by Amy Miles
“Oh, come off it. We both know that’s the only reason why you’d step foot in that building every day this week. What floor does she work on?”
Kevin presses the gas pedal a bit too hard and Draven’s head is thrown back as they speed out of the garage. His step-father hardly waits for the door to close again before peeling out. Kevin isn’t known for being the most patient driver on the block, but he is usually far more considerate of the families that live nearby with school-aged children walking to school.
Draven considers egging Kevin on a bit more, digging in the knife as payback for making him walk, but he decides he’s in too good a mood to go to the trouble. “If you really must know, she doesn’t work for you, so there’s nothing you can say about it.”
He watches as his step-father’s face hardens. “It is one thing to mess around with one of my nurses, but it is an entirely different thing to screw with a patient. I am responsible for their care and well-being, and I will not have you disrupting anyone’s recovery. Is that clear?”
“I have no intention of messing with her recovery, if that is even possible. I just want to get to know her. She’s…different.”
Kevin tosses him an incredulous glance as he pulls up to a red light. Although several of the streetlights have yet to be replaced in the more remote reaches of the town, their neighborhood and the roads leading out of Rodanthe have all been properly repaired. “Different?”
It’s no surprise that he doesn’t believe Draven’s interest to be anything less than downright selfish. Normally the women he dates are mere conquests, just another notch on his belt, but Hannah is unique.
“Yeah. Different.” Draven doesn’t elaborate.
“So does this mystery girl have a name?”
He shrugs and turns to look out the window. The winds are blowing strongly today, sending dust devils across the road in front of the car as they pull into the intersection. “Hannah Green. She’s in the physical therapy program.”
He watches Kevin from the corner of his eye and can almost sense the man sorting through a visual index catalog of current patients. “What sort of therapy is she receiving?”
Obviously not as on top of things as he likes to make his staff think. “She’s paralyzed from the waist down. It sounds like the docs are hoping it’s only temporary though.”
Recognition alights in his stepfather’s eyes. Draven heard that Kevin spent a great deal of time dealing with Hannah’s irate parents a couple weeks back. Rumor has it that things got pretty ugly, but Hannah’s insistence in remaining at the hospital won out in the end, that and the steely resolve of her aunt. Draven smirks as he leans his head against the window. Stubbornness sure seems to run heavily in that family.
“Is it true that she saved that preacher’s life the day of the hurricane?”
Kevin nods slowly. “That’s the story I’ve been told, but I don’t see how a girl like her could manage to push a man of his size out of that building. You know how tales are woven around here. I’m sure most of it was just embellished.”
Draven isn’t so sure. He’s seen first-hand this past week just how strong Hannah’s determination can be. He can’t even imagine the mental tenacity it would take for a girl to come to the same spot each day and fight to walk, only to fail over and over again.
He’s spent a lot of time questioning Art about her this week too. At first, the old man wasn’t too forthcoming with his answers but over time he discovered Art’s appreciation for a good cup of coffee and savory pastries. A few dollars well spent to get the dirt on Hannah Green.
Niece to Andrew and Claire Matthews. Daughter of some highflying lawyer out in California. Headstrong. Caring and possesses the cutest smile he has ever seen—and he’s seen his fair share over the years.
“That’s why you like her, isn’t it?” Kevin says, loosening his grip on the wheel. “She’s a mystery to you. A challenge that you’ve yet to solve.”
Draven shrugs again and turns his gaze away so that his stepfather doesn’t read more into his actions. “I want to know why she did what she did.”
“If she did it at all.”
He tilts his head to the side. “I know she did. I just can’t figure out why.”
The familiar backside of the hospital comes into view several moments later and when he reaches to unclick his seatbelt, Kevin grabs onto his arm. “I will allow this on two conditions.”
“Go on.”
“First, I’m going to assign you to the physical therapy department during the mornings only. You will help Miss Green with anything that she needs, but you are not to allow her to become fatigued. You are not to hinder her in any way. When she returns to her room, you will report to my office to be reassigned as I see fit. Is that understood?”
Draven nods. That’s better than how I thought this conversation would go.
“And second, while you are working with the PT department I expect you to learn a thing or two from Mr. Mendosa so that you can actually be of some use to Miss Green with her recovery. You will learn how to lift her properly, how to work the machines that will help rebuild her muscles, and the steps she will be forced to go through if she has any hope of ever regaining the use of her legs.”
His step-father continues with his hand on the door, prepped to exit the vehicle. “This will not be a social time. She has a great deal of work ahead of her, and if you are going to be there, you will be assisting her under strict supervision. Whatever Art Mendosa says is law and you will abide by it, or I will have you sent to the laundry room faster than you can say Viper.”
Draven grits his teeth at the reference to his beloved car that sits, undriven and abandoned, in the garage. True to his word, Kevin purchased a tire clamp a couple of days earlier...just in case. It now rests against the garage wall as a visual reminder of his promise.
“I get it. Screw up and I lose the car. You don’t have to be so dramatic about it.”
Kevin grabs his arm as Draven moves to swing himself up and out of the car. “I’m being far more lenient with you than I should be. One mistake and I’m pulling the plug.”
Draven nods and pulls out of Kevin’s grasp. He heads toward the employee entrance and hurries toward the stairs, too anxious to wait for the elevator to finally decide to land on his floor. Taking the steps two at a time, Draven reaches the basement level in no time. The door swings open to reveal a nurse with a figure that would leave any man panting, but Draven hardly gives her a backwards glance as he rushes toward the PT room.
He glances at the hands of his watch and frowns. She’s already going to be here. Kevin’s little impromptu chat has made me late.
As he rounds the corner, he comes to a complete stop. Hannah is not alone today. The man he saw Hannah with a few days ago is back and kneels at her feet, far too close for comfort. His eyes narrow as he tries to sort out if the man could be any sort of competition for him. He gives the man’s plain dress and less than stellar facial features a once over and grins. Nothing to worry about there.
He feels confident as he swings the door open and heads straight for Hannah. He is rewarded with a brilliant smile as she looks over the man’s shoulder as he approaches. “Well, hi there stranger. Didn’t think I’d be seeing you today. What is this…five day in a row? They sure do work you guys hard.”
Draven smirks and makes sure to ignore the man who rises beside her. It irks him that the man’s hand rests on the wheelchair handle, a bit too close to the bare skin of her neck where her hair is drawn back. Her loose curls are braided and fall heavily down the center of her back instead of spilling over her shoulders like normal. He doesn’t like that. If he’s not mistaken, it almost seems like she attempted to look nice for the man beside her.
“Seems my dad heard about all the good work we’ve been doing together. He’s assigned me to be your personal slave until you’re on your feet again.”
Although Hannah’s smile never falters, the man standing beside her stiffens. His chest puffs out a bi
t as he takes a step closer to the wheelchair. Draven appraises the man again, taking in the hard planes of his face, the dark stubble along his jaw and the black tar that clings to his fingernails. A laborer, no doubt.
“And you are?” he asks, finally meeting the man’s gaze head on. He seems familiar to Draven but he can’t quite place him. Although they appear to only be a few years apart in age, he doesn’t remember ever having seen him at school or at any of the parties he attends on a regular basis, not that the guy looks like the partying type. No, he looks about as tight laced and rigid as they come. A real rule follower, this one.
“Oh,” Hannah rolls her eyes as she raises a hand to pat the man on his hand. “How silly of me. This is Timothy. He’s a good friend of mine. He just dropped by to say hi before going to work.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”
Timothy’s jaw clenches. “I drop in from time to time to visit.”
“Sure,” Draven nods as he leans his hip against the other side of Hannah’s wheelchair. “Must be hard to find time to get down here.”
“Why’s that?”
Draven shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest, looking nonchalantly at the emblem on Timothy’s shirt. “It’s a bit of a drive from Rodanthe just for a quick visit.”
The man looks down at Hannah and returns her smile but this time Draven gets the sense that it’s a bit forced. “She’s worth it.”
“That she is,” he replies and closes his hand on the handle of the chair. “I’m afraid visiting hours are going to have to end sooner than normal today. I need to get Hannah to work. We can’t waste time sitting around here when she could be working on getting her stride back.”
Draven nearly crows with delight when Timothy’s face turns to stone but he nods in agreement. He leans over and whispers something into Hannah’s ear before he turns and leaves without a backward glance. Although the parting unnerves Draven, he shakes off his concern as the door closes and he finds himself completely alone with Hannah. Soon the other patients will begin to filter in and this moment will be lost.
“So, are you ready to get started?” Hannah nods, but he can sense her reluctance as she glances at the closed door. “I’m sorry your friend had to leave so soon, but I know how you tire quickly. I know you want to make the most of your time here.”
Hannah’s smile returns. “Well, aren’t you the efficient one today?”
“I have my moments.” He squats before her and waits for her to wrap her arms around him, giving him access to be able to sweep his arms in around behind her and lift her from her chair. She feels light in his arms, like a fragile doll that he worries might break if she falls.
She’s already broken, he reminds himself as he gently sets her down in her favorite place, where the sunlight touches her toes.
He steps back and releases a shaky breath. Hannah laughs. “You’re getting better at this. That first time I was sure we were both going to end up on the floor.”
Draven remembers all too well what it felt like to lift her into his arms for the very first time. The nearness of her wasn’t what unsettled him. It was her open trust that he would keep her safe. In the past, the only girls he has ever carried were either too drunk to walk on their own or were about to spend a bit of time in his bed. Hannah is neither of those, and yet holding her feels far more intimate.
“I told you I’m getting the hang of this.”
“That you are,” Hannah heartily agrees. “Who knows…maybe someday you might take Art’s job.”
“I heard that,” the older man mutters as he enters the room. The wheels on Betty’s chairs squeak with each revolution. Draven smothers his disgust. He could never do Art’s job. Not in a million years or for any amount of money would he be willing to wipe some old lady’s backside.
“You were meant to hear it,” Hannah calls back with a wide grin on her face.
Draven returns her smile as he grabs a set of light kettle bells and hands them to her, careful to make sure she is ready to take on their weight. “Let’s start with your upper arms, shall we?”
SIXTEEN
Season of Thanks
Holidays have always been special to Hannah. She can still remember being a child and fully immersing herself in the holiday spirit. It didn’t really matter what the holiday was, just so long as it involved giving of herself.
For Easter, she would spend hours coloring dozens and dozens of eggs to put out for the kids in her neighborhood, just to see the smiles on their faces when they awoke. For Memorial Day, the fourth of July, or Labor Day, she would help make plates of burgers, slaw, and chips at the local park to give to the homeless. For Thanksgiving, she would spend her morning helping to take hot meals to shut-ins. At Christmas time, she would drip beautiful tinsel off barren trees in nursing homes and eagerly join in singing carols with the residents.
They were always a special time for her. A time of giving and celebrating. Her parents didn’t always understand her enthusiasm. In truth, they tried to curb it as much as possible when she was younger, but Hannah always looked forward to the next holiday.
Of all the holidays she looks forward to, Thanksgiving has always been her favorite. A time for the whole family to gather around and for one day play nice. Or at least try to.
This year Hannah won’t be seeing her parents. Her mother phoned earlier in the week to let her know that her father had a very important business deal that he had to attend to. What that really means is that they are changing tactics. Hard love. Guilt. Whatever it takes to get her to agree to come home. But Hannah isn’t falling for it, no matter how the thought of spending Thanksgiving alone might make her feel.
Staring out of her window, Hannah can’t help but feel alone in the world. Her decision to insist that Claire remain at home with Andrew was the right one. She knows that he isn’t up for leaving the house just yet, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
The nurses have popped in from time to time, each one with an exaggerated bit of cheer to share, but each one leaves a bit downtrodden. It’s not like Hannah to be blue, but today she can’t see any way around it.
“Knock, knock.”
She turns to find Timothy standing in her doorway. Her breath catches at the sight of him. “Wow,” she whispers as she turns her wheelchair around to face him. “I…I think I’m speechless.”
Timothy’s smile comes easily as he turns in a slow circle so that she can take him in. “Like what you see?”
Hannah’s gaze falls over his button-up white shirt, his dark trousers and the first shoes she’s ever seen him wear that don’t have boot in the name. “You clean up really nice.”
“I do try.” He holds up a finger and disappears for a second. When he reappears in the doorway, Hannah is confused to see him holding a beautiful gown aloft. It looks as delicate as a newly opened rose, mirroring the same rich color. It falls in waves of sheer material. The neckline dips low but maintains its modesty, just as she prefers.
“It’s gorgeous.” She wheels herself forward, trails her fingers over the silky material, and then frowns. “Are you going somewhere?”
“We.” He smiles. “We are going somewhere.”
Her eyebrows hike in surprise. She glances out into the hall and notices Wendy, the twenty-something red head whose smile could power a light bulb quickly pushing back from the counter she had been leaning over to listen. “What’s going on?” she asks.
Timothy drapes the gown over her lap and adds a pair of dainty white sandals on top. “Just get dressed.”
Hannah’s cheeks flush bright red as she looks away. She starts to tell him that she can’t manage it on her own but Timothy beats her to it. “Mary and Sue Ellen are going to give you the royal treatment. I’ll be waiting down the hall. Take your time.”
She feels a bit out of breath as he turns and walks away. Doesn’t he have family to spend the day with? A mother and father who will miss seeing him? What about siblings? I’ve never even heard
if he has any.
Hannah barely has a second to admire the view of Timothy from the back before the two nurses rush inside and whisk her away to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, Hannah sits once more in her seat, but this time feels different.
Gone are her old sweats and the tank top that probably should have been thrown out ages ago but she just can’t let go. It’s too comfy and right now, comfy is all she’s got. Her hair has been unbraided, allowed to flow freely over her shoulders. She hasn’t worn it down for quite some time, but she secretly wonders if this was a special request from Timothy due to Mary’s insistence that she looks beautiful with her curls spread across her shoulders.
She feels beautiful. Not in the sense of fleshly beautiful but from deep within. This dress, these shoes, this day…it all feels so wonderfully perfect.
Placing her hands over her lap, Hannah smiles. You’re a lucky girl to have a friend like Timothy. Not many men would go to this much trouble…especially for someone as broken as me, she is tempted to add to the end of that thought but stuffs those feelings away.
“You look stunning,” a voice calls from just out in the hall.
She wheels past Mary in the doorway to find Draven leaning against the wall. “You’re here too?”
There is a slight tightening in his gaze but it eases before she can really tell if she imagined it or not. “I wanted to drop by and wish you a happy Thanksgiving, but it would appear that you are already well on the way to having a nice day.”
“Yes,” a voice calls from over his shoulder and they both turn to see Timothy approaching, “she is.”
“Draven, you remember my friend, Timothy, don’t you?”
The two men nod at each other, but she can’t help notice the tension between them. “Of course.” Draven smiles. “It’s nice to see that you’re visiting Hannah.”
“Is it?”
Hannah glances back and forth between the two men. Am I missing something or do they both seem unnaturally stiff?