Page 3 of Codename: Dustoff
“I’ll come with you Gem! I think I remember Elyse saying she was going to be late today.”
Despite only having one arm, I was out of my chair, wrapped in my coat, and falling into step next to her with the speed and efficiency of a bobsledder.
“You never volunteer to come early, and given Elyse texted me twenty minutes ago telling me she was on her way, I know you’re full of shit. So what gives?” Gemini looped her arm through mine as we walked the path to the resort.
“I hate when people stare.” I waived my armless shoulder as an exclamation point to my statement. “And that stupid look they get when they notice I only have one arm.”
“I’m so glad our amputee support group is helping you to accept and release.”
That was one of Henry’s favorite mantras. Accept that we were different and release ourselves from personal expectations. At least three times a meeting he would tell the group based on whomever was sharing an experience, “I see that someone is reeling in what they just cast out to the universe.” Or he’d say, “Expectations are not fish. We do not want to pull them back in. Release them! Like butterflies!” It was a thousand percent hokey, but still managed to dill my pickle every time he said it.
Over the summer, we’d hosted a wedding for friends of the resort owner. In a moment of weakness I’d broken open like a fucking egg to Gemini. Watching all the blissfully happy couples dancing, laughing, and socializing with one another, had been too much to bear. I told her things Finn didn’t even know. That I was afraid I’d be alone forever. I didn’t think anyone would ever want to date me. Who would find a guy who wasn’t capable of holding hands and opening a door concurrently, attractive? And my ever present fear of my inability to open a pickle jar. In every area that counted, I came up lacking. With me, the partnership would be inequitable from the onset.
Gemini tried to get me to attend a support group for months, but realized amputees weren’t at the top of the list for any kind of funding in these parts. Money was tight and no one wanted to waste it on people with missing limbs. Especially not when women up in hill country were still dying in childbirth because they didn’t have access to healthcare.
Instead, she called Penn, who owned the Echo Creek Resort. One request to underwrite her new venture, and now we had a support group. There were five of us in the group up until a few weeks ago. That’s when Gem was contacted by the Veteran’s Administration and asked if her group accepted veterans.
“Oh, hey! Amelia! It’s so great to see you again.”
Speaking of our new friend, she arrived early. Both times I’d seen her, she wore her hair tied in the tightest bun I’d ever seen. Based on the bumps along the hair line, it appeared her hair was fairly curly. You’d never know though, considering every piece of hair, even the flyaways were contained beneath bobby pins and probably hair product.
The woman was definitely equal parts enticing and surprising. Last week she stood in the corner of the room, leaning against a support beam, for the whole meeting. She barely participated, other than providing her name. She was a TFA, according to Gem. A transfemoral amputation, with a side of disarticulation. I’d only learned that listening to Henry and Gemini’s conversation while they reset the ballroom. I didn’t know her story. Given she was a vet, my guess was that she’d lost her leg overseas, Afghanistan or Iraq.
Amelia nodded at Gemini, giving her a barely heard “ma’am.”
“I’m so glad that you came back. It’s truly a great bunch here. I know being new is always hard.” Gemini reached for her hand and squeezed it, that genuine smile of hers glittering like a damn Christmas tree. “If you need anything. Seriously, anything, please let me know. I feel kind of responsible for everyone who attends this group. In a weird way it’s like I’m connected to all of you.”
Henry called to her from inside of the ballroom, asking about chairs.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. There’s plenty of time before the group starts. They’re setting up all the holiday decorations around the resort for the tree lighting tomorrow—you should go check them out! With the snow outside and all the lights—it’s just magical!”
Chit chat and small talk were not my forte. Actually, I pretty much sucked at striking up random conversations with people. Most of my interactions with strangers were in the form of online friendships and the occasional dating app. At least then, the angle of the camera could hide what was obvious in person. There was no use pretending my existence didn’t make people really fucking uncomfortable.
“She’s actually a famous chef.” I tossed my head in Gemini’s direction. “She came here last year and fell—literally and figuratively—in love with my best friend while staying at the resort. Moved here to be with him, and now they’re happy as all get out.”
I don’t know what possessed me to lead with a story about Gem. My communication skills didn’t get near enough practice in this town. Amelia didn’t appear all that interested in what I had to say anyway. She leaned against the windowsill, her eyes dancing all over the space, looking everywhere but at me. I wouldn’t be surprised if I made her uncomfortable too.
While I continued to flounder like a damn fish gasping for air to revive this stilted conversation, her cell phone rang. She raised her eyebrow in tandem with bringing the phone to her ear. Like I gave a damn about her conversation. I turned away, but it was a small area, and her voice carried.
“No sir, of course I do. I appreciate the invite. I just don’t think I’ll be able to come. It’s not about the money, sir. With all respect, those men don’t want to see me. I’m just a reminder of all the bad shit that happened over there. Yes, sir. I understand. I will think about it.”
They disconnected. I heard Amelia slump into a chair, whispering a string of expletives. I should have kept to my business. Finn always says I’m nosier than an old widow on her front porch in summer.
“You okay?” I asked, taking the seat opposite her. “You’re not in any pain, are you? It sounded like you came down pretty hard in that chair.”
Wrong approach. If she’d been fixin’ for a fight when she hung up, I’d dialed her to thermonuclear. Even under her zip hoodie and stretch pants, she looked kind of buff. She could break me in two with minimal effort.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” she asked.
Her whole face was flushed, from her ears all the way down to her chest. I didn’t want to assume she was on the verge of tears, but the deep chocolate of her eyes glistened from light streaming in from the window.
“Emmett McCarthy.” I extended my hand. “Fellow amputee. Also, generally nice guy who is concerned for your well-being.”
She ignored my extended hand, choosing instead to open her text messages on her phone and shoot off a message to someone.
“I have some Aleve in my backpack if you’d like it. Sometimes the cold makes this ache too.”
I raised my shoulder realizing too late I was in a sweater, and she couldn’t see what remained of my left arm. The gold medal for conversations that aren’t awkward at all should be awarded to me.