“Oh Cade.” She tightened her hold on his hand.
“The worst of it is she was sure to tell my father, and knowing my dad, he probably ate it up.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
“You don’t know my father,” Cade argued. “The minute he learned I’d joined the army, he went ballistic. He was convinced I did it to spite him and that it was the biggest mistake of my life.”
Cade’s voice had grown tight with pain and frustration. He’d revealed a vulnerable part of himself that she was certain he didn’t discuss often, or at all. Darkness had settled over the landscape and over them. The moon slowly started to rise over the horizon.
Cade pulled his hand from hers and settled it on Shadow’s back. “Now that you know the worst, I’ll understand if you’d rather not have anything to do with me.”
Hope thought over his comment, and while she probably should have some reservations when it came to Cade, she went with her gut. She’d liked Cade from the beginning and trusted him.
“I have a question for you,” she said.
“Okay.” He’d tensed right along with his voice.
“Do you have plans Saturday night?”
She felt, more than saw, his head swivel toward her.
“No. Why?”
“I’m chaperoning the homecoming dance at the high school, and I’d like to know if you’ll be my date.”
Chapter 10
Cade sat across from Harry, his head down, his thoughts whirling at tornado speed. Harry waited for Cade to speak. Five tense minutes into the session, Cade was finally able to look up.
Ever patient, Harry appeared content to wait him out.
“I spoke to Hope,” Cade mumbled.
Nodding, Harry encouraged him to continue.
Cade had been shocked when Hope mentioned chaperoning the homecoming dance. He’d been unsure what to say. “She asked me to attend a dance with her at the high school,” he blurted out, like it was a request for him to leap off the Narrows bridge or swim to Hawaii. “You and I both know that’s impossible. I can’t dance. Even standing for an extended length of time can be problematic.”
“What kind of dance is this?” Harry asked.
“Homecoming. She’s one of the chaperones and she wants me to join her: like I won’t stick out like a scarecrow in the middle of a cornfield.”
“Being a chaperone doesn’t necessarily mean you have to be on the dance floor.”
Cade expected Harry’s questions. He had plenty of his own.
“I understand we won’t be crowned the king and queen.” His voice betrayed his sarcasm. “But Hope’s going to expect at some point that I’ll want to dance with her.”
“Seems to me you’re making assumptions.”
“I can’t dance,” Cade insisted, growing irritated with himself more than with Harry. “We both know that kind of physical activity would be difficult for me with my…limitations.” Cade had come to hate his leg and all the problems it caused him. The pain was a constant reminder of that fateful day and the helplessness he experienced as he watched his friends die. He should count his blessings: the very fact he was alive. When he couldn’t, he felt guilty, sinking into a black hole that wanted to suck him up.
“Do you know exactly what your role would be?” Harry always seemed to ask the right questions. He’d relentlessly zoom in to a problem the way a hawk goes after its prey.
Thinking back over their brief conversation, once Hope mentioned the dance, Cade hesitated before answering, realizing his error. “No.”
“Then it seems to me you’re making another assumption.”
Cade felt like he’d backed himself into a corner. He wanted to dance with Hope. Not dance, especially, but hold her tight against him. All night, he’d tossed and struggled with the sheets, tugging them one way and then another, as his mind filled with thoughts of the pleasure of holding Hope in his arms. Half-asleep, he could smell the scent of her perfume and feel the comfort of her pressing against him. He wanted that more than he wanted anything. Then his mind would shoot to his disability and the embarrassment he’d feel if his leg gave out from under him. It’d happened before and it would again. No way would he put himself in that position. Eager as he was to hold Hope, he couldn’t let himself do it.
And yet…
Their conversation from the day before had been a turning point for him. It’d felt monumental to sit at her side, share Wee Willie’s hot dogs, and enjoy the late afternoon as if he hadn’t a care in the world. It’d been years since he’d experienced any moment as freeing until…until she’d mentioned the dance.