Someday Soon by Debbie Macomber Page A

He made it sound like a four-letter word, as if saying it left an acrid taste in his mouth.
    “Oh, that’s smart,” she muttered sarcastically. “In other words, you go out of your way to make life difficult.”
    He didn’t answer, but then she hadn’t expected he would.
    “Just go,” he ventured after a moment of uncomfortable silence.
    “That would be much too easy.” She sat back on the overstuffed chair and stretched her long legs onto the ottoman. Crossing her arms, she set her lips in the same stubborn, prim way her mother had so often.
    “Just how long do you intend to plant yourself in my house?” he asked gruffly.
    “As long as it takes to get you to walk again.”
    He snickered. “Neither of us is going to live that long.”
    So that was it. He didn’t believe it was possible, couldn’t see past the pain and the frustration. The light at the end of the tunnel was an oncoming freight train and not the hope she’d worked so hard to instill in him.
    Tim had plunged himself into a cave of despair, crawled through the mire of pessimism, and was waiting for her to give up on him the way everyone else had. With the exception of Cain McClellan. She wouldn’t, only he didn’t know that. Not yet.
    “You’re going to walk, Tim Mallory, come hell or highwater, and you can count on that because I’m not going to allow you to waste the rest of your life feeling sorry for yourself.”
    Tim’s hands tightened into fists. He clenched his teeth so tight, his jaw went white. Francine guessed that the control on his temper was precarious at best.
    “So that’s it,” he said in a voice best described as a growl. “You want me to walk. You need me to walk. Because if I do, it’s a feather in your professional cap. You can’t allow me to ruin your perfect record. Can’t allow me to smear your lily white reputation.”
    Francine knew this probably wasn’t the moment to laugh, but she couldn’t help herself. She giggled.
    Tim cursed and wheeled away from her. There wasn’t any place he could go that she couldn’t follow. He must have figured she was just the type to go after him because he suddenly rotated back around. “Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to walk again?”
    “Frankly, no,” she returned smoothly. “You want it so damn much you can taste it. You want it so much you’re scared spitless. You’re more frightened now than you’ve been at any other time of your life because if you dare to think it’s possible, then it won’t happen.”
    “Who the hell do you think you are, Sigmund Freud?”
    “Tim,” she said, allowing her voice to soften significantly. “I’ve been a physical therapist for a long time. You aren’t so different from the others I’ve worked with over the years. There’s no shame in fear. No disgrace in pain. If anything, it’s a common denominator.”
    The fierce light in his eyes brightened.
    “I can help, if you’ll let me.” She scooted to the edge of the cushioned chair and prayed some of what she’dsaid made sense in that stubborn head of his. “Listen, Tim—”
    “No one calls me Tim,” he said.
    “No one calls me ‘sweetheart,’” she countered without reproach.
    He gave a snickering laugh. “I can see why. What did McClellan do, search for the ugliest therapist he could find?”
    His verbal attack was so brutal and unexpected that it left Francine reeling. She’d underestimated his ability to find her weakest point and charge full speed ahead.
    It shouldn’t hurt this much. She should be used to it by now. Tim Mallory was only saying what others thought, only saying what she knew to be true.
    But it did hurt. Like hell. For several excruciating moments she waited for the pain to fade.
    “Oh, so now we’re going to get nasty and personal,” she said, faking a small laugh. “I have news for you, Tim Mallory. If you think insults are going to send me running, you’re wrong. I’m not going to give up on you, even if you’ve