The Long Walk Back

by Rachel Dove

  The nurse waved me away with her hand, choosing to ignore my obvious mood. ‘No chance, you need some fresh air, a bit of sunlight. Makes all the difference to a day.’

  I tutted, wheeling into the room slowly. It was clean enough, a carbon copy of the other rooms I had seen since getting here. Generic pictures on the cream painted walls, thick patterned curtains, minimal furniture. A wardrobe, chest of drawers, bedside table, and a custom hospital bed, complete with bed rails and soft mattress. I thought back to my last bed, before, back on the base – a ratty cot bed with scratchy blankets, the smell of the day’s toil grounded in to the fabric. I would give anything right now to be back there, instead of in this glorified nursing home. Yvonne was starting to unzip my case now, and I shooed her away.

  ‘Er, thanks, but I can unpack myself. Later.’ She turned to look at me, opening her mouth as if to argue, but thought better of it and opened the door to the en suite. Another button.

  ‘You have your bathroom here, pull cord on the wall if you need it. Anything else I can help you with?’

  I shook my head, staring at my case, the wall, anywhere but in her direction.

  Yvonne pursed her lips before smiling at me and turning to leave. I began closing the curtains, having already shut the low window. Then I heard her come back into the room, and she reached over my shoulder from behind me, dropping something in my lap – the induction pack.

  ‘For you, when you’re ready.’

  I didn’t turn around till the too cheerful nurse had gone. I picked up the pack, breaking the seal. It was full of pamphlets and brochures on the centre, about the local help available, all the usual crap. It was then I spied a menu and a few other forms to fill in, and a schedule. Throwing the rest of the pack onto the bed, I looked at the daily plan the people in charge had made for me, and froze when I spotted a familiar name. Kate Harper was on my schedule, every day for one-to-one rehabilitation. It had to be the same Kate as the one I just saw scraping herself off the corridor wall. I had made some enquiries after the time we spent together on the way home, but the hospital staff had been pretty tight-lipped about the whereabouts of the doctor, and wouldn’t answer any questions about her son or his wellbeing. Looking at her today though, it looked like she was struggling, so maybe her son really had died. Would she be back at work just a few short months later though? Had a tragedy like that happened to me, I would have used work to power through, so maybe that’s just what she was doing. Or perhaps she was just a cold-hearted bitch.

  I couldn’t get a read on her; the woman who squeezed my hand as she slept, and urged me to live, that girl intrigued me and kept me up nights. The other half, the ball-busting side - this was the part I really couldn’t get my head around. It looked like she had recognised me though, even though she didn’t acknowledge it. I rubbed at my stump, trying to relieve the itching sensation I sometimes got. Moving to the bed, I looked in the pack for details of the gym. One thing that went in this place’s favour was the work out facilities, and I could feel my muscles just dying for a good stretching. Exercise made me focus, distracted me from the thoughts and feelings that crashed into my brain, sending me crazy. Being stuck in this place was one thing, thinking about the next step was even worse – and I had no intention of taking that step anytime soon. Grabbing a towel from the top of the case, I pressed the button for my new room and headed out to explore.

  ***

  Kate was lying awake again, staring at the alarm clock, waiting for it to spring into action, spitting out the relentless cheerfulness that was morning radio. She reached for her phone and dialled a number, sighing deeply when the answering machine spoke out, informing her the mailbox was full and no message could be left. She threw her phone down on the mattress beside her, reaching over and slapping the alarm button hard when the clock struck the hour. Swinging her legs out of bed, she reached for her phone again, her hands shaking as she dialled. A ring tone echoed out into the quiet of the stark room, Kate’s breath held as it rang and rang. After an age, a croaky voice picked up, wearily saying ‘hello’ down the line.

  Kate’s heart was hammering in her chest as she heard the dulcet tones of her father-in-law.

  ‘Roger, it’s Kate. I am sorry to ring you so—’

  ‘Kate? What’s wrong?’ His voice held concern, but she knew it was just him being polite. He didn’t really care, he had already shown that much.

  ‘Nothing is wrong, I’m just … I need to speak to Neil. Roger, we have to talk, and I can’t get anywhere with his work, and his phone is off, and …’

  ‘Kate,’ Roger said, cutting her short. ‘I don’t fully understand what has gone on between you, but, after everything, I … he just doesn’t want to be contacted by you, Kate, and I have to respect his wishes. You told him to go, you can’t have it how you want now.’

  Kate gripped the phone tight, willing herself not to swear at the selfish prick of a man, defending his cowardly son from his own wife. Years of being the quiet, dutiful partner, taking the scraps of ‘kindness’ her in-laws seldom threw, having to bite her tongue when they tried to tell her how to look after their son, while forsaking any interest in their own grandson. Every memory was a smouldering ember, floating around in the dark recesses of her memory, until now. Now, she let in the light, and the embers sparked against each other, fizzing and glowing into flames of fire. Between gritted teeth, she spoke slowly in a low, clear voice.

  ‘When you play this conversation back in your head, years from now, I want you, both of you, to realise just how much of a mistake you made.’ There was a surprised snort at the other end of the line, and Kate knew that her father-in-law was struggling to digest how she spoke to him. ‘I will never contact you again, but if you have a heart, then you will ask your precious, spineless son, to call his wife back. We have to sort this once and for all. You have my number.’

  And she pressed the red button as forcefully as she could, suddenly wishing she had called on a landline so she could have slammed the receiver down, or even still had her mobile flip phone, so she could bang that shut. Pressing a button to end a call to a complete arsehole just didn’t have the same satisfying effect, and she felt cheated. Cheated and impotent, just like she did every morning when she awoke, crying in the dark, alone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Cooper

  First morning of the touchy-feely bullshit rehab, and the good doctor was late. Only five minutes late, granted, but it still pissed me off. The army were big on time, so I was used to being organised with every minute of my day accounted for – not sitting here, watching the seconds and minutes of my life tick by. I adjusted myself in the chair, trying to wake up my left bum cheek, which had fallen asleep. The lads in the gym had been great, and felt just like me – bored, missing the call of work, eager to pump some iron and feel the burn. They all had various degrees of injuries, but they didn’t moan, and didn’t ask questions, which was perfect for me. Denial is a wonderful thing, I find these days.

  At Smithy’s funeral, I had my first pity party, and I was in no hurry to go there again. Smithy’s body was lying in a box, and people were milling around me, telling me how sorry they were for me, offering help, comfort. Why did I need that? Smithy was lost, and that was on me. My men made it home, sure, but what about the others? What about the fresh-faced souls heading out there now? Would my absence be missed, or worse, would it have saved Smithy and others like him? I used to be sure of my position, steadfast in my abilities, but now I had nothing. Worst of all, I would never have a chance to do my bit again, to try to make up for the loss of my man by bringing others home in one piece.

  The clock on the wall showed it was 9.10am. Ten minutes late now. Ten minutes of rubbing my own arse cheek in this crap chair waiting for someone to come and talk to me about how I should be coping. Brilliant. I took another sly look around the large room. On one back wall, laid out in racks, were legs of different sizes, colours, proportions. Fake legs to fit every stump. I looked away, subconscious
ly rubbing at the cut off sweat pant where my leg used to be. I didn’t sleep well last night, kept awake by pain that made me want to scream, and this wasn’t helping. I was just wheeling myself to the door when it opened, and there she was.

  She walked briskly into the room, thick black glasses perched on the end of her nose, her tousled blonde hair pinned up with pencils. The combination made her look like a sexy librarian. Or a sexy mad scientist, with the clipboard and white lab coat covering her body. I had a sudden curious thought. What’s under the coat, Doc? I felt a twitch and looked away quickly. Twice this woman has done that to me. Last thing I needed was her rubbing up against me, making me grow a third leg. I cringed inwardly at my own daft joke. She stopped walking when she locked her eyes onto mine. Her expression was blank, and I matched it with one of my own, making sure to keep focused on her eyes, willing my erection to go. We stared at each other, not moving, and I took the time to study her face, to suss out any clues about what had happened to the woman who saved my life against my wishes, for the last few months. She looked exhausted, the hollows under her blue eyes evident, even more so in the harsh strip lighting of the room. Her coat was pristine, clean and ironed, her black pumps looking like new, but the woman behind the mask was a wreck. She looked like a stiff breeze might blow her away.

  ‘Damn, Missy,’ I drawled. ‘What happened to you?’

  I was taking a chance on the nickname, chances were that she wouldn’t recognise me, and probably had countless patients’ faces in her head. As I waited for her response, I realised I didn’t really know why I had the hope that she did. She blinked a few times and her shoulders seemed to drop a few inches. She smiled slightly, and walked over to me, bringing a chair with her.

  ‘I told you Captain Jackass, I don’t care much for that nickname.’

  I chuckled despite myself, partly from relief that she knew me, and partly due to her sarcastic retort. She looked different, but she still had a bit of fight left in her, underneath it all. I held my hands up, mocking surrender. ‘Hey, it’s just a nickname Kate, keep your hair on.’

  Kate bristled at my words. ‘I appreciate that Captain, I do see the joke.’

  ‘Really?’ I retorted. ‘Did you tell your face that?’ I kept my gaze on her. Her face paled, and she sat down in the chair.

  ‘So,’ she said, flicking through the pages clipped to her board, keeping her eyes on the paper. ‘I see you transferred from hospital, and you are here for rehabilitation and prosthetics. So far, apparently you have resisted all but the most basic care.’

  I snorted, but she continued, the only sign she heard me being her slightly raised eyebrows. Oh, she was good at this. I felt the need to banter with her, see how much she would take before biting back, but something stopped me from letting rip just yet. I believed in what I fought for, and had I not been injured, I would still be out there with my buddies. I was angry, and this woman pushed all my buttons. I wanted to see the fire in her eyes flash, but whenever I opened my mouth to say something cutting, I remembered her hand on mine when I woke up, broken and in pain. I remembered her face, full of gentle smiles and concern. I remembered her tears, and her words on that last day, and I wanted to figure out what happened, and just who Kate Harper was. She was here with Dr Tanner, I’d seen his name on the transfer forms; was that her husband? I had wondered before, but they didn’t have the same surname, not that this meant anything in today’s modern times. Looking across at her, I could tell she was pretending to study the clipboard, obviously waiting for me to speak. Her hands were curled tight around it, and I noticed that her fingers were ring-less. I ran my fingers through my hair, which was far too long for my liking. I had to figure this woman out.

  ‘I’ll do you a deal, Missy. You answer my questions, and I’ll try to get on with whatever you’re trying to do with me here.’ Her head jerked towards me, her eyes connecting with mine. She pushed up her glasses and lowered the clipboard.

  ‘Even the leg?’ she ventured.

  I puffed air out through my cheeks, rubbing at the stubble on my chin. ‘I’ll see. The rest yes, the leg? We can renegotiate.’ I flashed her a cheeky grin. ‘Depends on what goodies you give me.’

  Kate flushed, and put the clipboard back on the floor. The metal clip at the top made a clang on the sterile tiled floor. ‘Then I reserve the right to not answer every single question.’

  She had me there. ‘Deal,’ I said, holding out my hand. She went to stand but I stopped her by wheeling over to her. ‘I’m a gent, I’ll come to you.’

  Our knees touched, and I put my hand forward, ignoring the sensation of heat that radiated from her into my right side. She touched my hand, and shook it firmly.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I was just being polite, I’m not here to pander to you, so don’t worry about that.’

  I smirked at her. ‘Do I look worried?’

  Two hours later, and she was putting me through my paces. Upper arm workouts, measuring my body, making me stand out of the chair, working the bars. I kept looking at the legs out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t fancy going near those any time soon. Speaking to some of the guys at the gym, they seemed to have no problem with them, but the thought of the sores, the falls, the lack of dignity when your leg fell out from under you? No thanks. I’d be sticking to the chair for now. I was just glad that my arms could carry my weight still; I hadn’t exactly been on my game of late. The last thing I wanted was to waste away to nothing. She barked orders at me like a drill sergeant, writing copious notes on her little geek board, while I did my best to prove that I could do whatever she expected me to and more. By the end of the session, I was sweating profusely, and had a pain in my leg – the leg that wasn’t there. It felt like my calf had cramped up, but I knew different. Funny thing, how the mind can play tricks at times. Bloody hilarious, in fact. I pushed myself to the end of the bars, reaching with one hand for my chair. I could feel Kate watching me from the corner of her eye, but she made no move to help, and I appreciated the fact that she was going to stick to her word. Sitting in the chair, I went to the towel rack, pulling one off and wiping myself down with it. My white tank top was stuck to me and my sweatpants were looking a little worse for wear too. Kate came over to me, bottle of water in hand. I eyed her but decided it wasn’t babying me to bring me a drink, so I took it with a word of thanks and took a huge swig. She opened a bottle herself, taking a slow drink. I watched her delicate neck stretch up as she put the bottle to her lips. She was at least ten shades paler then when I saw her in Iraq, as though she had never seen a day of sunshine from then till now. Her skin was smooth, blemish free, with tendrils of knotted blonde hair around the nape of her neck and ear lobes. She looked exhausted, as though she had just rolled right out of bed into her clothes.

  ‘So, this is it then? Five days a week you put me through my paces?’

  She nodded, replacing the cap onto her bottle. She surprised me by kneeling at my foot. ‘I … er,’ she started cautiously. ‘I need to check your wound site, if I may.’

  I shook my head. ‘Nope, not today, Missy. We’ll leave that for another day, I think.’

  She opened her mouth to protest, and I whipped out my hand without even thinking first, placing my index finger across her lips, shushing her. She didn’t recoil as I thought she would, but instead she sucked in a quick breath, and we both looked at each other in shock. I slowly pulled my finger down her face, pulling my hand away from those soft and sassy lips. She licked at them, only stopping when a voice disturbed us from the doorway.

  ‘Good first session?’ Trevor asked, a strange expression on his face as he looked across at us. Jealousy? It didn’t look that way, and I knew if Kate were mine, I would be more than pissed that a man had his hands anywhere near her. Not that it was like that, hell, I didn’t even know what I was doing in my own mind. Kate sprang up from her position on the floor, dashing across the room, grabbing the clipboard on her way out. Passing Trevor, she lowered her eyes.

  ‘
Er, yes, not bad,’ Kate mumbled, her face now a fetching shade of scarlet. An improvement to her usual alabaster, I couldn’t help thinking. I tried not to smile as I imagined me being the reason for her sudden colouring. She pushed past Trevor awkwardly in the doorway, too awkwardly for two people that were intimate with each other. Maybe I was wrong. I squashed down the sudden surge of relief that I felt, squashed it deep in the dark. Perhaps I would bring that into the light later, when I could deal with it properly. A lot of thoughts lived in the dark corners of my mind these days, so it would have good company. Trevor watched Kate walk down the corridor, her shoes click-clacking on the floor as she strode away. He smiled at me then, coming into the room and taking residence in the chair that Kate had just vacated.

  ‘So Captain, you’re finally here.’ He grinned, and I smiled back.

  ‘Don’t be so modest, you put up a fair bit of a fuss to drag my ass here, didn’t you?’

  Trevor nodded contritely, unconcerned about being caught out. ‘I heard you weren’t doing well,’ he said, not looking at me. ‘This place is the answer.’

  ‘I was doing just fine, so what’s the plan?’

  ‘The plan?’ Trevor asked, picking a piece of lint off his brown slacks.

  ‘Her,’ I growled at him. ‘Her. You know what I mean. Why have her as my therapist? She’s a surgeon isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, and a damn fine one.’ Trevor looked straight at me, and I could see his jaw flexing under his skin. He was hiding something, I knew it.

  ‘It just strikes me as weird, to put me with her. Why is she even doing this job? How does a surgeon go from doing that to this?’