Mason tried to settle back and relax, but it was impossible. His mind kept racing through the scenarios and ‘what if’ questions. He knew he would have to be patient, but that was easier said than done.
15
Clara
Clara used the time Mason was removed from the room for his MRI to check in with Justin. She had no idea if the game was finished yet or if he would even answer, but she needed to get the information to someone.
The phone rang in her ear, and voicemail picked up. “Justin, it’s Clara. Mason just went in for an MRI, but it is torn. They’re going to try to rush him into surgery tonight depending on the MRI, but I know the team was planning on heading back. Will they wait for us or do we need to find another way home? Could you call me when you get this?”
She hung up the phone and sank down into the guest chair in Mason’s room. This was a nightmare. They were at an unfamiliar hospital with no transportation and hundreds of miles from home. How would they even get home if the team left without them? Would the team leave without them? She didn’t think so, but then she’d never been in this situation before. She wished she had her Bible for comfort.
Her Bible! While she didn’t have the book, she did have an app on her phone. At least she could read a little while she waited and try to take all these worries to God. She knew He said to cast all cares upon Him, but in a situation like this, that was easier said than done. With the app pulled up, she searched for verses on comfort and began to read them earnestly. She was still immersed in them when the door opened and Mason was wheeled back in.
“Well, I’ve got good news,” the doctor said as he entered behind Mason. “It’s only a partial tear, and I don’t think surgery is necessary. We’ll get him put in an ankle cast to stabilize the ankle, and he should see a therapy specialist in the next two days to get a special heeled boot.”
“That is good news,” Clara said, standing and pocketing her phone. “What does the recovery time look like with this option?”
“The specialist will be able to tell you more, but I would say four to eight weeks.”
Four to eight weeks. That still ended his season, but it would allow him to do camp in the summer. Though Clara knew Mason wouldn’t be thrilled to have to sit out the rest of the playoff games, this was better than she’d expected.
“Thank you, sir. Will he be able to get the cast soon?”
“I’ll have someone come in right away. Should take about half an hour to apply it and then once it hardens enough, we can release him.”
“Thank you.” As the doctor left the room, Clara approached Mason’s bed. “Did you hear that? Four to eight weeks?”
“Yeah, it still means I’m out for the rest of the season though.”
“It does, but it means summer is possible. This is the best news we could have hoped for.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed.
Mason shook his head. “I should have listened to you, Clara. I’m sorry.”
Clara flashed a small smile. “It’s okay. I understand why you didn’t, and I promise I will be there with you every step of the way to help you recover.”
Mason nodded, but before he could say anything else, a nurse entered. She was a short woman with reddish brown hair and a kind smile. In front of her, she pushed a small cart laden with different materials that Clara could only assume would come together to form a cast. Clara stepped back to allow her to work.
“Got a little tear I heard? Did you at least win the game?” The nurse’s voice faltered between curiosity and teasing as she pulled up a stool and adjusted the cart with her supplies.
Mason looked to Clara, but she shook her head. She’d been way too worried about Mason to pay attention to the game. “Uh, I don’t know yet. I’ll see if I can find out.”
Clara pulled out her phone and tapped the icon for the internet. The signal bar flashed, indicating she was not getting good reception. Hospitals were the worst. Stepping closer to the door, she held the phone up as if she could beam a better signal that way. Finally, the page loaded and she quickly tapped information to find the score. “Aha, we won. Twenty-four to twenty-one.”
“That’s decent,” the nurse said with a nod as her hands fitted a gauze-like sleeve over Mason’s ankle. “Must have been a pretty even matchup.”
“Well, it is the playoffs,” Mason said. “Too bad I won’t be playing the next game.”
The nurse smiled as if she understood his moody tone. “There will always be another game. My son plays basketball, and he broke his pinky of all things and not even playing ball. Ruined the rest of his season, but I told him the same thing. There’s always next season.”
Clara could tell the words held no comfort for Mason, but he’d have to find a way to see the bright side. Otherwise, his next few weeks would be full of dark feelings and bitterness.
Fifteen minutes later, the nurse finished and pushed back. “I’ll get you some crutches and your discharge paperwork. Once the doctor signs off, you can be on your way. It might be a good time to line up transportation.”
Right. Transportation. Justin still hadn’t returned her phone call. She decided to try texting him instead. “Mason’s tear isn’t bad. No surgery needed. Just got a cast and waiting for crutches. Can someone pick us up?”
Her phone vibrated a minute later with his response. “Good news. Sending van. Team waiting.”
Well, at least the man was better at returning texts than he was at returning phone calls. “The team is sending a van for us.”
Mason grunted in response and shrugged his shoulders.
Clara stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Mason, I know this isn’t what you wanted, but you’ll still be at every game. Try to find the bright side in this. It will make it much easier to get through.”
He sighed and looked up at her. “You’re right. This just wasn’t how I imagined my week going. First, you and I get in a fight, then this injury.” He shook his head. “I just thought it would be different this time.”
“Okay, here you go,” the nurse said, re-entering the room and interrupting the moment. “I have crutches for you. No weight on that foot until they get you fitted with a heeled boot.” She handed the wieldy instruments to Mason and then turned to Clara. “Here are the discharge and care papers. The doctor wants an appointment with a specialist no later than Tuesday.”
“Understood,” Clara said as she took the papers.
“And, I’ve even called you a chariot to deliver you to the front door.” She pointed to the man who had entered behind her and the wheelchair in front of him.
Mason clenched his jaw as he stood and hobbled over to the wheelchair. Clara knew it was taking every ounce of his strength not to insist he could walk out of the hospital. She also knew it was policy. Every patient was wheeled out.
“Remember what I said,” the nurse said, patting Mason’s shoulder before heading for the door. She paused at the entrance and turned. “I hope you win the Championship again.”
“Thank you,” Clara called after her as Mason remained mute. “You could have at least thanked her,” she said to him as the orderly pushed him out of the room.
Mason said nothing as they made their way to the entrance of the hospital. The sliding glass doors slid open and the orderly wheeled Mason to the curb. Clara was afraid they’d be waiting in tense silence, but just then a white van pulled up to the curb.
“That must be our ride,” Clara said as the driver stepped out and opened the side door. She watched as the driver and the orderly helped load Mason into the back seat. Her eyes followed their movements, hoping she would be able to reproduce them when they reached the airport and he had to be unloaded. After a few moments, they had him situated with his back leaned against the window, so his foot could be propped up on the seat.
Satisfied that he was okay, she climbed into the front seat and buckled her seat belt. As she clutched the papers the nurse had given her, she hoped that Justin or Davis had gathered up her bag when
they’d loaded up the supplies. She’d reminded Justin to, but she had a feeling his mind had been elsewhere at the time. Still, Davis appeared much calmer, and she was sure he had noticed her things and taken care of them.
Mason made no move to converse on the ride, and though the mood in the van was tense, the ride itself was peaceful. Clara almost engaged the driver, but she was enjoying the silence too much. She knew there would be little of that when she got on the plane. Everyone would want to know all about his injury, and she was sure she would have to have a meeting with Justin to figure out a plan of action for him going forward.
Justin, Blaine, the team doctor, and the head coach were all waiting outside the plane when the van pulled up. Clara opened the door as soon as it stopped and jogged over to meet them. “He’s going to need help getting out of the van and into the plane. They don’t want him putting any weight on the foot for seventy-two hours.”
“And after that?” the coach asked.
“We need to set an appointment with a specialist to fit him for a boot, but the doctor was hopeful that with rehab he would recover in four to eight weeks.”
“Four to eight weeks?”
She was surprised at his shock. Surely, Mason was not the first athlete he’d coached to have torn an Achilles, and honestly had his tear been any worse, he would be having surgery and be out for months instead of weeks. Perhaps it had been long enough since the coach had seen a similar injury that he simply thought medical and rehab efforts had improved.
“We’ll have to play Jefferson more and get Toby up to speed,” Blaine said.
“We’ll figure all that out when we get back,” the coach agreed with a nod of his head. “Let’s get Mason loaded up, so we can get home.”
The plane ride back was less eventful than Clara had thought it would be. Most of the men appeared too tired to grill Mason much. After a few questions that he answered with short clipped responses, Mason and many of the other players passed out. Clara curled up in her own chair and let the weariness of the day take over.
It felt like she had barely closed her eyes when she heard the familiar ding and the lights came on in the cabin. She rubbed her eyes to adjust to the new brightness. After blinking a few times to clear the fuzziness, she turned her wrist toward her to check the time. It was after midnight. She sure hoped Justin would allow a late start to today’s work because she wasn’t sure she’d make it to an eight am meeting.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, but can you take Mason to his house?” Justin asked from the seat across from hers. He too was stretching and attempting to get his bearings. “I would do it myself, but I’m going to need to be at an early meeting to discuss his rehab.”
Clara stood and rolled her shoulders back to loosen the kinks. “I had already planned on it. I’ll make sure he gets set up and I’ll arrange for his car to be returned to his place tomorrow.”
“Good.” Justin nodded, absently. “Since the two of you seemed to work well together, do you want to take the lead on his rehab?”
A flutter of excitement stirred in her chest at the thought of spending more one on one time with Mason, but she tried to keep her face from showing it. “I’d be happy to.”
“Great. You’ll be checking in with me, of course, but I know the team is going to want him back as soon as possible, and that’s only going to work if he has consistent training happening.”
“Understand. I meant to ask earlier, but did you or Davis grab my bag from the stadium?”
“Yeah, we grabbed everything. I’m sure it’s with our bags.”
Clara nodded, yawned once more, and headed toward the front of the plane with the rest of the players. After several more minutes of standing around and scanning the bags to make sure they had everything, the team loaded up into the waiting shuttle.
An hour later, the shuttle dropped them off at the Tornado facility, and forty-five minutes after that, she was pulling into the driveway of Mason’s house.
Though exhaustion covered her like a blanket, she forced her eyes to stay open and appear alert. He had to be even more tired than she was, and she would do him no good if she fell asleep before getting him settled.
After parking the car, she grabbed the crutches and then helped Mason out. He still hadn’t spoken much, but a grimace of pain was etched in his face now. She wished the doctor had given her some pills for the pain, and she made a mental note to ask for some at his next appointment.
“Just a little bit farther. We’ll get you set up in bed and then you can get some rest.”
His response was a grunt, but he crutched his way up the sidewalk to his front door. When they reached it, he began trying to fumble in his pockets while remaining upright, and Clara had visions of him falling over or stepping down on his foot.
“Let me,” she said, placing a hand on his arm to still him.
He held her gaze a moment before returning his hand to the crutch handle and letting her reach down into his pocket.
Clara’s face heated up as she stepped closer and fished out the keys. She was so close to him that she could almost hear his heart beating in time with hers. His breath tickled her cheek, and the scent of him, masked as it was by the lingering smell of hospital and antiseptic, burned in her nose.
“Which one?” she asked as the ring of keys escaped his pocket and jingled in her hand. Her eyes flicked up to his, and her breath caught in her throat at the way he was looking at her.
“The gold one.” His voice was soft and scratchy, and she wondered if he was fighting the same emotions she was. She dared not continue to look at him in case he was.
With trembling fingers, she inserted the key, turned the lock, and pushed the door open. His house inside was dark and quiet, and she fumbled around for a switch. Finding it, she flipped it on, and light burst through the room.
Though she’d been there once before, she took a moment to glance around the room again. It was a modest living room with a large fireplace and an even larger TV. A leather couch faced the sleek screen as did a recliner. Pictures of famous players from a variety of teams adorned the walls. It was a man’s living room to be sure, and she felt a small smile tug at her lips at the complete lack of a woman’s touch which led her to believe he wasn’t seeing anyone.
“I don’t think you should try to make it to the bedroom tonight. How’s the couch? Is it comfortable? I can get you sheets and whatever you need.” She clamped her mouth shut to keep the rambling words from spilling out.
Mason flashed her a half smile. “Yeah, it’s comfortable. I’ve got shorts in my bag that I’m fine to sleep in, but some sheets would be nice. They’re in the closet at the top of the stairs.”
Clara nodded and headed that direction. She was curious as to what the rest of his house looked like, but now was not the time to go exploring. There would be plenty of time for that later as she was fairly certain she’d be spending a lot of time here with him.
The linen closet at the top of the stairs was large but sparse. A few towels filled one shelf and two sets of sheets and blankets filled another. The other shelves were empty. She wondered if that was because he hadn’t lived here long or because he just didn’t have the need to fill them. Pushing the thought aside for now, she grabbed a set of sheets and a blanket. She saw no pillow in the closet, and she didn’t want to intrude on his bedroom without permission, so she returned without one, hoping he had some on the couch.
He was sitting in the recliner with both legs propped up when she re-entered the room, and she quickly made up the couch with the sheets. There were indeed two pillows on the couch and she placed them at one end for his head before adding the blanket and folding it down for him.
“Okay, I think you’re good for tonight. Do you need anything else?” She tried not to look directly in his eyes for fear of what she might see there, but the pull was magnetic. An intensity flowed out of his gaze, but she wasn’t quite sure what the emotion was.
“I think I’m good for now. Thank yo
u for all your help, Clara.”
“Of course.” She bit her lip as she thought of what else to say. The silence screamed for something. “Well, I should let you go, but I’ve been assigned to head up your rehab, so I’ll check in with you later today. Call me if you need anything.”
He nodded and though she felt like she should say more, that they should discuss this tension happening between them, now was not the time. There would be plenty of time for discussion later, so after flashing a small wave, she turned and walked out of his house.
When the door closed behind her, she took a moment to lean against it and take a deep breath. This was going to be a lot harder than she’d thought. Especially if he kept looking at her with that intense gaze that made her think he wanted to kiss her.
16
Mason
Mason woke stiff and sore the next morning. It took him a second to remember why, but once he opened his eyes and realized he was on his couch and not in his bed, it came crashing back. The pain registered then, along with a gnawing hunger in his belly. Though much of the day before remained a blur, he was fairly certain he hadn’t eaten since before the game.
Reaching for the crutches, he took a steadying breath and then pulled himself up to a standing position. The room swam, and he closed his eyes tightly until it subsided. When it stilled, he began the slow, hobbling walk to the kitchen. He was certainly glad he was a minimalist and nothing lay on the floor for him to maneuver around because the crutches were awkward enough as it was. He wasn’t used to having to depend on anything other than his own two feet.
Coffee was the first thing on his agenda, but he hadn’t realized how much harder it would be to make with basically only one free hand. He was forced to lean one crutch against the bar and practically hop around with the other in order to take the grounds to the coffee pot. He was doubly thankful that his coffee pot was next to his sink when he realized hopping around with a glass pot filled with water would be dangerous and disastrous. How was he going to do simple things by himself if making coffee was so hard?
Touchdown on Love Page 7
