Choices

by Lyn Gardner

  “Really? We’ll see about that,” Judy said, pointing to the dining room chair. “Sit.”

  “Judy—”

  “Sit.”

  “Judy—”

  “Sit!”

  While the shower had felt good, the energy it took to take it had zapped most of what Robin had woken up with, so the eight steps it took to reach the dining room felt like eight hundred. When she finally got to the table, Robin gingerly lowered herself onto a chair, hoping she had hidden the discomfort caused by sore muscles, bruises, and cuts. She glanced over at Judy, prepared to assure her all was well through a counterfeit grin, except one look told Robin that was pointless. Judy’s expression was pinched, and Robin sighed. Epic fail.

  Judy’s annoyance evaporated almost as quickly as the rosiness of Robin’s cheeks. “Are you okay?” she said, lightly placing her hand on Robin’s shoulder. “You look a little pale.”

  “I’m just sore,” Robin said in a whisper.

  Judy furrowed her brow, eyeing the woman before she wadded up the paper towel and dabbed it against the row of stitches and staples. “That’s not all you are,” she said with a sigh as she showed Robin the specks of red on the towel. “You’re also bleeding.”

  “Crap.”

  “Do you have any antibiotic cream?”

  “Yeah, in my medicine cabinet.”

  “Be right back.”

  A minute later, Judy returned. “This isn’t going to sting, but I can’t guarantee it’s not going to hurt a little.” Judy unscrewed the cap of the almost flattened tube of ointment and squeezed some onto the end of a Q-tip. “You ready?”

  “Yeah, go ahead,” Robin said, and closing her eyes, she bowed her head.

  Judy winced as she applied the ointment. She heard Robin hiss a couple of times, but being a dutiful patient, she didn’t say a word, and before too long, the sutures were coated with ointment.

  “That should do it,” Judy said, capping the tube. “I’m sorry if it hurt.”

  “And I’m sorry. I really thought I was careful.”

  “It’s all right. It looks like you just loosened a few, but nothing broke open.”

  “That’s good.”

  “You know what would be better?”

  Robin opened one eye and looked up. “What?”

  “If you promise me you won’t wash your hair again for a couple of days.”

  Both of Robin’s eyes popped open. “A couple of days? But—”

  “Robin, please,” Judy said, kneeling in front of her. “No more soaking that hard head of yours until it gets a little harder. Okay?”

  “You sure you want my head to get any harder?”

  “No, but I also don’t want you bleeding all over the place,” Judy said as she put her hand on Robin’s knee.

  For a long moment, Robin became lost in the eyes staring back at her. They gleamed with sympathy, the whirls of sapphire and sky holding in their hue compassion and kindness, but a flicker of challenge could also be seen. Amidst the amalgam of blue was a strength formidable and Robin was in no shape to take that on. And, if the truth was known, Judy had won the argument as soon as she placed her hand on Robin’s knee. “All right, it’s a deal.”

  “Good,” Judy said, and standing up, she went back into the kitchen to wash her hands. “Now what do you want for breakfast? You’ve got to be starving.”

  When Robin didn’t answer, Judy looked over her shoulder. “You doing okay over there?”

  Robin took a long, slow breath and slowly shook her head. “I don’t understand. I felt great when I woke up, but now...now I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. Hell, I’ve run marathons. I was never this tired when I finished them.”

  “Would you mind if I share a bit of something I’ve learned over the years?” Judy said as she dried her hands.

  “No. Share away.”

  “The older you get, the longer it takes for you to bounce back.”

  “Ouch.”

  Judy laughed. “I’m not saying you’re old,” she said, returning to Robin’s side. “I’m just saying—”

  “I’m not as young as I used to be?”

  “Something like that,” Judy said, motioning toward Robin’s room. “Now, go lie down, and when breakfast is ready, I’ll come get you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Judy said, watching as Robin stood up in slow motion. “Do you need my help?”

  “No, I’ll make it,” Robin said as she finally stood straight. Pausing to gather her strength, Robin glanced over at Judy. “Wait. Aren’t those the clothes you were wearing yesterday?”

  “As a matter of fact, they are,” Judy said, looking down at her wrinkled sweatshirt. “I didn’t want to leave you alone, so I crashed on your sofa.”

  “Judy!”

  “Don’t ‘Judy’ me. You were hurt, and I’m not sure if you remember, but it was a little icy last night. The last thing I wanted to do was wipe out on the way home and end up needing a walker, too.”

  “I do not need a walker.”

  “Oh yeah,” Judy said, dimples appearing in her cheeks as she pointed to the bedroom. “Then prove it.”

  ***

  “I’ve got to tell you,” Robin said before gobbling down the last piece of bacon. “You’re the first woman who’s ever brought me breakfast in bed.”

  “Well, I figured if I waited until you reached the dining room, it would be cold by the time you got there,” Judy said, grinning as she gathered the tray straddling Robin’s lap. “I’m going to put this in the kitchen. Would you like another cup of tea?”

  “That would be great. Thanks.”

  “Be right back.”

  Robin relaxed against the pillows propped behind her back and stared at the ceiling until Judy returned.

  “Here you go,” Judy said, and placing a mug on the nightstand, she sat on the edge of the bed. “So, if you think you’ll be okay, the medical center called just after you fell asleep last night. The doctor wanted to start you on a round of antibiotics, but somehow they missed it on your chart when we left. I’m going to run up there to pick it up and then head home, grab a shower, and change my clothes. Is there anything else you need before I go?”

  “Yeah, actually there is,” Robin said quietly, placing her hand on top of Judy’s. “I need to apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “For everything. For running off in the rain. For worrying you, but mostly for yelling at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

  “Well, from what little I saw and heard, I can understand how that woman got you so angry.”

  “I wasn’t angry at her,” Robin said, shaking her head. “I was angry at me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was angry at me...for getting angry.”

  “You were angry with yourself?” Judy said. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “A year ago, I would have said the same thing, but not anymore.” Robin took a deep breath, and as she slowly exhaled, she put her thoughts in order. “While I was still involved with Pam, I got an email from a woman who had read one of my books. She wanted to let me know how much she enjoyed it. She went on to say she was a psychologist, and she was impressed that my idiosyncrasies of the two characters were so accurate. One was flawed, and the other was a maniac, and according to her, I nailed their reactions, their behavior...their everything.”

  “Okay?”

  “She asked if she could write to me again. She wanted to talk about a few things in depth, and so we began emailing back and forth. She was awesome to talk with. Smart, but not so smart that condescension dripped off the page, and she was truly interested in the whole writing process. Eventually, we stopped talking about my books and started talking about life in general. She told me about hers, and I told her about mine and somehow Ruth, that was her name, sensed I wasn’t happy, so she asked me why, and I told her. I was dating a woman who continually made me angry, and she responded with only one line. ‘She’s not getting you angry.
You’re getting you angry.’” Robin grinned as soon as she saw Judy arch an eyebrow. “Yeah. Talk about cryptic—right?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Of course, I asked her what she meant, and she told me that no one can make us feel anything. We own our emotions and how we react is on us.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, have you ever been to a movie and not laughed at something everyone else found funny?”

  “Sure.”

  “That’s because your definition of amusement is intrinsic to you. No one can convince you something’s funny if you don’t see it that way. No one can make you laugh. You determine that, and on the opposite side of the spectrum, think about road rage. Some people become unglued when another driver does something they believe is stupid or reckless and others, like me, can’t fathom reacting like that. I’ll get there when I get there.”

  “Yes, but doesn’t that have more to do with patience than an actual emotion.”

  “It does, but patience is tied to emotions. If you’re tolerant, you don’t explode, you don’t react out of anger...which is an emotion.”

  Judy hesitated as she thought about what Robin had said. “Interesting.”

  “And it opened my eyes to a lot of things. It used to bother the crap of me when I’d go out to dinner with someone, and they’d sit there with their elbows on the table. I was brought up differently, but my reaction, my annoyance toward them wasn’t based on anything they were doing. It was based on my own expectations. They weren’t living up to them, so, therefore, they were getting me angry when, in fact, it was all on me. I’m the only one responsible for what I feel, or better said, on how I react. So, I could control my emotions and have a pleasant dinner, or I could fume the rest of the night and give up all control over my emotions to them.”

  There was no need to expound any further, but Robin needed to say what was on her mind. The most powerful emotion of them all had taken up space in her heart and in her head for a quarter of a century, and she needed to let it out just once. “And the same thing goes for love,” Robin said softly. “No one can make you fall in love with them. No one can make you smile simply because they exist or somehow cause every love song you hear to remind you of them. They can’t force your pulse to quicken when they’re near or compel you to breathe deeply, craving the scent of their cologne. It’s not in their power. It’s only in yours. You’re either head over heels...or you’re not.”

  Seconds of silence passed between them until a yawn overtook Robin. It was only then when she realized her hand was still resting on top of Judy’s. Removing it, she covered her mouth long enough to hide her fatigue.

  “You’re tired. You need to get some sleep,” Judy said, and standing up, she ran her hands over her arms. “I’ll be back in a little while. All right?”

  “Okay,” Robin whispered, and closing her eyes, she was asleep before Judy made it out the front door.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Three hours later, Judy tiptoed into Robin’s room to check on her for the second time since coming back to Safe Harbor. “Hey there,” she said, finding Robin sitting up in bed. “I see you managed to get a nap.”

  “Yeah, I did,” Robin said, putting her phone on the nightstand. “I woke up a few minutes ago.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m going to get really fat if all you keep doing is feeding me.”

  “I doubt it,” Judy said as she went over and picked up the empty mug on the nightstand. “More?”

  “Maybe some water,” Robin said, tossing back the bedcovers. “But I can get it.”

  “Robin, please...stay in bed. I’ll get it.”

  Robin pursed her lips as she playfully glared at Judy. “Can I go pee or would you like to do that for me, too?”

  “I already did that before I left my place, so you’re on your own,” Judy said, sashaying her way to the door. “Go pee to your heart’s content. I’ll be back in a few.”

  Judy stopped by the door, watching as Robin slowly extracted herself from the bed. “Are you going to make it?”

  “Yeah, I’ll make it,” Robin said, shuffling toward the bathroom. “It may be tomorrow before I get there, but I’ll make it.”

  “If you want,” Judy said as whimsy flickered in her eyes. “I can always run back to the medical center. I’m sure they probably have some of those adult dia—”

  “Don’t you dare go there,” Robin said with a laugh.

  “Too late,” Judy said, giving Robin a wink as she left the room.

  Robin’s smile remained for as long as she was in the bathroom and when she came out, it grew even bigger. There was a bottle of water sitting on her nightstand and the most beautiful woman in the world, sitting on her bed. “Hi there.”

  “Why did you unwrap your wrist?” Judy said, standing up. “If I’m not mistaken, the doctor specifically said to keep it wrapped for a few days.”

  Robin glanced down at her naked right hand. “I know, but I told you I wasn’t ambidextrous, and it actually feels pretty good,” she said, flexing her wrist this way and that.

  “All right.”

  “What? You’re not going to give me any grief?”

  “Time will tell,” Judy said, placing a pill in Robin’s hand. “First things, first. Antibiotic, one every twelve hours until they’re gone.”

  Robin paled at the sight of the pill meant for a horse. “It’s huge!”

  “Do you like when I give you grief?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Then take the pill.”

  With a huff, Robin put the tablet into her mouth and washed it down with half the glass of water Judy had handed her. “Satisfied?”

  “Yes,” Judy said, and taking the bottle back, she put it on the nightstand. “Now, sit down, turn around, and take off your top.”

  Robin froze, replaying in her mind what Judy had just said several times before she found her voice. “Um...excuse me?”

  Judy held up a roll of gauze. “I need to change that bandage on your shoulder.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it. It washed off in the shower.”

  “Doctors bandage things for a reason, Robin,” Judy said, motioning toward the bed. “Now sit.”

  “It really is—”

  “Robin.”

  Robin’s posture sagged, and sitting down, she turned her back to Judy. Noticing a basket overflowing with packages of gauze and tape sitting on the floor, she pointed at it. “Where’d that come from?”

  “My place.”

  “Are you accident prone?”

  Judy snorted. “No. Scott was, and I never saw a need to throw it out. It’s not like they expire, but the ointment is new. I picked it up while I was out since your tube was almost empty."

  “Lucky me.”

  “Top please.”

  Robin inwardly sighed and unbuttoning her top, she let it fall halfway down her back. A second later, she heard Judy hiss.

  “Is it that bad?” Robin said, looking over her shoulder.

  “Sorry. It just took me by surprise,” Judy said, grimacing at the array of red, jagged gashes covering Robin’s shoulder blade.

  “The doctor said it was just a nasty brush burn.”

  “Nasty is right.” Judy grabbed the tube of ointment from the nightstand. “Okay, so I know you said you fell, but do you remember how you did this?”

  Robin had nothing to be ashamed of when it came to her body, but she still couldn’t stop herself from clutching her loosened pajama top to her bosom when Judy reached around to grab the rest of the first-aid supplies. “Yeah. When I reached British Landing, there was a bunch of branches in the road. Instead of going around them, I decided in all my brainlessness to jump over them. I cleared them fine, but when my feet hit the ground, they slipped out from under me. I fell backward and landed right on top of a bunch of broken limbs.”

  “You’re lucky you didn’t break yours.”

  “Actually, I think I’m lucky they were there.”
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  “Why?”

  “Because it knocked some sense into me. Up until it happened, I had no idea it was raining, or it was getting so late, but lying on the ground, staring up at a rapidly-darkening sky with my shoulder feeling like it was on fire woke me up,” Robin said, giving Judy another half-glance over her shoulder. “That’s what made me turn around.”

  “Is that when you cut your head?”

  “No, that happened on the way back. I was trying to outrace the setting sun, and I kept telling myself I could see, telling myself to just run a few more steps before I was going to be forced to walk and those few more steps kept turning into a few more until it was pitch black. It wasn’t until I felt shrubs against my jeans when I realized I had veered off the road, and I tried to pull up, but it was too late. My momentum carried me into the brush, and then I tripped over something. The next thing I knew, I was flying, and a few seconds later, it felt like someone had hit me in the head with a hammer. I can’t tell you how big the tree was, but it sure as hell took the wind out of my sails.”

  “And put stitches in your head.”

  “Yeah, that, too,” Robin said, snickering. “Anyway, once I managed to get to my feet, I was clearheaded enough to know I had to keep the lights from St. Ignace to my right, so I got myself back to the road and kept going. I still managed to drift off the path a few more times, but since I was walking instead of running, the damage was minor.”

  “Define minor?”

  “Relax,” Robin said, glancing over her shoulder. “I’m not hiding some fatal, oozing wound. I just have a lot of bruises and a few scrapes on my legs.”

  “Do they need bandages, too?” Judy said as she picked up a strip of gauze now slathered with antibiotic cream.

  “No, Band-Aids, which I put on after my shower. So there.”

  Judy smiled. “All right. Get ready. This is going to be cold.”

  As Judy expected, Robin flinched when she placed the bandage over the cuts, but she had no idea Robin’s reaction wasn’t based solely on the temperature of the cream.

  Robin held her breath. Judy was lightly running her fingers over the gauze, ensuring it was in place before she taped down the edges, but while one finger remained on the bandage, another brushed against Robin’s naked skin. Swallowing hard, Robin looked down and exhaled. The thickness of the flannel was hiding her body’s reaction. Thank God.