“Hey there. You must be the woman E.B. said would be coming from the VA. I don’t think he was expecting you so quick. Britt only arrived last night.”
Teddy climbed the steps and held out her hand. “Teddy Alexander. I’m assigned to help Captain Story rehab from her injuries.”
“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant.” The woman’s grasp was strong, her handshake like the snap of a salute. “Lynn. I’m assigned to keep this household shipshape. I haven’t worn rank in fifteen years, but E.B. still calls me Sarge when I get too bossy.”
Teddy smiled. Ex-military? No wonder she immediately liked Lynn.
“I’m sorry if I caught you off guard. I was told I was to embed with the troops here, but the drive was a nice break from the chaos of the city. I won’t mind driving out again tomorrow.”
“Your quarters are ready. I just hope E.B has prepared Britt.”
“E.B. is…”
“E.B. Story, Britt’s grandfather and owner of everything you can see from this porch and more. Well, not the road out there. I reckon that belongs to the state.” Lynn scanned the area around the barns. “They were out and about before I got here this morning. But that’s not surprising. Both of them are early risers.”
“So, you don’t stay here?”
“Nope. My house is just down the road. E.B. offered me some space when the marines played “Taps” for my Douglas. But after spending thirty years in military housing, I like my own space. Besides, my niece and her two little ones live with me now since her good-for-nothing husband took up with a floozy in Louisville.” Lynn paused to look at Teddy again. “I’m sure that’s more than you wanted to know. I probably talk too much because the marines only wanted you to shut up and follow orders without letting you know the lay of the land.”
Teddy chuckled. “Not just the marines. The army is exactly the same, so I understand.”
Lynn’s attention returned to the barns. “Looks like they’re headed this way. I better get lunch laid out.” She turned back to the door.
“Wait!” Teddy pulled her gaze from the two tall figures walking up from the stables. “Something you said…Captain Story doesn’t know about the arrangement for her rehab?”
“Senator Story called with the information, but there’s some kind of ruckus between him and Britt, so he left it to E.B. to tell her when she got here. Hopefully, he did. Good luck if he didn’t. I’ve known Britt since she was a grasshopper, and she can be an immovable object when she plants her feet against something.”
“Great,” Teddy said to Lynn’s back as she disappeared into the house.
When the two drew close enough, Teddy could see E.B. Story shaking his head and hear the exasperated tone of his low voice. She couldn’t make out his words, but judging by the clenched jaw and ball cap pulled low over Captain Story’s eyes, he’d finally told her why Teddy was here. Not a problem. Teddy squared her shoulders. Her job was rarely easy.
* * *
“He did what?” Britt’s anger rose so quickly, her brain sent immediate signals for her biceps to contract and fists to clench. Only she had no fist at the end of her stump, and hot, white pain when her bicep muscle tightened had her grabbing her left shoulder and gritting her teeth. It was time for a pain pill, but she hadn’t put any in her pocket. She was determined to avoid the opioid addiction she’d seen in too many recovering soldiers. The pain ratcheted her anger even higher, so she took short, rapid breaths to breathe through it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“I’m glad your grandmother isn’t still around to hear you use that language,” Pop said. He wasn’t one to let her get away with anything. “I don’t know why or what’s going on between you and Brock, but you’re only hurting yourself when you let your anger get the best of you.”
He was right, but she wasn’t ready to hear it or at a point where she could control the red-hot fury that seemed to burst forth at the smallest provocation. The pain in her arm began to subside to a sharp throb, and she sucked in ten deep breaths like the therapist at Walter Reed had taught her. She hated that therapist. She was perky, and Britt disliked perky, cheerleader-type women. She hated it when the woman would say, “We can get through this,” like she was missing her arm, too. But she had taught Britt this one useful thing—breathing through the pain.
“Dad needs to back the hell off,” she said as she straightened, still clutching her shoulder. “I don’t take orders from him anymore.”
“Maybe you don’t, but you still take orders from the US Army, and they’ve assigned a therapist to stay here at the farm while you rehab. I’m sure Brock did pull some strings for that, but I’m glad because I could use your help around here rather than you spending every day driving back and forth to Lexington.”
“Like I can be any help. I can’t even tie my own shoes.”
“Last I checked, horses don’t wear shoes that need tying. Anyway, Brock said that’s what this therapist is supposed to help you with—how to do things you used to do with two hands.” He headed out of the stable. “Come on. It’s time for lunch. The sergeant doesn’t tolerate tardiness.”
Britt followed. The throbbing in her arm had stolen her appetite, but she did need her noon meds, a couple of acetaminophen tablets, and a nap. She wasn’t a hundred percent yet, but she didn’t want to admit the morning had worn her out. “So, when’s this therapist showing up?”
“Looks like your guy is here now,” Pop said, squinting as they headed up the hill to the house. “Only it looks like your guy is a female.”
“I hate perky women.” Britt’s lack of appetite was turning into full-blown nausea as they walked up the hill to the house.
“Well, maybe she’ll be as mean and stubborn as you are,” Pop said.
Britt didn’t answer. She was concentrating on keeping pace with her seventy-something grandfather and not moving her painful stump. By the time they reached the porch, she was afraid her legs wouldn’t be strong enough to make it up the six steps to the porch. She focused on the door. If she could just get inside, she could sit down. She was so fixated on that attempt, she nearly plowed into the soldier who suddenly blocked her path and saluted.
“Lieutenant Teddy Alexander, Captain Story. I’ve been assigned to assist in your rehabilitation.”
Britt was forced to stop and acknowledge her with a curt salute. She sucked in a breath to try to tamp down her nausea. “Lieutenant. I’m sorry you drove all the way here. I just learned of your assignment, and I’m not prepared to meet with you today.”
The edges of her vision were growing fuzzy, and she stumbled as she attempted to skirt around the woman. Lieutenant Alexander grabbed for her, and Britt growled. “Get out of my way.”
Teddy was surprised Captain Story was still standing and able to salute. She was pale and sweating. She recognized the signs when Captain Story’s eyes lost focus and moved quickly to pull Captain Story’s right arm across her shoulders and wrap an arm around her waist to support her.
“Britt…” The man that Teddy gathered was E.B. Story was instantly at his granddaughter’s other side but faltered when he realized he was on her injured one.
“It’s okay. I’ve got her. Can you open the door for us?”
“Yes.” He opened the screen door and stepped back for them to enter. “Lynn, pull out a chair.”
Teddy countermanded him. “We need to lay her down.”
“Through there.” Lynn pointed to an archway on the other side of the kitchen. A leather couch and recliner were grouped with a fireplace and large-screen television.
Teddy guided Captain Story to the recliner. Patients usually felt less embarrassed by their weakness if they weren’t flat on their back with people standing over them. She assisted Captain Story into the chair with practiced ease and lifted the lever that raised her feet.
“What can we do to help?” Lynn asked.
Teddy appreciated that both Lynn and E.B. were calm and steady when confronted by the small crisis. She turned and held out her hand. “I�
�m sorry, Mr. Story. I didn’t get a chance—”
He waved her off. “It’s E.B., young lady. Tell us what to do.”
She pulled her car fob from her pocket and held it out to him. “Could you go out to my car? I need the medical bag that’s in the trunk.”
“Sure.” He took the keys and left.
“Lynn, I need a glass of water and a small ice pack. A sandwich-sized baggy filled with crushed ice will do.”
“We’ve got a couple of soft ice packs about that size in the freezer.”
“Even better. Oh, and a basin or small trashcan in case her breakfast decides to come up.”
“On it.” Lynn also disappeared, so Teddy returned her attention to her patient.
Captain Story’s skin was gray and clammy, her eyes closed. “I’m okay. Just give me a minute.” Apparently, she hadn’t passed out.
Teddy gently grasped her wrist, noting the slight tremor in Captain Story’s hand as she checked her racing pulse.
E.B. strode back into the room and held out the medical bag.
“Thanks,” Teddy said, already flipping it open to search for what she needed inside. She found the vial of nausea medicine and quickly loaded a syringe, then swabbed the vein in Captain Story’s arm. “Small sting,” she warned her.
“No opioids.” Captain Story made a surprisingly strong attempt to pull her arm away from the hold Teddy had on it.
“This is just for nausea. It’s not a painkiller.” She slid the needle into the vein when she felt the arm relax.
Lynn reappeared as Teddy was withdrawing the needle and swabbing the injection site. She slid a small trash can next to the recliner and offered a hand-sized ice pack to Teddy. She stood by while Teddy slid the ice pack behind Captain Story’s neck. “What else?”
“She’ll need something in her stomach to take some acetaminophen for the pain,” Teddy said.
“I was putting together turkey sandwiches for lunch.”
“That’s perfect, Lynn.”
“Mayo. Not mustard.”
Teddy and Lynn shared a smile at Captain Story’s mumbled input.
“It’s been a while, but I haven’t forgotten,” Lynn said before heading back into the kitchen.
The lines of Captain Story’s face were still tense, but her color had greatly improved. The nausea medicine must be kicking in. “Where are your medications?”
Captain Story blinked slowly, but Teddy held her clouded gaze and waited for an answer. Captain Story sighed and closed her eyes again. “Bedside table.”
“Want me to go get them?” E.B. asked.
“That would be great. Can you bring down all the bottles on the bedside table? I need to see everything she’s taking. If her supply doesn’t include any acetaminophen, I have some in my med kit here.”
“Be right back.”
Teddy stared when E.B. took the stairs like he was thirty years old, rather than seventy. The Story family must have really good bloodlines to be so attractive and athletic. Teddy grasped Captain Story’s wrist again and counted while her digital watch ticked off the seconds. She was surprised when she looked up at the brilliant blue eyes, clearer now and watching her. She blinked a few times, then mentally shook herself. “Your heart rate is better, but still fast. Probably from the pain.”
E.B.’s noisy return down the stairs interrupted any reply, although Captain Story hadn’t appeared to be forming one. Then Lynn reappeared and slid a small plate with a turkey sandwich onto the table next to the recliner.
“Here you go.” E.B. held out four prescription bottles and one of Tylenol.
Teddy checked the labels. Antibiotic, an anti-depressant, an anti-seizure drug to manage the nerve pain in her residual limb, and a full bottle of an opioid painkiller. She shook out two of the acetaminophen extra-strength tablets and one antibiotic capsule. “Only the antibiotic at lunch,” she said.
“I’m not taking the other stuff.” Captain Story held out her hand for the pills, tossed them into her mouth, then accepted the glass of water Teddy offered to wash them down.
“Are you prescribing your own treatment? You know your body belongs to the US Army, and they can order you to take what they prescribe.”
Captain Story lifted her chin but failed to hide her slight grimace as she straightened her shoulders in a defiant posture. “Yeah, and I’ve seen too many soldiers stuck in a circular dependence on the stuff government doctors feed them. I researched each of those drugs. The opioids are highly addictive, the anti-seizure drug is for nerve pain but dopes you up, and the anti-depressant is to counteract the side effect of the anti-seizure pill.” Captain Story turned her head away, the muscle jumping in her jaw. “The army isn’t going to drug me up to shut me up.”
What did she know that the US Army didn’t want her to speak about? Teddy’s throat closed around the question. Now wasn’t the time. She wasn’t a fan of the drug protocol prescribed for military amputees, but trying to tough out the pain would hinder healing. “If you don’t want to take the drugs, we can explore some alternatives to ease your discomfort.”
Captain Story’s eyes closed again, and the muscles in her neck visibly tightened.
“In fact,” Teddy said, “let’s try one of those alternatives now. I’ll be right back.” She raised the back of the chair without waiting for Captain Story’s consent. “It’d be great if you could eat a bit of that sandwich while I go wash my hands.”
Teddy headed for the kitchen, waving for Lynn and E.B. to follow. “You guys go ahead and have lunch. I need to massage the tension out of her shoulder and arm, and she doesn’t need an audience while I’m trying to get her to relax.”
“This is my fault.” E.B. stared down at the floor like a guilty ten-year-old. “Britt’s just always been so strong, I guess I forgot that she had major surgery only three weeks ago. I walked her all over the danged farm. And then I waited until the last minute to tell her about you. It was too much. She just blew up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so angry.”
“It’s not your fault. Captain Story is an adult and responsible for her own actions. She should have told you she was tiring. And her fits of anger are fairly typical, even from physically healthy soldiers trying to cope with the jarring transition from deployment to home. Imagine trying to deal with that while coping with traumatic injuries.”
Lynn slid a plate of sandwiches onto the table and poured iced tea into two of the glasses. “Anything else you need?”
Teddy smiled, then went to the sink to wash her hands. “You can save me one of those sandwiches until I get her comfortable enough to rest.”
“You got it,” Lynn said. E.B. nodded his agreement, and they sat down to eat.
* * *
When Teddy returned to the living room, half of the sandwich on the plate was gone, but Captain Story was clutching her shoulder, her face twisted in a tight grimace.
“Another spasm?”
Captain Story nodded but didn’t open her eyes.
“Breathe through it.” Teddy moved behind the chair, pressed firmly against a pressure point on Captain Story’s neck, and waited while she completed ten deep breaths—in through the nose, out through the mouth. When Captain Story’s breathing returned to normal, she dropped her hand into her lap. Teddy released the pressure point and squatted next to the recliner. Even though it was August, Captain Story was wearing a long-sleeved shirt with a T-shirt underneath. Teddy was sure the top shirt was to hide the still-healing residual limb. It often took a while for amputees to let even their closest family see the damage.
“Better?”
Captain Story nodded. Her eyes were no longer brilliant, but a stone-washed blue and shadowed with fatigue.
“I’m glad somebody at the hospital at least taught you how to breathe through the pain.”
“A perky therapist did that.”
“Good for her.”
“I hate perky women.”
Teddy smiled. “Me, too. It’s like they never took off that high-sc
hool cheerleading uniform.”
Captain Story didn’t smile back. No matter. Teddy didn’t really expect the ice would crack that easily.
“Okay. We’re going to do a few things to ensure your arm doesn’t spasm again, so you can get some rest. First, we need to get you down to your T-shirt.”
Captain Story didn’t move at first, then fumbled weakly with the buttons.
“Let me help,” Teddy said, her voice soft.
“I can do it, Lieutenant.” Captain Story frowned but stopped her fumbling.
“I’m sure you can, Captain.” Teddy quickly unbuttoned the shirt and carefully helped her remove the shirt. “But I’ve drugged you up with anti-nausea medicine, so we’ll write this off as special circumstances.” Teddy gently removed the pressure sock intended to reduce swelling and then the bandage to inspect the wound. “Everything looks good here. She applied a fresh bandage from the supplies in her med kit but left the sock off. She held back a sigh. Although it would be easier to massage hands-to-skin so she could use a warming oil, she needed to first earn Captain Story’s trust. She folded the short sleeve of the shirt up.
“I’m going to attach a TENS unit to your arm. Have you ever used one?”
Britt shook her head.
“TENS stands for transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation. You can actually buy these without a prescription at any local pharmacy now. It uses low-voltage electrical current to relieve pain. It’s like a vibrator massage to relax the nerves in your arm. While that’s working on the nerves, I’m going to massage your shoulder and neck to loosen the muscles irritating the nerves.” Her explanation wasn’t scientifically exact, but close enough for her patient to get the general idea.
Captain Story stiffened and grimaced. “Fuck.” The sudden spasm was actually visible along her defined musculature.
“Breathe through it, deep breaths.” Teddy’s words were low and smooth, but she worked quickly to attach the TENS unit, then sent a low current through the muscle to break the spasm’s hold.
* * *
Britt woke with a start. The house was quiet except for the low murmur of voices coming from the outside. The rhythmic creak accenting the voices told her whoever was speaking was making use of one of the porch rocking chairs. She swallowed, her throat dry. How long had she been asleep? Not long, she decided. The sun was still bright where it pushed between the slats of the blinds. A light throw blanket covered her, and her arm tingled from the TENS unit still attached. She yawned, drew the blanket off, and dropped it onto the floor. She cautiously lowered the footrest so she was sitting upright, then powered down the TENS. The pain was gone, so she removed the adhesive discs that held the electrodes against her skin. She rolled her shoulders and actually felt pretty good.
Blades of Bluegrass Page 3
