THE GUEST 

By Ed Carlson

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This story is purely fictitious. The names of the persons and places used herein are for story

illustration only. They should not be construed as representing any person, living or dead.

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It was late one evening. It was a moonless evening, and it was very dark. I had been to town to stock up on supplies and had decided to take in a movie after a dinner at the café—much the way my late wife and I used to do. I was driving along thinking how much I missed her. It had been four years since the accident. I sometimes wish I had been driving with her and we both could have been killed. Now our secluded house is pretty lonely. I have the dog, but he doesn’t talk much. I’m just plain lonesome.

I pulled onto the gravel road that winds up the mountain where I live my life of seclusion. I had gone about ten miles when I spotted someone on the deserted road. As I approached, I noticed that the person was using crutches—the forearm type. She waved me down. I stopped and got out.

“Could you help me please?” the beautiful young woman said in a panic. “I missed a turn, and my van slid off the road. It’s stuck, and I can’t get it out.”

She was quite tall and had a very nice figure. She was wearing a baseball cap with her reddish blond hair pulled through the hole in the back in a pony tail. She was wearing a white blouse under a light windbreaker jacket and a short blue denim skirt. She had full length braces on each of her thin legs. The metal reflected brightly in the headlights of my four-wheel drive pickup. She had a beautiful face. I guessed her to be about my age. She was a very attractive woman.

“How far up the road?” I asked.

“About a half mile I guess,” she said. “Distance is hard to judge out here in the dark.”

“Let’s see what we can do for you,” I said. “I’ll give you a ride back.”

I walked around to the passenger’s side. I looked back to see her following me. She picked herself up on the handles of her crutches and moved both braced legs simultaneously. I opened the door for her. She maneuvered herself next to the seat.

“I don’t know if I can make this,” she said. “I think I need some help.”

“How do we do this?” I asked.

“Probably the simplest is for you to pick me up and set me on the seat,” she replied.

She held onto the door and leaned her crutches against the side of the pickup. I scooped her up in my arms. She was light as a feather. Both of her knee locks were still engaged as I set her on the seat. Her legs were still sticking straight out. She released one knee lock at a time, and her lower legs fell lifelessly to a vertical position. She picked up her left leg just above the knee and slid it around to face the dashboard. Then she did the same for the right one. Her feet, clad in black flat shoes, finally rested on the floorboards.

“I’m set. Thanks,” she said, offering me her hand. “My name is Mindy Jackson.”

“I’m Jack Foster,” I replied as I shook her very firm grip.

I put her crutches in the pickup bed, then closed her door and walked around to my side of the pickup. I got in and continued up the road. I spotted tracks leaving the road.

“This is the place,” she said, pointing in the direction of the disturbed roadside brush. “My van is right down there.”

I drove my pickup down her tracks a short way until my headlights shone on her van. I put the pickup in park and set the hand brake.

“Why don’t you stay here and let me go down and look?” I said.

“Please be careful,” she said with great concern for my well being in her voice.

I grabbed my large flashlight and started down the little embankment. I carefully looked over her customized van. When I looked inside, I could see her wheelchair sitting in the motorized lift. The van looked like it was pretty well loaded with suitcases and boxes. I looked at where it had come to rest. No structural damage was done. It had come to rest in some heavy brush with a tree blocking, but not touching, the rear-side door for the lift. I worked my way back up to my pickup and got in.

“It doesn’t look like your van was damaged,” I said. “We can probably pull it out without too much trouble.”

“Can we do it now?” she asked.

“I’d prefer to do it in the morning when we have good light,” I said.

“That’s fine, but I don’t have a place to stay. Could you drive me back to town? I can get a motel room,” she said.

“It’s almost fifty miles back to town,” I said. “I have a spare bedroom at my place. It’s only up the road about five miles.”

“I don’t want to trouble you,” she said.

“It would be less trouble to take you up to the house than it would be to drive you back to town,” I said. “Besides, the place is pretty lonesome since my wife was killed. I’d enjoy a little company.”

“Let’s go to your place then,” she said. “I’m sorry to hear about your wife.”

“Thank you for being sensitive,” I said. “Do you need anything for overnight from your van?”

“I do have a small roll-around suitcase that I would like, if you don’t mind,” she replied. “It’s right inside the back door.”

“I’ll go back down and get it,” I said.

“Please do be careful,” she reminded me as she handed me her keys.

I went back down to the van. I unlocked the back door. Her suitcase was right where she said it would be. I retrieved it and locked the door. As I worked my way up the embankment, I was formulating a plan on how to get the van out of there. I put her suitcase in the bed of my pickup and got in. I backed the pickup onto the gravel road. I started forward again. We continued up the road. We had gone about a mile when I pulled into the start of my driveway. I got out and unlocked, then opened, the gate. I got back in and pulled through. I got out and closed and locked the gate behind us. We continued up my driveway; the first two miles are through heavy trees, and the last two miles are across an open meadow. We reached the house.

I pushed the garage door opener button and pulled into the two-car garage, which was attached to the house. Mine was the only car in there now. My wife’s used to be parked next to it. I got out and went around to Mindy’s side to open the door.

“How do we get you out?” I asked.

She moved her lifeless right leg around to the side of the seat and then her left.

“If you could straighten out my legs, I’ll lock the knee locks of my braces,” she said.

I lifted her legs as she had asked. In the light of the garage, it was obvious that her legs couldn’t be used for much without braces.

She engaged the knee locks, and her legs stuck straight out again. She lifted herself slightly and slid forward. Her legs dropped, and she used her arms to hold herself as she slid down toward the floor. I noticed how muscular her arms and shoulders were—a stark contrast to her lifeless looking legs. Her feet made it to the floor, and she held onto the door and the seat as she stood there.

“There, we made it,” she said. “My crutches please. I can’t do very much without them.”

I retrieved her crutches from the bed of the pickup and handed them to her one at a time. She slipped one on each arm and put her weight on them as she lifted herself out of the way of the pickup door. I took her suitcase, and we walked beside each other as she crutched her way to the two steps at the door.

“How well do you do steps?” I asked as I opened the door.

“Better with these braces and crutches than with my wheelchair,” Mindy replied.

I stood behind her as she put her crutches up on the first step and leaned forward as she lifted herself to the step. She repeated the process to get through the door. I followed her into the utility room. She waited while I kicked off my shoes and opened the door into the kitchen. I led the way, and she crutched along behind me. Her braces made a distinctive metal clicking sound.

“This is the kitchen,” I said.

“This is nice,” she replied. “It’s very well equipped.”

“It was just the way that Monique wanted it,” I lamented.

We continued on into the great room, a living room and dining room combination.

“Oh, I love your huge rock fireplace,” she said.

“I’m very proud of it. I gathered all of the rocks and built it myself,” I replied. “My office and library are above on the balcony. There is another bedroom up there too. The spare room is this way.”

I led, and she followed closely as we continued into the short hall and into what was to be her room.

“You can use this bedroom if you like or the other one upstairs,” I said.

“This will do fine. I don’t do stairs all that well,” she replied. “I like the way you’ve decorated the room.”

“I can’t take the credit for Monique’s flair for decorating,” I replied.

I put her suitcase down. She took her baseball cap off and laid it on the bed. She shook her head, and her long reddish blond hair fell perfectly into place. She leaned one crutch against the bed and supported herself with the other. I helped her take her free arm out of her jacket sleeve. She retrieved her crutch and then leaned the other on the bed. I took her jacket completely off of her and hung it in the closet as she retrieved her crutch.

I walked back out and into the short hallway. She followed me.

“Linens are in this closet. We’ll have to share the bathroom. My bedroom is here,” I said.

“This is wonderful,” she said. “Are you sure that I’m not putting you out?”

“Not at all,” I said. “I’ll enjoy your company. It gets pretty lonesome out here.”

We went back into the great room.

“Would you care to sit down?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “I’m not used to being on my feet so much. I am usually in my wheelchair.”

She worked her way over to one of the oversized wing-back chairs and backed up to it. She leaned her crutches against the chair, then held onto the arms of the chair and eased herself down. Her legs were straight but at an angle. She released her knee locks and lifted herself back into the chair, then used her hands to bring each lower leg to a vertical position.

I lit a fire in the fireplace.

“Can I offer you something to eat, or coffee or a drink?” I asked.

“I ate in town, and it’s pretty late for coffee,” she said. “Do you have bourbon with maybe a little water?”

“My favorite,” I said. “I’ll be back in a second.”

I left her sitting alone while I went into the kitchen and fixed our drinks. I made them strong, the way I like them. I took them back into the great room where she sat waiting. I handed her one of the drinks. I set mine down and put a log on the fire before I sat down in the other chair that faced her.

“Is your drink too strong?” I asked.

“No, this is fine. I like a good stiff drink,” she said as she took a good drink. “This is a lovely place you have here Jack.”

“Thank you Mindy,” I replied as I took a drink. “I designed and built the house, but the decorating was my wife’s touch.”

“You sound like you miss her a lot,” Mindy said.

“I do,” I said. “She was killed four years ago this month. Sometimes it feels like it was only yesterday, and other times, it seems forever.”

“I know what you mean. I lost my husband about the same time. That’s when this happened to me,” she said, pointing at her legs. We both took a drink.

“Do you mind if I ask how it happened?” I said.

“We were southbound on the I-105 freeway. Suddenly, without warning, we came around a curve and into a thick fog bank. Bill tried to slow down, but we piled into several other cars, and then more cars hit us. All together, there were twenty cars in the pile up caused by a jackknifed semi-truck. Bill was killed instantly. Several others were killed, and a lot of people hurt. My back was badly broken, and my spinal chord was severed. When I woke up in the hospital, I couldn’t feel anything below my waist at all.”

She must have noticed the pained look on my face.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

“Bill and Mindy Jackson, I knew the name sounded familiar. That was the same accident that Monique died in,” I replied.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” she said.

“It’s ironic,” I said. “We both lost love ones, and we were both scarred by the same accident. You physically and me emotionally.”

“It is ironic,” she replied as we both finished our drinks. “I immersed myself in work to try and forget once I got out of rehab.”

“Would you like another drink?” I asked.

“Yes please,” she said, holding out her empty glass.

I took our glasses to the kitchen and fixed us each another equally strong drink. I walked back over to the seating area in the great room and handed her the drink before I sat down again.

“What brings you out on this road this time of night?” I asked. “It is a dead end road you know.”

“I wasn’t sure where I was going. It’s a long story,” she said. “I’m kind of looking for a place to stay for a while.”

“You’re welcome to stay here.”

“Thank you. Let me tell you a secret,” she said. “Once you’ve heard the story, you may want to retract your offer.”

“Give me a try,” I said. “If it’s a secret, who am I going to tell way out here?”

“Well, I stole some money,” she started. “A lot of money. About ten million dollars. I went to work for this large law firm after my accident. I ran their computer system. I knew they were laundering money for a South American drug family. I wrote a program that interfaced with the bank’s computer. I took two percent of what they were laundering and slid it into a numbered account offshore. They got to comparing notes and found out the money was missing. I managed to erase the program, but they were still suspicious of me. So I loaded up my things in my van and got out of Dodge. I know they are looking for me, especially after I just disappeared. I was looking for a secluded place to hide out. I was going to spend the night in the van before I drove off the road.”

“Doesn’t it bother you to steal like that?” I asked.

“Normally, I couldn’t live with myself,” she said. “But those, excuse my French, bastards have ruined so many lives, including mine and yours, it doesn’t bother me at all. They deserve to have it all taken away and them put away too.”

“I guess I agree with you,” I said. “But what do you mean about drugs ruining our lives?”

“Not directly. Did you know that the semi-truck driver who caused the accident was stoned out of his mind when he jackknifed his rig?” she asked before she took a healthy drink.

“No, I didn’t,” I replied, and I took a drink too. “ I see where you’re coming from, and I can agree with your motive.”

“I look at it like a little playback for losing Bill and for what happened to me,” she said. “I’d be willing to share some of it with you for your loss.”

“Thank you for offering,” I said. “I received a large settlement from Monique’s death from my insurance company. I have enough to live comfortably.”

“That’s OK,” she said, finishing her drink. “But the offer still stands anytime.”

“If you’re looking for a place to hide out, this would be a perfect spot,” I said.

“Let me think it over,” she replied.

“Would you like another drink?” I asked.

“Only if you join me,” she said.

I got up and took our glasses in the kitchen and fixed us another stiff drink like I had done before. I took the drinks back into the great room. While I was gone, she had crossed her long, lifeless legs. It was seductive and a real turn on to look at.

“So Jack, have you been seeing anyone since your wife was killed?” she asked before she took another healthy drink.

I did the same and replied: “No, I’ve stayed pretty much to myself. I’ve gone out to dinner with a couple of different women. We never got past dinner. I was always comparing them to Monique.”

I looked closely at her and realized how beautiful she really was. I found her slim lifeless legs to be kind of a turn on for some unknown reason. I was becoming quite attracted to her.

“Mindy, what about you?” I asked as we both took a large drink. “An attractive woman like you should have lots of boyfriends.”

“I guess I’m like you. I tried to go out a time or two. We never got beyond I’ll call you,” she said. “I think these damn lifeless legs and my wheelchair scared them off.”

“I don’t know why that would scare them off. You are a very beautiful woman,” I said, finishing my drink.

“Thank you. I think you’re quite handsome,” she said. “Should we have another?”

“It’s not every evening I have a lovely guest,” I said as I got up and took the glasses into the kitchen. I fixed our drinks, wondering what she would be like in bed with those lifeless legs.

I went back into the great room, and she was struggling trying to get up out of the chair. She had her knee locks locked and had boosted herself up to about a forty-five degree angle. She appeared to be stuck there.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Please, with all of these drinks, it’s time for me to use the bathroom,” she said. “I seem to be having a problem getting up.”

I set the drink glasses down on the coffee table. I put my feet by hers and reached around the middle of her back and pulled her to me. When she was standing erect, she put her arms around me.

“I think I want to kiss you now,” she whispered.

She kissed me very passionately. I was a bit taken aback at first but soon was passionately kissing her back. It felt as good as I had imagined it would.

When we broke off the kiss, I steadied her with one hand while I retrieved her crutches with the other. I continued to hold her steady while she slipped her arms through the loops and put her weight on the handles.

“I need to use the bathroom, or I am going to get into trouble,” she said. “Could you bring me my catheter kit? It’s in my suitcase on top of the rest of my stuff. I kinda need it to empty my bladder.”

I went back to the bedroom, opened her suitcase, and found some interesting looking tubes and stuff in plastic bags on top of her clothes. When I returned with her gear, and in spite of the alcohol she had consumed, she was gracefully crutching her way over to the bathroom. She was like poetry in motion, and seeing her maneuver herself that way really turned me on. She stopped and freed a hand from its crutch to accept her catheter kit. She looked a little embarrassed—almost as if she wasn’t sure she wanted me to know she needed a catheter to pee—and she quickly crutched her way around the corner without saying anything more. I sat down and sipped my drink. I soon heard the toilet flush and saw her confidently coming back around the corner. Her smile had returned as she was crutching her way over toward me when one of her crutches slipped on a throw rug and she began to fall. I tried to get up to catch her, but I was too late. She fell to the floor and went sprawling. She lay there not moving for a minute, and then she started crying. I sat down on the floor and took her in my arms.

“Are you hurt?” I asked as I cuddled her.

“No. I do this a lot,” she sniffed. “I just didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of you.”

We kissed a long and passionate kiss. She held me tightly as we embraced.

“I really like you Jack,” she said. “I don’t want this display of ineptness to spoil anything.”

“It didn’t,” I said. “I’ll be here to help you up when you stumble.”

She started the kiss this time—this time more passionate and intense than before. When we finished, I helped her stand again by lifting her from behind at her armpits. When she was standing vertically, I used the opportunity to feel her nice breasts. She didn’t object, but put her head back on my shoulder, closed her eyes, and moaned.

“Where would like to sit to finish your drink?” I asked.

“On your bed” was her reply. “I want to do something tonight that both you and I haven’t done in four years.”

I steadied her as I picked up her crutches. She put them on and crutched her way over to the entrance to the short hallway while I turned out the lights in the kitchen and the great room. She followed me into my bedroom after I turned on the light on the nightstand. The single lamp put off a romantic glow. I turned off the hall light and went back into the bedroom. I set the drinks on the nightstand.

“How do we do this?” I asked softly.

“Hold me up and take my crutches,” she instructed.

I steadied her as I took her crutches and leaned them up against the wall.

“Now hold me around the waist and lower me onto the bed,” she said.

I followed her directions and lowered her to the bed. Her legs stuck out horizontally as she sat there. She slid herself backwards until she was in the middle of the bed and her legs were fully supported.

I sat on the bed beside her and handed her the drink. We both took drinks, and I put the glasses on the nightstand.

“I want to get rid of these braces,” she said. “If you unbuckle my shoes and release those knee straps, I’ll work on my upper leg straps.”

I untied both of her shoes and unfastened the straps at her knees and ankles. She was working on the straps around her upper legs. She put her hands under her right leg and lifted it. Her foot came out of the shoe, and I slid the brace out from under her leg and stood it next to her crutches. She put her leg down. It lay lifelessly on the bed. She did the same thing with the left leg, and I stood that brace next to the other.

I sat down on the bed beside her, and we began some passionate petting and feeling of one another. In the process, I felt her lifeless legs. They were soft and supple—allmost like feeling a soft sponge. We broke off the kiss.

“Were you feeling my legs?” she asked.

“Why yes,” I confessed. “How did you know?”

“Because you were only feeling my boobs with one hand,” she said with a big grin.

We both undressed. I was nude when she held her butt up off the bed with her arms and I pulled her skirt and panties down to her knees. She bent over and showed her fantastic cleavage as she pulled her skirt and panties the rest of the way off and tossed them on the chair with the rest of her clothes.

“Tell me one thing,” she asked. “Did you enjoy feeling my legs?”

“Yes. Very much so,” I replied. “I’ve been wanting to do it all night.”

“Good,” she said. “I can’t feel a thing there, but I like the thought of you touching them and me. You can do it anytime you want. But be sure to spend some time kissing me on my neck, ears, mouth, and breasts. That can really turn me on.”

I straightened her legs on the bed and began to thoroughly explore them with my hands. I looked at her, and she had tears in her eyes.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“Nothing is wrong. I’m just happy,” she said.

I kissed her, and she put her arms around me and kissed me back with fire and passion. I pulled the covers part way back. I slid her butt down and laid her head down on a pillow. We kissed again, followed by my hand and mouth exploration of the parts of her body she could feel. Soon her nipples and breasts were responding to my attentions, and her face was flushed. She looked at me with a warm glow and glanced down between her legs.

I spread her legs and used one hand to stroke her private area. She only smiled and kept up her own exploration of my body. I played with her spot and soon noticed that she was getting moist and her clitoris was swelling.

“Can you feel that? You seem to be responding to me like a woman without a severed spinal cord,” I said.

“I can’t feel anything other than your hand above my waist. But the private parts of most spinal cord injured women will respond to the soft touch of a lover—particularly one who is also paying attention to the areas that she can feel. My reaction down there is a reflex, but they say that I might be able to kinda feel my reaction to you in responses in the rest of my body—if we can keep going.”

“Let’s try that then. But, I need to get a condom if this is going to go any further,” I whispered.

“You don’t need one on my account,” she whispered back. “They had to do a hysterectomy as part of my reconstructive surgery. I want you in me and over my breasts now.”

I turned off the light, and soon I was on top of her. It felt good to be with a woman again—especially one with so much fire and passion in her. We both had an orgasm; her vagina gripping me and releasing me as I climaxed. I rolled off her and held her in my arms. I asked her softly to describe what she had just experienced.

“I felt these incredibly warm feelings in my body above my waist and in my breasts. God, it felt good,” she said. “It’s not the same as it was before, but I am glad that you could help turn me on like that.”

“You know that your response down there felt good to me.” I said.

“Good. I always want to please my lover.”

We kissed some more. Before I knew it, she had pulled her way up on top of me and was straddling my waist with each of her lifeless legs on either side of me. I massaged her soft and supple and lifeless thighs as she threaded herself over me. She started a rocking motion, leaned over and massaged her breasts on my chest, and soon we were both having another orgasm simultaneously. Her passion was the stuff legends are made of, and I tried my best to keep up. When she was finished, she rolled off me and I pulled the covers over us before we went to sleep, locked in each other’s arms . . .

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I slept more soundly than I had for years. When I awoke, she was gone. I sat up and looked around. Her clothes were gone too, as were her braces and crutches. The bedroom door was closed. I got up and dressed quickly. I opened the door and was met by the smell of breakfast cooking. I went into the kitchen. She was dressed and standing, with the aid of her crutches, at the stove.

“Good morning Jack,” she said cheerfully. “Did you sleep as well as I did?”

“Mindy, I slept better than I have for years,” I replied as I went over and gave her a little kiss.

“Good. How do you like your eggs and coffee?” she said.

“Eggs over firm. Coffee black,” I said.

“Two more things we have in common,” she said. “Did you enjoy last night?”

“Immensely,” I replied. “It was wonderful.”

“Excellent description,” she said. “I didn’t really believe that such feelings were possible for me with my injuries. I really do like you Jack. I’m not so sure that I want to leave now.”

She dished up our breakfasts. I took the plates over to the breakfast bar, then I poured us each a large mug of coffee. She crutched her way over and sat on a stool. She leaned her crutches against the counter. I sat down beside her.

“You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” I said. “I really do want you to stay.”

“But I feel like I’m imposing on you,” she said. “I might cramp your space.”

“Nonsense,” I replied. “There is plenty of space for you here. Good grief, I own five hundred acres. Those guys who are looking for you wouldn’t think of looking way up here. If we put your van in the garage, they couldn’t spot it, even with a helicopter.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you in danger,” she objected.

“I need a little excitement,” I replied. “We even have a ramp out the back door for your wheelchair.”

“Why do you have a ramp?” she asked.

“Monique had developed MS. Some days she needed a wheelchair to get around. Other days, she was fine,” I said.

“I noticed that you had wide doors,” she said.

“Mindy, I love having you here. It’s like my life suddenly has purpose again and I have someone to share it with. Please, I really do want you to stay.”

“Jack, you talked me in to it, with one condition though.”

“What’s that?” I quizzed.

“That you keep letting me share your bed,” she said with a big smile on her face and a wink.

“It’s a deal,” I said. “Let’s go get your van just as soon as we finish breakfast.”

When breakfast was over, I put the dishes in the dishwasher. I put on a pair of coveralls. I steadied her as she went down the garage stairs.

“I don’t mind going upstairs too bad,” she said. “But going down scares me shitless.”

We walked side by side to the passenger’s side of the pickup. I opened the door. She backed up to the seat, and I put her crutches in the pickup bed while she steadied herself on the door and seat. I was about to pick her up when we engaged in a very passionate kiss.

“Thank you for last night,” she said. “It was wonderful.”

“Do you want to wait until tonight to do it again?” I asked.

“Let’s see what kind of mood we’re in by the time we get my van out,” she said with a big smile.

I lifted her onto the seat and held her feet as she released her knee locks. I lowered her feet. She moved first her left leg and then her right leg around to the floorboards. I closed her door and went around to the driver’s side. I picked up a nylon tow strap off the work bench and put it in the pickup bed. I got in and pushed the garage door opener button before I started the pickup. We backed out of the garage and then drove down the long driveway. I stopped at the gate and got out and unlocked it. I pulled on through and left the gate open. We pulled onto the gravel road and drove to the spot where her van had gone off the road.

I looked the situation over again in the better light of the day. I drove down to a wide spot and turned around, then drove back to the place where her van had gone over. I put the pickup in park and set the hand brake.

“Jack, what can I do to help?” Mindy asked.

“You can run the electric winch, but you’ll have to get out of the pickup so that you can see me,” I said.

I got out of the pickup and walked around to her side. She had opened the door and had herself turned around with her braced, lifeless legs dangling from the seat. I lifted her legs, and she locked the knee locks. I helped her slide to the ground and received a kiss for my efforts. She steadied herself while I retrieved her crutches. She put her arms in them and moved out of the way while I closed her door. She crutched beside me as we went around to the front of the pickup. I opened the compartment and took out the winch control switch. I plugged the cable into the receptacle and showed her how to operate it. She gave me the keys to her van.

I walked around the pickup and retrieved the towing strap. I took the strap and the winch cable, then started down the hill as she played out the winch cable line. When I got to the van, I found a secure place on the frame to attach the nylon towing strap. I hooked the winch cable to the towing strap. I signaled to Mindy to take up the slack on the winch cable. She did it perfectly. I went to the driver’s side and unlocked the door. I got in and started the engine. I looked at the hand controls that she needed to drive the van. I found them fascinating.

I signaled to Mindy to begin to tighten up on the winch cable. I put the van in reverse. It began to move slowly up the hill. I was relieved when we cleared the tree on the right side. The van continued to move slowly up the hill until it was on the gravel road. I signaled Mindy to stop the winch.

I left the motor running and put van in park before I got out. I unhitched the winch cable from the nylon strap. I had Mindy wind up the rest of the winch cable while I held a strain on it. I unfastened the tow strap.

Mindy crutched over to me and gave me a huge kiss.

“Oh Jack, you’re my hero,” she said. “That van means so much to me. It’s my independence.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Why don’t you drive back up to the house and park on the driveway apron in the stall that I used for the pickup. We’ll wash some of the mud off it before we put it away.”

We went over to the driver’s door. I opened it. She leaned on the seat and slid herself up without my help. She put her crutches on the floor behind the seat. I held her ankles while she released her knee locks, then lowered her feet. She moved first her right leg and then her left leg inside. She lifted herself straight up to get her butt straight. I closed her door. We kissed again before she took off up the gravel road.

I put the nylon tow strap in the back of the pickup. I got in and followed her dust up the road, but I didn’t catch sight of her. There was no dust past my driveway so I knew she had gone up my driveway. She was out of sight.

I pulled through the gate and got out to lock it. Just as I got to the gate, a black low-riding car came sliding around the corner on the gravel road. The car went past the driveway and slid to a stop, then backed up. One of the two guys in the car rolled down the passenger’s side window. He was definitely Hispanic.

“Hey man, have you seen a blue van driven by a good-looking blond?” he asked. “It has handicapped plates.”

“No, I haven’t seen a rig that looks like that today,” I said. “I saw one yesterday though.”

“Where did you see her man?” he asked excitedly.

“She was in town yesterday,” I said. “I saw her in her wheelchair at the gas station. When she filled up the van, she took the highway south out of town. She seemed to be in a hurry the way she took off out of there.”

“Thanks man,” he said. “Hey, what happened down the road about a mile?”

“Drunk hunter,” I said. “He paid me fifty bucks to pull him out. Watch out up here; it’s hunting season, and they’re likely to shoot at anything.”

“Thanks again man,” he said.

They turned around and sped down the gravel road toward town. I locked the gate and drove up to the house. When I got there, Mindy was sitting in her wheelchair on the garage apron. She had the hose out and was washing the mud off her van.

“What took you so long?” she quizzed from her chair.

“There were a couple of unsavory looking characters looking for a blue van with handicapped plates and a good-looking blond driver,” I replied.

“My goodness, what did you tell them?” she said in a panic.

“Oh, I told them that you lived here now,” I teased, “and to keep their asses out of here.”

“Really, what did you tell them?” she persisted.

“I told them that I had seen you in town yesterday and that you were headed south on the highway in a big hurry.”

“Oh thank you,” she sighed.

“I wouldn’t want to lose my new companion,” I said.

“And I wouldn’t want to lose mine either,” she replied.

E N D