Free Words Get In the Way by Nan Rossiter Page A

turned out to be the Dale and Dale show with Dale Jarrett pulling off the win at the Pepsi 400 and Dale Earnhardt following him around under caution, coming in second. After the win, Jarrett’s car ran out of gas and his pit crew had to push him into Victory Lane!”
    Linden smiled at the thought of the 88 car being pushed into victory lane. As he began to scoop manure, he wondered if Mr. Wyeth still followed the races. Linden knew he was a die-hard Earnhardt fan, although he also liked Jarrett. Linden would never forget the race he’d gone to with Callie and her dad. It was up in Loudon and their seats had been right on the front stretch. Linden could still hear the deafening rumble of the engines and feel the rush of adrenaline as the cars roared by.
    It had always seemed to Linden that his relationship with Callie had started to unravel after that summer. They’d gone back to college, knowing they probably wouldn’t see each other until Thanksgiving, and then her mom had been in the accident.
    Linden had attended the funeral with his parents and, even though it had been a cold and rainy November day, the little church had been overflowing with friends and former patients, everyone realizing just how many people Ginny Wyeth’s life had touched. Mr. Wyeth had been a pillar of strength—everyone had said so—but Callie had been inconsolable. Linden had hugged her and told her how sorry he was, and she’d nodded tearfully. And then he’d just stood there, feeling foolish, not knowing what else to say. Callie hadn’t returned to school, and the college had sent her a note of sympathy telling her she’d be welcomed back whenever she felt ready. Linden had stopped by several times when he was home, but Callie had still seemed lost and sad. She’d tried to smile at his cheering words, but her eyes had always looked like they were ready to spill over with tears. He’d begun to wonder if she’d ever feel better. Finally, at her dad’s gentle insistence, she’d reluctantly returned to school after the winter break.
    Linden had not seen Callie again until February, and then it was only briefly. Thankfully, she’d seemed more herself and had even said she and some friends were making plans to go somewhere warm for spring break, adding, with a sad smile, that she really needed to get away. Linden hadn’t seen her again until she came home for the Connors’ Fourth of July party.
    He finished cleaning the stalls and began straightening up the hay bales. Perspiration dripped down his cheeks, and hay dust coated his skin. He sneezed, pulled off his shirt, wiped his face with it, and decided that he didn’t feel like doing much of anything. He stepped outside, soaked his head under the hose, shook his hair, and ran his hands through it to push it back. Cool beads of water trickled down his back. He sat down on the stone wall in the shade and looked out across the meadow. The tall, billowing clouds reminded him of the Eric Sloane painting his parents had hanging over their fireplace.

18
    C allie drove slowly around the hospital parking lot again, but the only spot she could find was near the emergency room. She finally parked in it, but when she got out she realized, in dismay, that it was the same spot her father had slid into the night her mom had died. Everything had been coated in a sheet of ice that night, and he’d pulled in so quickly that the truck had just kept sliding, stopping only when it rested against the lamppost. Callie glanced down. Although it had been painted, there was still a visible dent. She stared at it and realized that her memory of that night would always be a blur of sadness and disbelief.
    She’d come home from college the day before Thanksgiving, and she and her mom spent that evening making pies, laughing, and catching up. Even though her mom had to work on Thanksgiving, she and her dad would go to the hospital, as they always did when her mom had to work a holiday, and have dinner with her