Smiling, she looked up the number and dialed.
Someone else answered, probably her roommate. “Is Ashleigh there?” Hannah asked.
“Just a minute.”
Despite the hip-hop music playing in the background, Hannah could hear Ashleigh talking and laughing in the room before finally coming to the phone. “Hello?”
Hannah started doodling on a sticky pad. “Ashleigh?”
“Yes?”
“This is Hannah Price.”
“Hi, Hannah. What’s up?”
“I’m calling to see if you might be available to go to Gabe Holbrook’s cabin with me tomorrow night.”
There was a surprised silence, then, “You’re going to Gabe Holbrook’s cabin?”
Hannah ignored the unspoken “But he hardly talks to anyone, and you’re the one who put him in that wheelchair.” “He’s hired me to make him a few meals now that he’s busy coaching,” she said, to keep things simple.
Ashleigh hesitated as she absorbed the news, then continued hopefully, “And he asked you to bring me along?”
Hannah definitely didn’t want to mislead Ashleigh. She wasn’t trying to get Gabe into a steamy physical relationship; she only wanted to generate enough interest to coax him back to a more normal life. “No, I just thought it would be nice. He needs a haircut.”
“Oh, for a haircut. Now I get it. I mean, he’s gorgeous, but he’s never been particularly friendly to me. Usually, he has Rebecca cut his hair and barely even looks at me.”
Hannah heard the deflation in her voice and struggled to steer Ashleigh somewhere in the middle of “no hope there” and “hot pursuit.” “He doesn’t look at anyone these days, Ash. But he needs friends. Distractions. Social engagements. And you’re pretty connected to the social scene around here, right?”
“I guess. And I’d be willing to help him. But he doesn’t give anyone anything to hang on to, you know? He’s not…responsive.”
“Maybe, for right now, we need to lower our expectations,” she said. “He needs people who are fun and outgoing. We’ve all stood back, sort of shocked and uncomfortable with what happened to him. Especially me, since I caused the whole thing. But I think it’s time to quit apologizing and feeling bad and waiting for him to recover. I think it’s time to be proactive.”
“I like that,” Ashleigh said. “Proactive. Sounds modern and bold.”
“Exactly. We’re going to help him.”
Ashleigh didn’t even hesitate. “Okay. When will you pick me up?”
Hannah made a mental note to add the wine she’d bought to tomorrow’s dinner. “Five-thirty. We’ll see you then, okay?”
“Hannah?” Ashleigh said, catching her before she could hang up.
“What?”
“Do you think…”
“What?” Hannah prompted when her words fell off.
“Do you think Gabe can still make love?”
The thought that she wouldn’t mind finding out firsthand flitted through Hannah’s mind, but she quickly squashed it. It had been six years since she’d slept with Russ, with anyone. She was beginning to feel old already. But she had her boys to think about. The risks of getting involved with another man were too great. If she wound up pregnant or made another bad decision…
“I don’t know,” she said, but she could have added that one night, not long after the accident, she’d actually searched the Internet and learned that a male’s ability to have an erection depended on the level of the spinal cord injury. She’d also learned that the nerves that controlled an erection are located in the sacral segments. According to the newspapers and talk around town, Gabe’s spine wasn’t completely severed, and his injury was low enough that it was possible he could make love the same way as other men. But there was also the chance he couldn’t. “We’re not shooting for that level of intimacy, Ashleigh.”
“I was just wondering.”
“Well, if it ever comes to that, he’s got plenty of parts that do work, and work well. I’m sure he can figure out how to use them.”
Ashleigh giggled. “I guess that’s true, huh?”
Hannah pictured the beautiful blondes she’d seen on Gabe’s arm in the past and wondered how he’d react to Ashleigh. “Don’t forget your clippers, okay?”
Gabe’s hair actually looked pretty good long. Hannah wouldn’t have minded photographing him just the way he was. But leaving him as he was didn’t mesh with her new plan. Maybe she couldn’t help him walk again, or return to the NFL, but she was going to do her damnedest to see him live a happier life.
“This is going to be great,” Ashleigh said. “I love a challenge.”
Hannah felt the same excitement. She only hoped they’d be as optimistic tomorrow night. It wasn’t going to be easy to break through Gabe’s defenses.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE DINNER HANNAH HAD COOKED for him looked delicious. Gabe heated it up early, around four o’clock, and sat down to watch the various tapes Owens had given him. He had several pieces of furniture in different stages of completion, but the hobby that had diverted him since the accident didn’t appeal to him half as much as studying clips of the teams the Spartans would play this year. Maybe he’d taken on coaching a little grudgingly, but he was already beginning to feel exhilarated by the challenge. He loved the strategy and skill involved in football. And he wanted to win. Which made him particularly interested in the footage of Oakridge High’s last season. The Wildcats had been Dundee High’s rivals for as long as Gabe could remember, and the Spartans were going to have to play them first this year.
He lowered his gaze to the food on his plate and couldn’t help smiling. He’d been disgruntled about coaching and letting Hannah cook for him, but he didn’t regret either right now. Her food tasted better than anything he’d had in a long time—since he’d stopped visiting his parents.
Turning his attention back to the television, he saw senior Val Newcomber, quarterback for the Wildcats, fill the screen. Because Val had already played two years on varsity, Gabe knew there’d be plenty of tape on him.
For the next twenty minutes, he examined the way the Wildcats ran their offense, then checked the details he’d jotted down while speaking to Owens on the phone earlier. Owens had said—and Gabe could see—that Newcomber had a strong arm. The boy was also capable of stunning accuracy. But he was more of a Dan Marino than a Steve Young. He couldn’t scramble if the pocket began to collapse, and he didn’t make the best decisions under pressure….