Impossible Feat

Gunner's jaw tightened and he swiveled in his chair to face his desk again. He stared at the papers as one leg bounced nervously. "I dunno why you keep wanting me to talk to somebody," he grumbled. "It doesn't do anything anyway 'cept rehash a bunch of garbage."

He picked up a pen to fiddle with, and began clicking it open and shut, open and shut. "Talking things out is pointless and accomplishes nothing. Sitting here and actually going after the case - now that does something."

He could feel Hope's eyes on him, though he refused to turn back around. He knew she wouldn't like what he was saying. He knew good and well that talking things through helped clear people's heads and helped people deal with situations better - whether it was logical or not. But if he talked things through, he might not want to go after evidence anymore. And if he didn't want to go after evidence anymore, that would mean he was giving up the case. And he couldn't give up. Ever.

His bouncing leg and clicking pen still had not stopped. He felt like a caged animal, backed into a corner, and panic was starting deep down on the inside. His palms started to sweat, and he swallowed hard.

"I'm fine," he stated flatly. "I just...dozed off 'cause I was here early. Now I got work to do before Reese comes and breathes down my neck."

"Yeah, but if I break something else, you'll have to keep taking care of me." Jared knew by now that even if he was well, Grace would make time for him. Still though, there was just a small part of him that worried maybe she wouldn't.

Back inside the house, it was discovered that Lydia was busy in the basement doing laundry. It was assumed that tonight would still be fine though, and Jared seemed as though he didn't mind not asking his mother about it. What he did not tell Grace, was that he knew good and well Lydia had Bible study tonight, which meant she'd be gone...

...Fillet of beef with red wine sauce, green beans and savory garlic and butter mashed potatoes - two plates were being kept warm in the oven, the wonderful aroma filling the kitchen. Fresh lettuce salad was already on the dining room table, and two slices of gourmet cheesecake remained chilled in the refrigerator for later. Jared would have a lot of explaining to do, since all of this was a rather impossible feat.

Using his shoulder as much as he dared with his wheelchair, he continued to maneuver between the kitchen and dining room, finishing up preparations. It was seven-thirty and he knew Grace would be here any minute.

Dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt, it wouldn't seem much to some, but it was more than his usual sweats he usually wore around the house. At least he'd gotten a hair cut today too, which helped, and he'd managed a good shower and shave as well. That alone had been exhausting, but...it was worth it. 

Balancing two glasses between his legs, he was just pouring some water over ice when he heard the doorbell. Still keeping the refrigerator door propped open with one foot and handling the cumbersome pitcher, he yelled, knowing it must be Grace. 

"It's open!" He glanced to the dining room, making sure he'd remembered to light the candles in the center of the table, and finished pouring the water. "I'm in the kitchen," he hollered. 

"So...?" Jade elbowed Rosalyn as they washed the breakfast dishes the next morning.

Rosalyn quirked an eyebrow at her. "So...what?"

"So how did last night go?"

"Oh, that." A little smile crept across Rosalyn's lips. "It went well. I need to give you your shoes back, by the way."

"Shoes can wait. Juicy details can't."

Rosalyn rolled her eyes. "There aren't any juicy details."

Jade's jaw dropped, along with the cup she was washing, which splashed back into the soapy water. "None?"

"Not really." Rosalyn shook her head. "We went out to eat...danced...went for a walk. It was...really nice."

"Oooh...a romantic walk under the stars?"

Rosalyn grabbed another plate to dry and thought for a moment before shaking her head again. "It would have been more romantic, had we not talked about the stupid stuff going on back here." She gave Jade a sidelong glance. "Making out just didn't seem like the best idea when I was crying and Chad was trying to be sweet."

"Aw I'm sorry." Jade wished there was something she could do. She hated what was going on with Jim, but she also knew that to interfere could cause even more problems.

"It's okay." Rosalyn shrugged and continued to work. It was a few more moments before a new grin emerged and she spoke again. "We did have a nice goodbye kiss though."

Jade giggled. "Well that's good. You wouldn't want to leave the poor man with nothing."

Rosalyn's cheeks had turned red. "I wouldn't have wanted to have been left with nothing either," she admitted with a laugh. She didn't know when she would see Chad again. He was going home and back to work. She was staying here, and their lives would continue on...separately. And she had no idea when he might come back, or even if he would after all the trouble with this visit. All she could do was hope that he was right - that maybe by the time he came again, Jim would have softened.

The back end of the barn was quiet today. But it wasn't so unusual when considering it was Trent and Dylan working that area. Neither were known for being chatterboxes. At the moment, both were seated on some hay bales, taking a break after having cleaned several stalls right after breakfast, and both were sipping on bottles of Mountain Dew.

"Seen Jim today?"

"Nuh-uh." Dylan shook his head. "Heard Becky say he didn't even feel like getting out of bed this morning."

Trent scoffed. "If I'da gotten pummeled by your dad, I wouldn't feel like getting out of bed either."

"He feels horrible, ya know."

"Who? Your dad? Did he say that?"

"No." Dylan took another swig of pop. "But I can tell."

"And how's that?"

"He didn't talk to Remington this morning when he fed him."

Trent cocked his head, grinning a little. "You see a lot, don't you?"

Dylan shrugged and leaned back into some hay bales. "I dunno. I suppose."

Trent continued to study the young man, curious. Dylan was always so withdrawn...but did that mean he wasn't paying attention, or did he see more than most? "What do you...think about that whole thing with Jim and Rosalyn?"

"I don't think it's something I'm supposed to think about, do you?"

"I'm not asking you to stick your nose in - I'm just asking what your opinion is."

Dylan found his Mountain Dew bottle's label to pick at. "Jim's being an overprotective father, Rosalyn is hurt and may never heal completely, and I dunno about Chad, but I'd bet he's stubborn enough to keep at it."

Trent's mouth twitched. The boy did pay attention. "Mm-hmm...I haven't heard much from Becky on the subject."

"She's stuck in the middle," Dylan reasoned. "She wants to help her daughter, but doesn't necessarily agree Chad's right for her either, and she doesn't like the way Jim's handling things, but he's her husband, so she doesn't argue - at least not in public."

Trent wondered if Mick realized how insightful his son was. "And Clint?"

"He's angry." Dylan took another sip of his pop. "But he's got a lot more than that to stress him out."

"Oh?"

"Well, he's got reason to be angry with his dad - he already got struck once, and will probably never forget it. He wants to help Rosalyn more but doesn't know how, or doesn't dare, and that frustrates him. He's thrilled about the baby coming, but is also scared he can't support his family, and the worry keeps him up at night. He's as happy as anybody that Wes is alive and home, but he's upset Wes isn't planning on working in the shop as much as he was before - keeps his mouth shut though, 'cause it sounds selfish."

After a pause, Trent blinked. First, it was more than he'd ever heard Dylan say in one sitting, and second, some of this was news to him. All he'd wanted was to see how observant the kid was, and he'd gotten more than he'd bargained for. "Does Clint talk to you about all that?"

"I don't think he talks to anybody about it, but it's pretty obvious to me."

It certainly wasn't obvious to Trent, which only piqued his interest even more. "How about...Jeff?"

Dylan let another mouthful of Mountain Dew slide down his throat. "What about him?"

Trent shrugged. "What do you see?"

"Oh. I guess I see somebody who's got a lot of hurt he doesn't let show. Lots of regrets, even though he's been forgiven. He's mad his body is so weak, but too tired to fight it anymore. And he misses Katie something awful, but doesn't want to pressure her in coming to visit him too often."

Trent grinned and just shook his head. "Boy, you do see a lot. I don't think I'm gonna ask you what you've observed about me."

Dylan smirked a little and threw him a sidelong glance. "You don't need me to tell you what you already know." Standing, he yawned and stretched before chucking his empty pop bottle into a nearby trash barrel. "Besides, any time you want, you can improve your situation. Some people aren't so lucky."

Trent remained seated as he watched Dylan walk away. It was just as well that the boy did leave, since Trent had no idea how to respond anyway. His little test had backfired on him just a bit, as he had not planned on turning anything back to himself. One thing was clear though - Dylan was a very observant, very sharp young man.

Eventually getting up, Trent went back to work, but somehow Dylan's words continued to run through his mind. About him being lucky. Was it true? Did he really have the power to improve his own situation? Was he living with this pain in his heart because he simply refused to change anything?