Isabel's Healing

by Maggie McIntyre

  “It’s only cereal. It might settle your stomach,” said Bryony, waving the morsel of bran-flakes around like a fairy’s wand.

  “No. You eat it.”

  “Well, OK. Shame to waste it,” and Bryony polished off the bowl of cereal in a few spoonfuls. “Now, let’s get ready and we can be on the road by nine.”

  They both knew this was going to be a big day, the most significant one in their relationship so far. Once Isabel regained the full use of her hands and arms, her dependence on Bryony would be much, much less. Bryony knew she was aching to be free, impatient to be able to wash, comb her own hair, and serve herself food and drink.

  It would all be wonderful, but Bryony also honestly knew she would miss all the tiny intimate things she had learned to do for Isabel over the last ten days. She felt ashamed, but she wondered if the older woman would now revert to being Ms ‘totally competent and independent’ and in doing so, shed Bryony’s attentions like an unwanted bandage she no longer needed.

  This morning, however, she still needed Bryony to replace her own hands. The girl washed her face and tenderly dried it, then dressed her in a smart looking loose smock which they could pull over her casts, and a loose pair of linen trousers. Sun block was applied, and then Bryony asked, “How about make-up? Maybe just a touch of foundation and blusher, to show them you’re fighting back?”

  “Oh, go on then,” Isabel was twitching about in her chair, but allowed Bryony to fetch her small make-up bag and pull out the basic kit she sometimes remembered to apply in her normal life. Bryony smoothed some cream round her face, and then dabbed on the foundation.

  “Shut your eyes, and I’ll give you some smoky grey shadow.”

  Isabel did as she asked and Bryony gently held her chin, while she smoothed on the color. The shadows beneath Isabel’s lovely eyes had certainly lightened, but her face was still rather gaunt, thinner than it should be ideally.

  “I don’t want to be a bully, but I hope missing breakfast is just a one-off. We need to keep up the weight gain back to something approaching normal for your frame.”

  “Are you working to turn me into a dumpling?”

  “Of course not, Isabel. I’m sure you’ve never been heavy in your life have you?”

  “No, but it’s true. I’ve never been quite this skinny since I caught paratyphoid once in Syria. That was twenty years ago though.”

  Bryony finished her make-up session, and held up a mirror so Isabel could survey the results.

  “Thanks. Not bad. I look less like something the cat brought in at least. But what about you? Aren’t you going to put make-up on to face the big city?”

  “Oh, no, I hadn’t intended to bother. Who’s going to look at me?”

  “I always enjoy looking at you,” said Isabel quietly, then impatiently waved her head towards the door. “OK, let’s be going. Are you sure you can find your way back to the main roads?”

  “It will be easy, I’m sure. I have satnav on my phone and we can wedge it so that you can see it and give me directions if I need them.”

  Bryony helped Isabel in her chair get into the car, and arranged her seatbelt. The wheelchair went into the back of the Berlingo and they set off. She had allowed two hours for the journey and they had more than that before the clinic appointment, so what could go wrong?

  In fact, very little did. Isabel did get a little fractious as they approached Chester, convinced Bryony was going the wrong way round the ring road, but it was just her nerves talking. They made it into the hospital car-park in ample time.

  Three hours later they emerged from the fracture clinic, both so happy they could not hide the smiles. Isabel was released from all her constricted plaster work and could move her arms and hands almost as well as before the accident. X-rays had shown that the surgeons had certainly done a good job, and while she had been advised to wear a sling on her most badly injured left arm, for a few days, her right arm now swung freely.

  She kept flexing her muscles, and enjoyed the small acts which everyone normally takes for granted, reaching for the car door and pulling it open for example. She was still in the wheelchair, but the x-ray on her leg had also shown good bone recovery, and drew a promise from the doctors that if she returned in a week, they expected they could release that limb as well.

  “It’s not good to wear a plaster cast for too long,” said Bryony, endorsing what Isabel knew. “So by the end of the month, you should be back on your feet with the help of crutches.”

  She had carried out a pair from the clinic, for Isabel to start using, once she could bear the pressure on her arms. They were now heading off to have a late lunch with Ted and Claire.

  Isabel sat in the passenger seat and fastened her own seat belt. She almost grinned with the satisfaction of being able to use her right hand like a normal person. She then put her hand up and pushed her hair back from her eyes, laughing at Bryony’s raised eyebrows.

  “Feels good, eh?”

  “Absolutely. You’ve no idea. Such a relief.”

  Bryony pulled out of the car-park.

  “Can you give me some directions to their house from here, please? I don’t have much clue.”

  “Sure. Turn right out of the gate and then on for half a mile. Then I’ll tell you when to turn left.”

  She watched the girl drive the old Citroen, as calm and competent as ever.

  “When did you learn to drive? I don’t suppose you have a car in London, do you?”

  “No, I’ve never had a car of my own, but I learned as soon as I was seventeen, so I could drive my grandmother about. My grandfather’s old car sat in the garage unused, so I started out on that, but just after Granny died it failed its MOT, and the garage said it wasn’t worth fixing.”

  “You drive well. I feel safe with you.”

  “Thank you, Isabel.”

  Bryony didn’t know what else to say. She really felt like embarrassing them both by saying something along the lines of “I hope you always feel safe with me,” but that would be ridiculous. And when Isabel was fully fit, of course she wouldn’t just want to feel safe. She was a woman of action, a go-getter, a boss of goodness knows how many people. Bryony wondered just how big the agency was which she ran. She reminded herself to Google it and sees what its website revealed.

  They drove on for fifteen minutes and then Isabel directed Bryony to stop and turn into a drive half hidden by large cypress trees. When they had parked, she helped Isabel get out of the car, still hopping on her one good leg, and sit in the wheelchair as she gave her directions to go round to the side of a big, sandstone house with wisteria tumbling down its front wall. They could see lunch was laid out on a large table on the patio, with a couple of parasols shading the food and the expected diners. Claire came out and greeted them,

  “Darling Bel, how wonderful to see your arms free at last. We waited lunch for you both. Come and tell us all about the clinic. Did they make you wait a really long time, or were they keeping to schedule?

  Bryony pushed Isabel up to the table, and helped her leave the wheelchair and take one of the dining chairs at the table. Then she parked the wheelchair off to the side, and took her place in the chair next to Isabel Claire had indicated.

  “Help me take this sling off,” said Isabel. “I’m sure I won’t need to wear it all the time and I want to at least be able to cut up my own quiche.”

  Bryony lifted it over her head, and removed it into her bag. She watched Isabel flex her fingers and then help herself to salad like any other member of the human race. There was nothing now for her to do apart from enjoy her own meal, and so she sat quietly and let the others talk.

  She had survived the task of looking after Isabel for the first most difficult weeks of her convalescence, and they had done fine. But she still felt protective of her patient. Isabel was animated, more animated almost than she had ever seen her. Her face looked younger, less strained, and she talked to her family without any of the bitterness or bad temper she had shown on the
first day they had moved into the cottage. Ted and Claire responded, with obvious relief on their faces, and the whole lunch party went well.

  Bryony realized that Isabel’s personality had almost been trapped under a rock over the last two weeks. Now she was funny, witty and full of stories. She could also do a pretty sharp impression of the people in the fracture clinic, not in any bitchy way, but just very amusing. Bryony sat beside her, and was just grateful to be included in the company. She felt, well she wasn’t sure what she felt, but she suspected she was about to get even more of a giant crush on her employer than she had felt before. She felt so happy they were going back to the cottage, just the two of them, that she was still needed, that she and Isabel were working on the book project together, but she wondered if Isabel would take back control of her own writing, whether she would want her own fingers to fly over the keyboard on the lap-top.

  No, of course not. Isabel had made it plain. She needed her right through the months of July and August, as a nurse, housemaid and secretary. If she didn’t disgrace herself by making any embarrassing passes, then the job was secure. They stayed in Chester until 3’oclock, when Ted suggested they left to avoid the later traffic queues out to the ring-road.

  “Thank you for making the lunch vegetarian. It was thoughtful, Claire,” said Isabel, as Bryony fetched the wheelchair.

  “Well, no bother at all. Mondays are meat-free anyway. It’s a habit we’ve developed recently.” Then she lowered her voice, “Things still OK?” Claire nodded her head towards Bryony’s retreating form.

  “What? Oh yes, still fine. In fact we’re very compatible. I think she understands me, as far as I let her.”

  “Well that’s a relief.”

  “Oh, and Claire, Sorry. I meant to say earlier. Don’t worry about coming up to baby-sit me in the coming weeks. Jane is coming for next weekend, and then I’ll be fine on my own for a few hours on a Friday while Bryony goes off to college.”

  “Thanks, and I notice you are actually calling her by her name nowadays.”

  “Am I? I suppose I am. It’s a pretty name, don’t you think?”

  The journey home was very quiet, mainly because Isabel fell fast asleep within ten minutes of leaving the house. She still had some pain-killers in her system, and the morning’s activities had obviously worn her out. Bryony didn’t mind in the slightest. She was so happy just to have Isabel beside her, the two of them together in a car. She realized she was in real danger of fantasizing a life together where they did drive round the countryside and take trips, like a couple.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, girl,” she took a mental take on what Isabel might have said if she’d been conscious. “Don’t be idiotic. Just drive.”

  And so she did.

  Isabel slept the whole way home, which meant that by the time they drew into the cottage garden; she stretched and shook her head in disbelief.

  “Wow, are we here already? I thought I only nodded off for ten minutes.”

  “You were dead to the world.”

  “Sorry, you must have been rather bored.”

  “No, nice to have a bit of peace once in a while.”

  “Are you cheeking me, girl?”

  “As if.”

  Bryony smiled one of her ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ smiles. Isabel tried to frown and failed, and they grinned at each other.

  “Well, not seriously. I’ve been using the time to do a lot of thinking, and you know, if your friend is definitely coming, and you will be strong enough by the end of the week to use your crutches, then I think I should maybe use the time to go south and meet up with Aiden, finish it properly. I owe it to him to do that at least. I’ve been a wuss about it, that’s all.”

  “Yes, I understand. I think it’s the right decision as well. Whether or not you’re going to explore being gay, it’s obvious he doesn’t rock your boat. Go with my blessing, but Bryony,”

  “What?”

  “You will come back to me, won’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  They were sitting so close in the car the situation might have been made for a gentle kiss, and then something else. Isabel did that gazing into her eyes trick, which turned Bryony’s insides to water, but she pulled away from the magnetic connection and literally jumped out of the driver’s seat.

  “I’ve got a scheme for strengthening your arms so by the end of the week you can use your crutches, and you won’t need the chair much at all, but for now I think you should still get in it to move around.”

  Isabel responded equally briskly. “Whatever you say. You’re the medic. Now I’ve slept I feel full of energy though. If I dictate, could you manage an evening on the book? But what might this scheme involve then?”

  “Cans of beans. We can start tomorrow.”

  “Oh, high tech. I can tell.”

  “Useful things to do with legumes.”

  Bryony helped her out of the car and into the chair.

  “Sure.”

  They spent the next two hours writing at the kitchen table, and between them finished another chapter of the book. The word count was now approaching 60,000. The stories were so interesting and at times, heart breaking, that Bryony almost became submerged in Isabel’s world. She kept obediently typing, and let Isabel dry up naturally in her narrative, before suggesting they might need some supper before it became too late.

  “Shall I fix us something light?”

  She went over to the Aga and pulled over a saucepan.

  “How about I make some soup and crunch up some toast to make croutons.”

  “That will be fine. I’m not really hungry, but I agree. It’s time to call it a day.”

  “We should get back onto our meal plan. I have it all calorie counted out so you put on at least a pound a week, and you still seem as slim as ever.”

  “As long as you have to lift my weight, it seems better to be a little lighter than normal, and if I want to get mobile, surely being slim is no bad thing.”

  They ate supper together, and Bryony watched her baby eagle serve herself and without needing any help at all, once the food was on the table. She understood that this evening marked the beginning of the next phase of their partnership.

  Once she had helped her hop into the bedroom, Bryony could see that Isabel could now undress herself, attend to all the bathroom business without any more personal care and even position the pillows to lift up her bad leg. For some stupid reason this filled her with a sudden deep melancholy.

  It was late, and the sun had long set. Isabel lay back on top of her bed and called her over.

  “Sit.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Sit on the bed, next to me.”

  Bryony sat down.

  “Now tell me what’s nagging you? Why are you so down in the mouth? Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

  Bryony dropped her eyes and mumbled something.

  “Speak up girl, what’s the matter? This is the happiest day I have had in three months, more, in a year! But you seem as miserable as I’ve seen you. Spill the beans.”

  “I know it’s ridiculous. Obviously I’m overjoyed for you. It’s just what I wanted, for you to be healed, and today was a major breakthrough. But now you can do things, you don’t need me nearly so much, and you won’t ever again.

  “In your real life, which you’ll be going back to so soon, you’ll have no use for me at all, and I...I do like to be useful. I’m sorry, I’m being so unprofessional. I don’t know why I’m saying this. I’m talking rubbish.”

  “Bryony...”

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re not talking rubbish, not at all. Here, lie down on the bed next to me, just for a while.”

  Bryony bit her bottom lip, and almost shivered with pent up physical need. If Isabel wanted her to lie next to her, then oh, where on earth would that lead? The woman was enticing her into something neither of them might be able to control.

  She trembled, but as Isabel scooted her hips a couple of feet sideways
to make room for her on the bed, she could not resist the invitation and lay down beside her, her head falling back on one of the clean cotton pillows. She gazed up at the ceiling, rather than meet Isabel’s eyes, and then was forced to close her eyes altogether as she felt Isabel’s touch on her arm and heard her whisper.

  “Of course I understand. But don’t think I don’t need you anymore. Of course I need you. You are looking after me, and by God I need looking after. We will adjust, obviously. But you are the sweetest assistant I have ever had, you cook beautifully, you drive safely, and you type like a pro.”

  “But...”

  “But what?”

  Isabel was forcing her to admit it. She felt squeezed like a little tube of toothpaste. The woman was indomitable. Why was she torturing her like this? Bryony, so normally under control, so organized, so unable to experience real passion, felt she was turning into a puddle.

  “It’s not that. It’s the intimacy I’m going to miss. It’s not being able to hold you. I’m sorry, I can’t...”

  Bryony went as if to jump up and run away, but Isabel’s grip on her arm was surprisingly firm, and pulled her back. She then lifted her hand and gently turned her face back so they could look at each other. She smiled one of her devastating smiles and said softly, “So you like holding me?”

  “Yes, you know I do.”

  “Well, if you want to be able to hold me, then what’s the problem? I love it when you hold me. Don’t you see? Don’t you realize I am really, really in need of being held right now? Broken bones heal so much easier than a broken heart. You are my healer, and you have a magic touch. I am not going to give that up very easily.”

  “You mean? You’re not disgusted by me? Isabel, I have to say you do completely turn me on. I think I could be really gay for you. Please let me say it. Please, would you mind?”

  “And what would it mean for you? What would being ‘really gay’ entail?” Isabel’s voice was so low and sexy, Bryony could suddenly scarcely breathe.

  “I’m not sure, but it might...would you mind if I kissed you?”

  “No I wouldn’t mind, as you say, but...maybe it would depend...”