Finding Liberty Page 9

  “Did you make every part of them, including the cabinet boxes?” Her eyebrows rise.

  “Yep, right in my shop.”

  “You should be doing that, right now.”

  “Says the woman who’s never seen my work. My dad says it’s fine, but he’s my dad. What’s he going to say?”

  “I’m sure your dad is right, and the added bonus is, that’s something you could do anywhere.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. “I couldn’t do it at my real job, if that’s what you’re saying. It’s not like I’m a whittler. I need tools and space, and it’s loud.”

  She shakes her head. “Of course not. Actually, never mind. So your dad likes it? How much longer does he think you need to run the family business before you can switch to woodworking full time?”

  I clear my throat. “Umm, forever?”

  “Wait, does he even know you’d rather make furniture?”

  I laugh. “Oh, he knows. He’s the first one who pointed out what a monumentally bad idea it would be to try and sell ‘my little wooden projects.’”

  She frowns. “I’m no expert, but based on the caliber of those cabinets, I’m sure your work is better than the average hobbyist.”

  What is wrong with me? Talking about how I wish I could quit my job and tinker with wood is definitely not going to impress the woman who was just carving up companies and tripling their worth. She led that meeting like a pro, and fifty well-educated, sharp people bobbed their heads along as she laid out an attack plan I couldn’t even follow. I never should have mentioned any of this. I need to figure out how to end this line of conversation quickly.

  “The point is that I know it’s a hobby and not a business plan. I’m not delusional, and I’m okay with having both a job and a hobby.”

  “Where did you even learn how to make furniture?” she asks. “If I tried to build so much as a card table, I’m sure it would collapse.”

  Actually, based on what I’ve seen of Brekka, she’d probably craft a work of art on her first go. “It was part of my therapy after I broke my back. There was a veteran’s group in Florida that taught skills for handicapped people, and one of the things you can do quite well, even from a chair, is specific woodworking tasks.”

  “Really! I would never have thought of that.”

  “You need an equipped shop, but yes.”

  “That’s kind of amazing. It’s like you drifted along in life, pleasing other people, like your best friend with enlisting, and then when things went completely south, you found your real calling by accident.”

  Drifted along? “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard anyone describe joining the Marines as ‘drifting along.’”

  “I didn’t mean it as an insult. You’re clearly a pleaser.”

  “What now?”

  “Someone who cares about the feelings of those he loves and puts their needs before his own.”

  I can’t quite help my scowl. “I’m plenty selfish. Believe me.”

  “Really?” She folds her hands in front of her. “This should be good. In what ways are you selfish, Robbie Graham?”

  “Well for one, I take care of no one but myself. I work out when I want, eat when I want, and make furniture whenever I want.”

  “Except when you’re running a business you don’t like for your family.”

  “For which I’m being paid pretty handsomely.” Probably not an amount she’d consider impressive, but it’s a lot for me.

  She shrugs.

  “My point, before we got sidetracked, was that making furniture is a little like painting. A handful of people make money at it, but the majority of the poor saps painting their hearts out barely cover their costs. So not only would it leave my family high and dry, but it wouldn’t pay my bills either. It’s just not feasible as a real career, no matter how much I wish it was.” My dad used those exact words when I came back from Miami able to walk, but barely ‘recovered’ from my broken back a full year after the accident.

  She stares at me for a moment. “You do know that my job is making the unfeasible into something that’s feasible.”

  Great. Now I’m one of her broken companies and she wants to save me. That’s hot, I’m sure.

  “I don’t need help,” I say. “I’m perfectly able to manage my own life. And my family matters more to me than anything. They matter way more than any hobby ever could. So thanks for offering to help, but I don’t need it. I’ll keep managing the car dealerships until I’m so old I can’t see my computer screen, if that’s what my family needs.”

  “And Geo?”

  “What about her?” I shift a little in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable.

  “Is she family to you?”

  “Essentially,” I say. “She’s my oldest friend, and now she’s my closest friend. We lost someone together, and then we recovered together, emotionally for her, and physically and emotionally for me.”

  Brekka grunts softly. “Speaking of, how was your fake date with Paisley?”

  I lean forward in my seat enough to shift my hand closer. I don’t want to spook her, so I don’t take her hand, but my fingers brush hers. “It went so well that I booked a flight to Colorado after I got back home.”

  Her small smile brightens the entire room. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Liar.”

  “Why’d you agree to go on a date with her if you didn’t want to?”

  “Maybe I did want to. Maybe I tried to kiss her and our teeth banged together and she slapped me.”

  Brekka rolls her eyes. “Be serious.”

  “Geo has been trying to set me up with Pais since the day I stupidly confessed my love for her.” I want to suck the words back the second they fly out, but Brekka doesn’t look surprised.

  “And?”

  “I’ve known Paisley for a long time and never shown any interest. She hasn’t either, but for some reason, Geo saw her friend as the perfect solution to her own guilt for crushing my poor heart.” Again, no reaction from Brekka. I shouldn’t be annoyed, but for some reason I am. Why isn’t she upset that I liked Geo?

  “What about Paisley?”

  “She feels the same. No interest.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I shrug. “None I’ve sensed, and none she’s ever expressed. She was mildly annoyed when I utterly failed at convincing Trig and Geo that I had an interest in her on Saturday. If she actually liked me, I think she’d have been angry, not annoyed.”

  Brekka purses her lips.

  “When I told her about you, she reacted. Not with jealousy, but she wants me to videotape the interaction when I tell Trig that I like his sister.”

  Brekka laughs out loud. “Actually, I’d like a copy of that too.”

  “Hey Trig. I just wanted to tell you that your sister’s lip gloss tastes like sugar plums, and I can’t get enough of it. We cool?” I make air guns with my hands.

  Brekka laughs harder. The people around us glance our way. “Then once you’ve videotaped that, can you tell my mom next?”

  “I’m glad it’s so hilarious, the thought of me telling your family we’re dating.”

  “My mom calls Geo the Vixen,” Brekka says. “As though she somehow entrapped Trig with her face. As if a real gold-digger would have encouraged Trig to abandon his family money. It would be hard to imagine a more adorable daughter-in-law than Geo. So if my mom can criticize her, I could bring the president’s son home and she’d be upset he wore a blue tie.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll let my dad know to prepare to run for office, and I’ll stock up on red ties.”

  “Great plan. I’ll pencil in your first meeting with my mom for…” Brekka glances down at her phone as if looking at her calendar. “Did you want three years from now, knowing I’d have to bump that, or never? Both are currently available.”

  “She can’t be that bad. Moms love me, you know, just for the record. I think it’s the purple heart, but it could be this winning smile.” I flash a cheesy grin at her.

&
nbsp; “Oh my gosh, did you just flex your pecs?”

  My face heats. “Absolutely not. If they drew your attention, it’s just their general fabulousness, I’m sure.”

  “You totally did.”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny your outrageous allegations. But I will note for the record that you’ve been staring at my chest ever since I arrived.”

  This time Brekka’s face turns red. “Guilty.” Her phone rings and when she glances down at it, her mouth drops and she grabs the tabletop with her left hand.

  “Is everything okay?”

  She doesn’t take the call.

  “I take it that dear old Mom’s ears were burning?”

  She shakes her head. “It’s nothing. I’ll call them back.”

  Now I’m curious. “It didn’t look like nothing.”

  Brekka lifts her eyes to mine slowly. “It’s a doctor. I guess it’s a doctor who works for me. I had a call set up with him that I forgot about.”

  “A call scheduled for right now?” I ask.

  “Yeah, but it’s okay.”

  I guess skipping out on scheduled meetings is less horrifying when you’re worth twenty billion dollars. “I don’t mind if you need to talk to him.”

  She shakes her head, her face and hands pale as cream.

  “What’s the call about?” I ask. “You seem pretty worked up. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’m a decent listener.”

  “You like hiking, right?” Brekka asks.

  This again? “Uh, we’ve been over this. I’ll lodge my formal response as ‘sort of.’”

  “Imagine if you could never hike again.”

  “I don’t need a crystal ball to figure out what you’re getting at here.”

  “I guess not. But it hit me hard on the weekend that I couldn’t go hiking. If I’m being blunt, I can never so much as go for a stroll around the block.”

  “You can go around the block in your wheelchair,” I say. “I know that’s not exactly the same, but there are still other ways to do what you want to do. Right now.”

  “I can’t ski.”

  “They have sit skis,” I say. “Or something like that. You could totally still carve down a mountain.”

  “You’re intentionally missing the point,” Brekka says. “Or you’re just being argumentative. I’m not sure which is more irritating.”

  I sigh. “I take your point. And the call from the doctor has to do with that?”

  She nods. “Trig’s been after me to talk to docs about alternative treatments for years.”

  “And you’re considering them?” I ask. “Now?”

  “I am.”

  “I don’t want to overstep here, but can I ask why you’re considering them now when you haven’t before?”

  “If you’re implying it’s because of you,” Brekka says flatly, “it’s not. If I try something experimental, it’s for me.”

  I throw my hands up. “Relax, okay? I was just wondering what prompted it. I looked into a lot of those when I was lying in a hospital. They didn’t have great rates of success a few years ago.”

  “You’re right. But the fact that they have success sometimes, albeit limited, might be enough.”

  “They’re risky.” I’ve inched forward on my chair, and my fists are clenched tightly. I’ve gotten a little more upset than I should. I force myself to lean back in my chair. “I understand the attraction, okay? But what exactly are you considering?”

  Brekka lifts her chin. “There have been some amazing things coming from stem cell treatments.”

  “Only when the spine is opened up and stem cells applied locally, in conjunction with scar cell removal protocols.”

  She nods. “You know a surprising amount about it.”

  I shrug. “I keep up on it. A bunch of my friends are still wheelchair users, you know.” I keep my voice as level as possible. “From what I’ve heard, those are very, very risky.”

  “That’s your opinion. And the risk is only as high as the quality of life you’re putting in jeopardy.”

  I don’t even try to keep my voice even this time. “Are you implying your life isn’t worth much?”

  “What if I am?” she asks. “It’s my life to value.”

  I rub my face with my hands to try and calm down. “Yes, it is, and you’re alive for it, and mobile, and healthy. That can all change.”

  “That’s true for you, and for those people right behind us, and our waiter, and everyone else in this restaurant.”

  “That doesn’t mean they should go lay down on train tracks,” I yell.

  Our waiter appears at Brekka’s side. “Is everything okay, Miss Thornton?” He scowls at me.

  “It’s fine.” Brekka’s lips compress tightly. “We were just finishing. Can you send the check to my office?” The stress lines around her eyes are back, and this time it’s my fault.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset. You’re right, of course, and you’re unbelievably bright. I’m sure you’re evaluating the risks and benefits and the most up to date clinical data. I’m sure I don’t have all the information.”

  “I am, and you don’t.”

  She doesn’t say much else when we head for her car and return to her office.

  Her assistant greets her with several messages.

  “I guess you have a lot of work to do?”

  She nods brusquely.

  “Did you want to meet me for dinner tonight?” I have no idea how we went from brushing fingers and flirting to this awkward, anger filled space.

  Her face softens infinitesimally. “I can’t, unfortunately. I had no idea you were coming, of course, and I’m speaking at an awards banquet. Nometry provides scholarships for a few local kids every year.”

  Of course they’d want one of the founders to speak. It’s probably icing on the cake that she’s so smart, beautiful and talented. I’ve never had an out of body experience in my life. Even when I was thrown from the Humvee, or when I laid in a hospital bed wondering if I’d ever feel anything but pain. I never experienced anything like that during my never-ending surgeries, or when I saw the vacant eyes of my dead best friend from a stretcher next to me. But suddenly, here in the middle of the Nometry building, I see myself as if from the outside, as if I’m floating above my own body.

  Robbie Graham is a washed up Marine. He never went to college. He runs a few car dealerships, but he doesn’t even enjoy doing it. And to top it all off, he wants to glue wooden sticks together and sell them. Even his Dad knows a hobby like that can’t support a single guy with very limited wants, much less a family. Such a clear loser could never impress the valedictorian of the entire college of economics at Vanderbilt. There is no way that Robbie Graham could ever be worthy of Brekka Thornton, much less impress her.

  She’d never have even glanced my way, except that my friend is marrying her brother.

  I think back on the time I spent with Brekka. It’s short, so it doesn’t take long. I asked her out and she turned me down. I asked her to stay and she flew home. I mentioned ‘another time’ when we’d have a date in the future and made a joke about it. Then she almost died laughing when I mentioned the idea of telling her mom or brother we were dating. Because it’s such a stupid idea.

  I’m an imbecile.

  She’s trying to kindly brush me off. She wants me to go home. She’s been telling me she’s not interested from the very beginning, and here I am, flying out to Colorado, kissing her in her own office. I even convinced myself that she threatened to fire her assistant for interrupting a great kiss, and not because she wanted to keep her assistant from telling anyone about it.

  Of course I would misinterpret everything. I’ve never been to college, I have no business expertise, and my dream is to build custom tables and chairs. I’m Little League and she’s pitching for the Majors. This entire trip, or actually, my entire pursuit was completely hopeless from the start.

  “Well, I guess I’ll head back to
the airport then,” I say slowly.

  Stop me. Object to my statement. Ask me to stay, please. Anything. I’ll run with any encouragement at all.

  She doesn’t even blink.

  Maybe I can preserve a tiny shred of pride so I can face her at the upcoming wedding. “I should’ve gone to auction today, but I imagine I can rectify that tomorrow.”

  Brekka’s eyes widen, but she still doesn’t argue. She doesn’t tell me to stay. She doesn’t even look upset that I’m leaving. Even if it hurts, that’s my final answer. When I walk out of the office, I try not to look back, but I can’t help myself.

  When I turn around, she’s talking to someone in the office, and she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, which only twists the dagger deeper.

  9

  Brekka

  I should never have brought attention to the fact that I can’t hike or do anything fun at all. Rob obviously can’t push me to take medical risks, and he clearly hadn’t thought about how dating me would ruin his life. He’d never hike again without feeling guilty. He’d never even be able to so much as go for a jog without leaving me behind. We couldn’t ever do any normal couple things together. We couldn’t take casual strolls, or hop into a car without thinking or planning ahead of time. He’d have to wait for me to break down my wheelchair and consider what car I might fit in every single time we traveled anywhere, even for something as simple as grabbing coffee.

  Forever.

  I don’t even blame him for racing home, because I’d probably have done the same thing if our roles were reversed. I mean, how stupid am I? One dinner together, and then halfway through our second date, I suggest he quit his job and move to Colorado? When he doesn’t warm to the idea, I try to bludgeon him into admitting he’d rather build furniture?

  What did I expect him to do? If he had asked me to move to Atlanta… Well I might actually consider that since Trig’s there. But if he’d suggested it a year ago, I’d have asked security to remove him from the building. And I tried to convince him to quit helping his family and stop being a pleaser for them… so he could do it for me instead? I made one catastrophic mistake after another.