I tested the board and while it held my weight, I would be careful to avoid it for tonight. Her chair going up and down wouldn’t break it, because she didn’t weigh much, and the weight would be distributed to the outside of the ramp. As long as the wheels on the front of her chair don’t catch on it she’ll be fine. I set the toolbox in the corner of the ramp and brushed my hands off, going back in the door.
I held my hands up to show her. “Mind if I wash my hands before we go?”
“Not at all, thank you so much,” she said as she rolled toward the kitchen. “The board has been a problem for my chair.”
