therapy, and interim prosthetic therapy, that my head was spinning. I admit I didn’t adhere to the usual patient guidelines.”
“You aren’t exactly the usual patient,” she said.
“Bingo.” He took a deep breath. “Dan ran the ranch and my mother helped. I needed to take that load from them as soon as possible.”
“Is your mother still living in the main house?”
“Yeah. She and my niece just left for California. They’ve gone to visit my sisters, then meet up with Dan and his wife.”
“Dan’s married?”
“Yeah. Sort of a newlywed, too. He postponed his honeymoon for me.”
“That’s a great brother.” She paused, thinking. “Family is everything, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets me through the day.”
“And faith,” she said softly, her eyes averted.
“Truthfully, I’m not sure what faith is anymore.” Joe cleared his throat. “No disrespect. I know you’ve been through a lot, and if your faith is what helped you, then good for you.”
“Good for me?” She offered a scoffing laugh. When she met his gaze, her eyes were hard and unflinching. “But we’re not here to talk about me, are we?”
He nodded. “Understood.”
“I need you to fill out this paperwork.”
Joe groaned. “More paperwork? OrthoBorne is big on it, aren’t they?” He glanced at the clock. “Could we save that for another session? I’m getting behind on my day.”
“I promise this is the last of it.”
He looked her in the eye. “You know what’s been the most difficult part of this transition?”
“What’s that?”
“Learning to write with my left hand. I’ll do anything to get out of paper shuffling.”
Becca paused. “We are in the field. I’m willing to compromise. We can skip that and go straight to shadowing. However, don’t be surprised if I come up with some unique teaching sessions while I’m shadowing you.”
“Deal.” He looked at her. “What do you mean by shadowing?”
“That means that I show up tomorrow and follow you around for a couple of days, asking you the questions. I basically need to document the tasks that make up the majority of your workday so I can create a plan of care for your specific occupational therapy.”
“I get up at four thirty, and I’m ready to start the day at five.
“Seriously?”
“Too early for you?”
“No. I meant you’re okay with me following you around from dawn to dusk for a few days?”
“I’ll do anything to avoid wasting my time—” he glanced with distaste at the paperwork “—checking little boxes and writing answers to inane questions. But five seems a little early for someone who isn’t punching a clock.”
“I understand my job, thank you. This is all about getting to know your world. So if you start your day at five, so do I, at least to start with.”
“Fair enough. I’ll meet you at the barn.” He glanced at her outfit. “You do have boots, right?”
“Yes. Several pairs, in fact.”
“Ranch boots. We’re not talking city girl, fancy boots.”
“Yes, ranch boots. You seem to forget that I worked on a ranch with my father practically my whole life.”
“I didn’t forget.” He paused. “But people change.”
“I’m still the same ranch girl I was twelve years ago.”
“I guess we’ll see,” Joe murmured.
“I guess we will,” Becca answered without missing a beat. She closed the cover on her tablet.
“What time does your crew arrive?”
“Nine thirty.”
“They’re late,” he observed with a glance at the big stainless-steel clock on the wall.
“I don’t want to keep you from your chores.” She began to pack up her briefcase. “I’ll wait outside for them.”
“You’re welcome to wait in the house.”
“Oh, no. I’ll wait outside.”
“Your call.” He reached for his keys, with his left hand, and fumbled. The keys clattered to the oak floor.
An awkward silence ensued as they both stared at the ground between them.
“I got ’em.” Joe scooped up the keys with his other hand and shoved them in his pocket.
“Do you mind if I give you a little impromptu lesson?” Becca asked.
“Okay,” he said slowly.
“You’re using the myoelectric hand statically.”
“Pardon me?”
“Static. Like a placeholder. I’ve observed your hand mostly in the relaxed position. You have quite a few positions available. Utilize them. The more you do, the more it will be automatic. Like the lateral pinch. You could have picked up the keys that way.” She demonstrated, putting her own keys on the table. “See how much more accurate?”
He nodded. “I’ll, ah, give it a try.”
“I hope you will. Why not maximize the technology? After all, it’s yours, and the photographer will want to see you taking advantage of their product.”
Becca was right. He might not be paying for the prosthesis in cash, but he was paying for it by agreeing to OrthoBorne’s offer. And he had been pretty much ignoring the technology, thinking maybe if he did, maybe he could ignore the fact that he was an amputee.
All he’d really wanted was for life to go back to the way it was before the accident. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe his way wasn’t working. Maybe the Lord had other plans despite the fact that he’d been ignoring Him, as well.
But was he ready for what was in store?
Rebecca leaned against her Honda. She checked her watch and then focused her gaze on the main road. Late was an understatement. Joe had been gone two hours. Her stomach growled, and she wondered what the day’s special was at Patti Jo’s Café and Bakery in downtown Paradise.
Things with Joe had gone better than she expected. He wasn’t nearly as surly this morning as he’d been on Saturday at their unexpected reunion. She pushed away the worrisome thoughts that hovered nearby. This was going to work out. It had to.
That was, if the team would show up. She pulled her cell from her pocket to call the OrthoBorne offices in Denver. When she looked up, a big white pickup truck, with rooftop bar lights and the logo of the Paradise Sheriff’s Department, appeared on the road to the ranch, moving to the arched entrance. Behind it was a black SUV, kicking up a cloud of dust on the gravel road.
A police escort to the ranch?
She hurried to the drive and met the sheriff’s vehicle as it pulled up.
The uniformed officer unfolded his tall form and stepped out and placed a tan Stetson on his head. “I’m Sam Lawson.” He reached out to grasp her hand in a strong handshake. “You must be Rebecca Simpson.” His eyes were warm with welcome.
“Yes.