by Lorrie Kruse
She stood on his thighs and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Nite, nite, Unka Matyou.”
Brad had his arm wrapped around Jenny’s shoulders. Her baby-bump had blossomed over the last week, preventing them from keeping her pregnancy a secret any longer. “We’re going to take off. Jen’s getting tired.”
“Sure, blame it on the pregnant lady.” Jenny swatted Brad’s chest, but it was really just a tap. She looked back at her brother-in-law. “Looks like you should be going to bed yourself.”
“Soon,” he said.
Brad lifted his daughter off Matt’s lap. “You really do look tired. I can kick everyone out if you want.”
“Nah, that’s okay. I’m sure they’ll all leave soon.”
“You look tired,” Crystal said, plopping down on the couch close to his wheelchair for the first time since the party started. “Why don’t you go to bed?”
He let his gaze roam around the room. Sam had wandered off and was now talking with Travis. Neither looked like they had immediate plans to go anywhere. His mother was busy alphabetizing his CD collection while his father dozed in the recliner. Derrick still hadn’t shown up.
“I’ll discretely shoosh everyone out the door.” She gave his chair a little push. “Go ahead. Go to bed.”
He gave her a sly smile, playing with her. “Only if you promise to join me as soon as everyone’s gone.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He arched his eyebrows. He’d expected her to protest, somehow. He gave his guests another visual once over. Nobody would miss him. And he was tired. “I’ll warm the bed up for you.”
After a visit to the bathroom, Matt wheeled to the bedroom. Exhaustion took over, and he was glad he’d let Crystal strong arm him into going to bed. The back-to-back visitors had been exhausting, but it was nice to know so many people cared about him. His last thought before he slipped over the edge from awake to asleep was about Derrick, wishing he could have stayed awake until his friend had come.
§
The house was silent when Matt woke up. The sun was just starting to rise, casting his room in a soft glow. He was still on his right side, just like when he’d fallen asleep. Not a good thing since staying in one position too long could mean bedsores, the very thing the doctor had warned him about just yesterday. He should roll over now. If he wasn’t so damn tired.
He closed his eyes again. There was too much quiet. No nurses chatting in the hallway. No pages on the intercom. No TVs playing in neighboring rooms.
No Crystal breathing softly beside him.
No sounds of Crystal in the kitchen or bathroom, either. Not even the scent of the fresh-brewed coffee Crystal needed in order to feel human.
He strained his ears, listening for evidence of her moving around, but all was quiet. He pushed himself upright and then transferred into the wheelchair. He paused at the foot of the stairs, but he still didn’t hear her moving around upstairs.
He found her in the living room, curled up on the couch with the afghan his grandmother had made pulled over her. One corner of his mouth went up as he watched her sleep. Obviously, playing hostess had tired her out, as well. So tired she’d fallen asleep watching TV.
The curve to his mouth disappeared as he looked at the TV, the screen as black as midnight on a cloudy evening. He turned his attention to the lamp on the end table. The lamp was turned off. The muscles at his jaw twitched as he stared at his fiancée, who’d obviously opted to sleep on the couch instead of with him.
She opened her eyes. She pulled the afghan closer around her. “Good morning.”
“If you say so.” He wheeled from the room and headed for the kitchen. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but he couldn’t come up with any reason why she’d slept on the couch instead of in bed with him.
He looked at his mostly-bare countertop and sighed. Crystal loved “stuff.” Her house was filled with knickknacks. Her own kitchen counter was end-to-end decorative clutter. With an uneasy feeling, he backtracked. He wheeled into the hallway to find her coming out of the bedroom, the afghan flowing around her shoulders.
Before he could slip into the bathroom, she zeroed in on him. “There you are.”
“Didn’t know I was that hard to find.” He stared beyond her. “Especially last night, when I was in bed.”
She leaned against the wall, the afghan wrapped tightly around her. “I was afraid if I came to bed I’d wake you.”
His focus shifted to her. “And that would be bad, why?”
For a quick moment, her mouth became pinched. “Because you needed your sleep.” She sighed and then stepped closer. Her voice was much softer as she said, “Honey, you were exhausted. I slept on the couch for you.”
“For me, huh?”
She crouched in front of him. The afghan slipped, revealing a bare shoulder, save for the thin satin strap of her nightgown. Her fingers rested on his leg for only a second before she put her hand on his arm. “Yes. For you.”
The heat of her palm burned his arm. He locked his eyes on hers. “You can touch my legs, you know.”
She looked away. “I know.”
He moved his face in line with hers. “Do you have a problem with touching me?”
She didn’t move her head, but her eyes shifted. “No.”
“Good, ‘cause I’d hate to think that my future wife couldn’t stand the thought of touching me.”
“Not a problem.” Her eyes connected with his. She put her hand on his leg. It felt like a mannequin’s hand. If that was what her touch was going to be like, he’d rather she kept her hands to herself.
He pushed her hand away. “I have to take a piss.”
He went into the bathroom. A second later, the sound of a cupboard being opened and closed drifted from the kitchen. He heard water running and then being poured into what he figured was the coffee maker. He listened to her moving around. Nice sounds. He wished he could block out the prior ten minutes and just keep the memory of right now.
Inside the cabinet he found a small basket with Crystal’s curling iron, blow dryer, and makeup essentials. Far from the bathroom clutter she had at home, but at least it proved she’d intended on spending the night. He grabbed a sealed catheter and wheeled over to the toilet.
He was sliding the catheter home when he realized he wasn’t alone. Crystal’s gaze rose from his hands and met his eyes only briefly before she turned and walked away. He found her in the living room. She was curled up on the far end of the couch, her feet tucked beneath her and her arms wrapped around her waist. She continued to stare out the window even though he knew she’d heard him come into the room.
“I knew you had to do that,” she said, “but I just never expected…you know, for it to be like…that.”
The bitter scent of coffee drifted in from the kitchen.
“It doesn’t hurt, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Her eyes came to him for the briefest of seconds before lowering to his lap and then zipping back to the window. She seemed to shrink into herself, and she blinked rapidly several times. “I’m sorry, Matt, so sorry this happened to you.”
Sorry this happened to me? Or sorry this happened to you?
He pinched his lips tight. Thoughts like that weren’t going to solve anything. “Like it or not it has happened, and we’ve got to face it, babe, or it’s going to tear us apart.” He wheeled closer. “Yeah, I’ve got to shove a tube in me just so I can piss, but my dick still works. I might not be able to move more than my toes, but I can feel. And I might need my rest, but that doesn’t mean you have to sleep on the couch.” Look at me, Crystal. Let me know we’re going to be okay.
Her eyes closed and her mouth convulsed. The thin fabric of her nightgown jerked with each breath. And then the tears came.
As he watched her cry, he hated her just a little. Not a lot. Just enough that he couldn’t make himself wheel closer to comfort her. Not when he felt like crying too.
This was so
not what their first morning together was supposed to be like.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Matt wheeled through the house, full of restless energy he didn’t know how to release. He’d been home three weeks, and he still hadn’t figured out how to make good use of his time.
He stopped at the base of the stairs and listened. From the kitchen came the off-key sound of his mother’s singing as she prepared lunch. From the living room came the Winnie the Pooh theme song, along with Kaylee’s singing, only marginally worse than his mother’s. Two flights up was an attic full of weight-lifting equipment. Nobody was singing off key up there.
It’d be slow going, but he figured he could get upstairs, somehow. Maybe sit on the bottom step and then lift his ass from step to step using his arms. That’d take care of his excess energy and kill time, as well. It’d get him upstairs, but it still wouldn’t get him into the attic, which meant going up a ladder that pulled down from the ceiling.
Maybe he could get Brad and Derrick to move some of the equipment into his old bedroom. If he could get Derrick to grace his home with his presence for more than lunch. Every day, people Matt barely knew came to gawk, using the pretence of being a “good friend,” while his true friend made himself scarce. Didn’t make sense. He pushed the wheelchair away from the stairs, giving up on the weights. Wouldn’t be the same without Abby across the room, anyhow.
Too bad today wasn’t a therapy day. Going to therapy at least got him out of the house while burning a couple hours of his day. Unfortunately, it also wore him out in a way a full day of work never had.
“Work,” he mumbled. That’s what he really wanted to be doing right now.
His father no longer coughed hard enough to hack up a lung. And in the three weeks Matt had been home, he hadn’t seen his father take even one antacid. Apparently, it had just been bronchitis, like his father had said.
He no longer felt responsible for his father’s health. But he wanted to be on the job with them again. He wanted to be at one of the houses they were remodeling. What he wouldn’t give to be figuring out the best way to lay out the drywall boards to save on waste. Something challenging while being useful.
Useful. That was the key word. He wanted to be useful again.
Heavy truck doors slammed shut in the driveway, one a fraction of a second after the other. A few seconds later, the back porch steps groaned. Matt made his way into the kitchen to where his father, Brad, and Derrick stood, pink cheeked, their jackets zipped up to their chins. Matt wanted pink cheeks and a jacket zipped to his chin too.
“Close the door,” Matt’s mother said as she pushed behind the men to do the very thing she’d just said to do. “You’re letting in all the cold.”
Derrick pulled off his coat and hung it on the back of a chair. “I swear, it was warmer in the dead of January than it is today.”
“Come on, boys, wash your hands,” his mother said. She pulled the cover off a stock pot. The scent of spicy chili bit at his nose.
“Daddy, daddy,” Kaylee sang as she came running into the already-crowded kitchen. Brad lifted her into his arms and blew raspberries into her cheek.
Derrick washed his hands and then took a place at the table. Matt wheeled into the open spot where the chair had been removed. He grabbed a cornbread muffin, handed it to his friend, and then took one for himself. “You know, you can come here at nighttime, too, not just for lunch.”
Across the table, Matt’s father’s eyes lifted from his bowl.
“Just giving you and Crystal space,” Derrick said. “Letting you settle into this marriage thing you’re trying out.”
“Nice plan. Unfortunately, the rest of Fuller Lake doesn’t agree. It’s been like Grand Central Station since I got home.”
“All the more reason for me to stay away. You’ve got enough to handle without my hanging around.”
Like a man watching a ping pong game, his father’s eyes tracked from Matt to Derrick and back.
Matt peeled the paper liner from his muffin. “No. All the more reason for you to be here. Act as a reinforcement. Us against them.”
“Did you wash your hands?” his mother asked.
“’Course I did.” Over two hours ago. When he’d gone to the bathroom.
“Matthew.” His mother pointed at the sink.
Matt shook his head and rolled his eyes while Derrick hid his smile behind a big bite of muffin. Matt wheeled to the sink just long enough to wet his hands. He grabbed the towel from the oven bar, did a quick job at drying his hands, and then dropped the towel onto the counter. His mother came behind him and hung the towel on the bar.
His father returned to his lunch. The kitchen filled with the sounds of the four men slurping up chili between bits of conversation. Matt had missed this, the male bonding moments with his mother hovering around them like they couldn’t manage on their own. Even more, he’d missed being with the guys at the worksite. The physical exertion of hard work. The process of seeing their ideas shift from blueprints into reality. He wanted to be back with them instead of spending his days napping and watching cartoons. What he wanted and what he was capable of were two different things.
His father dipped his cornbread into the chili. “You have therapy today?”
Matt shook his head.
“If you feel like it, you could come to the jobsite for a while.”
He felt a tingle of anticipation at the thought of joining them at the jobsite. An outlet for his restless energy. He wanted to say yes. Damn, how he wanted to say yes. But he knew he’d be in the way. And while he was wide awake now, that’d change within an hour or so. Just what his father needed. A sleeping crew member that everyone had to step around. He felt enough like a failure without having to prove it. “Maybe tomorrow.”
His father’s fist seemed to tighten around his spoon, his knuckles whitening. His jaw looked as tight as his grip on the spoon. Tomorrow, obviously, wasn’t what his father had wanted to hear.
Matt stared at the kidney beans and ground beef that littered the red juice in his bowl. Just once, he wished he could make his father happy instead of always falling short.
“I know you’re still feeling your way around, but what about project management?” his father asked. “Think if I brought the book over you could handle that?”
Bottom of the barrel work. His father scrambling to make use of his least-helpful employee. “Sure. I’ll borrow one of Crystal’s dresses and paint my nails while I’m at it.”
“If you don’t feel ready, just say so.”
“No, Dad, it’s fine. Bring the book over.”
He’d agreed to do what his father wanted, but his father still had a scowl. He should have agreed right away without the remark about Crystal’s dress. When was he going to learn not to be such a smart ass?
Brad’s cell phone rang. “Hey, honey.” His smile quickly deteriorated. “Maybe you should go to the doctor.”
Everyone except Kaylee stopped eating.
“You’re the boss, but you call me if things change.” Brad flipped his phone closed and then sat there staring at the phone, his finger tapping against its cover.
“Is it the baby?” their mother asked.
“She said it’s just an upset stomach, but she’s going home to rest.” Brad’s eyes met with Matt’s, a reminder of how precarious her pregnancy was.
Matt’s chili and cornbread no longer seemed appetizing. Not that he knew much about pregnancies, but he did know that the baby wouldn’t survive if Jenny delivered now. She’d have to take it easy, which meant she’d need to rely on Brad more. Which meant Brad couldn’t spend his evenings working.
“We better get back on the road.” Matt’s father pushed back his chair. “See if we can get you home at a decent hour tonight.”
Brad and Derrick both shuffled to their feet.
Matt dropped his spoon into his bowl. “Dad, there’s something I need you to look at in the bedroom for a second.”
Matt led his father to the
bedroom and then turned his chair around.
“We’ve got to quit meeting this way,” his father said.
“I’ve been thinking about work. I doubt I’ll be back in time for the build. You should hire someone.”
“I’m not replacing you.” His jaw took on a chiseled look.
He wondered what his father’s reaction would be if the therapist determined he’d definitely reached his healing plateau. Would he still be determined to keep his useless son employed? Or would he finally get his head out of his rear and hire a damn outsider? Truthfully, Matt didn’t like either outcome. Regardless, his wonderings were just that…mindless pondering. The therapist hadn’t offered any opinion. Good or bad. And he wouldn’t lie to his father, even if doing so would benefit the business. “Just temporarily, Dad.”
“No. That’s final.” His father stormed out of the room, his heavy boots thudding against the hardwood floor in the hallway.
“That went well,” Matt mumbled. He’d barely made it to the kitchen when he heard the truck roar to life outside.
His mother wiped Kaylee’s hands with a wet washcloth and then moved to Kaylee’s face. “What put a hornets’ nest in your father?”
“I asked him to hire someone to replace me.”
She nodded. “Ah.”
“Can’t you talk some sense into him?”
She lifted Kaylee from the highchair. With a little pat on Kaylee’s back, she said, “You better check on your babies, see if they’re hungry.”
Kaylee went running from the room with the thunderous roar of a herd of elephants. His mother turned her attention back to him. “I’m with your father on this one.”
“If we don’t come in on budget and on time, Rex Johnson’s going to smear Dad’s name all over town. We’ll be lucky to even get a job building a damn doghouse.”
“You’re exaggerating, dear.” She gathered up the dirty dishes from the table. “And if you listened to what you just said, you’d know exactly why your father won’t hire a replacement.”
