Now her brother wanted her to give the okay for him to become a patient of a therapeutic horse program. Not as long as she was his guardian.
“There has to be another option.”
“You heard what Dr. Chapman said. We’ve tried everything else. This is my best shot to walk without this damned walker,” Ryan said, as he struggled to maneuver onto the elevator.
A year ago Ryan had been driving when a man walked out onto the street from between two parked cars. Unable to avoid the man, Ryan hit him and then barreled head-on into a telephone phone pole. The man nearly died. Both of Ryan’s legs were crushed and he’d sustained a brain injury that left him with control and balance issues. Despite two surgeries and countless hours of physical therapy, he still needed a walker. The investigation cleared Ryan of any wrongdoing, but he’d still carried a fair share of guilt over what happened.
Stacy stared at her brother, his eyes filled with determination and, more importantly, hope. Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t seen that emotion in his gaze for months. He deserved every chance to get his life back to what it had been, but how could she let him get on a horse? “I don’t know.”
“Please, you’ve got to let me try this. Whatever the risk, for me it’s worth it.”
She told herself he wouldn’t be racing around hell-for-leather on a movie set with cannons booming around him like their father had been. From what Dr. Chapman said, the horse Ryan rode for therapy would be walking or at most trotting around an arena with multiple volunteers to ensure nothing went wrong. She glanced at her brother. He was so young. How could she deny him this chance to get his life back? “You win.”
“You’re the best.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
Once in the car Ryan stuck his nose in the program brochures the doctor had given them, occasionally tossing out information. “Most of the programs have spring sessions starting this time of year. That means I can start right away. In ten weeks I could be ditching my walker.”
“Where’s the closest one?” Stacy asked, her mind starting to work on how she’d carve time out of her schedule to accommodate his therapy sessions.
Then a thought hit her. Her next movie, The Women of Spring Creek Ranch, was scheduled to start shooting next week in Estes Park, Colorado.
Unless she figured out a way to be in two places at once, she had a problem.
* * *
“MOM, RYAN HAD another appointment with the neurologist this afternoon. You told me you’d be there.” Stacy fought to keep her voice level despite her growing irritation as she walked into the living room of her mother’s recently redecorated Malibu beach house.
“I went out to lunch with some friends and lost track of time.”
More likely she lost track of how many cosmos she’d had, and based on her bleary-eyed gaze, smeared mascara and rumpled blouse and slacks, she had passed out the minute she got home.
Which was exactly why Ryan had asked Stacy to sue for guardianship. They’d both hoped Andrea losing custody of her son would be the wake-up call she needed to pull herself together. So far that hadn’t been the case.
“I know I should’ve been there, but I’ve had so many doctor appointments of my own.” Andrea, a passenger in the car with Ryan, had broken her arm. She’d also received minor cuts to her face and neck, for which she’d insisted on plastic surgery to repair. She’d also attended biweekly sessions with her therapist to cope with the emotional trauma. “I couldn’t bear facing another doctor. Plus, you’re so much better dealing with Ryan’s problems than I am.”
Same old story. Her mom couldn’t cope so she bailed on her son.
Stacy sank onto the couch beside her mother, took a deep breath and recounted the details from Ryan’s doctor appointment.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea considering what happened to your father.” Andrea’s voice broke. “I still miss him so much. How could God have taken him when he always took care of me?”
The accident that killed Stacy’s father was the first blow that sent Andrea’s world spinning. Her mother had taken to her bed. If it hadn’t been for their nanny, Stacy didn’t know what would’ve happened to her and Ryan. Molly had been the one she clung to when she woke from nightmares. When she skinned her knee, she ran to Molly who hugged her and dried her tears.
Stacy’s life changed even more when the movie she filmed with her father opened a year later. Critics raved not only about Jason Michaels’s performance, but Stacy’s, as well. Talk shows wanted to interview her. Directors sent scripts to her father’s agent for consideration. The next thing Stacy knew, she had a full-time job.
Her focus changed from studying for her weekly spelling test to preparing for her next audition. Six months later she landed a role on what turned out to be an Emmy-award-winning series, The Kids Run the Place, that ran for ten years. Looking back now, she realized being on that show saved her life. The cast became more of a family than her own had ever been. She’d often pretended her TV parents were her real parents. One day she even begged Sophia Granger, her TV mom, to take her home with her.
Don’t think about that now. Concentrate on Ryan’s problem, and getting Mom to see he needs her.
“The doctor thinks the therapeutic sports riding will improve Ryan’s muscle control and balance,” Stacy said, summarizing the information she’d read on the internet. The horse’s rhythmic movement was what helped people. To control and direct the horse the patient had to master his own body. The skills learned on horseback then carried over into the patient’s everyday life. “The risk of something going wrong is minuscule.” Maybe if she said the words enough she’d believe them, too. “Ryan wants this chance at a normal life.”
“I trust you to decide what’s best. I don’t know what I’d do without you to take care of things.”
Maybe you’d have to face reality for a change and be the parent.
Resisting the urge to massage her aching temples, Stacy counted to ten, trying to dredge up more patience, because all she wanted to do was shake her mother and scream for her to snap out of it. Not that doing so would do any good. Her mother would only burst into tears and ask how her daughter could say that to her when she was still dealing with the pain caused by her injuries and her recent separation from husband number three.
Grant had turned out to be prime marriage material. Three months ago he claimed his wife’s physical and emotional problems from the car accident were draining him creatively, and the negative energy was affecting his auditions, costing him roles. Then he moved out.
“I start filming next week. I was hoping you could go with Ryan to therapy.”
Stacy reached into her purse, pulled out the list of programs and held the paper out to her mother. “The doctor highlighted the ones he thought were the best.”
Her mother scanned the information. “These are all out of town. I can’t go anywhere. Grant and I are meeting tomorrow to talk about reconciling.” Her mother’s blue eyes sparkled, as she toyed with a strand of golden hair, highlighted perfectly and often to cover the gray. “He says he misses me. That his life is so empty without me.”
Stacy wanted to laugh at her mother’s naïveté. More likely Grant missed his bills being paid and the lifestyle he’d become accustomed to living with Andrea. Life had to be less pleasant for him when he had to actually earn a living.
“That’s wonderful that he’s willing to talk about a reconciliation, but Ryan needs—”
“I still can’t believe Grant moved out.” Tears pooled in Andrea’s eyes. “I thought we’d be together forever. That he’d take care of me.”