Page 45 of A Heart of Little Faith
“She was pretty upset, but I finally got her to bed. Do you want a drink or something?” She gazed at him, dying to ask if he was okay, but knowing somehow his pride would prevent his answering. She remained quiet. She gripped the door, her knuckles white as she backed up, but he shook his head. It was a slight movement; if she hadn’t been staring at him closely, she might have missed it. But the pain in his eyes remained and his slight hiss sounded like paper tearing. The sound tore at her heart and she swallowed as he answered.
“No thanks, I just wanted to fill you in and to thank you for coming over. I’m sorry Claire had to see that.”
“Me too. Maybe we can reschedule?” Anything to keep him here with her.
“Yeah.” Gideon shifted his gaze down the hall, winced and rubbed his leg again. He started to back away. “I’ve got to go.”
She couldn’t remain silent. Not with him in obvious distress. “Anything wrong?” Her gaze wandered from his face to his leg.
“What? Oh, just a cramp. Stress. It’s no big deal.” The more he spoke, the redder he turned. “Nothing a little sleep won’t cure.”
She wanted to make him stay. He needed her, and the urge to help him overwhelmed her. “Or a massage?”
“What?” Gideon squinted. He shook his head.
“A massage. I just happen to be the best masseuse there is.” She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms over her chest, as if she dared him to argue.
“Oh really?” Gideon leaned back. Exhaustion were etched on his forehead and Lily longed to brush them away.
“Really.”
“How come I’ve never heard of you?”
“Poor marketing skills, I guess. Come on, I’ll show you.” As Gideon chuckled, she strolled over to the couch. He followed her halfway to the other side of the room before braking hard.
“It’s not necessary, Lil.” His gaze darted from the couch to the front door as he started to perspire. His damp palms slipped as he rolled himself backward and he closed his eyes.
She gripped the arm of the couch and pressed on. “Wanna place a wager?”
“Wager?” He opened them and drew ragged breaths.
“Wager. Bet. Gamble. Stake.”
“Yeah I know what a wager is, thank you. I just don’t know why we would bet on this.” His gaze followed her as she continued her stroll around the room, her voice low but enticing.
“Because a) I’m sure I can win, and b) I figure I can finagle a real dinner out of you.” She smirked. She’d hooked him. She could tell by the set of his shoulders.
He shook his head and wheeled over. “Okay, loser takes the winner to dinner.”
They shook hands in mock seriousness and Lily stood for a minute, forefinger tapping the corner of her mouth as she stared at him.
“What?” He squirmed then struggled for breath as he continued to rub his leg.
“I think this will work better on the sofa. Why don’t you get comfortable? I’ll be right back.”
She went into the kitchen before he could refuse. She poured water into a pitcher and filled a glass with ice to allow Gideon enough time to prepare and compose himself. He couldn’t hide his emotions nearly as well as he thought he could. Lily saw both his pain and his self-consciousness. His “leave me alone” signals shot out from him like a sparkler on the Fourth of July. While she’d succeeded in getting him to let her in, she had to tread carefully now.
After a nerve-wracking three minutes where Lily stared at the clock, she returned with the pitcher and glass on a tray, and saw to her satisfaction that Gideon moved onto the sofa. But the new location wasn’t necessarily an improvement. Hostile silence practically slapped her in the face. He faced her, his jaw set, his expression mutinous as he flicked his gaze between her and the door. His shirt, damp from sweat, clung to him. His breathing was harsh and his legs twitched. While before, he’d appeared tired and self-conscious, now misery etched his features.
If he were anyone else, she would have taken him in her arms and held him, rubbed his shoulder and soothed him. However, that was about as wise as hugging a porcupine. He’d mistake her compassion for pity. One wrong move on her part and he’d be off the couch, into his chair and out the door before she could say, “Boo.” With his clenched jaw and pulsating tendon in his neck, he dared her to come near him. The coffee table offered a barrier, and his balled fist rested on his wheelchair, knuckles white. Getting the message loud and clear not to touch the chair, she decided on a different strategy. He’d never relax on his own. She approached him with a calm and detached manner, all traces of emotion hidden.
“Do you mind if I rearrange a few things first?” Without waiting for his reply, she chatted about unimportant things while she pulled the coffee table away from the sofa and sat next to him.
Gideon started to protest, and cleared his throat. The sofa cushions bounced and he leaned into her. Struggling to right himself, he took a deep breath and swallowed. “Okay.”
Lily could practically see his pugnacious vocal cords battle each other in an attempt to muffle him. The two syllables rasped from between his lips, and she fought the urge to cringe. She brushed his knuckles gently as she reassured him with her touch. That one point of contact almost undid her and all of her efforts to remain unfazed by his plight. She bit her lip as she handed him a pillow, poured water into the glass and put the glass of water within his reach on the table. “There, much better.” Her words sounded false to her ears, but she couldn’t afford for him to any trace of pity in her tone.
“I’ve been doing this since I was three,” she said. “Also, you’re going to want to lay down.” When he braced himself, she leaned forward and pulled his legs onto her lap. As Gideon shot his arms out to adjust his position, Lily took advantage of the moment. Before he could protest, she untied his shoes and removed them, and she began to massage his feet and calves. “Let me know if I hurt you, okay?”