Chapter 1

Wesley looked up at the ceiling of his room and released a slow, relaxing breath. He'd survived his first night at Hathaway. Now, there was both excitement and trepidation as to what was coming. He'd had everything explained to him last night, and that was all fine and dandy, but explanations were not the same thing as reality. He understood there would be a day of rest but also some testing, if they could work that in for today. As long as it was not strenuous, he was okay with it.

As he rested on the hospital bed, he was surprised at how well he'd slept. He hadn't slept well for a long time. Maybe a sign of good things to come. He shifted and reached out for his phone, grateful that he could get it all set up with numbers for his team and got it charged last night. He checked to see several texts from friends, one asking how Hathaway House was and another from his mother, asking how the trip was.

Holding the phone on his lap with his bed now adjusted, so he was sitting a little bit higher, he carefully answered. He was still adjusting to not being able to hold his phone properly, what with one arm and no prosthetic on the other. Right now, he had to lay down the phone and text with his good hand. He could use voice commands but he was just stubborn enough to want to improve his physical abilities that he put up with being slow on his phone for the moment.

It took time, but he answered everybody, while looking up at times to check the view out his window. He could tell that, as much as he didn't want to admit it so much to himself, he was looking to see if that woman he'd seen on his way in was out there riding again. She'd looked so at home on a horse that he figured she had to be somebody who either worked with them all the time or at least got out and rode all the time. Something he would love to do, and seeing her out there had given him hope that that was possible here. Still, he was a long way away from that yet.

He threw back the covers, grabbed his crutch that he kept close by, and hobbled to the bathroom, thankful that his missing arm and his missing leg were on opposite sides. Done with that, he eyed the shower, wondering where his strength level was at but figured that he would be okay, so he went through the process. He wasn't bad at handling some things on his own, but other things he really sucked at.

Yet he was getting better all the time. And seeing his paramedic on the way here with his own prosthetic—and farther down the road than Wesley currently was—had given him something to think about. Of course many veterans and others had a missing leg, but nobody ever seemed to have a missing arm.

However, that wasn't true. He'd certainly met a lot of people who had an arm missing and even some—like him—who had both missing. It seemed easier to blame the circumstances, saying that things were different because he had a unique situation. Yet really everybody was unique. It was all how they utilized what they had.

Wesley wanted to get proficient or better than proficient at doing without two limbs. And that was a problem. Because, so far, every time he'd tried to get back on his prosthetic leg, he had sored up his stump. The surgeries had put him back under but had built up his leg stump and his arm stump with a thick layer of muscle-bound skin. He had high hopes for both areas now, but he still hadn't been cleared to get back up on his leg prosthetic.

That, he knew, would make a huge difference in his mental outlook. Just something about being vertical was inspiring, but it wouldn't help any for his missing arm, and he knew it. He'd already heard all those platitudes about, Hey, be grateful you still have one arm, be grateful that it's your left arm that's missing and not your right, on and on, blah, blah, blah, blah. And they always came from people who had two arms.

As much as Wesley understood why they were doing it, it was also hard to listen to that over and over again. He had other things in his life besides that to deal with, but he was working on getting to the point where it didn't bother him as much. He wasn't there yet, and he knew it. But maybe, just maybe, he would get there.

When a knock came at his door, he called out, "Come in." He pulled the sheet up over his stump and hips. He was just wearing his khaki pants. A woman stepped in, and he vaguely remembered her from last night. "Hey." He gave her a smile. "I think your name's Dani."

"Yep, good memory."

He shrugged. "I saw a lot of new faces last night," he admitted, "but I don't remember what your role is."

"That's fine," she replied gently. "I came here to see if you are up for going down for breakfast."

He nodded. "I'm kinda hungry."

"Good." She walked over and pivoted his wheelchair and pushed it toward him. "Let's go. I'm hungry too." When he frowned at her, she shrugged. "I run the place, so I have breakfast here too."

"Oh, right, you're that Dani."

"I don't know that there's another Dani here," she teased, "but, yep, I'm definitely that Dani."

Flushing and feeling a bit embarrassed that he hadn't remembered that part, he added, "I think I saw you when I first came in yesterday, out with the horses?"

"Yes." She smiled and nodded. "We were out for a ride."

"Yeah, another woman was with you," he noted blithely, "a redhead."

Dani laughed. "Her name's Alba. She works here too."

"Does she?" He looked up at her in surprise.

She nodded. "She's an old friend of mine from high school, and, when an opening came, I convinced her to come."

"And what does she do?"

"She's one of the counselors on board and is just completing her PhD in psychology."

"Interesting. So is that somebody I'll possibly talk with regarding my issues?"

"It's possible," Dani replied. "I would have to see whether she's on your team or not. Is that a problem if she is?" He shook his head, but maybe shook it a little too fast because her grin flashed in his direction. "Glad to hear that. Now, get your butt in here." She pointed at the wheelchair, a big grin on her face.

He threw back the covers, and, with her firmly holding the wheelchair, he hopped over and sat down. He grabbed his T-shirt nearby and pulled it on.

She looked at his empty pant leg. "Do you want it pinned up?"

"No, I generally just roll it, like this." And he showed her as he rolled it and tucked it underneath.

"As long as it's comfortable for you," she noted. Then she stepped behind him and pushed him forward.

"I can roll on my own," he protested.

"You can, but today's a long day of testing for you," she shared. "So today you get the treatment."

"Okay, but, just so you know, I am perfectly capable."

"Glad to hear that," she said cheerfully. "A lot to be ready for today. So just be aware that there will be lots of situations that might throw you off."

"Got it, so, in that case, I'll accept the help gratefully."

"Good. Around here, we encourage everyone to accept all the help offered," she stated.

As they went along the hallway, he asked questions about the various places on the floor.

"Yep, this is an open sitting area for everybody," she murmured. "There's also a pool table, some Ping-Pong tables."

"Ping-Pong." He had to laugh. "My reflexes are not up to that."

"Doesn't mean they won't be soon," she pointed out.

He hesitated, then didn't say anything else.

After a moment she looked at him and asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Just this question is in the back of my head, but it seems foolish, so I'm trying to argue with myself about asking it."

"Ask away," Dani urged. "The only stupid question is the one you didn't ask."

He laughed at that. "I guess what I really want to know is, does anybody…" He hesitated again, and then the words came out in a rush. "Does anybody ever fail here?"

"Fail?" she repeated, rolling the word around her tongue. "I don't know that failure is really a word that we ever use here.… We have people who do phenomenally well. We have people who do great. We have people who do well. We have had a couple people who returned to the hospital because they'd overdone it, and we have had people who've gone to hospital because other conditions came up, and no way we could fix them here," she explained. "I don't think failure is exactly something that I've ever heard used."

"So do you ever send people away because they're not showing progress? Do you send people away because they're too difficult to get along with?" He again paused. "I've heard a lot about this place. The paramedic on the way over had a lot to say, and it was all good and positive, but it's like all those reviews on the big online stores. You read them all, and then you wonder how much people got paid to write them, and you start to get jaded."

"I understand that," she admitted. "It's one of the reasons, when I come to reviews, I tend not to read the one stars. Those are usually people pissed about a product and either didn't do anything to fix it or didn't return it to be replaced or whatever the reason. I usually go to the three-star reviews and see what criticisms people have."

Wesley nodded. "I've done something similar too. But it is a bit of a concern that everybody's got all these glowing reports about Hathaway House. And then you come to the point where you're wondering if you'll match up."

"Meaning that you might be the one person who doesn't make it?" Dani asked, frowning.

He looked over at her. "I guess that sounds foolish, doesn't it?"

"I've heard that worry quite a few times from our patients."

"Really?" he asked, twisting in his seat to look up at her.

"Yes, and glad to see you don't have any back problems."

He looked at her and realized that his mobility told her a lot. "Me too. Generally my back isn't too bad.… The problem has been lack of muscle on the stumps, so they don't interact well with the prosthetics." He tapped his little wing. "This causes me the most trouble."

She nodded. "According to the medical records, it's sored up from use, but it's usable. Is that correct?"

"Yes, but I don't have the strength in the arm to carry anything with it."

"I'm sure Shane can work on that," she mentioned.

"Shane?"

"Your physiotherapist. Well, he's the head of physiotherapy, so you might have somebody else in that department working with you. However, he'll be the one who overlooks the team."

"Ah, and this friend of yours, Alba, what does she do again?"

"She's a counselor," Dani replied.

"Right," he muttered, feeling foolish.

And then suddenly they were at these huge open doors. "Wow, where is this?"

"You're heading into the dining area," she replied. And she pushed him up to a line of people.

"A line-up already," he muttered, shaking his head.

"A lot of people are here," she shared, "and mealtimes are not something most people miss out on."

"Well, that's good news," Wesley noted. "That means the food's at least worth eating."

A huge man at the counter turned his way and replied in a booming voice, "You bet. Everything here is great food." His face was split into this massive smile, going from ear to ear. "And look. Somebody new."

Dani laughed. "Dennis, this is Wesley."

So this was Dennis. Wesley stared up at the man that the paramedic had mentioned and nodded. "I've actually heard about you."

Dennis's eyebrows shot up. "All good things, I hope."

"They were good things," Wesley admitted. "The paramedic who brought me over had heard about you. Somebody he knew worked here. Or maybe he went through as a patient," he added, confused for a moment. He shook his head. "I can't remember, but he mentioned that you were in the kitchen and that really good food was here."

Dennis nodded. "And he is correct. We offer wonderful food here."

Wesley asked, "What do you have today? I see lots of choices."

"We offer foods you would want or need," he began, before reeling off some, "and, if you need more, you come back for seconds, you hear me?"

He looked up at him. "Wow."

Dennis nodded. "We know perfectly well that you need food to heal, and you need good food. So tell me what it will be for now."

"I hate to say it," Wesley replied, "but I think I want all of it."

At that, Dennis's laughter boomed out loud and clear. "And hearing those words is a good thing," he noted.

At that, the woman in front of Wesley turned to smile at him. "Glad to see you have an appetite."

And, sure enough, the beautiful redhead from the horseback-riding scene stood before him. Wesley went silent.

She looked over at Dani and greeted her. "Hey, Dani. How are you this morning?"

"I'm good. Alba, this is Wesley. He saw us out riding yesterday, when he came in."

"Oh, hey, welcome aboard."

"Thanks. Half the reason why I was so fascinated," he replied, "is I haven't had a chance to ride in quite a few years."

Both of them looked at him with interest.

He shrugged. "I was raised on a farm in Montana. Horseback riding is second nature—or maybe I should say was second nature."

"And it will be again," Alba declared, eyeing him with an interested look. "We have a horseback-riding program here for our patients as well. Just say the word, and we'll get you all signed up to it."

"I would love to get back on a horse," Wesley admitted. "I don't know how that would work though."

She looked at his injuries and shrugged. "I think it'll work just fine."

He looked back at Dani, and she nodded. "We run a lot of people through that program, and I can tell you that your injuries are comparable with a lot of what we have dealt with," she shared. "Obviously we'll rope Shane in as part of this discussion, so he can work on ensuring that you have developed the right muscles and strengthened up those muscles to handle the ride."

Wesley nodded. "That sounds good."

And then Dennis placed a full tray of food across his lap.

Wesley stared down at the food. "Oh my God, I think I've died and gone to heaven."

Dennis looked at him. "Were you shorted on food before?"

"I was given a serving, but it sure didn't look like this."

Dennis once again gave him a fat smile and nodded. "Welcome aboard. You'll do just fine here."

*

Alba laughed atthe look of sheer delight on Wesley's face. "Come on. Let's get you to a table. We're all sitting down to have breakfast too."

"Does the staff all eat here?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, not all the staff even lives here," she noted, "but, for those of us who do, the food's a godsend." And then she patted her flat stomach. "As long as we keep it in control. Dennis is well-known for lots of food, and good food makes you want to just eat and eat. And, if you ever get a chance to ask for one of his ice creams," she shared, shaking her head, "be aware that what he considers small is monstrous for the rest of us."

"I do like ice cream," Wesley declared, with a happy sigh.

"I heard that," Dennis called back.

Wesley laughed. As he wheeled forward in the line-up, Dani directed him on, while she hung back to get her food. "Keep going straight and come up to the left side," she explained. "We're all heading over to that table over there."

Wesley just followed orders, only to realize that they included him. That was amazing in itself, but maybe they did this for guys on their first day. But he certainly wouldn't argue. First days were bad no matter where you were. And, being here, it looked to be not quite as big a challenge as he had thought.

Dani motioned to the table, as she set down her tray. "Set up your food and get comfortable at the table. I'll go get some coffee. Do you want one?"

He looked at her and nodded. "Thank you, I would really appreciate that."

His instinct was to rush and get it for himself, but obviously everybody here was used to helping everyone out. Which, given the kind of center it was, maybe that made sense—although the center he had just come from was different. Everybody had been a stickler for making sure the patients were independent and didn't become too accustomed to getting help. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing here, but he really appreciated people helping, without having it hammered into his head.

As he slowly unpacked his tray, he studied the food in front of him—sausages and eggs and ham and bacon and hash browns. And he even had a fried tomato. That made his heart warm. It wasn't something he got all that often, but he sure loved them.

Then as he was settled into place, Alba joined him, placing her tray down with about one-third of the food that Wesley had been given. He stared at her. "So how come I look like I'm a pig compared to your plate?" And then he pointed at Dani's and added, "She's even eating more than you."

"Because I'll come back for cinnamon buns in a couple hours," she shared, with an equally fat smile.

"Just the look on your face says a lot," Wesley noted. "It's an odd thing here to have so much help offered, and obviously I'll adjust. However, in my last center, everybody was a stickler on being independent, and, if you can do it yourself, you shouldn't accept any help," he explained, with a wave of his hand. "And yet you guys all seem to be totally okay to help."

"Sure," she agreed. "You have enough tough times ahead of you in physio," she noted, "and, even today, it could be tough with testing. So we're not trying to stress you out. Therefore, if we can help, it's good for us to remember to offer," she shared, with a smile. "It would be nice if more people helped. After all, you are here for rehab, and it's a strenuous program. You'll be home soon enough and on your own, where you have to do everything. So I understand the need to foster independence," she admitted, "but there's also a time when it's just offered to be nice, to make someone else's day a little better."

He nodded. "And I appreciate that," he murmured. "Thank you."

She laughed. "You're more than welcome. You'll find most of us here are friendly."

"Oh, I'm certainly seeing that," Wesley replied, with a smile. "And that's really good to see."

She looked over at him. "Sounds as if you've had a hard time at the other place."

"I didn't realize I had, at the time," he shared. "Yet you never really know sometimes, not unless you get to compare it to another way."

"That's true," she agreed. "Sometimes what you think works doesn't necessarily work. You had just hoped that it did."

He looked at her and then nodded slowly. "I think that is very true. And just because you hoped it worked doesn't mean you can make a square peg fit into a round hole."

"Exactly," she murmured. She watched him, seeing that he was still hesitating before starting in on his food. "Go ahead and eat," she urged.

"I was thinking I should wait for Dani. She's been nice enough to come and find me and to ensure I came here and got food, so I feel bad to not wait for her."

"Go for it," Alba insisted, as she picked up her fork. "Around here, waiting is not really an option. Most of us are on schedules of one kind or another, as you'll soon find out when your own fills up," she explained, "so Dani would certainly understand."

He hesitated and realized that Alba was eating and nodded. "Okay, but I'll just go on record here and say that I tried."

"You tried what?" Dani asked, as she appeared suddenly, setting down coffee cups for them all.

"I tried to wait for you," he murmured, "but Alba here is insistent that I don't need to wait."

"Oh my, you definitely do not need to wait."

"See? I told you," Alba noted, with a laugh.

He just grinned and shook his head. "That's fine. I just didn't want Dani to think I was being rude."

"And I wouldn't think that anyway," Dani murmured, still standing. "You eat, as you'll have a day of testing and all kinds of fun stuff, so go ahead and get started."

"Won't you join us?" he asked, pointing at her plate, sitting there and waiting.

"Oh, I'm coming back," she replied, with a laugh. "I just have more pieces to collect."

He watched her as she headed back over again. He looked over at Alba.

Alba nodded. "She's probably just getting water now."

"You mentioned something about cinnamon buns earlier."

At that, Alba looked back at Dani and then stood up to peer toward the kitchen area. "If she's getting cinnamon buns, you should pay attention because she has, I swear, a direct line to them."

"Well, if she runs this place," Wesley pointed out, with a laugh, "she probably does."

"Agreed, and with good reason. She works harder than any of us. She's done so much for everyone here."

"I have heard various tidbits about her, but she's not what I expected."

At that, Alba raised her eyebrows.

"Well, she's like thirty years younger than what I thought," he admitted, with a smile. "And she's way prettier."

At that, Alba laughed out loud. "She is taken too."

"Of course she is," he muttered, with an eye roll. "All the good ones are."

"Oh no, no, no, no," Alba countered, with a laugh. "I'm not taken, and I refuse to think that I'm not one of the good ones."

He flushed at that. "Sorry, I guess that didn't come across all that nice, did it?"

"That's okay. You're forgiven," she replied. "Just remember that we're not all taken. And I'm still a nice person."

He chuckled. "And you're beautiful, so I'm not sure what's wrong with the men in this place that you're not taken."

"When I got here, it wasn't a priority. I was trying to fit in, to settle in, and to find a clear path in my field to help everybody here," she shared, with a smile. "And, since then, I just haven't met anybody."

"I still think the men here are missing out on something major," he declared, staring at her. "Seems to me you've got your life together."

"But what do you know?" she teased. "You just got here. It could all be an act."

"Absolutely," he agreed, "but being the new guy also means that I can see what other people aren't seeing," he pointed out. "And obviously the men around here are blind."

She flushed with pleasure and then laughed out loud. "I'll have to watch out for that smooth tongue of yours," she said, still chuckling.

At that moment Dani returned but without a cinnamon bun.

Alba eyed her friend suspiciously and said, "If you get a line on those cinnamon buns today…"

"Yep, yep, yep, I know," Dani replied, "you want one."

"Yeah, I definitely want one."

"So do I," Wesley chimed in. "I'm not sure what I'm missing out on, but I'm really not into missing out on very much."

At that, Dani chuckled. "Maybe you don't like cinnamon buns."

He frowned at her. "Is that even a possibility?" he asked. "Doesn't everyone love cinnamon buns?"

"Lots of people don't love them," she stated firmly. "However, I do. And don't worry. They're coming out in a couple hours."

"So today will be cinnamon bun day," Alba noted, rubbing her hands together. Then she laughed with joy. "So today will be a good day after all."