by Audra Hart
“Thanks Jan. I am tired…”
Jan takes the hint and stands up, she reaches out and squeezes my hand. A very un-Jan-like gesture. She’s never really been a touchy-feely kind of person. “Dee, I’ll come back tomorrow after school. My church has been praying for you and will continue to do so. I will leave my number with the nurse’s desk. They can call me if you need anything. And Dee, I do mean anything.”
I nod but I can’t look at my friend. I don’t want to see the sympathy in her eyes. I don’t want her damned pity! I don’t want anyone’s pity! Somehow, I know this is my fault. I don’t remember how or why, but it’s my fault my babies are dead.
Later that afternoon, The Parade of Glorified Healers march through my hospital room to give me the full skinny on my condition. I am still grappling with the idea that my children are actually gone. Now Bald Doctor, the ortho guy is back. I have no interest in anything an orthopedic surgeon has to tell me. I have already had to listen to The Neuro Guy and The Plastic Boob Doctor prattle on about all the wonderful work they have done to me. They both are taking full credit for my ‘amazing’ recovery.
I snort at that idea because I got the distinct impression from both of them that they have no idea how I have even survived, much less how my brain seems to be working properly, or how come my face doesn’t look like the Elephant Man. They are both rubbing their hands in anticipation of writing articles about my recovery.
How ya gonna write it up, boys? You don’t even understand my recovery, you barely believe the evidence in front of you.
Bald Doctor interrupts my cynical musings; “Mrs. Montfort, it’s a miracle you survived. The repair work I had to do to the left side of your body has been extensive. Your scapula was shattered, clavicle broken in two places. Every bone in your arm was broken, even crushed. I don’t know if you will ever get full use of that arm. Your hip joint was replaced, your thigh bone snapped in two. The two bones in your lower leg and your ankle were crushed. That’s not even mentioning the damage done to your skull. You will have to speak to your neurosurgeon and the plastic surgeon to get the full details of all of the work they had to do. But let’s just summarize it all as a true miracle. The rate that you are healing your bones is remarkable, but you still have a very long road ahead of you. You will require more surgery. Your recovery is going to be long and arduous and I can’t even guess at this point how much you will be able to recover.”
Who gives a shit?
He leans back on the stool and looks me square in the eye and says, “Deidra, I am a pretty good ortho surgeon. I am not great, or I would be working in some big city raking in the real money. But I am good. But your recovery… well it’s beyond my meager means. Somebody, God or somebody, wants you to recover. I know you are in hell right now. I have two kids myself. I can’t imagine what I would do if I lost them. But Deidra, please don’t squander this gift you have been given. Please don’t give up.”
Blah, blah, blah… won’t he ever leave?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The weeks go by in a blur. They tell me that I was in a coma for almost two months. Another month has gone by since I woke up and got the horrible news that my family is gone. The time hasn’t really passed quickly, it just all feels like a blur because the damned nurses kept putting drugs in my I.V.
Finally the hardware is off of my arm and leg. It took another damned surgery to get it done, but it’s gone. The I.V. is gone. They keep offering me pain pills, but I don’t want them. Now maybe they will let me leave. I don’t need their damned pills. They don’t have any more surgeries scheduled. Bald Doctor is the only one of ‘The Three Wise Men’ who is still coming around. Please let me leave this place! In my mind I am ranting and raving at fate, God, the doctors, the nurses, everyone; Just let me leave! I hear someone enter the room. I don’t bother to look up. Probably the tall black girl who’s my nurse today. I like her, she’s not timid around me. She doesn’t ooze sympathy and pity from every pore. She’s not unkind or rude, but she doesn’t coddle me either. She does her job and gets out of my room.
Thank God!
“Mrs. Montfort,” a strong male voice says. I look up at him in surprise. I like his voice, it’s strong and kind, but not oozing sympathy and condescension. I like his Texas drawl too, it makes me think of Pop.
“Yes?”
He smiles a bright, genuine smile and says; “Hi. I am Seth Bailey. I have contracted with the hospital to do your physical therapy. I have more experience with extensive injuries like you have than the hospital’s own staff P.T.” He chuckles and says; “Besides, Mandy, the chief P.T. here is scared to death of you. She’s afraid you will push yourself too hard and do more injury.” All I can do is shrug. I think Mandy has been babying me and I haven’t bothered to hide my feelings from her, but part of me does feel bad for making the poor girl so uncomfortable. She has only been doing her job and I have been kind of rough on her.
Seth is watching me closely and he smiles before turning to the man with him. “This is Lucian Michaels, do you mind if he remains here while we visit?” I look at the P.T. guy. He’s a tall, good looking boy of twenty-five or so. He has lovely brown hair and eyes. He has a strong, honest and open face. I like him immediately.
I look over at his companion; he’s really tall! I’d say 6’8” at least and built like a dream come true. Oh crap! God’s gift to women really exists! I almost smile, not only is he gorgeous, but he’s one of the few men that I would actually have to look up to. At 6’2” I have spent most of my life looking down to or directly at almost everyone I encounter. I look at the tall man again, he has the strangest eyes I have ever seen and he’s really pale, abnormally so. But he looks harmless enough, if being sexy as sin can be considered harmless, and I just shrug at the P.T. guy. The tall guy is probably his student, doing a practicum. Who am I to get in the way of someone learning how to do the career of his choice?
“Mrs. Montfort,” Seth begins. “I am here to do your preliminary evaluation so that we can start your physical therapy. If you ever want to get up out of that bed on your own, you are going to have to put out some considerable effort. I understand from your nurses and your doctors that you haven’t exactly been real receptive to anyone’s offers to help you. But, lady, I got to tell you the road ahead of you is going to be long, and painful. Physically and mentally. I will help, and you damned well need my help. I can get you out of that bed and on your own two feet. But you are going to have to do all of the work. I can only guide and support you along the way.”
“Okay, let’s get started,” I say.
The P.T. kid looks surprised, and his student just smiles. Weird, it’s like he’s proud. Huh? What’s that about?
But I force myself to focus on Seth instead. “You said the only way that I am getting out of this bed is to work hard. Well let’s get started. The sooner I am out of this damned hospital the better.”
“Awesome Mrs. Montfort! Let’s get you out of that bed and down to the therapy room and get started,” Seth says enthusiastically as he pushes the wheelchair over to my bed.
“Dee… or Deidra. Only my students have to call me Mrs. Montfort.”
“Students?”
“Yeah, I teach special ed. I work with the moderately to severely impaired students in my school district.”
“Awesome. It takes a rare person to be able to do that.”
I snort at that. I hear that crap all the time and it just isn’t true. There’s nothing special about me or any other special ed teacher. “All it takes is a little education, a little common sense and commitment to see it through. The kids do the hard part.”
Seth chuckles, “Well guess what, Dee? It’s the same in my job. My patients have to do the hard part.”
The examination that followed that conversation was grueling! It took forever and was painful as hell. But Seth was awesome. He was patient and kind, but he didn’t try to baby me. He instinctively knew when I wasn’t giving it my all and would gently remind me it was my re
sponsibility to get myself out of this bed.
After they leave I am embarrassed to know that I was letting my attraction to the student interfere with my efforts during the evaluation and initial treatment. That night I wake up panting hard and shaken to the core. Lucian Michaels is haunting my dreams!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Dream
I am doing some kind of exercise regime, like Tai Chi, Tae Kwon Do or something along that line. My body feels strong and my movements are sure and poised as I move through the routine. I am focused on each movement when strong arms grab me from behind and drag me to the thick grass below the massive oak tree.
I giggle and twist around in his arms. I capture his lips for a deep, soul wrenching kiss. My center is throbbing already with need. “You are wearing far too many clothes, lover,” I purr seductively.
I giggle again as he reaches down and whips off my simple sheath dress before removing his own old fashioned tunic and leggings. “Better?” he asks with a raised eyebrow and knowing smirk. I know he is just as impatient to be naked and join our bodies as I am.
“Much, much better. Now come here!”
He complies and captures my lips and moans happily when I wrap my eager fingers around his long, thick and very hard cock. “I have been missing you all day,” I murmur.
He chuckles. “You are the one who sent me on patrol.”
I nod, “Duty always comes first.”
“I know, beloved. I happily serve. But now I want to enjoy you.”
I laugh wickedly as I push him onto his back and trail kisses down his hard body, savoring his taste and feel. “Good! I want to finish what you interrupted last night.” I quickly move to take his thick cock into my ready mouth. Pushing against his length to swallow as much of his hard length as I can, sucking hard and moaning as I move my mouth back to the tip. Where I tease the head with my tongue. Savoring his slick essence that oozes out because of my efforts.
“Fuck! Baby, you drive me crazy when you do that!” His voice is a low growl that makes me even hotter.
I giggle. “Good!” And then I take him into my hungry mouth again, making several enthusiastic passes, sucking hard and teasing his sensitive flesh with my tongue. I love doing this and I am pushing hard to make him come because I know he’s going to interrupt me before I can finish. He always does.
He grabs me under my arms and effortlessly lifts me up and away from his cock. “Enough, beloved,” he growls with obvious amusement and a bit of frustration.
I chuckle and move to straddle his hips. “One day you will let me finish,” I smirk. I reach down to guide his hard shaft into my eager core. We both moan as I slowly lower myself onto his length. He fills me, stretches me completely and it is the best feeling in the world. I moan carnally as I savor the fullness and the salacious look on his face.
“Fuck, baby! You are so hot and wet,” he growls, making me feel even wilder.
I lean down and kiss him deeply. Savoring the way his tongue possesses my mouth, reveling in the feel of his strong hands gripping my hips hard as he thrusts even deeper inside of me as I slowly begin to move up and down on his hard cock.
I break off the kiss and purr; “Of course I am hot and wet. I have been wanting to ride your glorious shaft all day.” I lean down and kiss him again. “I want to fuck you hard until we come hard and you yell my name so loudly they hear you in the village.”
He sits up and takes my face into his hands. His eyes express his disquiet. “Beloved, I love you, adore you. We don’t fuck, we make love.”
I giggle. “No, no lover! You make me wild and wanton. I want to fuck you like a wild thing.” I rock my hips forward to prove my point as I bite his shoulder, none too gently.
I see the hurt in his eyes, not from my bite but from my words. I kiss his lips tenderly. “Lover, whether we fuck wildly or tenderly treasure each other’s bodies, it’s always making love. Because that’s all we can do. It’s what we are; lovers, eternal mates.” He nods and smiles so I giggle and say; “But I am still going to fuck your brains out and make you roar my name.”
He growls and lowers his head to capture one of my nipples with his hot mouth as his hands grip my hips hard, digging into my flesh as I ride him wildly. I moan and clasp his head lovingly as he suckles hard, alternating between my breasts. He reaches behind me and kneads my ass, helping me take his shaft deep inside of me with every stroke.
“Come for me, baby,” he demands against my lips. He chuckles as I scream his name when the orgasm he gives me rips through by body making me feel joyful, crazed and utterly feral.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When I awaken from the dream I am actually panting and I can feel my sex quivering, throbbing even. I easily recognize the aftereffects of an orgasm even though I haven’t had one in years, far too many years to contemplate. I am momentarily grateful that I don’t have a roommate because I talk in my sleep and I can only imagine what I said as I dreamt about riding the beautiful P.T. student.
What the hell was that about?
I feel shame wash over me that I am having strange sex dreams about a much younger man that I just met. “You don’t deserve to dream about sexy young men!” I chide myself softly. My loss again washes over me and I curl up into as tight of a ball as my damaged body will allow.
It takes hours but I finally drift back off to sleep with fresh tears on my cheeks. Right before I totally lose awareness I imagine gentle, loving hands caressing my back and a tender kiss on my forehead. A smile curls my lips slightly because I know I am loved and protected.
5 Months Post Crash
I can get out of the bed and get around now without any help. Last week I got to stop using the stupid walker. Now I can get around with a cane. I am still slow, and it hurts like hell, but I can move. I have been riding Bald Doctor to let me out of the rehab ward he has me on… but he’s dragging his feet. I am considering checking myself out AMA, against medical advice, because I have a new roommate. And she’s driving me crazy.
All she does all day long is whine about how her kids never come see her. “At least your children are alive!” I want to scream at her, but I don’t say a word. That would be impolite. Whiney Roommate complains that the P.T. girl is too rough with her, the food is bland and always cold and the nurses are so slow. I am so close to telling her what I think of her attitude, but it’s none of my business, so I keep my mouth shut.
My bed is the one nearest to the door and I like to keep the door open so I can hear and see the activity in the hall. I am glad I can get up and walk up and down that dreary tan corridor now. But they won’t let me do it unless I have a nurse with me. They put that belt around my waist and a nurse hangs on to it for support as I walk. But I get up and walk to the bathroom all the time without a nurse.
I don’t need the damned help. I don’t want the damned help.
A soft knock on the open door draws me out of my musings. In the doorway is a young man, maybe twenty-five or so. That’s probably a stretch. He looks so youthful, sweet and gorgeous. “Mrs. Montfort?” I nod and he asks, “May I come in?” I nod again.
He comes to me and offers his hand to shake. He has a nice firm grip and pretty green eyes. His sandy brown hair and those eyes remind me of Kyle. My heart contracts painfully and I push that thought from my mind.
“Are you another damned social worker? Because if you are, you are wasting your time. I am not going into a nursing home and I don‘t need a counselor. I just need to leave this place. I could leave right now if Bald Doctor would just get off of his hands and stop worrying about whether or not I will sue him.”
The young man chuckles. He looks genuinely amused and not overly surprised by my attitude. “No, Mrs. Montfort, I am not a social worker. I am an attorney. My name is Carlisle Brennan.” I raise an eyebrow at that. Not that he’s an attorney, but at his name. Why is that so familiar? “I was hired on your behalf. I have secured a settlement from the trucking company for two million dollars.”
“
That’s blood money. I don’t want it.” I look away from my visitor, my mouth set hard reflecting my stubborn state of mind.
“Mrs. Montfort, I can understand why you feel that way, but we both know it will be a very long time before you can support yourself again. I understand that you are making great strides in your recovery, but you still have a long ways to go. And your medical bills are astronomical and will certainly exceed what the state insurance from your teaching job will cover. Accept the money, pay those bills, and use the rest to get yourself back on your feet.”
I nod and thank the kid for his time. After he’s gone I take a few minutes to look at the information in the manila folder he gave me. Well, this could be my ticket out of here. When Bald Doctor comes this afternoon, I will ask him to release me, if he refuses I will just go, AMA. I sigh and put the folder from the lawyer with the folder Jan gave me in the drawer of the bedside table.
I look up at the photos of my kids. Jan brought them to me from my desk at school. She packed everything else up from my classroom, my personal items anyway. They are in the cabinet where a patient’s personal effects are stored. I haven’t even bothered to look through it. I don’t care if she packed all of my stuff. I only really wanted the pictures.
Kyle is my oldest. He’s fourteen. Tall for his age, slender in that gawky way of early adolescence. He has sandy brown hair that is wavy and usually too long. But I don’t ride him about keeping it cut, it’s his hair. His bearing reminds me lot of his Dad, but he has my green eyes. All of my babies got my eyes. I miss my first born.
Next is Aiden. He’s ten. The delivery was botched by a doped up doctor on call when he was born. My Aiden has cerebral palsy and seizure disorder. He’s the toughest, smartest little man I know. Looks can be deceiving; he’s so tiny and frail looking that folks always underestimate him. Not me, he won’t let me. He works hard to keep from losing any more strength. He tries to talk, but he just can’t do it. But we have worked out a system. I ask him yes or no questions. If he looks at my right hand the answer is yes, if he looks at my left, the answer is no. It works for us. He’s so damned sweet and funny too. He too reminds me of Rolan, except he too has my eyes. I miss my tough little man.