Page 3 of Welcome to Forever
“Good job, bud.” The all-too-familiar pride he got watching Ben succeed tightened his throat. “Go ahead and wheel yourself to the bathroom, and then you can have your eggs at the table.” He walked to the kitchen and waited. Ten minutes later, he slid a plate of scrambled eggs in front of his son. “Eat up. It’s going to be an exciting day.”
Ben hesitated, no longer smiling. Ben always smiled.
“Something wrong?” Micah asked, knowing exactly what the problem was. Ben had loved school until last December’s incident.
“What if no one likes me?” he asked in a barely audible voice.
Patting his back, Micah shook his head. “Not possible.”
“What if kids laugh at me?”
“They won’t.”
“But, last year—”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about. I promise.” Micah had wanted to punch those kids last year. The Marine Corps would frown on one of their own punching the lights out of a couple of eight-year-olds, though. “And so what if they laugh? Ignore them.”
Ben stabbed his eggs with his fork. It was crummy advice. Hurtful words were hard to ignore, but the advice Micah’s own father had given him growing up wouldn’t work in this situation, either. If Ben tried to throw the first punch, the kids would pummel him.
Micah set his plate on the table and started to eat.
“Aren’t you going to sit?” Ben asked.
He hesitated. If he sat, he’d probably fall asleep. He’d spent the last three days with his squadron, and then come straight home to relieve Aunt Clara of babysitting duty. In the last four days, he’d barely managed three hours of sleep, which was why he needed to keep moving.
Glancing at his son, he hoped to God Ben didn’t see his red-lined eyes, underscored with almost permanent black circles—battle scars of the parent of a child with special needs. “Nope. I have a laundry list of things to do to make your first day at Seaside Elementary perfect.”
Ben offered one of his huge, heart-shattering smiles, stabbing at another mound of eggs.
“Easy there, buddy. Take too big a bite and you’ll spend your day in the ER instead of third grade.”
Ben spoke with a full mouth. “No more trips to the ER this year.”
Micah nodded, knowing they’d be lucky if that were true.
An hour later, he parked his blue Jeep Cherokee in the front of Seaside Elementary and pulled Ben’s wheelchair out of the back. “Ready?”
When he looked at his son, the boy’s pale complexion told him the truth. Ben was scared, but he smiled anyway. “Sure, Dad.”
His son’s bravery gripped his heart and made him, the decorated war hero, feel like a coward. Ben never complained about anything, took everything in stride. But Micah remembered how hard it had been growing up a military brat, drifting from one military town to another.Damn hard.That’s why this would be his last assigned duty station before civilian life. No more moving all over the country. When Micah’s commitment was up next May, he wasn’t reenlisting. Ben needed a home for once, and a dad to teach him to do things for himself, especially since his mother didn’t see fit to call much from whatever assignment she was on these days.
As he walked up beside Ben’s chair, he signaled for him to go forward. Insurance had sprung for a top-notch wheelchair this year with one-sided steering. Everyone had concurred that it was time. Ben’s muscles were getting tighter as he grew taller, a symptom of his cerebral palsy, and soon, walking would be impossible. “Just don’t run over anyone, okay?”
“Okay, Dad.” The chair crawled forward at a steady pace.
“See those flowers, bud? I planted those a few days ago,” Micah said.
Ben didn’t break his concentration. He knew exactly where he was going. Micah had taken him to the school last week to get adjusted to the layout. Each wing of the building was named after sea life. Ben’s classroom was down the Sand Fiddler’s hall, first door on the left.
Micah stopped just short of the school’s front entrance and gave him a quick salute. “I’ll see you this afternoon, okay?” Ben was too old for the hugs and kisses he used to give. That’d only fuel the other kids’ teasing. But maybe this school would be different, he thought.
“See you later, Dad.” Ben returned his salute and continued forward, not looking back. Micah knew if he did, he’d lose control of his body and the wheelchair.
Good boy.
Micah recognized the young principal from this morning greeting the children at the school’s entrance.
“Walk,” she warned in a sweet voice that did little to slow the excited feet as they stampeded toward her. Her beautiful smile grew larger as she looked at Ben. He usually had that effect on people. Then she waved and—ah, damn it—Ben lifted his arm to wave back.
