by Teg
closer, deliberately taking the long way around the end of the bed to see if Elizabeth's eyes followed her. She was thrilled to see that they did!
"Which one would you like to hear?" she cheerfully asked, a cd in each hand.
Holding the left one out, she said, "This is a fast moving, bouncy collection but this is soft, romantic jazz." Jane kept her gaze on Elizabeth, looking for anything, any small flash of response to her words. "Will's coming soon.
Maybe the jazz is the way to go." She wanted to think she'd seen Elizabeth's eyelids flicker when she mentioned Will but imagination was a powerful thing and could be a wicked tormenter. She put the second cd on anyway and
proceeded to talk about him.
"I was stunned when told Will was in love with you, you know. I never noticed it but then I wondered if you had. You didn't have anything nice to say about him, ever, but the last month has opened my eyes to the depth of his feelings.
He really does love you, Lizzy, so much so that he might have had a complete breakdown because of what George Wickham did to you. Charles intervened in time, thank goodness. I don't want to even imagine what would have happened otherwise." As she spoke, Jane gently rubbed Elizabeth's hand between her palms. "He's so excited to see your improvements. Is there something new to show him today? I think there is, Lizzy. Let's see how long it takes him to notice, but you'll have to play, too!"
"What are you playing?" Will had come in to hear the last of her comment.
"You have to guess!" laughed Jane.
"I do?" Will wore a big smile but it was his bright yellow shirt which drew attention. As he stepped toward the bed Elizabeth's eyes followed. Jane noticed immediately. Will bent over Elizabeth and kissed her forehead. "Hello, beautiful," he whispered. He shifted his focus to one of the monitors. "Jane, did you see this? Lizzy's heart rate has increased. It's not that slow, steady pace of the comatose patient. Have you been working her too hard?" He grinned.
Jane, however, was surprised. She hadn't even looked at those monitors. "No,"
she teased. "It's obviously your presence. Don't all the girls' hearts go aflutter when you walk into the room?"
Will snorted. "There's only one heart that interests me and it does seem to have quickened." He suddenly realised he was being watched. "Hey! Lizzy?" Sitting on the edge of the bed, Will took her hand and squeezed it. "Come on, you can do it," he urged, his eyes travelling back and forth between hers, the heart monitor and their hands. Elizabeth's pulse had gone up again when he'd
touched her. Will grinned. "Either you like me and are pleased to see me or I'm annoying the hell out of you!"
"Will!" Jane laughed. Tears were flowing, the combination of laughter and turbulent emotions caused by her sister's recent strides.
Elizabeth's fingers twitched in Will's grasp. He couldn't stop grinning. "That's my girl! You know, I expect you to honour me with your first dance when you leave here. I won't take no for an answer." He winked at Jane. "And while we're on the subject, dinner is a must as well."
Chapter Eight
The water was dark. It was deep... and it was soothing, inviting a sense of security. Further below could be felt the tug of an undertow; seductive, alluring and so easy to be swept away.....
“Now that we’ve established Elizabeth is tracking movement and has attained a level of recognisable consciousness we can look for signs of further
advancement such as responding to verbal commands. Since she has made no
sounds, intelligible or otherwise, that is consistent with such an early stage of recovery as well as her reflexive responses.”
Charles, with a quick glance at the others, took the position of intermediary.
“What can we expect?”
Dr. Hansen tapped a file on his desk. “More extensive investigation has
revealed the damaged areas of her brain would limit the control of her right side, noticeably the arm and leg, as well as a portion of the speech centre being affected.” He observed each of the people sitting opposite him. “Speech may be relearned. Only when Elizabeth has achieved a more cognitive and
interactive state will we be able to determine the probability of success in rehabilitation.”
Jane nudged her husband’s elbow. He nodded and she addressed the doctor.
“What of her chances of recovering the use of her arm and leg, at least
sufficiently for her to get around unaided? Lizzy has always been active;
walking, swimming. I cannot imagine her easily accepting a comparatively idle life.”
“Elizabeth’s acceptance is a matter that must be addressed on another level entirely,” he replied. “Physically, tests have shown that her autonomic
responses, reflexes, for her right side are below that of her left. Her age works in her favour since a younger brain has a greater chance of adjusting to the death of a portion of its tissue, what we refer to as neural plasticity. This at least encourages the possibility of her achieving an adequate level of use depending upon therapy and application and providing no complications arise.”
“Complications?” Will leaned forward in his chair. “What sort of
complications?”
“Generally speaking, we are still at a very early phase of her recovery process.
Elizabeth’s potential is very much an unknown at this point. We wait, watch, evaluate and test. There is no timetable, no expectation to reach the next benchmark at a specific date. Very little can be predicted and any development could be considered unexpected, hopefully not bringing with it a
complication.”
Ten minutes later Will and Jane sat dazedly looking at Charles. Will’s voice broke the silence.
“Do we know any more now than we did an hour ago? Really?”
Jane frowned, emotions bruised from being tossed about so haphazardly. “Yes.
I mean, no. We’ve always taken it day by day and that’s not going to change.
Damn, I wish someone could just give us a definitive answer; tell us she’ll be fine, she’ll never walk again or we’re wasting our time!”
“Jane!” Grasping her hands, Will held them tightly, his eyes staring intently until she looked up to meet them. “We’re not wasting our time. Lizzy is going to be alright. She won’t be the same, that could never be after what has
happened, but she’s trying! I believe in her. I believe in her will to survive and her desire to return. She’ll fight for it.”
“Will.” Charles’ tone was sharp. Both his wife and friend were startled. “Will, don’t confuse Elizabeth with yourself. You are the one driven to succeed in everything you do, not Lizzy. As much as you hate to hear this, you aren’t calling the shots this time. Everything is not within your control so you’re just going to have to wait and see like the rest of us.”
Will’s spine stiffened and his expression grew stony. “I don’t sit and wait, Charles. You can’t tell me that my efforts haven’t made a difference. I am not going to stop. Elizabeth is like a ... a butterfly about to leave a cocoon! The tremors are there, the life inside is struggling to get out and I’ll be damned if I let anyone convince me otherwise!”
“He’s right, Charles.” Jane’s soft voice disturbed the tension between the two men. “You never knew Lizzy like I do. She might not be driven to win but she is a fighter. Life and living was always her passion and she won’t give up now that she’s begun, I’m sure of it.”
He had to admit that his knowledge was limited with regard to his sister-in-law and that Jane, despite her perennially optimistic outlook on life, was never delusional. How accurate Will’s assessment could be was questionable but
Charles did not doubt that his friend had made every effort to learn as much as possible about Elizabeth Bennet from the moment she had caught his eye.
Observation and deduction were his two strongest attributes. “I apologise if you thought I was trying to discourage you. I wish I could look ahead and be confident like both of you but the trut
h is that if, if the worst should happen, then someone has to pick up the pieces and that someone’s going to have to be me.” He could see the indecision in his wife’s eyes, how she was torn between believing in her sister and wanting to trust in her husband. Stretching out his hand to her, Charles drew her close and then reached his other hand toward Will. “We will survive anything together.”
Movement.
No longer was it the rarity during visits. As anticipated, her left limbs showed greater success with any attempts to move them. More than her gaze followed her visitors for she tried to turn her head when they left her field of vision. She was responding to the voices of her visitors, therapists and the nurses. Will and Jane tested her frequently, pushing Elizabeth to make new achievements, while carefully watching to ensure they did not ask for more than she could give.
Such progress meant she could be moved from the shelter of ICU to a room
closer to the rehabilitation facilities, her collection of stuffed animals and Will’s gifts going with her to maintain the personal feel of her surroundings.
Their biggest stumbling block was communication. Jane was continually trying to determine her sister’s level of comprehension, encouraging her to respond even in a primitive manner. She’d had little success, nothing concrete to form a conclusion, despite the various tools she had provided. Flash cards, bliss symbols, photographs and even hastily drawn pictures did not seem to have
any effect.
The day that Elizabeth made her first sound sent Jane into a flurry of activity.
“What did you say?” was her astonished reaction. She could sense Elizabeth’s frustration with her limited abilities and briefly wondered if it had initiated the step forward into testing her voice. “Do you want something?” She reached for the page of bliss symbols, trying to anticipate the answer.
Elizabeth’s face contorted with the effort to produce the sound again. When Jane put the page within reach she finally managed an inarticulate noise.
“I’m sorry I don’t understand, Lizzy, but it will get better. You’ve come so far already!” Jane sat down on the bed, pulling a small photo album off the table beside it. Opening the book to the first picture, she held it so that her sister could see. “Do you remember this one? Mom insisted I wear that hideous dress and you managed to sneak my favourite out of the house so I could change
before we got to the dance.” She turned the page. “Oh, look at you here! I don’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful than you did at my wedding.” Jane felt Elizabeth’s hand bump against her arm. “Would you like a closer look?” she asked, shifting her seat to move the picture nearer. The album slipped from her grasp and Jane cried out as it fell to the floor. Bending down to retrieve it, tears welled up with her own sense of failure. Photos had slipped from the pages, loosely scattered across the tiles. As she collected them Jane hardly knew what she was feeling. The excitement with the changes in her sister’s condition had disguised the stress and fatigue that had been building for months. She hoped for the strength to hold herself together for another ten minutes, just until Elizabeth’s next therapy session was scheduled.
The last photo on the floor was of the two sisters, typical teenagers making faces for the camera. Jane couldn’t stop herself from laughing.
“Lizzy, after saying how beautiful you were in one picture I find this! Can you believe how silly we were?” In a matter of seconds, through her mind passed
countless memories of the hours and days she had spent at the hospital, hoping, praying and eventually being rewarded. “We’ll be able to be silly again very soon.”
There was the beginning of a smile in Elizabeth’s eyes which only improved as Jane wrapped her arms around her sister and hugged her close.
By what standard can a man be judged? The possible combinations were
known by rote but all seemed worthless as comparisons. The world had turned upside down and everything familiar was no more.
Elizabeth’s achievements were marked on a large chart which hung in her
room. At times the progress seemed slow, even took a step backward, but each degree of her recovery was witnessed, encouraged and celebrated by Jane,
Charles and Will. There was no shortage of therapists or professionals in any capacity that Will thought might be helpful in her recovery. In the space of time he had spent with her, she had emerged from the coma and was relearning
speech as well as regaining control of her motor functions. Walking and talking had never seemed so difficult!
Despite Elizabeth’s willingness to work there was also an ingrained
stubbornness that showed itself in specific forms and at particular times. At no time would she speak when Will was present and even his provoking
comments failed to entice her from that mind set. He read her items from the newspapers, choosing those stories he thought would most arouse her interest.
She appeared to listen attentively but never indicated a desire to pursue more information.
Will longed to hear her voice, however, and tried to temper his disappointment, knowing that Elizabeth spoke only to a select few individuals. He should not take it personally but it was difficult not to feel a certain amount of rejection, though he carefully hid it while in her presence.
As therapy sessions took up more of her time Elizabeth now saw less of Will.
He still visited daily but she was often in another part of the hospital when he arrived and would return to her room to find him waiting there. While both Jane and Will assisted with her physical rehabilitation, Elizabeth viewed the time spent afterward with Will as relaxing following the trials of her daily challenges.
There were good days and bad days, not always consistent on every level. A good speech session might be followed by an afternoon of physical setbacks.
Each day brought with it the potential for anything to happen. No matter what transpired, Elizabeth welcomed her bed at the end of it all, exhausted.
Swept along with the rhythm it was easy to forget and even easier to forgive.
Music had often felt hypnotic, the music of the waves was the same; life’s
gentle cadence bringing two very different worlds together briefly... so very briefly....
She was angry. They didn’t understand and she couldn’t make them
understand. Swinging her head back and forth, Elizabeth sent her arm swinging wildly, making contact with a nearby tray and sending its contents flying. It only made her more frustrated and she began to hit her hand on the arm of her wheelchair, faster and with more force as her anger was released. One of the therapists moved forward to put a stop to her tantrum but Will was there before him.
“Lizzy!” he shouted over the noise she was making. He grabbed for her wrist and held her fast while Elizabeth continued to struggle, growling out her anger.
“Lizzy,” he said again, insistently. “Enough! Calm down, Elizabeth. Calm
down.” His voice dropped to a whisper, his arms wrapped around her and she was held tightly in his embrace. Soon her angry tears gave way to sobs and Elizabeth’s entire body sagged against Will’s.
He motioned to the others to leave and when he was alone with her, Will
slowly released Elizabeth. He placed a finger under her chin, tilting her face upward to read what was in her eyes. Pain and fear but, most of all, exhaustion was written there.
“You’re pushing too hard, demanding more of yourself than you can do right now. Don’t be in such a hurry that it does you more harm than good.”
She allowed her eyes to close, searching for an elusive inner peace. The touch of his hand on hers was not distracting. Rather, it provided a point of focus.
Elizabeth’s breathing slowed and the tension in her muscles flowed away.
When she opened her eyes it was to see Will smiling slightly, his eyes warm and inviting.
“Better?” he asked.
Elizabeth nodded, squeezing gently on his fingers.
&
nbsp; “Shall we continue where you left off or work on something else?” Will looked at her expectantly.
Elizabeth studied him for several seconds as if judging the strength of his resolve, then she gestured to the weights she had been using prior to her
outburst. He retrieved them from the table and held them out to her. There was a pause before she reached out but only her right hand rested upon his;
Elizabeth’s left hand rose to touch Will’s face. As softly as she could manage, her fingers traced along his cheek and nose, finally coming to rest against his lips. Her voice was silent but her eyes no longer held the fear he’d seen earlier.
Will’s own eyes closed and he exhaled slowly between barely parted lips, his breath hot on her fingertips.
The sharp intake was overheard. She turned her head in time to see him beat a hasty retreat. The sand provided mute evidence of his hesitation; deep imprints where he had turned quickly.
“Wasn’t that Charles’ friend?” she asked.
Jane turned to look over her shoulder. “Where?”
“He just disappeared. Why didn’t he say something?” She frowned. He was better looking than she remembered him from their brief and unfriendly meeting months before. Much better looking, especially those tanned legs and the way his shorts —
“Lizzy, I’m going to get another drink. Do you want one?”
“Hmmm?” She looked up, distracted. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.” The lure of the ocean drew her to the water’s edge while awaiting Jane’s return. Perhaps a quick dip would tame her wandering imagination.
Chapter Nine
Elizabeth stared silently at the wall. The chart which detailed the journey she had made thus far was a sea of colours, blurred by the mist in her eyes. She would be leaving this room, and the hospital, in a matter of days and was
overjoyed to be doing so but at the same time terrified to move into what lay beyond; piecing together the rest of her life.
Jane and Charles had stated as fact that she was to live with them. There was no arguing the matter even if Elizabeth felt inclined. Truthfully, she was more grateful than could ever be expressed.