Done With Men Forever (Clairmont Series Book 3)

by S. Jane Scheyder

  Becky looked down at Tank and picked up his other hand. “I’m not sure anyone’s ready for that job.”

  They shared a sad smile. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.” Grace sighed. “Oh, and just so you know, you can stay with him a little longer now. I guess they’ll let you know if they need you to leave.”

  Becky patted her book bag. “I brought plenty to do. I’ll just camp here ’til they kick me out.”

  “Sounds good. I’m going to go home and shower and then head back to the shop for a bit.” Grace walked around the bed and gave Becky a hug. “Take good care of him.”

  “I will.”

  Grace left and Becky set her book bag down, pulling the chair close to the bed, as she’d done over the weekend. At some point she’d try to correct her French papers, but first she’d hold Tank’s hand and watch him sleep. She liked to think of him simply sleeping - resting. When he was strong he would wake up and terrorize her again. She was counting on it.

  Not that he’d terrorized her during the last week. He’d respected her wishes and not come around for his daily greeting. They’d taught their class together and he’d been friendly and professional. He’d worked on the apartment on two of the evenings and had only said hello and good-bye when she happened to be around.

  She’d been intensely aware of his presence in the classroom and in the house. His giving her space only made her feel him everywhere. His respecting her wishes only made her long for him more. She’d never been taken so seriously; wasn’t sure how to respond.

  Becky stroked Tank’s hand. It was a big hand. They’d never really held hands during their whole, odd relationship. He’d helped her up, taken her briefly by the hand, but they’d never simply walked hand in hand together. Whatever else they did when he woke up, she wanted to walk with him and hold his hand and just be.

  Her gaze traveled up to his lips. They were gently parted in sleep. There was a cut and significant swelling on the lower left, but otherwise, they were perfect. She released a long sigh. There was nothing in the world like being Tank’s sole focus when he kissed her. A shiver ran through her. It had been almost two weeks since their last kiss.

  Unless I count the kiss on my forehead when he told me he loved me.

  Becky closed her eyes, not fighting the tears. She’d been blown away by that confession in the snow.

  No one had ever wanted her like that. The variations of love talk were familiar, but they were usually connected to a demand of some kind. She’d never had someone just tell her they loved her and not even expect a response. She felt ... delighted in. It seemed odd to describe it that way - it was a such foreign concept - but that’s what it felt like.

  Looking at him now, she could kick herself for deliberating and making them both wait.

  She sighed; if she were honest, she knew that just because he lay there helpless, needing healing she couldn’t imagine possible, it didn’t change the fact that she needed healing of her own.

  Well, now she truly had the time she’d asked for. What an unwelcome gift.

  thirty-two

  Becky got through health classes better than she would have imagined. The students were subdued - they’d run out of questions the day before and seemed to understand that she had enough on her plate. The unit on community health was probably a little dry, but they managed to cover the material.

  Carrie hung out after her first class, and when the room was cleared, asked how she was doing.

  “I’m okay. Thanks for asking,” Becky responded.

  “You look tired.”

  “I am. Hard to sleep.” The night before she’d fallen asleep next to Tank’s bed. She’d awakened in the middle of the night, surprised the hospital staff hadn’t kicked her out. She never did grade her French work.

  “We could watch a movie in French. Give you a break.”

  Becky gave her a tired smile. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  Carrie picked up her books. “I know there’s nothing I can do. But if there were ...”

  “I know. Thanks, Carrie. That means a lot.”

  Carrie nodded. “Well, guess I’ll see you after lunch.”

  “See you later.”

  Becky watched her student leave the room, marveling at the change. She sat down with her lunch and forced herself to eat. Maddy promised to come by the hospital and sit with her after school. That would be a good thing. She needed her sister.

  ***

  Becky glanced at her watch. It was just before suppertime; not that Tank adhered to any kind of meal routine. She studied the giant form lying so still under the covers. Was he losing weight? He had to be. They were feeding him intravenously, of course, but there was no way they could keep up with his real appetite.

  She considered the workouts he was missing. He’d be furious; Tank was religious about his weight-lifting routine. Becky reached under the bar and ran her fingertips along his forearm. She’d never seen forearms like Tank’s. His fingers twitched slightly, and Becky’s heart soared with hope that she knew would be dashed in the same breath.

  She reached up to stroke his cheek. He needed a shave. Who’s job was that? She decided that she would like to do it. That would be another thing when he woke up. She’d hold his hand and she’d shave him. Becky smiled wanly to herself, wondering what other things would make the list.

  It was so strange - he was completely accessible and inaccessible at the same time. She could stare at him all she wanted, touch his face, his arms, his hands. She’d run her finger over his Adam’s apple at one point, marveling at the size of his neck. More than once she’d laid her hand on his chest when she wasn’t sure he was breathing. Then she’d been weak with relief when she felt the big mountain move again.

  She remembered when she first met him, and thought his size was off-putting. Not so much anymore.

  She ran her fingers back down to his hand and held it. What she’d give to have him squeeze hers in return.

  ***

  Maddy met her with soup and biscuits half an hour later and forced Becky to eat. It actually tasted good. She couldn’t even remember what kind of sandwich she’d made for her lunch, but Becky was pretty sure she’d eaten it. At some point in the afternoon she’d had a few carrots. That was about it.

  “His color’s better, don’t you think?” Maddy asked, ever the optimist.

  Becky looked at Tank’s face again. As long as he was so still, it was hard to notice improvement. “Could be.” She took another bite of soup. “Thanks for dinner. This tastes great.”

  “Of course.” Maddy sat down next to Becky and folded her hands in her lap. “You getting any more sleep?”

  “Not so much last night. I’m going to try to get home a little earlier tonight. I haven’t been much good at school. Doesn’t help anybody.”

  Maddy nodded.

  “You know what’s crazy?” Becky pulled the biscuit apart and dropped some pieces into her bowl. “In the middle of trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do about men - in the middle of trying not to just be attracted to Tank because of his, because he’s so ...” She stopped and swallowed. “For the first time I looked at a man and saw him as a father. I’ve never done that before. I think Tank would make a really good dad. I think he’d be gentle and firm ... and fun. The other day in the snow ...”

  That was as far as she got. She set the bowl on the bedside table and put her head in her hands. She’d never cried so much in her life.

  Maddy stroked her back and let her cry for a while, handing her a tissue when she guessed Becky was ready to pull it together.

  “That’s not crazy,” she finally said. “It’s wonderful. I got that view of John from the beginning. It was one of the first things that I loved about him.”

  Becky blew her nose and went into the bathroom to wash her face and hands. She walked back out and stopped at the foot of Tank’s bed. It occurred to her that apart from all the devastation, she knew that she, herself, was in a better place than she’d been in
in a long time. Whether it was a good enough place to survive losing Tank, she didn’t know.

  ***

  The hospital corridors were looking too familiar. Becky made her way to Tank’s room, greeting the attendant at the desk, who gave her one of those ‘be brave!’ smiles. Becky smiled back the ‘I’m a trooper!’ smile. It had been a week since the accident. It seemed like a good time for Tank to wake up.

  She met Grace and Alex just outside of Tank’s room.

  “Hey, Alex,” she reached out to shake his hand. “Nice to see you.”

  “Hi, Becky,” he replied, taking her hand in both of his. “I’m just so sorry for ... everything. Tough time.”

  “Yeah.” Becky turned and hugged Grace. They were beyond words at this point.

  “He’s strong. He’s young. There’s a lot in his favor.”

  Becky and Grace exchanged glances, wondering who should field the comment. Becky finally did. “Well, we’re not going to let him go without a fight.”

  Everyone stood for a moment, embracing the sentiment. Grace finally spoke up. “We were just leaving - Alex has a flight to catch - but if you’re going to be here, I’ll come back for a bit.”

  “Sounds good. Take care, Alex.”

  “You, too.” Alex touched her gently on the shoulder then picked up Grace’s hand as they walked down the hall. Becky watched them walk together, trying hard not to be envious. She finally turned and walked into the hospital room.

  “Okay, Tank. Time to get up. I want to walk with you and hold your hand.” She walked over to the bed, feeling the familiar hole in her heart at seeing him lying so still. She reached out to touch his cheek. “Seriously, you need a shave. And I want to go get pizza with you at that place with the amazing cheesy garlic bread. It’s time to wake up.”

  She sat down in her chair and looked at him. “Ms. Whitestone talked to me about the art job today, Tank. Potentially full time.”

  She reached up and ran her hand over his brow, brushing the top of his head. “I’ve always wanted to do this; touch your spiky hair.” Stroking his head gently, she watched him sleep, or whatever he was doing. She didn’t think it was possible for him to be so still. If Tank was anything, he was barely harnessed energy. She figured he probably slept hard under normal circumstances, too.

  “I will never admit this to you when you wake up, but I was afraid of you when I first met you. And I’m not afraid of anyone.” Becky pulled her hand back and picked up his.

  “You were big and scary and you didn’t like me.” She rubbed her thumb across his knuckles. “And I thought your muscles were a bit excessive, I mean, seriously, what? How big do you need to be? Though I was always fascinated with your traps.” She glanced at his shoulders, impressive even beneath a hospital gown. “I always wondered what I did that night that you found me, um, a bit incapacitated. You must have carried me to bed, though I don’t really remember. I just have this idea that I was ... that I might have made my secret obsession known. Probably best that I don’t know.” She gave his hand a squeeze and sighed. “Just squeeze back, Tank, let me know you’re fighting.”

  Becky sat there, trying to imagine his fingers moving. “Come on, Tank. Let’s go home.”

  “Yes, please,” Grace said, walking into the room. Becky looked up with her hospital smile. Grace smiled back at her, blinking back tears.

  “I think we need to start threatening him,” Becky said. “I’m tired of this. I want him to wake up. I want to marry him and redecorate his beach house.”

  “Wait, what?”

  Apparently, the distraction worked. “Tank pretty much said he wanted to marry me, or at least have kids,” Becky replied. “Maybe it was just the kid part.”

  Grace walked over, the biggest smile Becky had seen since the accident hovering on her lips. She threw her arms around Becky.

  “Well, we haven’t really talked too much. He just said,” her effort at sounding light faltered a bit, and Becky cleared her throat. “He said that we were a good team. That we should stay in Clairmont and teach and raise a family together.” She nodded her head, affirming that she’d captured the gist of it.

  Grace was dumbfounded. “Tank said that?” She hugged Becky again. “You know, I’ve never seen him so happy. I thought he’d be thrilled about the ESPN job, and all he could talk about was whether you’d care if he left.”

  Becky processed that for a moment, then said, “Maybe if we start planning the wedding, he’ll wake up and object.” She picked up Tank’s hand again. “I’ll call him on his offer and raise him one. Come on, Tank,” she said, “I’m going to start re-arranging your house while you sleep. Lots of flowers. Lots of pink. Maybe turn one of the rooms into a nursery. What do you think?”

  Grace warmed to the conversation. “That sounds perfect! I’ll tell Mom and Dad. I know Mom would love to help plan the wedding.”

  They both watched his face, willing him to react.

  “I haven’t even met your folks,” Becky replied. “Will they like me?”

  “Yeah, probably, not,” Grace replied. “Tank has notoriously bad taste in women. They never liked anyone he brought home.”

  Becky stared at her friend for a moment, then realized that Grace was simply throwing herself into their ‘wake the Tank’ game.

  “And there have been sooo many, right Tank? Girl after girl after girl.”

  Becky started to lose interest in their little game. “That many, huh? Do tell.” She gave his hand another squeeze.

  Once again, they both waited, allowing him the opportunity to break into the conversation.

  “Maybe Tank would rather I told you about the time he asked the most popular girl in school to the junior prom.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. As a freshman.”

  “Oh, that was gutsy. Did she go?”

  “No. She was a junior - too old for him. He just always thought he was hot stuff, ’cuz he was bigger than most of the guys in school. He played for the varsity team as a freshman, so he hung out with the big boys. Got a little full of himself.”

  “Wow, Tank. Did you get your heart broken?”

  “Hardly. I think he did it on a dare.”

  “Well, no girl wants to be asked to prom on a dare.”

  Grace smiled. “It took him down a notch or two - for a couple days, anyway. Of course, she came running back to him the following year, when he was more socially acceptable to date, but he wouldn’t have anything to do with her.”

  “Wow. This is very informative. Sure you don’t want to put a stop to this, Tank?”

  They both stopped and looked at him, their game on pause while they waited for him to recover from a life-threatening injury. Apparently, Tank wasn’t interested in playing along.

  “Excuse me?”

  Both women jumped as a third woman entered the room. The nurse, petite and very pretty, walked in like she owned the hospital and everyone in it.

  “Hi there. You must be ...” she looked back and forth between the two of them. “Let me start over. I’m Melanie, the RN in charge of the floor. I’m assuming that one of you is Ms. Kimball?”

  Grace extended her hand. “I’m Grace, Tank’s sister.”

  The nurse nodded, friendly, but all business. “And this is?” She looked at Becky inquiringly.

  They’d been through this before. Grace had had to clear Becky on more than one occasion.

  “This is my friend, and Tank’s girlfriend, Becky Jacobs.”

  Becky was given a very measured look. “Okay, well, we’re going to need a few minutes alone with our patient here. Can I ask you both to step outside?”

  Grace and Becky stared at her as though she’d asked them to jump out the window. Somehow, it felt very odd to have a complete stranger, and a very attractive one, come in and order them out of Tank’s room. Becky was particularly unwilling to move.

  “Of course,” Grace finally replied. “How do you think he looks?”

  The nurse was already bustling around
the bed, checking machines and IVs. She lifted Tank’s wrist to take his pulse. Becky had an unreasonable urge to slap his wrist out of the woman’s hand and tell her to go away. Of course, she wasn’t about to do that. She wouldn’t slap Tank while he was defenseless.

  Melanie wrote something on Tank’s chart. “His vital signs are good. The doctor will be in shortly. He can give you a better idea of his progress.”

  Becky latched onto the word ‘progress’ as she allowed Grace to guide her out of the room. Another nurse entered and closed the door behind her.

  “I don’t like her!” Becky hissed.

  “Which one?”

  “The first one - either of them.”

  “She’s just doing her job,” Grace replied, leading Becky to a bench a little way down the hall.

  “I don’t want her alone with him.”

  “She’s not. That other nurse just joined her.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “What do you think she’s going to do?” Grace asked, a little grin touching her mouth.

  “I don’t know, but if she’s not done soon, I’m going to go in there and ...” Becky trailed off.

  “No, you’re not.” Grace laughed. It was a good sound to hear. “Whatever she’s doing needs to be done. She can’t help it if she’s pretty while she’s doing it.”

  Becky gasped. “You think she’s pretty? She’s so tiny. She hardly looks old enough to be in high school, much less be a registered nurse.”

  Grace continued to smile at her friend’s expense. “My, my, look who’s jealous.”

  “I’m not jealous of a child.”

  “She’s no child. And she’s probably changing his gown. Seeing Tank in all his glory.”

  Becky jumped up and Grace laughed, reaching an arm out to restrain her. “Leave them, Becky. Seriously,” she laughed again.

  Becky narrowed her eyes at her friend. “How can you sit there while some stranger disrobes your brother?”

  “Well, I’m sure not going to do it.”