by Lorrie Kruse
No. They still had to operate. Fix that main line, which would fix everything else. He reached out with awkward movements. He couldn’t find anything solid to grab on to. Blinding pain shot down his neck when he moved his head. He reached up to massage away the pain. A layer of gauze covered the back of his neck. His breaths came hard and fast.
They had operated.
He closed his eyes and willed the pain to go away—the physical and the emotional. The nurse pushed him through a set of swinging doors. The cart swayed gently as they moved down the corridor. The lights above him took on a strobe-like quality. His breathing slowed, and the sludge coating seeped around his brain again. His last conscious thought was that this had to be a dream. A horrible nightmare. Because stuff like this happened to other people, not to him.
He was only half aware as people came and went throughout the day—nurses, his parents, his brother Brad and his wife Jenny, his best friend Derrick…and Crystal…finally. She was with him now, her fingers woven through his. He knew it was her by the fit of their hands. He tried to focus on her touch, but what he couldn’t feel stood out more.
The dream wasn’t a dream.
A tight band squeezed his heart. Tears burned his eyes. His father wouldn’t give in to the tears. Neither would he.
Crystal’s fingers tightened around his. She sniffed loudly. Her pain became more important than his own. He opened his eyes. The room was dimly lit, but he couldn’t miss the fresh tears that crept down her cheeks. Damn, he hated seeing her hurting like this. He gave her hand a tug until she looked at him. Just like his mother, she was beautiful, as always—even with the red-rimmed eyes and a pink nose contrasting with her emerald green silk blouse. Leave it to Crystal to wear silk to the hospital. He twisted his mouth into a grin, hoping to calm her. “Better call a plumber, babe. Your face is leaking.”
She swiped her fingers across her cheeks. Somehow, her makeup remained intact. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her close. Take away the pain that had her crying. He did the next best thing. He brought her hand to his lips. Thank heavens she hadn’t been in the truck with him. If she’d been injured, or—
No, he refused to let his mind go there.
She edged closer. Not a strand of her short, blonde hair swayed with the movement. Of course, that would be a difficult feat considering how teased it was. “Fluffing,” she called it.
“How are you?” she asked.
He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “Thankful you weren’t with me in the truck. Dad said I had the accident by the gravel pit. Did we have plans?”
She shook her head before looking away.
“Did I call?” he asked.
“No.” Her gaze locked on to his. “You didn’t call.”
He hated not being able to remember. He kept digging, needing to know what happened. “You know why I was out there?”
Her lip trembled. Tears flooded the corners of her eyes. Her, crying. The very thing he never wanted to be responsible for. He held out his arm. She stood and then leaned close to him, jarring his neck in a burst of pain. For a brief second he thought about giving himself a dose of morphine. But only for a second. Right up until he realized he’d be sleeping through his time with Crystal, now that she was finally here.
He buried his face in her hair and breathed deeply, willing the pain away. Her hairspray’s sweet scent made his nose twitch and he hoped he wouldn’t sneeze. He focused on her filling his arms and the weight of her against him as he pressed kisses to her head. “I love you, babe.”
Her body shook. Hot tears warmed his neck.
The overhead lights came on. He lifted his lips from Crystal’s hair and saw Dr. Meyer’s reflection in the window surrounded by the night blackness outside. Behind Dr. Meyer was a nurse. Crystal pulled away from Matt and then stood and turned away.
Great timing. Matt struggled to not glare at Dr. Meyer. “Don’t they ever let you leave?”
Beside him, Crystal wiped her face with the backs of her hands. She felt too far away. Way too far.
Dr. Meyer smiled. “I have two teen-aged boys at home. Being here keeps me out of the war zone.” He opened Matt’s chart, scanned the pages, and then looked up. “On a scale of one to ten, ten being unmanageable, how would you rate your pain?”
Matt looked at Crystal. The distance between them kicked the emotional pain scale up to around twenty. He wished he knew exactly what she was thinking.
“Matthew?” Dr. Meyer prompted.
His neck hurt like a bitch, but he wasn’t about to admit it. “About a three. Two, maybe.”
Dr. Meyer made a notation in the chart and then turned his attention on Crystal. “I’m going to test Matthew’s sensation. Perhaps you’d like to step out of the room until we’re done.”
Crystal nodded and then slipped from view.
Matt couldn’t stand the sound of her footsteps carrying her away. “Crystal, stop.”
She leaned back into his field of vision.
“Stay.”
She hovered by the end of the bed. She seemed nervous, like he’d asked her to do something illegal. He held out his hand. Time stretched. His arm grew heavy hanging in the air. Why couldn’t she just come to him? He tried to keep his face impassive. Finally, she stepped forward. Her hand meshed with his. He tightened his fingers around hers. Everything was going to be okay.
Although he wasn’t surprised when the testing revealed he had no return of sensation, bitter disappointment accompanied each poke of Dr. Meyer’s mangled paperclip. Each “no” response felt like a piece of his soul being ripped away.
He’d get through this, he told himself as the nurse pulled the covers back into place. “This is just temporary.”
Dr. Meyer pulled a chair close to the bed and sat. “I’m going to be straight with you. You had no areas of sensation below your injury. That typically indicates a complete injury.”
“Which means?”
The room was silent for a moment. With his eyes locked on his patient’s, Dr. Meyer said, “Complete injuries are permanent, with no chance of recovery.”
An ocean roared in Matt’s ears.
No chance of recovery.
Permanent.
Matt saw his future slipping away. “So you’re saying I get the good parking spots now?”
“Not yet. The only conclusive indication of a complete injury is a severed or severely damaged spinal cord, neither of which you have. Therefore, your injury could very well be incomplete, which means you may recover some or most of your sensation and, or mobility.”
But not all?
Crystal rubbed his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, honey. You’ll walk again. I know you will.”
He put his hand over hers. “Like she said, I’m going to walk again. So tell me what I need to do to make that happen.”
The doctor shook his head. “There isn’t anything you can do except give your spinal cord a chance to heal.”
“How long will that take?” Crystal asked. “A week or so?”
Yeah. A week or so. It’d be hard, but he could put up with being stuck in bed for that long.
“Every injury is different. It could come back right away. It might return slowly. However, a recovery after eighteen months is rare.”
“Eighteen months,” Crystal echoed.
The amount of time seemed like a lifetime while also feeling no longer than a blink of an eye.
Crystal pulled her hand from beneath his. “But it probably won’t take that long, will it? I mean, you’re just saying eighteen months as a precaution, right? Matt can’t possibly be stuck this way that long.”
Nothing wrong in what she’d said, but Matt heard something else. He heard her saying she couldn’t possibly be stuck with him this way for that long.
“Matt’s got a very physical job,” she said. “One he loves.”
He let go of the breath of air he’d worked up. Of course, her concern had been for him. Something he never should have doubted.
Matt chose to blank out the words “any” and “some” and focused instead on “soon.” He liked soon. The quicker he was back on his feet, the better.
“Will Matt—” Crystal covered her mouth and looked up toward the ceiling. He expected the tears to start up, but her eyes remained dry, which left him wondering why she’d quit talking.
“Yes?” Dr. Meyer asked.
She lowered her hand. Her gaze fell on Matt for just a second before she looked away. If the question was that hard, he didn’t want to hear it. He found himself mentally leaning forward, anyhow, virtually on the edge of his seat, waiting.
“Will he get his memory back?”
Matt frowned. That was the question she couldn’t ask?
“It’s not likely…”
Crystal nodded while Dr. Meyer went on to say something about head injuries and the mind being like an erased tape, stuff Matt paid little attention to as his thoughts fixated on Crystal’s reaction. Why the hell had she needed to work up the courage to ask such a thing? Why had the question even come up? If he ever figured her out, it’d be a miracle.
“Matthew?”
“Huh?” Matt grunted as he looked away from his fiancée and back at the doctor.
“I asked if you had any questions.”
He thought for a moment. “How long am I going to be here?”
“Six to eight weeks for physical, recreational, and occupational therapy.”
Six to eight weeks? Hadn’t the doctor said his recovery would happen quickly? Six to eight weeks didn’t sound very damn quick. It sounded like valuable time wasting away when his father needed a full crew. Clearing up their current contracts was crucial. Once the frost lifted, the four men of Huntz & Sons Construction had to devote all of their time to the group home, or they’d never get it done before the deadline. “I can’t miss that much work.”
“Your dad will make do without you,” Crystal said.
Only if his father hired another crewmember, which would never happen. Huntz & Sons was just that—Carl Huntz and his sons, the two natural-born and the one honorary son. Matt’s friend Derrick might not have Huntz blood running through him, but he was as much a son as either Matt or Brad.
“I know eight weeks sounds like a long time,” Dr. Meyer said, “but there’s a lot that needs to be accomplished. You’ll need to learn how to sit on your own, how to roll over, how—”
“Stop,” Matt said. He didn’t want to hear about the things he had to learn all over again, things he’d been doing successfully on his own for most of his life. Successful. The word stood out. All his life, he’d tried to be the best at everything he’d done in an attempt to make his dad proud, but he always fell short. He wouldn’t fail this time. He squeezed Crystal’s hand. He would walk again, and he’d be doing it in time to save the group home contract.
§
The sun had barely broken the horizon the next morning when the nurses moved Matt out of ICU. He had a new room, but nothing had changed. He was still stuck in bed, dependent on others for his every need.
“Nice room,” his mother said as she turned in a circle while his father sank into a faux-leather chair.
“I’d prefer the Holiday Inn,” Matt said. “They don’t wake you up every couple hours. Room service is better, too.” He looked at the doorway, expecting to see his fiancée. Nothing but empty hallway.
“Can’t speak for the room service,” his father said, “but I can guarantee you this place is quieter than the Super 8. Kids running up and down the hall at all hours of the night. I should have saved my money and camped out in the waiting room, like we did the first night.”
“You should have just gone home and slept in your own bed,” Matt said, although he was happy his parents had stuck around.
“And screw up your mother’s vacation?” his father asked.
Matt’s mother nuzzled her cheek to his father’s. “Don’t think this gets you out of taking me to Hawaii someday.”
Still watching the doorway, Matt asked, “What day is it? Saturday? Sunday?”
“Not even close, honey,” his mother said. “Today’s Wednesday.”
Workday. Matt sank into the pillow. No sense watching for Crystal. His gaze shifted to his father, who’d picked up the remote control and seemed content flipping through the channels. His father, with deadlines to meet. Matt felt a tug deep inside. The people you loved came first. So why wasn’t Crystal here instead of at work?
Someone stepped into the room. Matt looked to the doorway with expectation that quickly turned to disappointment. A nurse in a fluorescent pink uniform walked toward him with a tray. “Ready for breakfast? Cheerios and apple juice.”
“What happened to the three cheese omelet and sausages I ordered?” Actually, he wanted a Coke and a pack of Pop-Tarts. He wanted to have his breakfast in his truck on the way to a jobsite. He wanted there to be a purpose to his day. A day’s hard work he could be proud of.
“You mean I mixed up yet another order?” She set his breakfast on the over-bed table. He caught a glimpse of her name as her ID tag twisted and swayed. Becky something.
“Just like I said, Holiday Inn has better room service.”
Becky arched her eyebrows. “But will anyone at Holiday Inn give you a sponge bath? I think not.”
“She’s got a point,” his father said.
Becky gave a fake pout. “Since you don’t like my service, I’m leaving.”
When she stepped away from the bed, Matt said, “Hey, wait. Aren’t you going to get me up so I can eat this gourmet breakfast?”
“Sorry. You’ll have to eat lying down. My orders are to keep an eye on you for a while before we try to get you up.”
“At Holiday Inn, they’d let me sit up.”
She shrugged. “Buzz me if you need anything.”
Someone hiding behind a giant Garfield balloon blocked the doorway. Only the person’s legs were visible, but he could have picked those legs out of a lineup.
“Babe, you’re here.” A light-hearted sensation filled him, buoying him much like the helium balloon tethered to the orange ribbon.
Crystal peeked beneath the balloon and smiled. “Yes. I’m here. You’re here. Your parents are here. And so is this poor nurse, who is trying to leave.” She stepped to the side. Garfield hung in the doorway a second before bobbing out of the way.
He let his eyes travel the length of her legs. “If I haven’t said it recently, your legs are sexy as hell.”
Crystal’s smile faded. Her gaze settled on Matt’s blanket-covered legs for just a second before shooting away. “Speaking of legs, how are yours?”
He knew what she was asking, and he hated to disappoint her. He put on a smile and yanked the covers back, intending on revealing hair-covered legs. “Ma, what’s your opinion? Are these sexy?”
His mother’s cheeks colored and she looked away. “I’m sure your legs are just fine.”
Garfield bounced as Crystal made a quick turn. She crouched by the folding chair and busied herself with tying down the balloon.
His father burst out laughing.
“What?” Matt asked.
His father was still chuckling as he got out of the chair and adjusted the blankets. “It’s safe, girls.”
“What?” Matt asked again.
“You were just showing off more than your legs, Son.”
Great. Chalk up one more for Matt, the screw-up.
Crystal was still crouched with her back to him, fiddling with the balloon’s ribbon as though she hadn’t heard that the coast was clear.
“Do you want to eat?” his mother asked as she rattled the Cheerio package.
His gaze lingered on Crystal. “Sure. Don’t want that fancy breakfast to get cold.”
His father’s cell phone rang out the tune of We Are the Champions.
His mother waved the opened Cheerios
at his father. “Carl, you know you’re not supposed to use your cell phone here.”
His father motioned her away and brought the phone to his ear. “Huntz & Sons Construction.”
With a shake of her head, his mother handed Matt the cereal container.
He looked away from Crystal and eyed the dry cereal. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” When his mother answered with a blank stare, he added, “The milk.”
His father stood and moved out of view.
“I figured it would be easier for you to eat it dry,” his mother said.
“You mean like Kaylee eats it?” he said, thinking of his niece. “I don’t think so. I’m twenty-six, not two.”
His mother poured some milk from his cup into the plastic bowl.
He made a grab for the spoon, but his mother was quicker. “I can feed myself,” he said.
“You’d best let me help if you insist on having milk on it.” His mother dipped the spoon into the bowl.
No way was he going to let his mother feed him like a little kid, not when he’d spent the last ten years trying to prove he was every bit the man his father was. “Ma, I can do it. I’ve been feeding myself for years.”
“Not lying on your side, you haven’t.”
Crystal was sitting now. She pulled on Garfield’s string and let go. The balloon bounced. “Babe,” he said. “Tell her I can do it.”
Crystal looked up. “How many sweatshirts do you have with spaghetti sauce stains?”
“Thanks for the help.” He looked back at his mom. “I can do it.”
His mother rolled her eyes but handed over the spoon. Milk splashed onto the crisp sheet as he navigated the spoon closer. One Cheerio made it to his mouth. He glanced at Crystal who looked away.
“I can do this,” he said when his mother reached for the spoon. For crying out loud, this wasn’t rocket science and he wasn’t incompetent. He concentrated on keeping his hand steady. Only a drop of milk spilled.
“Yes, that is wonderful news,” his father said into the phone. His voice held all the excitement of someone setting up a root canal appointment. “I’ll send my son Brad over later to pick up the blueprints.”
Matt slanted the spoon once it reached his mouth. Milk-soaked Cheerios slid down his cheek.
