I had less, I wouldn’t give you anything. It wouldn’t help. You’re too far down. You can’t sell the place. Live with the consequences and let it go.”
“My brother,” Lane said, his voice heavily sarcastic. “This is how a so-called Christian like you helps out his own flesh and blood.”
“Giving you money isn’t necessarily a Christlike thing. I’ve got my own plans, Lane.”
“Your training arena?” Lane snorted. “Don’t be a fool. You don’t have enough money without your share of this ranch.”
Joe pressed his lips together, praying he could ignore the derision in Lane’s voice.
“There’s a perfectly good arena on this place,” Lane continued. “You could rent it from me.”
“We’ve gone over that already, Lane, and you know the answer. The money from that is only an inch against the mile of debt you have.”
Lane slammed his fist against the table. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you, you self-righteous—” Lane sputtered, trying to find the right words. “You know what your problem is? You’re jealous. You’ve always been jealous.”
As Lane ranted on, Joe reminded himself of the verse in Proverbs. “He who keeps his tongue is wise.” He didn’t feel very wise right now, because he didn’t feel like holding his tongue. And his new-found faith was sorely tested by the grain of truth buried in Lane’s many angry words.
Yes, he had been jealous of his brother. Jealous of the fact that his father’s approval was bestowed more quickly on Lane than Joe. That no matter how many blisters and bruises Joe got pitching bales, handling calves or putting in fences, it was never enough.
Joe had struggled with the jealousy Lane accused him of, and it was still a source of discontent in his life that required daily prayer.
Joe held on to his temper, his hands clenched. He took a breath, got up, took his hat off the table and set it on his head. “My advice to you is let the bank take the ranch and then go out and get a real job.”
Lane looked contrite as he tried another tack. “I’m sorry, Joe. Really. There’s got to be a way to save this place. Doesn’t it mean anything to you at all?”
Joe looked around once more. The kitchen counter held dishes from a few meals. The floor was littered with crumbs. Beyond the archway to the living room, Joe saw the couch from his youth covered with magazines. A couple of beer cans lay on the floor beside it. He knew that an inspection of the bedrooms would show him the same things.
It looked much as it had when he was growing up.
“No,” Joe said with finality. “It means nothing.” He turned and left.
“So after the accident you began your physio program in Calgary?” Heather Anderson picked up a clipboard that held Rebecca’s physiotherapy program and flipped through a few of the pages.
“Yes.” Rebecca smoothed a wrinkle in her sweatpants, looking around the physio department of Wakely General Hospital. It was smaller than the one in Calgary. But the department in Calgary didn’t have Heather Anderson as an employee. And Heather was the therapist Rebecca wanted to work with.
Heather nodded and made a note on the chart. “According to your report, you’ve sustained some residual nerve damage as a result of the accident. You realize that this can’t be repaired no matter who you see?”
Rebecca nodded, suddenly hating the words and what they meant for her life. “So I’ve been told,” she replied, her voice tight.
Heather dropped the chart on the metal table beside the bed in the examining room, crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “So what makes you think I can do anything for you?” Heather’s question was blunt, but Rebecca appreciated her honesty.
“Because I heard you’re the best.” Rebecca tucked her hair behind her ear and looked up to meet Heather’s level gaze. “When I found out that you got married and moved out to Wakely, I knew I had to come here, as well. I read an article about a patient of yours and I asked around. I heard you’re hard to work for but I know you get results.”
“And what results do you want?”
Rebecca took a breath, hardly daring to voice her faint hope. It hurt to talk about broken dreams and promises to someone who could only help with her broken body. But she knew she had to be honest with Heather. “Before my accident, I just finished getting an education degree with a physical education major. I still have hopes of getting a job in that field someday. For that I need better mobility, and for that I need the help of someone considered the best. I decided to move here to get it.”
Heather nodded. “I thought you were going to be working at the bank for your brother-in-law, Troy.”
Rebecca wasn’t used to having the different parts of her life intersect as they did in this small town. “It’s temporary. Troy understands my situation. I sent applications out before I came to work here. I’m waiting to hear back from a few places yet. If something comes up in my field, then I’m free to leave.”
“You’re fortunate.” Heather tilted her head and studied Rebecca from a different viewpoint. “And you’re right about one thing. I do expect a lot of work. The first week I figure on having you here every day for an hour and then we’ll set up your program. What time can you come in?”
“Troy and I decided I would be working until three. I would like to come in then.”
“One thing I want you to be very clear on,” Heather said sternly. “What we are doing here is not repair. What we are doing is trying to make your walk look as natural as possible, compensating for the loss by using other muscles.” Heather raised her eyebrows as if in question. “I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to play sports again, or even walk properly, but we can try to get your body working at its maximum capability.”
“I know,” Rebecca replied, her voice quiet. She resented for a moment the finality in Heather’s voice. She looked up, meeting Heather’s hazel eyes. “Miracles are in God’s domain, but I intend to do what I can.”
Heather smiled in return. “Good for you. But we can definitely help, if you’re willing to work.”
“That I am,” Rebecca said emphatically.
“Then we’ll see you tomorrow at three.” Heather picked up the clipboard, shook Rebecca’s hand, brushed aside the curtain dividing the examining rooms and left.
Rebecca blew out her breath and slowly got off the bed. She was surprised to see her hands trembling as she changed from her sweatpants to her regular clothes.
It was strange how things had conspired to bring her to Wakely. Heather was known and respected in her field. When Rebecca found out she was working in the same place her sister lived, she decided to make the move.
She mentioned the fact to Jenna, and Troy offered her the temporary job in the bank. She knew this was what she had to do. Working in a bank wasn’t her dream, but it was something to do until her leg was stronger.
Rebecca buttoned up her blazer and tugged it straight, making the transition from patient to accounts manager. She caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror on the wall and paused,
