“She moved. Both feet. You should have seen her smile. Come on, you need to see her.” Lace offered a hand and James took it, his wrist flaring in pain, his joints fighting the movement.
His smile began slowly, cautiously. He had been at the hospital for six days, had left only to change, take a shower, catch a few moments of sleep. He had never felt such a deep loss of hope. The obstacles they faced were so deep; if she didn’t improve, she would need so much help that would be beyond him to provide.
She had moved.
The nurses let them enter the ICU together.
James stopped by the door, for Rae had two doctors with her. He stayed and listened as the doctors reviewed how much improvement had occurred. It was slight; she could move her toes and she had feeling in her hands. The paralysis had a long way to go before it faded, but both doctors were smiling.
James crossed over to the bedside when the doctors finished, moving into Rae’s line of sight. “I hear you’ve got news.” He slipped her hand carefully into his and squeezed it.
Her smile was wide, and there were tears in her eyes—finally tears of joy. “I can feel your hand, I can move, just a little. I was so afraid none of it would come back.”
James pulled a chair over, sitting down to take the strain off his ankles.
“I was so scared.”
“I know you were, Rae.” He gently brushed her hair back from her face.
“You look awfully tired, James.”
He smiled. “I’ve got a lifetime to sleep. I love you, Rae.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered back.
“What else do you think she will want?” It felt uncomfortable walking through Rae’s home, packing for her.
“I’ll get her book. See if you can find her Bible. It’s normally on her bedside table,” Dave replied.
James nodded and walked upstairs, keeping a firm grip on the staircase railing. The house was exactly how Rae had left it the morning she left for work and didn’t return. Dishes from dinner the night before had been left in the sink, the bathroom counter was still cluttered, and bills she had planned to mail were sitting on her desk. He had a disquieting thought; it would be like this if she had died; walking into her life as she had left it.
She had made her bed. Clothes she had considered and chosen not to wear still lay across the chair arm.
James found her Bible and her diary resting on the pillow of her bed. She must have had devotions that morning and dropped the books there. He picked up the Bible, its leather cover cool and worn. He had seen her with this Bible in her hand on so many occasions. He could see the shadow of her handprint worn into the leather from the oil of her skin. Her grip was smaller than his.
The Bible fell open to Psalm 37 showing how frequently she smoothed this spot in the spine. Rae was one to highlight and underline and make notes.
It was comforting to get a glimpse into her real life. She could never have known someone would see her home as she left it that morning. She had devotions because she had chosen to; in the normal course of events, no one would have ever seen the evidence.
He picked up her diary, figuring she would appreciate having it as well.
The picture of Leo was gone.
James felt his hand tighten around the books he held.
The picture of Leo and the engagement ring were gone. She had done it sometime in the past, before this accident and his words “I love you.”
When had she done it? When they’d started to date? In the weeks that followed?
It had to have been before he broke up the relationship—before he announced they could just be friends.
He looked at the empty spot on the bedside table and finally felt hope.
He knew how badly he had damaged their relationship. He had backed away because his health was not improving. He could feel the sinking fear in his gut that Rae might decide to do the same thing. Even though she said “I love you,” it was far different from saying she would accept a relationship again, consider marrying him. She could move her toes slightly, could feel someone holding her hand. It was still a formidably long way from being totally recovered.
The doctors were being cautiously optimistic. The swelling was still there, lessening a little more each day. What they didn’t know was how far the recovery would go.
He was afraid of what Rae might decide to do.
What if the accident left her in a wheelchair? What if she got mobility back in her right hand but not her left? Her spine had taken a severe blow—the fracture had cut into the nerves. What they didn’t know was what would heal and what was permanently damaged. It was an ugly circumstance to consider.
He was ready to deal with it; he knew he could adapt to whatever the final outcome was. The question was, could Rae? If she remained partially paralyzed, would it be her choice this time to leave the relationship just friends?
It was difficult, watching physical therapy. She was out of intensive care, in a private room in the rehabilitation wing of the hospital. The paralysis persisted. The swelling still lingered. There was no determining which muscles in her back, arms and legs obeyed her wishes and which ones still did not get the message to move.
The broken ribs hurt. She was constantly fighting a headache. Because she wasn’t able to move easily, her body throbbed with pain from lying in one position for too long.
James felt for her and wished there was something he could do.
He sat on the far side of the room and watched as the physical therapist worked on helping her get motion in her arms. He could see the strain on Rae’s face as she tried to coordinate the muscles in her shoulders and upper arms to get the movement she wanted. It was difficult—lying flat on your back, head in a brace to prevent your neck moving, knowing you had to battle to raise your arms.
After fifteen minutes the therapist declared the day a success and spent several minutes talking with a discouraged Rae to explain the improvements that were occurring.
James could see the improvement, too. Rae was getting better. It was slow, but it was definitely there.
After the therapist left, James moved back to Rae’s bedside. “You are getting better,” he confirmed.
She wanted to reply with something sharp, but bit back her words. James couldn’t blame her for the bad mood.
“Would you like to get some sleep, talk for a while, have me pick up reading where I left off?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral.
She sighed. “Finish the book.”
James studied her face, finally nodded. He picked up the suspense novel he had been reading to her, pulled the chair back to her bedside. “Is the mirror angle okay?”
“Yes.”
She hated the mirror. Positioned over her, it let her see the room while she was flat on her back. She really hated it. James reached over and gently squeezed her hand, didn’t let go of it as he used one hand to find the page they were on in the book. He began reading.
It took her several minutes, but she turned her hand over to grip his.
Rae was able to move now, but only with great care. The physical therapist had had her on her feet yesterday, a reality that had caused her an immense amount of vertigo. The exhaustion after therapy had caused her to sleep through the afternoon. James had sat with her, reading a book, watching for any signs of the nightmare returning.
She had been dreaming about the accident recently, waking terrified, reliving the moment she had turned her head and seen the headlights right there, the instant before the car had slammed into her driver-side door. She had no memory of the accident past that point; didn’t remember the emergency room, nor much from the first couple days in the ICU. James wished her memory had erased those first few moments before the accident as well.
The first time the dream had happened, her heart rate had jumped to almost one hundred sixty beats per minute in only a few seconds. The nurse had seen it happen and shaken her awake. The doctors told her the dream would fade in intensity with time. James
preferred to be there to shake her awake rather than let her complete the dream.
“She’s bored.”
James laughed at Lace’s conclusion, joining her at the hospital cafeteria table for a cup of coffee. “I brought the reference books she asked for with me. That should help serve as a distraction.”
Rae was healing, feeling better, fighting to regain motion, mobility, strength. She was fighting her way back to health.
“I hear she goes down to the physical therapy room today,” Lace commented.
James carefully picked up his coffee mug, knowing his hands might drop it if he didn’t concentrate. He nodded. “They want to get her relearning to walk.”
“Did the doctors say what yesterday’s MRI results were?”
“The swelling below the fracture point is down but it’s not gone. At least that implies more improvement is still likely.”
The sunlight woke her up. Rae lifted her right hand into her line of sight, flexed the fingers into a fist, pleased to simply watch the movement.
She had grown accustomed to these quiet moments. It was early. Soon the nurse and physical therapist would be in, the steel locking pins would be turned and she would be mobile again, her neck held straight by a smaller brace.
She breathed in deeply, let it out slowly.
There were a few benefits to a severe accident. She got to lie in bed for a good portion of the day, nap, read, talk to friends. She had the strength and energy of a newborn kitten.
She knew what James felt like now.
Concern for how the business was doing tensed her body and she forced the thought away. She wasn’t going to worry about something she had little control over. Jack was there. Her staff were good. Dave was going in each day for a couple of hours.
She touched her hand to her face, exploring how far the swelling had come down. She had nearly broken her jaw. It still ached.
“Good morning, Rae.”
She smiled at the voice of her favorite nurse. “Good morning.”
A few seconds later, the face connected with the voice appeared in her line of sight.
“Breakfast is coming.”
“I’m hungry,” Rae remarked, surprised.
Her new friend laughed. “Your body is letting you know it’s tired of IVs.”
Rae held her breath as the pins were released and she was once again mobile. It felt great to be free of the large brace, but also scary. Her neck was still fragile; a fall could paralyze her for life.
The nurse helped her dress in sweats, ease back onto the bed. She was grateful physical therapy was not for another hour and a half. It was hard, knowing she should be able to do so much more, to accept the fact that her body could not do it yet.
God, I understand so much better the frustration James must feel. It’s the frustration of all the little things. The fact I have to concentrate to be able to take even a single step. The fact I can’t put on a pair of shoes. The fact I can’t reach the book I want to read without first carefully maneuvering to get in position. The fact I get tired so easily.
“Hey, lady. Like some company?” It was a soft question from her left.
Rae turned carefully, smiled. “I was just thinking about you.”
James crossed the room. “Good thoughts, I hope.”
“Hmm.” She watched carefully as he moved, was grateful that his pain appeared to be under control this morning. He looked like he had finally had a decent night of sleep. She had been worried about him.
He kissed her good-morning. She was reluctant to end the kiss, a fact that made him laugh. “You taste minty,” he remarked, reluctantly easing away. He sat down in the chair beside her bed.
She wrinkled her nose. “Toothpaste.”
He grinned. “Whatever.”
She loved his smile. She loved the fact he chose to spend his days with her.
“What, no James?”
Rae had gotten adept at using the mirror above her bed, finally accepting its reality. “Hi, Lace. I sent him home.” It was late and she was flat on her back, not going to be moving again until morning.
Her friend appeared in her line of vision. “I know, I’m just teasing. I saw him in the lobby.”
Rae smiled. She loved James and Dave, but there were times when a girlfriend was the one who really mattered. “He looks good, doesn’t he?”
“Dave or James?”
Rae chuckled. “Yes, I noticed the change in Dave, too. James.”
“I think the new medication is helping. He’s in less pain.”
“I think so, too. Have you and Dave been dating?”
“Do you expect me to kiss and tell?”
Rae grinned. “Absolutely.”
“He brought lunch over yesterday. Yeah. I think we’re really dating.”
“This is good.”
“This is murder. I can never tell when he’s pulling my leg and when he’s serious.”
Lace pulled a chair over, settled into it, adjusted the mirror for Rae. “I bought the baby gift you wanted for Patricia. I had it wrapped for you. I’ll leave it in the second drawer of the chest, with your purse.”
“Thank you, Lace.”
“No problem. It was fun to wander through the baby clothes. They’ve got some cute fashions.”
Rae groaned.
“What?”
“I just had a vision of your children, Lace. Remember kids like to play in the dirt.”
“I’m not planning to have children.”
Rae looked at her; her friend smiled. “Okay, so the thought has crossed my mind a few times. Anything else you need? I’ll swing by on my lunch hour tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Lace. I can’t think of anything else.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” her friend promised.
“All right, Rae!”
Sweat was dripping from her body. She stood at the far end of the walkway, gripping the handbars to keep herself upright. James could see the muscles in her arms quiver with the excursion.
Her smile told its own story.
The physical therapist helped her turn and carefully sit down in the wheelchair he brought over.
Dave handed her a towel.
“You made it the distance, Rae.”
James pushed himself to his feet, using the cane to steady his weight, relieve the pain in his ankles. “Another couple of days and you’ll be doing stairs.”
Rae grinned. “Of course.”
The session over for the day, Dave pushed her wheelchair back to her room where the nurse kicked them out so Rae could have a shower and change clothes.
James took advantage of the time for a little physical therapy of his own, a walk around the hospital floor. It was hard to walk any distance, and the improvements he could see were scarce—a little less pain, a little more flexibility, but he kept to the daily routine. He was determined to be able to do ten laps in the pool this month.
“How is Rae’s business doing, Dave?”
Dave grimaced. “Not good. I’ve been dreading her questions. Jack can manage for a few more days, maybe a few weeks, but it is becoming apparent how badly Rae needs to be back setting the direction.”
“She can’t.”
Dave looked annoyed. “I know that. I also know she will kill me if the business loses too much ground.”
The question was raised by Rae an hour later, as she sat in the hospital bed, the end raised to let her sit up. She wanted to know how Jack was doing.
Dave told her the truth.
James, sitting on the other side of the bed, reached forward and captured one of her hands, held it, stroked the back, tried to distract her. She stayed focused on Dave.
“Call Gary and ask if he’ll loan us York for four weeks,” she finally requested. “York reviewed our books when we wrote the contract to sell the business. He’s Gary’s right-hand man.”
James froze. She had a contract written to sell the business?
“I’ll call him when I get home,” Dave promised.
<
br /> James looked at the profusion of flowers sitting on the windowsill, his thoughts in turmoil. She had gotten as far as a contract to sell the business? When had this happened? The thought made him sick. She loved her work. It was followed by a worse thought. Had she done it because of him?
He eased her hand from his. “I’m going to get a soda. Would you two like anything?” He needed to get out of this room.
They both declined.
She had been planning to sell the business. James tried to absorb that fact as he walked the halls to the vending machine.
Her business was more than a career for Rae. It was part of who she was, just as being a builder was an intrinsic part of who he was. She had been planning to walk away from it?
He had come to the point where he was willing to accept that they could have a future together even with the limitations he faced. But he had been thinking about practical sacrifices that could make it possible. A live-in housekeeper. Limiting the type of activities they planned. He had never envisioned the sacrifice of her career.
Everything in him rebelled at the thought of her sacrificing her career, selling the business, for him.
He slammed his fist against the pop machine when the can refused to drop all the way to the slot. He gasped at the pain that coursed through his wrist, elbow and shoulder.
Reality.
He hated this disease.
She was working on her book.
James paused in the doorway to her room, watching her. She was able to be out of bed for longer and longer periods of time now. Sitting in the chair by the window, using the bed as a table to spread out her materials, she was writing on a legal pad of paper, her concentration intense.
He loved her.
He loved seeing her like this, absorbed in her work.
The latest MRI had shown the swelling was gone. The paralysis that had been lingering in some of her muscles had finally faded. She had to move slowly, she had to concentrate on her actions, her strength and stamina had a long way to go, but the doctors were now talking about a full recovery being probable. Lace had brought in a cake so they could celebrate the news.
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