The Plan (24 page)

Yet she had a feeling there were many kids in school, when he was growing up, who didn't smile back at Callum. She had a hunch he'd been the brunt of many a joke, many a cruel word or taunt. How could he have avoided such things? Kids are mean. They can pick up on even the littlest difference and exploit it to such an extent that the one being bullied begins to feel as if he's a walking ball of disgust.

And that could be over nothing more than a pimple.

But no legs? One arm? She could only imagine the things Callum had heard on the playground.

He might have cheekbones any woman would kill for, but no one would be fighting to acquire the rest of his body.

Claire peered closely, her nose to the screen, at Callum's left arm, or rather, what there was of it. It wasn't completely gone. There was a small stump right below the shoulder. She felt guilty even thinking that word—
stump.
Somehow, it seemed so derogatory. So offensive. Was it even politically correct? But that was what it was, wasn't it?

A stump where an arm should've been.

His legs were pretty much the same as the missing arm, gone, but not completely. She imagined, if he'd had full limbs, his knees would have appeared about six inches further down his leg. It seemed he'd “lucked out,” that he had a piece of leg at all. With what part he did have, he could sit relatively normally, his stumps sticking forward. Claire had seem images, online, of other amputees missing their legs,
who seemed as if they needed to prop themselves up on their butts. It didn't look comfortable.

Of course, having no limbs, in and of itself, didn't look comfortable.

The fact she'd just distinguished between levels of comfort, when missing your legs, seemed ludicrous to Claire.

She needed to make sure she didn't say something so obtuse at dinner. She didn't want to offend Callum.

Claire glanced at the clock. It was after midnight already. She needed to get to bed. The team had a long day ahead of them tomorrow. It would be the second day of Callum's seminar and Claire knew it would be much more exhausting than the first night. Though she had yet to attend one as a member of the team, she'd been to the one in Florida as an attendee and it had been an emotionally draining day for her. She could only imagine how much more tiring these days were for Callum and those who worked with him.

Snapping the top of her laptop shut, Claire jumped up and headed into the shower. She needed to relax and clear her head before even attempting to sleep. She hadn't been on a date in close to twenty years. And she'd never been on one with someone who had any sort of disability.

There was so much to process. The date. The man. The disability. The new friends. The seminar. The singing. So much had changed in Claire's life in a matter of weeks.

Then again, less than two years ago, so much had changed in Claire's life in a matter of seconds.

The changes this time, though scary in their own way, were so much better. They were changes that promised hope and a future. Not complete and utter despair. She would take these changes over the other ones any day of the week. Claire had thought she'd never again have a single reason to look forward and, tonight, she realized she had many.

As she let the warm water cascade down her face and body, she closed her eyes and began to count her blessings. They weren't the ones she used to have. They didn't completely fill her soul like her family had, but they were blessings all the same.

And for that, she was grateful.

•  •  •

“So far, it's going really well,” Claire said into her cell phone. She'd propped it up between her shoulder and her head, so she could attempt to get the little post of her earring through the tiny hole in her ear.

When did these things get so small?

“Uh-huh,” Claire continued. “I'm making some good friends and I'm enjoying singing again.”

The earring slipped into the hole.
Success!
Now if she could buckle the straps on her sandals.

“You can stop worrying about me,” Claire said, sitting down on the bed and sliding her feet into her shoes. She wasn't making the same mistake as last night. These weren't flats, but they weren't killer stilettos, either. “No, Gia, I have not run away forever. This is temporary. I promise.”

She'd just finished the last buckle when there was a knock at the door. She glanced at the clock. It was exactly six. Callum was prompt. Claire liked that. She appreciated promptness.

Leaving the phone in the crook of her neck, she picked up a tube of lip gloss and quickly applied it. She glanced in the mirror.

Not bad.

“It'd better be temporary,” Gia said on the other end. “I'm so happy for you. I really am. I miss you. We don't need to live together again, but I'd love to go out to dinner once in a while.”

Claire unbolted the lock on the door and pulled it open.

And then she dropped the phone.

Callum laughed from his place across the threshold.

“Are you going to get that?” he asked.

Claire could faintly hear Gia still talking from the hotel room carpet.

“Oh…um…yeah,” Claire stammered. “Give me a second.”

Claire bent down and grabbed the phone. She interrupted Gia, mid-sentence.

“Hey, listen, I've gotta go. Can I call you tomorrow?” Claire straightened and stared directly at Callum, holding the phone to her mouth. She couldn't have pried her eyes from him even if she'd tried. “Thanks. Love you, too.”

She pressed the “End Call” button before Gia could say goodbye.

The two of them stood in silence for the next moment. Claire's eyes met his, rolled down his body and then back up again.

“You look surprised to see me.” When Claire didn't respond, Callum continued. “Did you forget we're having dinner?”

“No. I'm not surprised to see you. I'm well, surprised to see so
much
of you.”

The Callum standing in front of her was, well…standing. She'd expected to look down at his chair when she'd opened the door and instead, had to raise her eyes to reach his.

Callum chuckled. “Ah, yes. I guess there have been a few changes since we last parted ways. You don't approve?”

“Um…no…I mean, yes…it's great…it's so different. I…um…” Claire giggled nervously. “I wasn't expecting you to look this way. But, it's great. Though the other way is fine, too.”

Callum took her hand in his, clearly in an attempt to calm her.

“Oh, boy,” Claire said. “I sound like an idiot.”

“No, you sound normal,” Callum said calmly. “People are usually very startled to see me standing like this. When I add the arm, well, that really throws them.”

The arm.
Claire hadn't even noticed the arm. She'd been so blown away by the legs.

But, he had an arm. In fact, he had two of them.

Claire felt like she'd walked onto the set of
The Twilight Zone.

“I rarely dress like this,” Callum said, gently letting go of her hand and motioning to his prosthetics. “Only for special occasions.”

“Oh, and this is a special occasion?” Claire asked, beginning to regain her composure.

“It sure is. It's not every day I get to take such a lovely woman out to dinner. It doesn't get much more special than that.”

“I'm flattered. Truly, I am.” Walking back into the room, she grabbed the sweater she'd left on the chair. “Where to, boss?”

“You're beginning to sound like Wyatt.”

Claire smiled. “Do you like ‘Sir' better?”

“Since we're on a date, I'd really prefer the term ‘Handsome.' ”

“You got it, Handsome,” Claire said. “So, where are you taking me?”

“Oh, the best place in town. At least, according to the little, old man I met at the Seven-Eleven today. I hope you're up for Italian.”

“I love Italian! Lead the way.”

Callum extended the crook of his arm—the real one—to Claire. She hesitated for a moment and then linked her arm in his.

•  •  •

“You did not!” Claire said, laughing.

“We did! My brother carried me out of the ocean yelling, ‘A shark! My brother's been eaten by a shark!' ”

“No way. You were an awful child.”

“Oh, the worst. People started screaming and running. They didn't know what to do. Parents were yelling for their little kids to get out of the water.”

Claire was laughing so hard, tears were literally rolling down her cheeks.

“Did you get in trouble?” She could barely get the words out through her chortles.

“A boatload! The police showed up.”

“No!”

“Yep. They wanted to arrest me for causing a public disturbance. And I think they would have, but what were they going to do? Handcuff my arms together? Put me in shackles?”

“You're terrible.”

Callum shrugged, but the grin never left his face. “I learned early on that if I didn't laugh at my troubles, I was going to spend a whole lot of time crying.”

“Good point,” Claire said. “Do you get to see your brother much?”

“Not as often as I'd like. He still lives in Ireland, as do my mam and dad. They try to visit once a year, though. I'm sure you'll meet them soon enough,” Callum said. “Okay, my turn.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Where do your parents live?”

“They both passed away when I was younger. My mom died of cancer when I was a freshman in college and my dad had a heart attack three years later.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

“It's okay,” Claire said. “It's been a long time. What else?”

“Why'd you give up singing?”

“Oh, you know,” Claire said, trying to plaster her best, most sincere, smile on her face, though she was pretty sure she was fooling no one with it. “Life. Things just got in the way.”

“Like what type of things?”

Claire sighed. She was learning one of the things she was most fond of about Callum was he wasn't surface deep. He never took a story at face value. He was inquisitive. He wanted to know more, and not in a nosey, obtrusive way. He genuinely cared about people. She'd seen it at his events. When people came up to him and told him about their problems, he listened. He didn't pretend to listen. He really and truly
listened.

And then he asked questions, because he cared.

She admired that about him.

She just wished he wasn't asking so many questions of her.

“Well, wanting to pay the bills, for one,” Claire said. “I found I made a lot more money writing than I ever did singing.”

That was only a partial lie. She had made more money writing than she'd ever made with her music. The lie part was that she hadn't given up the music for that reason.

“And writing was such a good job for working around my…” Claire caught herself and stopped.

“Around your what?” Callum asked gently.

“Oh, you know,” Claire said, ripping a piece off the bread that was still sitting on the table, though their meals had long ago been devoured. “Around my life. Okay, enough about me. Back to you. Do you like to write?”

“I do. In fact, I just finished my third book!”

“I guess that was a stupid question, since I already knew you'd written two other books.”

“Not stupid at all. I'll bet a lot of people who write books don't actually like to write.”

“You think?”

“I don't know. Maybe. I speak about how to find power through your pain, and a lot of publishers thought that concept would translate well into print. But though it seemed like a smart enough plan, and, thankfully, it turned out to be a financially fruitful one, it didn't necessarily mean I would enjoy the process of writing it all down. Lucky for me, since I had to spend a lot of time working on it, I did, indeed, find it to quite pleasurable.”

“That's fabulous. What's the new book about?”

“Me.”

“Oh.” Claire chuckled.

Callum's big grin appeared on his handsome face.

“It's about my life,” Callum continued. “The other books have touched on my struggles, in relation to how others can move forward with their own lives, but this one goes more into depth regarding the struggles I've had. I hope it helps others overcome the adversities they face, especially those suffering from physical disabilities.”

“Well, I'll bet it's incredible,” Claire said. “When can I read it?”

“It should be out sometime next year, though if you're really, really nice to me, I might let you have an advance copy. We might have to alter next year's travel schedule a bit so I can do a bunch of book signings.”

“I hope you're right-handed.”

Callum laughed so loudly, the people at the table next to them turned.

“You're
good,”
he said, wagging his index finger in her direction. “Thanks for having dinner with me.”

“It's been my pleasure,” Claire said, and realized she meant it.

“Well, I know I didn't give you much of a choice, but still, I appreciate you giving me a chance.”

“A chance at what?”

“Wooing you.”

“Wooing me? Is that what this is?”

“Yes,” Callum said. “Is it working?”

“Hmmm…I don't know,” Claire said, raising the corner of her mouth, as if this issue deserved deep pondering. “Split a very fattening dessert with me and I'll think it over.”

“You're on,” Callum said, lifting his hand to signal the waitress.

•  •  •

“That was fun,” Claire said, as they walked up the path, back to the house. It still felt so odd to have Callum walking beside her. He definitely had a limp when he walked, but walked well nonetheless. For much of the evening, Claire had completely forgotten about his
disability. Part of that, no doubt, could be attributed to the prosthetics. It was likely no one else in the restaurant had even noticed he was missing any limbs. He'd looked like any other man enjoying a meal on the town. But, more than the fact that his body had looked complete, Claire had found herself so lost in who he was, and not what he looked like, that within moments, the physical aspect no longer mattered.