Wounded Heroes Boxed Set

by Judith Arnold

  A good sign. She’d been letting him do more for her. Opening doors, like able-bodied people would. Carrying her when it was more expedient, like to the bedroom when they couldn’t wait to get there. And now retrieving her specialty wheelchair, a Transformer All Sport chair.

  He thought about one hurdle they hadn’t overcome—his seeing her legs. Today she was dressed in light shorts with leggings underneath. A T-shirt peeked out from an open hoody. She, too, looked young and cute and athletic, which he had to admit he liked. A lot.

  "What can I do to help you get in?"

  "Nothing. I got this. Honest to God," she said, laughing because he used the oath all the time.

  "Well, if you put it that way, have at it."

  In her daily chair, she wheeled around, put down the arms and set the brake, then slid her body to the right side. The sports chair was much different from the other. It had a square, padded back and seat, no arms, two huge wheels, piping beneath for support and a foot rest. It was adjustable for different sports, was stable and easy to get in and out of.

  After she settled comfortably in it, she smiled up at him. "See, all done. Shall we head to the track?"

  "Yep."

  Before they began, Joe watched Dana put on specially made racing gloves that protected her hands, as the rims of the sports chair had hard surfaces. They started out slow. It was a beautiful end of September morning—crisp, a bit cool but the sun was shining. Joe was glad there were no other joggers here.

  Halfway around, she said, "This is a piece of cake. Let’s go faster."

  They picked it up some. He could, of course, run ahead, but the pace wasn’t bad for some aerobic workout. Dana smiled as they finished the lap and started a second. She rolled even faster. He wanted to tell her to slow down, but he hesitated. She knew her limits, she’d say. As they circled another half mile, she quipped, "Come on, I’ll race you."

  "Dana, I don’t think—"

  Despite his objections, she sped up and wheeled more quickly than he believed the chair could go. Eventually, he fell into the rhythm with her, forgot she was in a chair and just enjoyed the pull in his lungs and the strain in his calf muscles.

  As they rounded a turn, he began to slow down for it. She didn’t, and holy shit, the wheelchair teetered, then tipped over. She went flying onto the grassy area inside the track.

  Oh my God!

  His heart galloping in his chest, he rushed to her just as she was starting to sit up. "Stay still. You might have broken something."

  "I didn’t. I’m fine." Then she added, "Hell, I hate when this happens."

  His whole body sagged. "Excuse me?"

  "This has happened before. I lose a lot of time getting back into the chair in my marathons."

  "Oh." His heart was still racing. He’d panicked like he never had before in his life. "Oh."

  A twinkle came to her eyes and she socked him in the arm. "I have to learn to roll with the punches, Joey."

  This time, he didn’t think her pun was funny. She must have noticed, because she sobered immediately. "People fall in all sports, on foot or in a chair, Joe. No big deal."

  He struggled not to make one of this. He was able to control himself, and after she reseated herself—without his help—he bent down and put his face near hers. To dispel any lingering awkwardness, he asked, "You sure you didn’t do this on purpose, lady? Because I was ahead of you?"

  "No, big guy, I didn’t. And you weren’t ahead of me."

  The levity eased the tension and they started out again. In a few minutes, she said, "I’m ready to call it a day. My shoulder’s a little sore. You can run more and I’ll watch."

  "No need. This was a pretty good workout." Which pleased him because it proved they could exercise together in a meaningful way for him.

  They drank some water where they’d left their things, then headed to her van and began the process of getting inside. Once there, he turned to her before she started the engine. "Come back to my place."

  "I’d love to, but I need to shower, especially if you have some hanky-panky in mind." They’d used that term a lot after Jeremy had spouted it that morning with Ruth.

  "I’ve got the whirlpool all heated. It’d feel good on this crisp day."

  She frowned. "Um." And looked down at her legs.

  "You could leave those legging things on," he said easily.

  "Sure then. I’ve got a sweat suit in the van, too," she said and started the car. "The jets will feel great on my shoulder."

  Twenty minutes later, Dana sat on Joe’s deck by the whirlpool while he went inside to put a suit on. Tugging off her shoes, then her shorts, she left the leggings on and unzipped her sweatshirt and removed it. She heard the phone ring inside, so she didn’t take off her T-shirt just yet. Sitting there, she felt content, enjoying the chirping of the birds and the sun peeking through leaves that were beginning to turn red and yellow. She had to smile at her circumstances. Even if there was a bump in the road almost every time they were together, she was with a man she cared about deeply, would soon slide into a sinfully warm whirlpool, had had healthy exercise this morning and, if she played her cards right, would probably spend a good part of this beautiful Saturday morning in bed with JoeyD.

  She glanced down at her legs again. Was she still such a coward that she couldn’t take the leggings off and let him see her legs in broad daylight? He’d dealt with everything, with aplomb and grace and often humor. Even the fall this morning that seemed to have scared him to death. Ruth had practically had a heart attack when she’d seen it happen the first time.

  Dana thought long and hard for a moment, then put her thumbs in the waistband of her pants, pushed and pulled and finally got them off so she wore only white-cotton bikini underwear.

  In a few moments, Joe appeared in the open door to the deck. "Sorry, that was Kara—"

  He stopped short when he saw what she’d done. His gaze met hers and the soft swell of emotion in them stirred something inside her. She held his stare, communicating without words the poignancy of the moment. Eventually, he moved in closer. Briefly, he kissed her lips, then looked down. His mouth pinched tight and he frowned, but he ran his hand down her right leg, then back up to her knee. He repeated the gentle caress, the tender affirmation, on the other. "See? It’s okay, sweetheart."

  Dana swallowed hard, unable to speak. She was moved by his reaction, and the show of concern for what had happened to her was normal, wasn’t it? He made quick work of ridding her of the shirt, then he stood. "Wanna skip the tub and go straight to the bedroom?"

  "No." She kissed his cheek. "But can we, um, you know, fool around in the tub?"

  "A girl after my own heart." Gently, he scooped her up, stepped down and lowered them both into the water.

  In so many ways, she was totally naked and vulnerable to him, but it didn’t terrify her. And, as she basked in the warmth of the water, the pulse of the jets, in Joe’s presence beside her, Dana realized she hadn’t felt freer in the entire twelve years since her accident.

  Chapter 14

  * * *

  "KEEP YOUR VOICE down. Dana might be home." Ruth’s words, though hushed, made their way from the foyer back to the exercise room, where Dana was lifting hand weights. It was nighttime, and Jeremy had picked Ruth up earlier that evening, so she wouldn’t have seen Dana’s car in the garage.

  "I don’t care if she is home. She should know what’s going on." Jeremy’s voice was tight and strained, a tone Dana never heard from the mild-mannered doctor. All her nerves went on red alert.

  "I won’t tolerate interference in my relationship with her, Jeremy." Wow! Ruth’s voice was full of angst. What was going on with them?

  "Well, I guess that puts me in my place."

  "Don’t go. I…"

  Quickly, Dana rolled out of the exercise room and down the hall. She reached the living area just as Jeremy was opening the front door. "Jeremy, wait."

  When he turned around, Jeremy’s face was ravaged. He was a ha
ndsome man, youthful for sixty, but he seemed pale, older tonight. And really furious.

  Dana calmed the butterflies in her stomach before she spoke. "I heard my name or I wouldn’t have interfered. What should I know about?"

  "Dana, I—" Ruth began.

  But Jeremy intervened. Hand still on the doorknob, he directed his gaze at Dana. "It’s pretty simple. Ruth has just unequivocally chosen a life with you over one with me." Nodding to her, he said, "I’m sorry, Dana, I can’t discuss this without being unkind," then opened the door and walked out, closing it with a bit of a slam.

  Dana looked at Ruth. Her complexion was pale, too, but it was the bleak expression in her friend’s eyes that intensified Dana’s worry. And then Ruth burst into tears. Something was terribly wrong.

  Grabbing Ruth by the arm, Dana tugged her to a chair, where Ruth sat, buried her face in her hands and continued to sob. Dana rolled up close and let her cry. Ruth had done the same thing for her numerous times in the beginning, while Dana was trying to adjust to her new life.

  When Ruth quieted, Dana took her hand. "What did he mean, Ruth? That you chose me over him?"

  "He—he…" Watery eyes filled again and tears trickled down her cheeks. By now, her face was blotchy, too. "He asked me to marry him."

  Panic swelled inside Dana. Ruth was getting married? Moving out? The thought terrified her. How would Dana live without the woman? She’d been with Ruth since she’d moved to Rockland after the accident. Dana had never lived alone. The erstwhile Jacques had made it clear that he hadn’t wanted her to come back to their place when she’d been released from rehab, so she’d lived with her father before it became apparent that he was caring for her out of a sense of duty and not love. They’d nothing much in common with dance out of the picture.

  Immediately, Dana was ashamed of her selfish thinking. Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she calmed. How on earth could she even think of denying her friend the new happiness she’d found after all Ruth had already sacrificed for Dana’s welfare? For a moment, Dana prayed for strength and the poise to say the right thing.

  "Dana, did you hear me?" Ruth asked.

  "Yes. This comes as a bit of a surprise. It’s only been six weeks or so since you’ve been seeing him."

  "I know. But he says he’s sure of how he feels, and why waste time this late in our lives? He’s being an absolute tyrant about this."

  "What do you mean?"

  More tears streamed down her cheeks. "He says if I don’t agree to marry him, he won’t see me again."

  "That is pretty autocratic. And it doesn’t at all sound like the Jeremy you’ve told me about."

  Ruth’s brows raised. "It’s not. He never insists on his own way. He says he loves me so much, he can’t bear it if I—" She stopped talking before she could finish the sentence.

  "If you choose me over him."

  Ruth simply nodded. "That’s ridiculous. It’s like asking me to forsake my daughter."

  Again, Dana forcibly pushed back thoughts of life without Ruth and tried to think rationally. "Do you love him, Ruth?"

  "Of course I do. I feel so young, so energized and happy. But Dana, this is too fast, and I…I don’t want to move out of this house."

  Now Dana grasped both of Ruth’s hands. "Listen to me, Ruth. I can survive without you living here. There are many options."

  Closing her eyes briefly, Ruth shook her head. "Like what?"

  "Well, you’re not here a lot of mornings now and still come over to do range-of-motion exercises and massage my legs. Or I could hire an occupational therapist to take over those visits. I can also hire a masseuse. I have plenty of money to pay for what I need."

  "No, Dana, I’m not ready to make this decision so fast." Her face colored. "I was hoping maybe you and Joe would eventually—"

  "Whoa. Don’t go there. We’re not nearly as far along as you two apparently are. Your future can’t possibly depend on my love life." It was hard enough for Dana to deal with the commitments she’d made to her relationship with Joe. That Ruth’s future could be dependent on the outcome was unthinkable.

  Sniffles and a shake of her head. "That’s what Jeremy said."

  "He’s a wise man. And a good one, Ruth."

  "He’s stubborn and inflexible. I have to think about him being so demanding in this. It’s a side of him I don’t know and don’t like."

  Dana wheeled back. "Well, that’s fair. I wouldn’t want you to do anything rash. Just remember that his selfishness, as you call it, is because he wants you as his wife. That’s a hard thing to blame him for."

  Drying her cheeks with her palms, Ruth stood. "I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Let’s go do some exercises, then I want to take a shower and grocery shop."

  Dana smiled at her. "All right."

  But after Ruth left, when Dana was in the confines of her own room, staring out at the backyard, a huge swell of doubt and anxiety overcame her. She tried to tell herself a lot of people in wheelchairs lived alone and functioned perfectly well and so could she. It was just that the myriad of details Ruth dealt with seemed overwhelming. Dana hadn’t realized until right now how safe, how secure, how incredibly loved Ruth made her feel.

  Stop it, Dana. She’ll still be an important part of your life.

  Of course. They’d be working together, see each other socially, but there was no denying their relationship wouldn’t be the same. And on this pretty, late-September morning, the thought threatened to swallow Dana up into the same big black hole that had encompassed her for a long time after the accident.

  ***

  "ROCK STARS. God, I hate these assignments." Joe made the quip as he patrolled the backstage of the Auditorium Theater while Loosen Up drilled out some god-awful, heavy-metal music on stage.

  "Yeah, but listen to the kiddies." Shelly sat on a chair, sipping a cup of the coffee she’d just gotten for them. She’d been patrolling her own section of the cavernous space, as had Joe’s other men, because the band had gotten some threats, and the mayor, not wanting an incident in Rockland, had requested Joe’s team be sent in. Usually he liked being the go-to guy, but he was getting too old for this kind of event.

  The group continued to play as he checked with the other officers for updates. No problems were evident, so he leaned against a wall, watched the gyrations on stage and tried to block out the noise. Thankfully, the band took an intermission, which was when Joe and his staff went on full alert. Two people had been assigned to the lead singer, Loose (hence the band’s name); they flanked him as soon as he came offstage. "What are ya doin’, dude?" Loose asked Joe when he walked over to them.

  "We’ll escort you to your dressing room."

  "Don’t want no police in my private pad with me."

  "I’m sorry, Loose," Joe said easily, trying to avoid an eruption from the volatile band leader. "We’ve been assigned to protect you."

  "I gotta have some space." The kid’s tone turned surly.

  Translated, I gotta smoke up before my next set. Joe had discussed the band’s well-known drug use with his captain, who’d gotten strict orders from the chief not to bust Loose Lincoln for pot. That galled Joe. Hell, some of the kids out there weren’t much older than Kara. The antics of Loosen Up were a bad example. But the chief, probably acting on the mayor’s orders, had been clear with his instructions. Safety was their only concern.

  Though he was genuinely irked by the orders, the drug thing only added to his resentment of this job tonight. He wanted to be with Dana instead of babysitting this punk and his groupies. His and Dana’s upcoming weekend was already going to be halved because he had to go to Buffalo to present a workshop on tactics for handling eruptions of school violence.

  Once Loose had been ensconced in his lair for fifteen minutes, with two guards outside his door, Joe walked the backstage perimeter. Nothing suspicious. When he returned to the dressing room, he sat in a hall chair next to the uniform and told him to go get coffee. Alone, Joe turned his thoughts to something mor
e pleasant—Dana. He could still picture her the other day when she’d let him see her legs—the wariness and a bit of fear in her expression but also determination. Her limbs were thin and withered, a lot like his dad’s had gotten by the end, but Joe had concentrated on the fact that she trusted him enough to let him see the deformity. The two of them were getting really close, and though he still felt a few twinges of anxiety over his reactions now and again, for the most part he was thrilled about the progress they’d made.

  Soon, the band headed back to the stage. Joe wished he had earplugs, or something to block out the infernal noise. It was going to be a long night.

  At four a.m., when he climbed into his bed, barely able to think straight, he fell asleep in minutes. The blaring phone woke him at six. "What the hell?" He’d barely closed his eyes. "Moretti," he said after he grabbed the cell.

  "Hi, Joe, this is Tammy Baker."

  His mind was fuzzy. "Who?"

  "Nurse Baker from the hospital. I have some bad news that I hate delivering over the phone, but I thought you should know."

  Alarm tightened his gut and a terrible foreboding assaulted him. "Just tell me."

  "Yancy died in his sleep during the night. The early morning bed-check nurses found him."

  Joe clutched the phone. He couldn’t get his mind to work for a minute. Then, he saw the boy asking Joe to play games with him, calling him Officer Joe, wanting to flirt with a girl at the hospital and asking Joe’s advice. The child would never play baseball again, never go out with Joe to a Red Wings game, never grow up or fall in love.

  "I’m sorry," the nurse said soothingly. "I know how much you cared about him." Everybody in the hospital had.

  "I, um, do. Did. Are his parents there?"

  "Yes, but they’ll be leaving soon. It’s so heartbreaking, Joe. All the nurses are crying. Sometimes I hate this job. Getting close to these kids."

  So do I . "I’m sorry for you, too," was all he could think of to say.

  "Take care. I’ll let you know about the arrangements."