A/N: Hello, readers. First of all, apologies for the very long delay. Right after the last update, my dad's health crashed, and the last six months have been unbelievable. In about 90% of the weeks since then, he wound up at the hospital at some point for some duration. He was such a fighter, determined to go to the last possible step of treatment. He finally reluctantly accepted that that last possible step of treatment had failed a week and a half ago, and he was discharged home on hospice. He died earlier this week. I have no doubt I'll be seeing him again, and I'm glad he's healed now and out of pain. However, dealing with his medical roller coaster and trying to be a support for my stepmother took immense time and energy for the last several months. We are the two most medically minded folks in the family, so she needed me to talk over the medical details with, dismal as they were, and to act as a sounding board for just objectively discussing the case. That helped her process things.
Two days before Dad crashed in January, I also acquired unexpectedly the most challenging rescue cat I have ever dealt with in my life. A true rescue case; the place she had been hanging out in the fringes of for over a decade was about to undergo changes, and it was not safe for her there anymore. But she had never been in a house, never been a pet, and, oddly, had been a lifelong lone wolf, never joining up with other cats, and by this stage, she was at minimum 12 years old, so a lot of lone wolf history. Her story touched me. I wanted to catch her and offer her a warm retirement, but I went in with a plan to have her put to sleep if she totally failed to adjust. This cat is the most unsocialized thing I have ever known and is a senior besides. She's taken a whole lot of effort just trying to teach her about life inside and with companions, human and feline.
On that front, there is progress, but it's nothing like a kitten, very slow negotiations and learning how to relate to others. She rapidly became a fan of the house and climate control, a little more slowly was willing to discuss a treaty with me as the keeper of cat food and Temptations, and still isn't quite sure how to relate to other cats. But she is slowly adapting, and she is warm and fed. She now comes to my bedroom to sleep. Not with me, understand; she stays on the edges of the room, occasionally growling at other cats. But she could be back in her safe room. She deliberately is choosing to sleep in my room every night now. We are ever so slowly getting there, and I admire her intelligence and independent spirit.
Between Dad and the cat, I literally have not had spare time for the last six months. Even my own reading, which is my recreation, has dropped way off. Any minutes I could find went to keeping the grass mowed. Sorry, but that is life. Other things sometimes take priority.
However, as I've always said, the story will be finished. Someone had suggested that perhaps I should simply stop posting until everything is finished and then resume posting then. I'm not going to do that, as that would force that one option on everybody. For those who want to stop reading until the story is complete, I understand. For those who enjoy each chapter as it drops, even if on an unpredictable schedule, as I do myself, they can read each as soon as available. But the story will be finished unless I happen to get killed myself somehow in an accident or something.
So sorry for the delay, but the first half of 2024 has really been beyond words. But Dad has his release and is at peace now. Hopefully some semblance of a schedule can return as life settles down. Meanwhile, thank you to those who are still enjoying this series and especially thank you to those who have been rereading while waiting and have occasionally sent new reviews on past stories. You have often lightened dark days by that.
Now, back to the Other Foot. Here's a short update. To recap, Cuddy broke her ankle in a fall at PPTH. She is healing well but disgruntled with her incoordination and having had the accident in the first place. Meanwhile, Stacy reappeared wanting to talk to House. It turned out she wanted a child by sperm donation, as she and Mark have been unsuccessful. House refused to oblige her but did offer to look into the case for her, Mark, or both and see if he could spot any reasons for infertility. Stacy went away to reluctantly think on that, though she did turn up watching House, Cuddy, and the girls from a distance at the park as they had a good family day with each other and Thomas. And there, gentle readers, the story resumes.
(H/C)
Hoofbeats fell steadily, even if muffled on the dirt surface of the trail. House always enjoyed listening to them, the even footfalls, strength, rhythm, and cadence in every stride. Ember did not limp. Seeing her smoothly working muscles in front of him, feeling the steady progress of the buggy beneath him, was not as good as being unhandicapped again, but it was at least a cousin on that family tree. He never tired of this.
Some days, he set the rhythm to music mentally; other days, simply the strength and rhythm were enough on their own. Today, he wasn't setting music to it, and he wasn't even thinking entirely of himself, though that was always part of the driving the horse. Today, he was thinking of Cuddy. Her ankle was healing well, but she still chaffed at the restrictions of the cast. On the other hand, she had had a fear of horses herself, which she was bravely working on. Watching Rachel's riding lessons on the pony at the barn was still somewhat worrying, though she was getting better. How would she react to a drive with Ember? Would she feel the exhilaration of being free, being sound again, moving well? Or would she just be tense?
"Quarter for your thoughts," Thomas said.
House looked at his father beside him, and Ember, who was an opportunist, seized the turn of his head as a chance to try to speed up. House returned his eyes forward and played the lines as delicately as he would have a piano. Squeeze, release. Squeeze, release. Never just hold but let the mare know he was in charge here. Her ears twitched, and she steadied.
Thomas laughed. "She knows every move we make, even back here. I made you an offer, Greg."
"Quarter for my thoughts? You really think they're worth that much more than the going penny rate?"
Thomas shrugged. "Yes, I do think they're above average, but also, I was adjusting for inflation."
House grinned. This sort of give-and-take with a father who wasn't just waiting to put him down at any chance was still a revelation to him. He enjoyed it even while part of him still almost feared it. "I was thinking of Lisa."
His father's smile broadened. Thomas certainly enjoyed his grandchildren, but House knew that he and Cuddy had a special relationship, both of them finding the daughter/father respectively that they had always wanted. "What about her? Related to her ankle at the moment or something else?"
"Sort of the ankle." House watched Ember's ears, turned half back just now in what he had learned to recognize as her "paying attention to the person" posture, and admired the smooth working of the muscles in her hindquarters right in front of him. "Do you think she would enjoy a buggy ride sometime?"
Thomas considered. "The freedom of movement at the moment, you mean."
House nodded. "No restrictions. No limping. No…" He trailed off. He was working with Jensen, but he still had trouble saying the word.
"No handicap," Thomas finished for him. "She is doing better with Rachel, but it's still an effort to remind herself to relax."
"Right. And Ember is a long way from Patch, the lesson pony." The lines were alive in his hands as usual. He still marveled at how sensitive and perceptive this horse was. She noticed absolutely everything, and she was lightning quick to respond to shifts in mood. "If Lisa got Ember tense, that wouldn't help her feel unrestricted. But if she could relax with it, I think she'd enjoy it."
"Yes, she would. If she could relax with it." Thomas watched his horse, admiring her himself. "I don't know, Greg. I could see that going either way for her. You might suggest it a few times and let her work up to the idea."
"Or not work up to the idea," House countered.
"Or not," Thomas admitted. "It's hard to want to share something you enjoy so much yourself with others who might not experience it the same way. People are different."
"I've noticed that over life," House retorted. They had turned around the loop of the trail by now, and were moving toward the still-distant barn, and Ember tried to sneak in an acceleration. House tightened the lines and added the voice command. "Walk," he insisted. He was learning, soaking up equine details from Thomas, and he knew that not only was it a bad habit to let a horse speed up going home but also, it was time to start cooling her down anyway. She didn't need to get really sweated on a day that wasn't quite spring yet even if it wasn't bad for late winter. Grudgingly, she dropped out of her trot into the slower gait.
Thomas nodded approvingly. "You are good at this, Greg. I'm so glad I can share her with you, anyway, even if Lisa never quite manages to appreciate it."
"Maybe you should suggest it to her," House said. "She really likes you, old man, and horses are officially your department."
"I'll think about it, which one of us would be better to make the suggestion. I'm sure you'll be doing the same. We'll come up with a plan of action, whether it works or not." Thomas was still smiling. "She is special. I always wanted a daughter, and I've never had one. Emily couldn't have more children."
Stacy's situation, never too far out of House's thoughts lately, landed back in the middle of them with a thud. Longing for a child one could never have. House did feel sorry for her, but her proposal had been simply impossible.
Ember jumped into a trot, and House jumped as well, realizing that he had totally drifted off into outer - or rather inner - space and completely lost track of his driving. The horse had realized it, of course. He brought her back down to a walk, but he could feel his father's eyes on him.
"I'd be willing to raise the price a bit from a quarter if your thoughts are for sale," Thomas said tentatively. "No-sale signs are accepted, though. Always remember that, Greg."
House sighed. "Stacy," he said. "I never have told you yet what she wanted." He actually had been waiting to see if Thomas would push him or try to circle him and get the story from Cuddy. Part of him couldn't help testing people, even with their relationship improving all the time.
"No, you haven't." Thomas leaned forward a bit unconsciously in his eagerness, but he did not push.
"How did you get so patient, old man? If you have this much patience, you could have passed some along to me, you know."
"I'm not really patient," his father replied. "Just have a lot of experience at reluctantly having to wait. I'd like to hear about Stacy, but it is your business, Greg. I assume by this point it's not mine. You would have told me sooner if it really did involve me."
House listened to the hoofbeats, slower now at the walk but still even, still forward, still gloriously sound. "Stacy wanted a child," he said finally.
Thomas sat up straight, and Ember flicked an ear back at him. "From you?"
House nodded. "Laboratory method, of course."
"Even so, that would never work out."
"No, it wouldn't." Thomas relaxed at the confirmation. "I did offer to try to work out the case medically just in case something had been missed with either her or with Mark. Haven't heard back yet."
Thomas reached over and touched his son on the arm, something he still did very rarely because he didn't want to push, but even with the occasional times, he reveled in it. "I'm proud of you, Greg," he said.
House absorbed the comment, enjoying it but not replying. He didn't have to, as his mood swept through those lines to Ember. She arched her neck and strode on proudly down the trail. Thomas saw her response, but he didn't point it out. The silence lengthened for a few minutes, and then the barn came into view up ahead.
"A dollar," House said suddenly. "That was worth at least a dollar, old man. Pay up."
Laughing, Thomas reached for his wallet.