His lips curved into a smile, and he nodded his goodbye. She watched as he climbed back in his truck, executed a perfect three-point turn, and drove out of her lane and down the road. When he was finally out of sight, she fought the desire to collapse onto the ground and scream out her frustration. Just then, the humming from her alpacas caused her to turn and watch as they trotted over to the side where she had feed set out for them.
Refusing to give in to the conflicting emotions of fear and anger that Luca had brought forth, she went back to work. An hour later, the goats had been milked, all animals fed, and the barn mucked out.
She walked back to the three alpacas, once again running her fingers through their fleece, knowing that it would be time to shear them soon. She had seen goats and sheep being shorn and learned that the process would be very similar to the alpacas, except their size made the chore much more difficult to manage.
Cleopatra came to her readily, and she chatted for a few minutes with the beautiful animal, her mind still in turmoil.
Glad for an early morning run before the day became muggy, Scott jogged around the track at the nearby middle school. He was not alone, seeing quite a few of his friends running as well. Several were local law enforcement and keeping in shape was a requirement for their job. Others just liked the exercise.
“I figured I’d better get out here and start running if I was going to keep up with you at the AL race,” Jason called out.
“Well, hell, if it isn’t the bionic man,” Aiden shouted, coming up beside him.
Laughing, he said, “You’d better believe this contraption gives me ability, but I’m not sure I’ve got the speed of the bionic man.”
Looking to the side, he saw Joseph’s eyes drop to Scott’s blade prosthesis. “I’ll come in to see you once I get this race over with. I want something new around my leg near the amputation, and would like to get some ideas from you.” Joseph silently nodded, then continued to run.
As they ran around the track, he was soon surrounded by his group of friends, laughing and joking as they paced themselves. Many were married or engaged, and from their conversations, he discerned that impending fatherhood was first and foremost on their minds.
As the group slowly disbanded, he continued to run several more laps, now alone. Not one to wallow in self-pity, he had already faced the realization that it would take a very special woman to see past his amputation. In the last several years, he had found that some women’s interest in him waned almost immediately when they discovered that he was missing part of his leg. A few had even sworn that it would not make a difference until they were in the middle of getting hot and heavy but then could not get past the stump. Recently, he had not even attempted dating, deciding that his hand on his cock was going to have to make do until he could find the right woman.
As he slowed down and made his way to his SUV, the vision of Lizzie came to mind. She was beautiful, but it was obvious she had no idea of her appeal. She was strong, and yet, her vulnerability was not hidden.
Sighing as he sat down on the back of his opened SUV, he pulled off the carbon-fiber c-blade with a suction suspension socket. It had taken a lot of trial and error to find the proper fit, but now that he was used to running with the prosthetic, he appreciated the engineering. Twisting around, he grabbed his walking prosthesis, sliding on the variety of socks and sleeves. As he drove home to shower, Lizzie stayed on his mind, and he wished that he had made a more favorable impression on her.
Walking into his rental, he grinned at the enthusiastic greeting he gained from his dog. Bending, he gave Rufus a good rub down. Opening the back door, he threw a ball into the small yard, laughing as his three-legged dog bounded out of the house and across the grass, snagging the bright yellow ball in his mouth. Trotting back, he dropped it at Scott’s feet, who continued to throw it several more times before they finally went back into the kitchen.
After pouring kibble into Rufus’ dish, Scott headed to his shower. With the use of a shower chair so that he did not have to maintain his balance on the slippery tile, he quickly scrubbed off the sweat. With the aid of his crutch, he made his way back into the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he pulled on his boxers before he rubbed unscented powder over his residual limb. Gliding the liner on next, he then added several socks to make this fit comfortable. Standing, he stepped into his below the knee prosthesis and pressed down until he heard it locked into place. Sitting again, he slid his socked feet into his dress shoes before moving to his closet and choosing a shirt and tie to go with his dark pants.
Letting Rufus out once again to do his business, he finally headed to his office. It was time to determine how he could help Lizzie—and, hopefully, get to know her better.
7
A week had passed since Papa Beau’s funeral, and Lizzie wondered when she would be able to wake up and face the day with something besides a grimace at what needed to be done without her beloved grandfather around.
Forcing her body to go through the motions, she made it through her early morning chores, then pushed herself to take a shower and find something appropriate to wear. Her grandfather’s lawyer had asked her to come by, and he would go over Beau’s will with her. Standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom, she stared at her reflection. Her hair was brushed and pulled back with a headband. She was wearing a pair of dark slacks with a blue blouse. Boring, but acceptable. She lifted her gaze but hated seeing the haunted look in her eyes, so she quickly turned away.
Grabbing her purse, she headed out to Beau’s old truck. It wheezed to life as she crossed her fingers over the steering wheel. She hoped she would not see anyone in town she knew, not wanting to make conversation. She had nothing new to say. Yes, I’m fine. Yes, I miss him, too. Yes, I’ll call if I need anything. Glad to find a parking place outside the lawyer’s office, she executed a horrible parallel parking job. Climbing from the truck, she glanced down to brush a few stray strands of straw from her pants. That’s what happens when you drive in a farm truck.
Looking at the old brick-front office, she pulled on the door and stepped in, nodding politely toward the receptionist. Mrs. Grassley had been working with the lawyer for as long as she could remember.
“My dear, Lizzie, I’m so sorry about your grandfather,” the receptionist said, standing from her desk and offering her hand. Clutching it for a moment, she said, “Follow me. Mr. Barker is ready for you.”
Lizzie was grateful that Mrs. Grassley had not gone on and on about her grandfather but assumed that the elderly receptionist had watched many grieving relatives move through the lobby toward the lawyer’s office. Obediently following, she was ushered into the office and smiled slightly toward Preston Barker, Beau’s longtime friend and lawyer.
He stood and hurried around his desk toward her, his hand extended in greeting. “Lizzie, I know how difficult this is for you. I’m so glad you could come in today.” He led her toward a comfortably-worn leather chair and continued, “I loved Beau dearly. I miss him so very much.”
With her hand warmly clasped in his, she allowed his words to move through her, fully understanding that she was not the only one grieving. Her slight smile was sincere as she said, “I know what good friends the two of you were. I’m glad you were in his life.”