The young Elora was telling an interviewer that the gelding, Crow, had been a gift for her ninth birthday, that he was two-years-old at the time, and that he had shown an extraordinary exuberance for running and jumping: the two skills required for steeplechase. With self-effacing humility and a relaxed and engaging style far beyond her years, she said she couldn’t really take credit for training him, that she had more or less just hung on for the ride.
As if on cue the horse nudged her from behind with his forehead forcing her to take a short step forward. She laughed, stepped to the side, looked up at him affectionately and began to rub him between the eyes. As she talked, she took the blue ribbon and tied it to the horse’s bridle behind his ear. “You should interview him,” she said. “He’s the one who ran the course.”
The reporter asked her how she felt about winning her division.
She grinned. “Who doesn’t love to win?”
She was as cute as a twelve-year-old could be with a slightly upturned nose and a scattering of freckles. It occurred to Storm that the little boys must have been crazy for her and it made him sad to know she didn’t live to be someone’s lover, someone’s lifelong friend, someone’s great grandmother.
Elora was awake when Storm arrived the next day. Naturally she was happy to see him. His visits were the highlight of her day. He came through the door smiling like he had a secret, walked straight to the side of the bed and, without saying a word, pulled the locket out of his pocket. He held it by the clasp, dangled it above her heart, then slipped it into her palm and draped the chain over her hand so she didn’t have to waste energy or hurt herself reaching for it. When he looked back at her face, he got all the thanks he needed from her expression.
“What else do you need?”
“Catheter. Out.”
The nurses smiled at each other when he brought the request to their station. They knew that a demand for removal of catheter is the harbinger of a patient getting well. He argued with the doctors on her behalf until they agreed that she could have the catheter out when she could walk back and forth to the bathroom by herself. She could start by trying to sit up on the side of the bed and he could help with that if he wanted.
When he returned to the room to ask if she’d like to try sitting up, he found her more than eager. Nurses stood on either side of the bed and acted as coaches.
They lowered the bed so that her feet would touch the floor, then told Storm he could gently pull her arms while she tried to maneuver her legs and turn her body. She groaned, but told him not to stop. By the time she was sitting on the side of the bed she was breathing hard. He sat down beside her carefully and she slumped over, leaning against him. The nurses praised her for making a big leap of progress and shuffled Storm off so that they could take advantage of the moment to give her a sponge bath and change the bedding.
Since she was staying awake longer at a time, they gave her a TV remote. That’s when she began her second life in a new world. She quickly realized that the tunnel Monq pushed her through might as well have been Alice’s rabbit hole. She was in a world similar to the one she left, but with differences that were inconsistent, surprisingly so.
She was a stranger in a strangish land.
Two days after sitting up for the first time, Elora’s doctors gave approval for her to try to get out of bed and walk to the bathroom for a shower. It was a task equal to racing a triathlon. By the time she got to the bathroom with catheter and IV unit in tow, she was tired but exhilarated by the promise of feeling completely clean and having a few minutes privacy. Her first peek at the mirror was shocking. Intellectually she knew that her face must look like the rest of her, but that didn’t prepare her for the emotional upheaval. The face that stared back was a monster mask framed by flat, lifeless hair that could be road kill. They had given her some soap, shampoo, and an ugly, cotton gown to change into after her shower.
The shower was adequate in size with nice water pressure and a powerful, triple shower head. Normally these are good things, but not in Elora’s condition. There were no handles for starting or controlling water. In the end she had to give up and ask a nurse who showed her that you simply enter the water temperature you want on the keypad just inside the shower door and press on or off. Not knowing what temperature that might be, she reasoned that she couldn’t go too wrong with her own body temperature so she punched in 99.2. That felt pretty good, but she made upward adjustments a couple of times after she got used to the water. Washing her hair and body was no small accomplishment because even the shower stream was painful.
She hurt in places she thought had no nerve endings. After she toweled herself off like she was made of blown glass, she tied the gown in place and thought that, without the catheter, she might feel almost human. There wasn’t enough energy left to comb through her hair, but one of the nurse’s aides did it while she sat on the side of the bed and tried to eat solid food for the first time.
She was still sitting up, her hair almost dry when Storm arrived. He didn’t so much enter a room as conquer it. Like always he strode in like a person used to having his way, not arrogance or entitlement, just good old fashioned self-assuredness. At least her long hair had managed a full recovery. With renewed life and volume, it shined with her true color: light brown with streaks of blond, out-of-this-world fiery red, and a hint of pink. In her dimension it was a common color usually thought boring. In this world it would only be made possible by spending many hours with the best color salon in New York and leaving many dollars behind.
“Wow,” he smiled, “look at you.”
The locket hung from its chain, surrounded by beautiful, thick hair that fell around her breasts trying to separate into curls where it was dry. She still looked gruesome, but the swelling had receded around her eyes a little more. And now there was this gorgeous hair. For the first time he wondered what she was going to look like when she was well. Her speech was good. She had a beautiful voice, a pleasing accent unlike anything he’d ever heard, and a slight, but noticeable formality in her choice of words.
Doc du jour came in with a nurse while Storm was there and spoke to him as if he was a representative family member advocating for the deaf, mute patient. “Damage to organs or systems is minimal and the fractures have practically healed. No lingering evidence of concussion.” The doctor glanced her way without really looking at her. “Now she’s just one big bruise. Never seen anything like it really.” With that he looked her way again. “Tomorrow, we need to get her up and moving around more. How would you like to help her walk up and down the hallway, big guy?”
“Sure.” Storm looked happy about the prospect of having something physical to do. “Tell me what to do.”
“We’ll talk you through it tomorrow.” He turned to leave.
“Hey, doc,” Elora called. The man froze, as surprised as if she was a talking monkey. “What about the catheter? The agreement was that it shall be removed upon performance of a successful, unassisted round trip to the facilities. Isn’t that right?”
With a little half smile, he capitulated and gave the order, adding that the I.V. could also be removed since she was tolerating solid food.
The next day’s trek began with the nurse bringing traction booties. To Storm she said, “We have to get her on her feet again.” After putting the booties on the patient’s bare feet, they helped her to a standing position, nurse on one side, Storm on the other. “Just crook your arm like this so she has something stable to hold onto and let her lean on you for support. Let her set the pace. It will feel tortoise slow to you, but like a marathon for her. Once to the end of the hall and back today. Maximum. If she can’t make it that far it’s alright, but try. Okay?”
He turned to Elora. “Ready?”
Elora put one arm between Storm’s powerful body and his bicep, then nestled in close. Looking at the top of her head he said, “Hey! You’re tall for a girl. I hadn’t noticed before.”
Two inches shy of six feet does look tal
l on a woman.
“Uh-huh.” Her equilibrium was off so looking around was risky. Plus she might be a tiny bit queasy and really didn’t want to yak in the hall. That’s what she thought they had called it on TV. Inching along at a snail’s pace was still a big adventure, the first time she’d been out of the hospital room. It was exciting, but also so exhausting that she was practically asleep before she made it back to the bed.
The next day she was sitting up when Storm came in carrying a bag and looking very pleased with himself.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He beamed. “I still can’t get you a room with a window, but I’ve brought you the next best thing. A laptop.”
A thousand images rushed across the screen of her mind. “That’s a portable computer?”
“I guess that means you know what the internet is.” She nodded. “How about credit cards?” She nodded again. He pulled the rolling table over, set the laptop up and plugged it in with an Ethernet cord. It had a mouse that detached from the housing for easy browsing. He pulled a plastic rectangle from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here’s a credit card that you can use to get stuff on the internet. I can trust you not to buy cars, right?”
“No cars,” she repeated.
“Yeah, no cars or home theatre systems. Also,” he added offhandedly, ”no weapons or I’ll be in more trouble than usual.” He looked around the room. “You’ve got some space limitations. And please tell me you’re not a jewelry freak.” She shook her head no. “Good. You can use it to get… you know, clothes and,” he looked at her hair, “hair ribbons or magazines or music and stuff. Here’s the address you use for billing.” He handed her a note. “And here’s the address you use for delivery. They’ll do overnight if you want.”
“Hair ribbons?”
He cocked his head. “I guess women don’t really wear hair ribbons, do they?”
“I’m, ah, hoping not.”
“Well,” he smiled, “you know what I mean.” She nodded again and smiled back, wondering if this man was really this kind to monstrous looking clumps of bloody flesh in general or just her. “Let’s go for our stroll. You think we’ll go faster today?”
“I’m positive you could. Go ahead. Save yourself.”
“Elora!” He sounded surprised. “You have a sense of humor.” He was looking around like he’d lost something. “So where do they keep the booties?”
She thought he had to be the cutest, most considerate person who had ever lived. Seeing this man with the shape and bearing of a warrior of old searching the room for traction booties made her throat feel tight.
“Aha!” He straightened from where he’d been opening drawers, holding up a clean pair of traction booties still sealed in a plastic wrapping. He seemed so pleased with himself, over such a small thing, that it tugged at her heart strings a little. “You know, you can order your own booties or socks or slippers or whatever.”
He knelt down on the floor next to the bed and started pulling the booties onto Elora’s feet like she was a child. He talked about the marvels of internet shopping while he was concentrating on making the booties conform to her feet.
“And movies! Just download them right to your own monitor. You’re not going to feel like a prisoner anymore.”
There was a slight break in his movement when he realized what he’d said.
She jerked her gaze from her feet to his face. “Prisoner?” She thought she saw a flicker of reaction. Was it self-recrimination or… guilt?
He looked serious all of a sudden. “I mean, being stuck in a hospital room has to make you a little stir crazy.”
“Oh. Yes.” Her eyes wandered over the room. “It does.”
He tried to restore the mood. She walked a little further than the day before and maybe just a little faster although at that pace it was hard to tell. She was too exhausted to do anything but sleep when she returned to the room, but she woke in the middle of the night and wasn’t sleepy. She turned on the laptop, found out that she had a lightning fast connection and that GilesQuery.com was the search engine of choice in this world. She tried some familiar names just to see what would happen. Some came up right away. Some came up as no matches. She ordered Paul Mitchell hair products, make-up from Mac, jeans from Levi’s, and some long-sleeve tees and hoodies from Saks in shades of green, blue, and gray. She knew from watching TV that she was in New England and that it was Fall, but it was always cold in the infirmary. So she also got two pairs of velvet leggings, black and brown, and a long, black silk sweater from Armani Exchange.
She wouldn’t be able to consider wearing something so sensational at home, but, gods only knew, she wasn’t home. She bought cotton socks, cashmere socks, furry brown house shoes with moose faces and antlers, cross trainers and black, low heeled, Ferragamo riding boots. She bought fine weave yoga pants in a cotton/silk blend and camis with built-in support to use as sleepwear, under garments, and a thick, plaid robe for warmth and comfort. She bought a skirt just on the off chance she might need it sometime, a lime green backpack suitable to hold a laptop and other valuables and, last, Danskins for when she was able to start working out again.
It might take other people longer to outfit themselves via cyberspace, but she was accustomed to shopping by internet. For a member of the royal house, actual shopping was too much of a production. Permission for such outings was rarely granted because of the expense of needing two guards to protect her from rumor rag reporters and paparazzi.
Undoubtedly the piece de resistance of the internet shopping spree was the iSongs account, a pink iNote player that would hold several gig of songs, and a pair of good headphones. She couldn’t wait to find out if her favorite music existed in this world. She wanted to start downloading to her music library, but she was still getting tired easily and would go to sleep mouse in hand if she didn’t shut down and lie back.
A couple of days later the nursing staff began delivering boxes as they arrived. No one was trying to hide the fact that the packages had been opened and contents inspected first. The jeans were an optimism purchase since her body was still too swollen for her regular size. Tight pants would aggravate bruises anyway. At the moment she required nonbinding, elastic waist, loose fitting clothes. Thin knit sweats and hoodies would have to suffice.
When Storm arrived to a room crowded with shipping boxes and packing paper, he said something under his breath that sounded like, “Woden Almighty,” but proceeded to help organize by ordering a rolling rack and hangers since they hadn’t thought to build a closet. They also bought four stacking crates with front closures for things to be folded or rolled.
She felt so much better in real clothes and it seemed to show in the speed of her progress. She was getting out of bed without assistance and walking up and down the hallway without leaning on Storm - which he missed, but couldn’t begrudge. In two weeks the snail’s pace had increased to a walk almost as fast as Storm’s normal, long legged gait for half an hour at a time. In a couple of days she added talking and laughing at the same time.
Sometimes they played chess in the infirmary break room with a guard posing as an orderly nearby. It was the only room that had a window. Elora loved to sit where she could see gardens and trees. Storm noticed that she would lapse into melancholy if he took too long to move. One day he sat back and asked tentatively if she was ready to talk about who she was, where she came from, and how she got here. She looked away and didn’t answer which was an answer of sorts.
Elora had grown accustomed to seeing the same faces every day. She knew everyone who worked in the infirmary, how many children they have, what kind of music they liked, what they like to do for recreation, what had attracted them to their line of work and on and on. It was a win-win. She was curious and people love to talk about themselves.
Designed on the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ principle, the infirmary is located at a dead end, out of the way corner of the Jefferson Unit ground floor. It's a destination facility meaning you don
’t go there unless you need to. Active duty knights endure enough uncertainty without in-your-face reminders of mortality and the fragile nature of human bodies. Well away from typical traffic patterns, they are not likely to casually wander by and be forced to confront the fact that The Order maintains a fully functioning hospital on the premises.
One morning Storm and Elora were playing chess in the infirmary break room while having breakfast. Storm wasn’t really thinking about the game. He didn’t need to. He’d always been - what did they say? - too smart for his own good. He had learned chess from a cousin in fifteen minutes when he was ten and had never lost a game since.
Elora took Storm’s knight with her queen and, in the same tone one might use to inquire about the time, asked, “Why are they recording everything I say?”
He stared into those arresting turquoise eyes and realized that they had continued to get bigger and more pronounced as the swelling receded by tiny increments each day. For the first time he noticed her irises had yellow and gold flecks. Scabs had turned to ivory pink skin and it looked like there would be minimal scarring, if any. There was still swelling, but the black and purple bruising had gone through the even more gruesome green and yellow stage. What remained looked more like streaks of jaundice than anything. A nose had slowly emerged in the center of her face and was starting to look like it might be well proportioned and a little upturned like that video of the young Elora Laiken. The mouth that had once been nothing more than a gash in a hideous lump of flesh was now softening into lips formed in the shape of a bow. Her hair was pulled up in a severe ponytail, bound at the crown of her head so that all that thick, beautiful hair hung down to her collar bone, and swiveled enticingly from side to side as she moved her head.
My Familiar Stranger Page 4
