He sat in the seat next to her bed and reached for her right hand. Rubbing his thumb over her hand, he gently ordered, “Tell me.”
She hesitated, but he was patient and she finally blurted, “I have no idea what’s going to happen.” He remained silent and she continued to unburden. “A physical therapist was just here and told me that once the bones heal I will start therapy. And that includes learning how to hold eating utensils and put on my clothes.” She watched his face for signs of shock and disbelief, but his gaze remained steady. Swallowing hard, she added, “But my father has plans for me to become the Olympic comeback queen.”
That got her a blink and as she continued to stare at him, she saw a flash of anger in his eyes, but his hand continued to offer her steady comfort.
“The accident was days ago, and they’ll release me soon. My parents want me to go to their house, but I can’t live there.” Her voice broke and she swallowed several more times to gain control over her emotions. “I’ve got a little apartment and my roommate is getting married and has already moved out.”
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice soothing and gentle.
“To be unbroken and heading to the Olympics,” she answered honestly.
“I know you do,” he agreed. It was clear from his voice his heart was aching for her. Visibly strengthening, he clarified, “But I meant, what do you want to do after you’re discharged.”
Shaking her head, she thought for a moment. “I just know I don’t want to be at my parents’ place. My mother will hover and be watchful of my every movement, wondering what my father’s reaction will be. My dad will be on me to get in the pool every second I can. He means well, but he’s just…too focused, you know?” She felt tears prick her eyes and she whispered, “I just can’t do that. I can’t handle that right now. Every second will be an in-my-face reminder.”
“Then, I think the answer is obvious. You need to go back to your place.”
She stared at him but observed only sincerity in his eyes. “That simple?”
“Well, I think the answer is that simple. I think the execution of it will take some planning.”
She cocked her head at him, her brow knit in question.
He chuckled, his thumb still moving circles over her hand. “What I mean is that you’ll need some help with things for a while. Cleaning, grocery shopping, cooking, etc. For a bit, you’ll be one-handed, but you’ll get the hang of doing what you need to do.”
“I’ll be fine, Jaxon,” she said, hoping her voice was as sure as her words as she stared at her arm. “I think I’ll be better out of the hospital. This place makes me feel weak.”
“Babe,” he said, and her eyes jumped to his. She liked that he called her babe. It could be such a throwaway word and, yet, when said the way he said it, she felt warm inside. And that was something she had not felt in days.
“You are anything but weak. But, you’re not strong yet. You gotta take care of yourself and listen to those who have your best interest at heart.”
Staring dumbly at him, not understanding what he meant, she waited for him to explain. Instead, he stood and leaned over her, both hands planted on the mattress next to her.
Leaning closer, he said, “Your doctor wants your arm to heal. Your therapists want you to get strong again and be able to have a full life. I know your dad wants you to swim competitively again, but his wishes need to take a back seat to the doctor and therapists. They’ll push you at the appropriate times.”
She knew he was right but secretly wondered if it was possible. Looking up at him, she blurted, “Why are you here? With me?” She watched as his brow lowered, and she rushed on. “I’m nobody now.”
Anger flashed in his eyes before being replaced by frustration. “Morgan, when I was with you I had no idea you were anyone other than a grad student. My desire to be with you had nothing to do with your swimming.”
Her face fell as she mumbled, “Sorry. I guess I just feel…adrift.”
He leaned down a few inches and rested his lips on her forehead, the skin underneath his cool. He kissed her softly and said, “Rest some more, babe. I’ll be back because I want to be back. What you do means nothing to me. It’s who you are on the inside that captured me.”
She watched as he walked out the door and wondered what he saw on the inside of her, because right now, all she felt was a mess.
Connie assisted Morgan back into the bed after making a trip to the bathroom. Faced with trying to pull her panties down just to sit on the toilet, Morgan now understood what Theresa was alluding to. Her left-hand’s fingers would not cooperate and her arm, with the metal pins and plate sticking out, was difficult to maneuver. How am I ever going to manage in my apartment alone?
With a sheen of sweat covering her face, she settled back into the bed, pondering her future, uncertainty now mixing with anger. A noise at the door had her looking up in surprise.
“Nonnie!” The first genuine smile lit her face as she watched her grandmother being rolled into her room by another elderly woman.
Her arm still hurt like a bitch, but she raised her bed up to a sitting position and swung her legs around to stand.
“My gracious, Morgan, get back into bed.”
She continued to maneuver out of bed without wobbling too much and bent to give Nonnie a right-handed hug, holding her left arm away from them. Standing, she blinked the tears in her eyes away as the comforting, rose-scented perfume filled her nostrils. Her grandmother’s face had a touch of powder and her cheeks were pinkened with a blush. Her white hair was coiffed, and she exuded her casual elegance. Closing her eyes, it was easy to pretend she was at Nonnie’s nursing home, well and whole, visiting as usual.
Smiling as she glanced to the woman behind her, her smile faltered as she tried to place the familiarity of her face. Her white hair was pulled back in a bun and she had wire-rimmed glasses that did nothing to hide the grey-blue eyes smiling at her.
“This is my friend, Ms. Wiseman,” Nonnie said. “She and I met many years ago and she still comes to visit me.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Wiseman,” she greeted, now remembering having passed her in the hall the last time she visited Nonnie in the nursing home. “Please have a seat,” she offered before sitting back on her bed.
Focusing on Nonnie again, she said, “I still can’t believe you’ve come.” Her grandmother’s gaze dropped to her arm and she heaved a sigh. “I know. It looks horrible.”
“I’d say it looks painful,” Nonnie said, the creases deepening in her face.
“Yeah…” agreed said, not knowing what else to say.
“When will they let you go home?” Ms. Wiseman asked.
“I’ll probably stay two more days and then I’ll be discharged. The surgeon had to not only piece the bones back together with screws and metal, but there was some nerve involvement as well.”
“My precious girl, you’re alive,” Nonnie exclaimed. “That was all I could think about when your mother called me.”
Nodding, she forced her lips into a smile. Nonnie stared hard at her and she dropped her gaze, unable to bear the scrutiny.
Lowering her voice, Nonnie said, “I know you’re hurting, little mermaid.”
A sob erupted from deep within her chest and she pressed her right hand over her mouth to still her quivering lips.
“But, you have to know that you are more than just a swimmer. You’re a daughter and a granddaughter, and we know you are so much more than just what the news calls you. You’re alive and that’s all that matters.”
Nodding, silent tears slipping down her cheeks, she looked up in surprise as Ms. Wiseman handed her a box of tissues. Offering her a watery smile of thanks, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I know, Nonnie. I’m just a little lost right now.”
“Of course you are, Morgan. But you must take care of you and don’t worry about the future.”
“Dad says—”
“Fiddle-sticks on your father,” Nonnie bit o
ut, eliciting a chuckle-snort from Morgan. “He’s grieving over the loss of the dream too, but he needs to take a back seat to your healing.”
Wiping her nose again, she nodded. “I know.” Lifting her gaze to Ms. Wiseman, she said, “I’m sorry for us meeting this way.”
“Oh, my dear, don’t apologize. I wanted to bring your grandmother here as soon as I knew you could enjoy her visit.” Stepping closer, she lifted her thin hand to her cheek and said, “Ernest Hemingway said in A Farewell to Arms, ‘The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.’ You, my dear, will become stronger in the places you feel the most broken.”
She stared in dumbfounded curiosity at her grandmother’s friend for a moment, unable to discern how she could feel strong while so broken, but a strange peace slid through her at the words. Nodding slightly, she bent to kiss Nonnie’s cheek and watched the two women leave her room.
Alone once more, she wondered how she would ever feel strong again.
17
Morgan sat on the edge of the bed, her small bag packed, waiting for her parents to come for her discharge. Hearing heavy steps coming into the room, she looked up, surprised to see Jaxon. His thick, dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail and he was wearing his navy pants and Richmond Emergency Services polo, his biceps straining at the arms. A flash of memory hit her, of his face leaning over hers as he powered into her body the night they spent at his place. That memory was quickly replaced by the one of his face leaning over her’s as she sat in her car. She did not remember the pain or fear…just his face near hers.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, unable to keep a small smile from her face.
“I knew you were being discharged today and wanted to see you again.”
“You can come by to visit me at home, you know,” she blurted, hope attempting to blossom in her chest.
Grinning, he walked over to her and sat on her right side, careful of her arm. “I’m glad. I wasn’t sure if…well, if you wanted to keep seeing me.”
She reached out and touched his arm, the skin feeling warm underneath her cold fingers. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.” She jerked her hand back, her gaze landing in her lap. “I mean, it’s been nice for you to check on me, but you don’t—”
“Morgan,” he said, his voice soft. He reached over and lifted her chin with his knuckles, turning it gently so that her eyes landed on his. “I want to see you. This isn’t pity. This is me wanting to get to know you better. Wanting to spend time with you. If that’s okay?”
She licked her lips, the desire to lean in for a kiss overwhelming. She nodded, uncertain of so much in her life except for wanting to see him again. “I’d like that. I…uh…have no idea what things will be like for a while, but…uh…well, I’d like to—”
“Ready to go, Morgan?” Her nurse walked into the room, her hands full of discharge papers. “Your parents are bringing around their car and I need you to sign these, then we can roll you out.”
She winced, mouthing sorry, and he chuckled.
“I’ve got to get to work anyway. I’ll see you soon. Take it easy today, okay?” He bent over as he always did when leaving but, this time, instead of kissing her forehead, he lightly touched his lips to hers.
“It’s the only way I can take it,” she joked, her heart lighter than the previous days. She watched him wink before he walked out.
“You’re fine, Bob. Stop agonizing.” Jaxon had been back in the driver’s seat of the ambulance for the past several days, but insisted that Bob take over as a driver once again. He knew the best way for Bob to get over his fear after the accident, was to get back into the action. But, then, he also knew that at each intersection, he found his fingers twitching, replaying Morgan’s accident over in his head.
Bob wiped the sweat from his face and handled the ambulance perfectly. They pulled up outside the home and met the screaming mother as she came running around the house from the back yard.
“He’s here, he’s here! Oh, God, help him!”
Grabbing their equipment, they raced to the back yard and his gaze landed on a trampoline with part of the safety net crushed in on one side. A young boy, lying prone and unmoving on the ground, was next to the trampoline.
“Goddamn death trap,” he muttered under his breath, hearing Mary cursing as well. They dropped to the ground, immediately securing the child’s neck in a brace.
As they went to work, Mary called into the hospital, explaining the child’s condition. He was glad to see the boy’s eyes blinking open, but was terrified at his lack of movement from any extremities. Knowing a broken neck was a possibility, they followed protocol, with help from the arriving fire department, and moved him to a gurney.
A policewoman had taken the mother to the side of the yard, attempting to calm her while finding out what happened.
“He was just jumping,” the mother cried. “Then the whole side fell over and he screamed. I got out here and saw him like this.” She began screaming again, falling to her knees.
Moving the child quickly, they lifted him into the ambulance. Turning to the policewoman, he said, “Bring the mom. We need room to work in here.” That was his way of letting her know a hysterical mother would hinder more than help.
Bob did not question about the driving, immediately jumping behind the wheel, and he shot up a prayer of thanks. Minutes later they pulled into the ER ambulance lane and were met with the hospital services. As they whisked the boy off, he noted the policewoman escorting the mother inside and blew out a huff.
Looking up as he finished his report, he watched one of the nurses smile and walk over. “Hey, Shauna.”
“Trampoline?” she asked, her head jerking in the direction the mother was heading.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “They come with warnings, but I wonder how many parents would buy the damn things if they really knew the risks.”
“I made a bunch of my friends watch a video compilation of backyard trampoline accidents and every one of them declared them off limits for their kids.”
Mary walked over and added, “But what about those indoor trampoline parks or playgrounds? My grandkids were pissed when I wouldn’t let them go to a birthday party at one of those. Kids crashing into each other left and right. Jesus, it’s an ER nightmare.”
He finished the report, handed the tablet to Shauna, and followed Mary back out to the ambulance. Looking at the clock, he wondered how Morgan was doing at home and hoped the afternoon passed quickly, so he could check on her.
Morgan sat in the back seat of her father’s SUV, her left arm resting on a pillow in her lap to keep from bumping it on the car. She was dressed in sweatpants and an old, large t-shirt that had the left arm cut out of it. She made sure to take extra pain medication before leaving the hospital and, while it was not a narcotic, she was glad for any relief from the pain.
Her father was grumbling as he drove, still discontent that she was not going home with them. Her mother kept twisting around to check on her and her facial muscles were tired of attempting a smile.
Twenty minutes later, they arrived and she carefully exited the vehicle while her parents carried her small bag into her first floor, tiny, two-bedroom apartment. Now that her roommate had moved out, she thought the space would feel bigger, but the reality was that all the rooms were little. Her bedroom held a bed and a dresser. The bathroom at the end of the short hall was just a tub, toilet, and single sink. The living room held a sofa, an end table with a lamp, and one chair, all facing the TV on the wall. The kitchen was a small U-shaped room, with counters on each side and a breakfast bar where their stools were.
Glancing down at her almost immobile arm, she wondered how she would be able to maneuver without slamming it into a wall or furniture. Pushing those thoughts aside, she sank gratefully onto her sofa, keeping the pillow in her lap.
Her mother sat on the sofa, close but not too close, and said, “Honey, I’ve filled your freezer with some pre-made meals
, but I don’t want you to feel alone. We’ll be back to check on you daily and are just a phone call away.”
Her father sat on the edge of the chair, his hands clasped together. Clearing his throat, he said, “Morgan, I know this has all been a shock and disappointment…for all of us.”
She looked up at him, seeing uncertainty etched into the lines on his face. Lines she had not noticed until the last few days.
“Your mother keeps telling me not to push too hard, but I don’t want this to be your defining moment.”
Unsure how to respond, she remained quiet, her gaze pinned on him.
“I know you have to heal before you can start rigorous training, but as soon as you’re able, the therapists can work with you. I just don’t want you to give up. You’ve had a dream, a goal, for so long. This is a setback, but not the end.”
Swallowing deeply, she forced her words to sound more upbeat than she felt. “Sure, Dad.”
Her simple words seemed to be what he was looking for and he smiled, heaving a sigh of relief. “Well, good, good. I wish you’d come back home, but just know that if this is too much for you to handle, then we’re just a phone call away.” He stood, seemingly proud of her for not falling apart.
Her mother stood with him but leaned over to kiss the top of her head. “I can’t believe that you’re insisting on staying here alone.”
“Mom, there’s little I can do now but rest. I’ve got my own bed, my own pillow, and I’ll be fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
With a final one-sided hug, she watched as they walked out the door. Throwing the latch, she leaned her back to the door and sucked in a huge breath. Alone. For the first time since the accident, she was completely alone. Sick of the hospital and the constant people coming in and out of her room, this was what she wanted. Isn’t it?
Blowing out the breath she had been holding, she moved into her kitchen and pulled down a glass, filling it with water. One-handed. I can do this. Taking a long drink, she moved back to the sofa. Hating the absolute quiet, she reached for the remote and turned on the TV. Her face was on the news, so she quickly skipped over that channel. Not wanting to watch any sports, she left it on the cooking channel, the sound low. Leaning back on the sofa, she tried to find a comfortable position to rest her arm. Unable to find one, she settled in, hoping the pain medicine would last until the evening.
Jaxon: Heroes at Heart Page 12