“No. It’s just water. I’ve never been to the ocean.”
“It’s on our to-do list,” Paige said when Jake glanced at her.
The picture showed two stick people. One big, one small. Both of them covered to the arms by scalloped blue lines, typical of Casey. She didn’t draw herself often, but when she did, she never drew her legs. She was in the water or in a castle or sticking out from behind a house or a cloud. Paige wasn’t sure if she should make something of it or not.
Jake studied her rendering. “Nice water.”
“And there can’t be sharks in the water,” she told him. “Or he might bite off our other leg.”
“Nah,” Jake said, shaking his head. “I don’t think he would get me. If a shark came by, I’d knock him out with my extra strong leg. And”—he knocked his knuckles on the titanium rod through his jeans—“if he bit this one, his teeth would fall out.”
Casey didn’t laugh as maybe Jake had intended, but she studied him like that was something she’d never considered. That her prosthesis was actually stronger than her flesh-and-bone leg.
Jake pulled the catalogs over and opened one of them showing various socket colors.
“Casey, Jake is going to make you a new prosthesis.”
“You are?” Casey looked up at him in amazement.
“Yes. And if you look in here, you can show me what you want it to look like.”
“I want it to look like yours.”
“Okay. We can do that.” They went through several pages, but Casey was more interested in Jake’s prosthesis than anything she saw in the catalog.
Paige thought Jake would excuse himself when they finished, but he didn’t and they spent the next thirty minutes painting nails. A somewhat awkward endeavor, beginning with Casey insisting he choose his color.
Watching Jake sit there and let her five-year-old with still-developing fine motor skills paint his nails and cuticles a bright fuchsia was the sweetest and hottest thing she’d ever witnessed. She looked at him now, sitting still on the couch, hands on his knees to let his nails dry as he’d been instructed.
It knocked her completely off balance, confusing everything she’d ever thought and believed about men and herself, her life and Casey’s life. What she wanted and what she needed.
She couldn’t think about it right this second. “Time for bed, Case.”
Casey gave a small protest, then brightened. “I want Jake to read the story.”
Chapter 13
Paige didn’t say no, but there was a question in her eyes. They both knew if he did story time, he’d be there after Casey went to bed. He definitely wanted that. “I can do that. I’ll have to make sure I don’t mess up my nails,” he said, holding up his purple-pink-tipped fingers.
“You won’t,” Casey said. “Just blow on them and I’ll call you in just one minute.”
Paige did the teeth brushing and changing, then Casey called for him. JT came to the open door and took in the bedroom Paige and Casey shared. It was neat, but tiny, and sparse. There was no clutter, no stuff.
He stepped into the small room and lowered himself to the edge of the bed. Casey laid flat on her back, blond wavy wisps spread out over her pillow.
“I have a book.” She held it up, almost taking his eye out with the corner. “Can you read it?”
“Let’s see. Pony Town. Yes. I think I can read this.” With one leg stretched out on the bed and his other foot on the floor, he leaned back against the wall by Casey’s head. Paige was just going around to the other side when the phone rang in the kitchen.
“Well, if you can’t, I don’t know what we’ll do. It’s too hard for me.”
It rang again.
“You can go, Mommy. We’ll let him try.”
Paige rose hesitantly. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
She stepped out and he opened to the first page. Six multicolored ponies stood on a rainbow above half a page of surprisingly small print.
Casey pointed. “You can be this pony and I’ll be that pony.”
“Okay.” He had no idea what that meant, but he started on page one.
Casey rolled to her side and reached for the purple bear he’d won for her at the fair. A bear that looked like he’d been through a wood chipper.
“Whoa, what happened to him?” His right leg was a balled mess of stuffing and Scotch tape.
“Bob lost his leg, but he’s not sad. He’s like us.” She tossed off the covers and stuck her legs up in the air. Definitely didn’t seem tired. She grabbed her left leg behind the knee and pulled it toward her chest. “Look how much I can stretch.”
“You’re very flexible.”
“I know. I wish it was my other leg that didn’t grow,” she said, raising her right leg next to her left and comparing. “Then we could be even more the same.”
Jake felt the sudden punch to his chest. Not “I wish I had two legs,” but she wanted to be more like him.
“I love horses,” she went on as if she hadn’t just grabbed his heart in her little fist and squeezed. “I saw a brown one. Have you ever seen a horse?”