“I’m glad to hear that,” he said with a chuckle, “because it’s nice to know that you’ve always got my back.”
“And apparently,” she said, “I’m guilty of pushing you, and, for that, I’m sorry.”
“You mean, the blues club?” He shook his head. “I told you that it was okay to talk to them.”
“But when I did, you weren’t happy.”
“It’s that whole change thing again,” he said. “It took me a few days to figure it out, but apparently I don’t like change in any form,” he said. “It came up with Shane too. He says that every time he changes my routine, I protest for one reason or another, but it comes down to the issue of change.”
“Of course. When he makes a change in your routine, you have to work different muscles,” she said. “So I’m not sure I’d like that myself.”
“Oh, come on. You embrace new things,” he said, “and that makes a huge difference.”
“Maybe,” she said, “but I’m more the eager beaver. You point me in a direction, and I’ll tear forward to see how far we can go. Unfortunately I’m frequently halfway there before I even give a thought to the prudence of going there in the first place.”
“Whereas, I’m more the plodding tortoise, who can see a path coming up ahead. And it’s a good thing that I can see it, so I have time to prepare for it before I ever get there,” he said, in a wry tone, laughing at himself.
“I think there is room in the world for both of us,” she said. “There’s no competition, and there’s no race.”
“No,” he said, “and that’s a good thing because, since I got here, I’ve not been in a racing spirit,” he said. “So it’s a really good thing there wasn’t actually one to worry about.”
“It’s just a matter of accepting where you’re at,” she said, “and accepting that you’re different and that everybody else around you is different too.”
“We’re back to that cheerleader again,” he said, and they sat in companionable silence while he ate his ice cream.
She looked at it again and said, “Now that you’re done,” she said, “I want one.”
He laughed. “I could go for a second one myself.” She stared at him in astonishment. He shrugged. “What? I’m just a growing boy, you know.”
She snorted at that and said, “Hang on. I’ll go see if Dennis is still around.” As she headed back into the kitchen, he saw her coming, looked at her suspiciously, and said, “Are you trying to rob me of my ice cream again?” He spoke in a mock horrified voice.
“Yep,” she said, “two, please, as Lance thinks he can go for a second one.”
“Boy, since that kid started to eat, it’s like every day he gains more and more of an appetite,” Dennis said, as he busily scooped up ice cream for them. When he handed her two big cones, she grinned a big fat smile and said, “Dennis, these look delicious. You are a master.”
“Yeah, well, remember, I’m not to blame for any changes to your waistline,” he said with a laugh, reminding her of their previous conversation.
“I’ve been so busy lately,” she said, “I think I’ve lost weight.” Off again, she headed back out to the deck.
As soon as he got his hands on his second ice cream cone, Lance smacked his lips and said, “Wow. You know there’s a lot to be said about this place.”
“It seems to be a good place for you,” she said.
“Now that you guys have given me my music back,” he said, “it’s a great place for me.”
And Lance meant it. Having that part of his world opened up again had filled him with so much soul satisfaction that he couldn’t believe it. He remembered all the reasons why he hadn’t even tried to handle musical instruments before, and he knew that he hadn’t been at a stage of recovery where it was possible. But now it was possible, and he felt so blessed.
He wished he could play on the piano for a couple hours, just to work on that, but he wasn’t sure if that would be asking too much. He was very grateful for the hour and a half he had every Saturday, but it was just that much harder to ask for more when people were already being so generous. He did bring it up with Shane on Monday morning.
“I don’t know if we can move it to another location or not,” Shane said. “I know it’s on wheels but—”
“Right. It’s in a very public location right now,” Lance said. “Which means, if anybody else wanted to sit down and play, they can’t.”
“Nobody has, as far as I’m aware,” Shane said, “but it’s a good point.”
Monday passed; Tuesday passed. And, by Wednesday, Lance couldn’t resist. He crutched his way to the piano, shifted onto the bench, and just ran a few chords. Within a few minutes he pounded away at the keys. It was all he could do to force himself to stop after a couple songs, but he did and then managed to get his wheelchair and left. But just that much playing had the energy thrumming through his veins and a smile on his face.
Dani saw him later that day, and she asked, “Was that you on the keyboard?”
“Yes,” he said. “Should I apologize? I just couldn’t resist. I wanted to touch the music so badly that I couldn’t stop myself.”
“I didn’t hear any complaints,” she said with a smile, “so it’s a case of making sure it’s not too much.”
He nodded. “It’s nice to know that I could maybe play a couple songs and not hurt anybody’s sense of propriety in this.”
“People will be people,” she said. “The guitar is at least mobile, and you can take it outside. But the piano? That’s a different story.”
“But you got it tuned,” he said, “so we don’t want to waste it.”
She chuckled. “No, we definitely don’t want
