Tooty wanted to kiss the ground when Miles pulled the van in front of her humble little country home. They'd only been gone a week and it felt like a month. Her flowers needed watering and the porch had leaves and debris blown across it. She couldn't wait to get to work.
While unloading their baggage she felt Miles watching her. She wondered if he was sad to leave his home in New York or if he'd developed a fondness for simple living. Granted, his home was beautiful and posh, but it was also cold and uninviting. She looked at him and asked bluntly, "What are you thinking, Miles?"
He gave her a surprised look. "I was thinking how well this home suits you."
Now she was the one to be surprised. "Yes, it does," she replied.
The evening was still young after tucking Harris into bed, and although Tooty was tired from the long trip and then piddling around her house, she didn't want to call it a night. Miles had retired early.
Suddenly feeling the urge to write, she retrieved her box of poetry and walked outside to sit on the porch swing. Rereading her unfinished poem under the dim lamp light, she listened to crickets chirp and owls hoot, willing more words to come.
His eyes, the color of love
Paint my soul with living shades.
He is the shadow of my dreams;
He knows me as no other.
Will I ever meet him?
Do miles separate us?
Or is he the bright star in my backyard?
Is he fey?
Or is he man?
She pondered and then wrote.
He is near, yet so far.
I am young, but old in hurt.
He is old, but unaware of his youth.
We are paradoxes of ourselves.
How shall we end our sweet torment?
She sighed and looked at the stars, so close and yet so far. She reread her poem, and then read it again. Inhaling sharply, she saw what her unconscious mind—no, her heart—had written. She picked out the words: miles, bright, man. Miles Brightman. Squeezing her eyes shut, she allowed herself to accept her feelings. She hated the fact that he and Monica were together because...because...she cared deeply for him. She whispered to herself, "Tooty, you're screwed."
* * *
Three weeks after arriving back in Colorado, Miles typed the last word in his book and leaned back in his wheelchair. Other than proofreading and editing, it was finished. Two emotions attached themselves to him, elation and sadness—elation that it was finally done, sadness that his time in Colorado was almost over. Face it, you've grown fond of Tooty and Harris and this ramshackle house.
Rolling to his bedroom window he watched Harris pushing a Tonka truck around in the dirt and Tooty hoeing weeds in her small garden. He smiled remembering the excitement on her face when she'd plucked her first ripe tomato.
A swirl of dust indicated the approach of a vehicle. A big monster truck rounded the curve and stopped at the back of the drive. Rarely did anyone come to the house and this certainly wasn't Tooty's mother or father, Sage or Sarah Tanner, or Jacob or Julie Hackstetter. He watched Tooty's stance turn from one of welcome to one of out-and-out hostility. She rushed and bent over Harris, saying something and motioning him toward the house. He said something back and pointed to his toy truck. She admonished him and he walked toward the porch sulking. A tall guy wearing a cowboy hat got out of the truck.
Miles decided it was time to make an appearance. When he rolled into the living room, Harris was peeking out the window and asked, "Mister Brightperson, who is that man?"
"I don't know, Harris. Hey, you know those Legos we started making a castle with..."
"Yeah?"
"Have you finished?"
"No. Not yet."
"Why don't you run to your room and see how much you can get done? After I check on your mom, I'll come back and help you work on it."
Already, Harris had his mind on the project. "Okay. I'll do it right now." He ran to his room.
Miles rolled onto the front porch, down the access ramp, and onto packed earth toward the truck. He could see from Tooty's expression that she wasn't happy to see this guy.
"I just want to see the kid," the tall cowboy said, leaning against the fender of his truck.
"No way. I want you off my property."
Miles saw the cowboy's eyes shift to him at his approach and Tooty turned around. He asked, "Tooty, is everything okay?"
"Is this your boyfriend?" the cowboy smirked.
Before she could answer, the jerk continued, "Howdy, I'm Lucky Larry, Harris' father. And you are..."
"A friend of Tooty's."
"Well, friend of Tooty's, like I was tellin' her. I'd like to get to know my son."
Tooty rounded on him. "To hell you would. You just want to check out my good fortune in inheriting my own place. Now that you've seen it isn't much. You can leave."
The insolent cowboy dismissed Miles' presence and returned his attention to Tooty. "You're right about it not bein' much, but looks like you've had some expensive repairs done. So you must've gotten some money in the inheritance, or..." he looked at Miles, "...lover boy has money."
Miles reached for his cell phone and dialed 911. The operator immediately answered. "Please send an officer to 722 Wild Tulip Drive. We have an intruder."
Lucky Larry scowled at Miles and said to Tooty, "I think I need to see my attorney about visitation rights with my son, unless, of course, we can come to some kind of agreement. I've had a slow season on the circuit and just need a little something to tide me over." He jerked the door to his truck open, jumped inside, looked from Miles to Tooty, and winked. "You were a real sweet ride, baby. Give me a call later." Jamming the truck into gear he peeled out in a cloud of dust.
Miles dialed 911 again and canceled the emergency. He looked at Tooty. Big tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Aw, honey." He didn't know what else to say.
She blinked rapidly and swiped at her eyes. "I-I'm really sorry you had to witness that."
"I'm glad I witnessed it so I could help."
"I just feel...so embarrassed."
Miles reached and grasped Tooty's hand, gently tugging her onto his lap. She turned her face into his neck and sobbed, "He makes me feel so dirty. I can't believe I fell for his line. What if he does what he threatens and tries to get parenting time with Harris? I don't have the money to hire an attorney. I swear I'll flee across the country before I let Harris become influenced by that shithead."
"Honey, it's not going to come to that." Miles smoothed his hand down her wavy hair and rubbed tears from her cheeks with his thumb. Pulling her tight, he continued caressing her hair and murmuring words of encouragement. Finally, she sat up and looked at him.
"I've soaked your shirt." She half-smiled.
Miles' heart somersaulted at the sweetness in her expression. If he'd had the use of his legs, he would have pulverized that bastard.
Her lower lip trembled. "I have to tell you something."
He waited.
"Even though I hate the guy, I-I wouldn't change anything because...because he gave me Harris." Tears overflowed again.
Miles smiled. "I understand what you're saying. Harris was worth it all, sweetheart."
"Thank you for understanding," she whispered.
A voice from the porch yelled. "Can I come out now? Mister Brightperson is helping me finish the castle."
Miles smiled at Tooty. "Are you ready to go in?"
"Yes." She swiped the last of her tears away and started to climb off his lap.
"No, stay." He pushed the wheelchair's joystick and scooted over the hard earth toward the house.
Harris started jumping up and down on the porch. "Can I go for a ride, too?" He ran to meet them.
Miles said, "You betcha; as soon as I get your mom on the porch." When Tooty climbed off his lap, Harris was on it in a flash. "You go rest, Tooty. I'll watch Harris."
She gave him a weak smile and mouthed the words, "Thank you."
Miles whizzed down the ramp. Finding the most level spot, he turned the chair in circles, which made Harris shout, "We're flying!"
Miles laughed with him. "Yes, son, we're flying."
* * *
Tooty splashed water on her puffy eyes and blew her nose. Unable to meditate on the encounter with Harris' lowlife father or the ensuing comfort from Miles, she reached into her nightstand and withdrew the diary.
Thursday, April 20, 1865
I woke up so excited. Today Pa and me picked up the rolling chair. I would gladly give everything I own and work for the rest of my life to pay off this gift for Eli. I told Pa a week ago what I was doing and he got tears in his eyes. He said I should keep the extra money I'd worked so hard for because he wanted to make up the difference. My sisters put money in, too, so Pa wouldn't have to pay so much. He needs his money to keep our little ranch going.
When we got to the blacksmith's, Jed told me to sit in the chair so he could show me how it works. After we got home, Maddie said Eli was reading the dime novel I'd bought for him. I was hoping it would help him come out of his depression. Pa has also been teaching him how to whittle and sometimes he carries Eli to a chair on the porch. Yesterday, Eli spent two hours whittling. His attempts don't look like much, but he's sure trying.
I was so excited about the rolling chair that I ran in the house while Pa unloaded it. Eli looked surprised when I rushed toward him. My sisters knew we were picking up the chair today and ran to his bedside, too. I spoke so fast my words didn't make much sense. He almost smiled when he asked me to repeat myself.
Pa came in at that moment and told Eli he had a surprise. Then he rolled the chair in the house. I started babbling again about how he could now go places by himself. He got this stunned look when he saw the chair and his eyes got moist. I started crying and so did my sisters. Even Pa got choked up.
For the rest of my life I will cherish helping this man who is so wounded in spirit and body find a thread of hope to cling to.