He shrugged. “Then wait it out. Tell her you told her so when she admits she was wrong. I don’t see the point in getting her riled up now.” He shifted his eyes to Maxine. “Why don’t you want it?”
“Because it hurts.”
He stared at her blankly then blinked. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does to me.”
“That’s because you’ve had a rather serious head injury. You’re confused,” Sarah said with her hands on her hips.
Maxine sneered. “This from the woman who denies herself the basic pleasure of ice cream because it has mammal’s milk and bird eggs in it. Don’t talk to me about confusion.”
Sarah turned to the other nurse. “Forget it. If she asks for this in an hour, I’d find ten other patients to see to first if I were you.”
The nurse chuckled and recapped the syringe. “Just buzz me if you need to, Mrs. Anderson.”
“Thank you.”
Sarah leaned over and kissed Maxine’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re alive. I’m glad you’re back to being my annoying big sister. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay.” She let out a breath and closed her eyes for a moment. Arguing with Sarah was easy, but this time it took a lot out of her. Feeling like she’d recouped some of her strength, she turned her head toward Barry again. “Did you win today?”
His head was still reeling from seeing her so awake and … alive. “Win what?”
“Whatever you did in court.”
“Oh.” He shrugged. “Probably. They didn’t have much of a case.”
“What was it?”
He caught himself staring into her eyes, green pools that captured him and held him. Once dazed with drugs, her eyes now looked clear and sharp. “What was what?”
“The court thing.”
“Sexual harassment.”
The pull was immediately broken when she closed her eyes for a moment. He shook his head to clear it and rubbed his own eyes. He must be more exhausted than he realized. “Who were you harassing?”
“It wasn’t me. It was Tony.”
She smiled. “I’d laugh but I’d end up needing that shot if I did.”
He smiled. “I know. I think she thought we’d settle out of court instead of going all the way with it. But she rather irritated your brother-in-law with the whole thing, and he refused to settle anything.”
Her eyes were closed and she grew quiet, so he settled back in his chair. The relief at seeing her like this lifted such a huge load, one he’d gotten used to carrying over the last two weeks. As soon as it was gone he felt all the nervous energy he’d been riding on leave him behind. His eyes burned and his arms felt heavy.
Her voice startled him, and he realized he’d nearly dozed off. “I want to talk to you, but I’m so tired.”
He gingerly lifted her hand and gave her the lightest of kisses on her knuckles. “Shush. Rest. We have later. We have the rest of our lives.”
BY the end of the first week of consciousness, Maxine thought she was going to go out of her mind. She’d managed to avoid taking the shot for the pain, though there were two nights when she thought her resolve might vanish. It was silly, she knew, to manage the pain of a broken body to avoid the pain of the shot. Illogical, actually, but a phobia was a phobia. She couldn’t grasp the concept of willingly subjecting herself to the shot regardless of the bliss it would have provided.
Robin came daily for short bursts of time because of the baby. Tony saw her twice in between court and traveling to one of his businesses in Utah, and Sarah stopped by for a few minutes before and after her shifts and on her lunches.
Every morning before work, Barry came to see her. Every evening, he would come in after work. Most nights he slept in the chair next to her bed, but occasionally he went home only to return within just a few hours. He would come in, brush a feather light kiss on her lips, then sit and talk. Many of their conversations were lighthearted, as if they were seated across the table from each other at dinner. Sometimes he prayed with her, sometimes he talked about work, sometimes he told her football stories, sometimes he talked about his family.
He was driving her up a wall.
If he touched her, he always seemed surprised. When he kissed her, it was so light she wondered if there was actual contact. He treated her emotionally, mentally, and physically as if she were made of glass, until she wanted to scream at him that she was still Maxine, broken bones or no broken bones. But while she couldn’t remember the events leading up to the last week, her brokenness, her touch and go status, she knew that he could remember. He remembered vividly. Robin had finally broken down and told her what it was like. She guessed he just needed some adjusting time.
As frustrating as it was, she willed herself to wait until he figured out that he could at least give her a real kiss and she wouldn’t shatter.
BARRY leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The state of weary had been a constant companion for weeks now, and he felt like he might be coming to the end of his rope. He needed to get some real rest soon. Except he didn’t know how to turn it all off and rest.
He heard his office door open, but it took a moment for him to feel willing to open his eyes. Instead of Elizabeth, he saw his best friend.
“What’s up, brother?” He asked as he straightened his chair and lowered his feet to the floor.
Tony smiled. “Robin said that they’re releasing Maxi.”
Barry felt a twinge in his heart. “To a nursing home.”
The smile faded from Tony’s face. Barry knew it had more to do with his tone rather than the information. His lips pursed and he offered, “I thought it was a long term care facility.”
“It’s a nursing home, Tony.”
Tony held out an open hand and asked, “Problem?”
“Yeah. She needs to come home. She’ll get better faster at home.”
“Okay.” Tony sat back and Barry could see the wheels turning in his mind. “What will that take?”
With a gesture, Barry drew his attention to the stacks of folders and brochures that littered his desk. “Hospital bed, doors wide enough for a wheelchair, ramps, renovation on the bathroom to handle her needs, a physical therapist, some specialized equipment for therapy…”
“You have everything you need?”
Barry cocked his head and stared at his amazing, God given friend. He knew the question Tony was actually asking. Could he afford it? Did he need financial assistance or strings pulled? “I do. But I love you and appreciate you.”
“Good. Let me know if that changes because I want to help any way I can.”
“I know,” Barry confirmed, nearly choked up on some unexpected emotion.
Tony cleared his throat. “I am here on a mission.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. My wife sent me, so there is no arguing.”
Despite it all, Barry laughed. “Okay.”
“I am to take you to your favorite restaurant and buy you a thick steak. Then I am to take you to church tonight and attend the Wednesday night prayer meeting, where we’ll pray over you. Then I am to take you home and watch whatever sporting event you pick from what you have saved in your recorder to watch until you want to go to bed. Then I’m to sit sentry in your home while you sleep tonight, knowing your sisters-in-law, your mother, and your sisters, will be with your wife.”
That sounded … wonderful. “I …”
“No arguing.” Tony stood. “Do you need to take any of that stuff with you?”
Barry shook his head. “I’ve called someone to handle the details for me.”
“Good. Delegation. I do that all the time. In fact, Derrick is surprisingly good at project management. Maybe have your guy call him. He has spring break starting soon. He’ll enjoy the project.”
“Maybe I will.” Barry stood and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. “Benedict’s steaks?”
Tony pulled his keys from his pocket. “Wonderful choice.”
CHAPTER 24
BARRY let himself into the house quietly, not wanting to disturb Maxine. He wasn’t quite sure what his reasons were, but he wasn’t sure of a lot of things about himself when it came to his wife.
His love for her was absolute, he knew that, but her feelings for him after the accident remained a mystery. Her spark was gone, which was understandable considering what she was going through. She found little joy in anything anymore, and the times she appeared to be enjoying herself seemed contrived. Toward him, she gradually became cool and detached, and the flicker of annoyance in her eyes as he bent to kiss her each night tore his heart a fraction at a time. Soon, she would be able to get up and walk away. Part of him wished she never could, and he hated himself for it.
He slipped his keys into his pocket and moved silently through the house. He’d converted the dining room to create a bedroom for her, and the glow of a full moon lighted the room through the thin curtains enough to see her perfectly.
Before the accident, she took over any bed, buried under covers, on her stomach, her head under the pillow. The hindrance of the cast on her leg had retrained her to lie perfectly still on her back. He wondered if she would ever get her vibrancy back, either asleep or awake.
Worried he would disturb her slumber, he stood in the doorway and looked in on her, but didn’t enter the room. Instead, he moved silently through the house and up the stairs to his room. The master bedroom. Their room. He wondered if she would ever join him there, or if he was facing the end of their unconventional marriage. The last surgery on her leg was the last surgery the doctors would perform. They removed the cast tomorrow. Maybe another surgery would have to be performed on her hand, but that was inconsequential to the scheme of her freedom outside of this house. Their house. Their home.
Weary, he shed his clothes on his way to the shower. Every step toward healing was a step away from him, he feared. He didn’t know how to bring it up to her.
“GIVE me two more, Maxine.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Just two more and that will be it for the day.”
Maxine closed her eyes and concentrated on lifting the weights. Her leg objected to the movement, tried to refuse to obey the command of her mind. After two more surgeries and three months of confinement in a hard cast, the muscles screamed in protest.
Sweat poured off her face, mixing with tears, but the weights lifted and fell again.
“Okay, once more.”
She opened her eyes and glared at Muriel Harrison. For the first few days after her release from the hospital, Muriel had been her near constant companion, acting as nurse and physical therapist. Once the cast had come off her arm and her muscles started working again, she no longer spent the night, but came for several hours a day to torture Maxine. She stood tall for her lean frame, with dark straight hair she kept cut nearly to her chin, and light, light blue eyes. She’d been so kind and patient as a nurse, but the second Maxine’s arm had been freed, she became a sadistic drill sergeant, pushing and pushing until Maxine knew she couldn’t take anymore, then pushing her one more time.
“I hate you,” she spat as her leg trembled from the force of the weights.
Muriel smiled and crossed her arms over her thin chest. “I know.”
Maxine looked down at her leg as she lifted the weights and it became fully extended. Well, what was left of her leg, anyway. It was pale, skinny, and crisscrossed with scars from her surgeries. The scars would fade and the color would return to normal, but she didn’t know if she had the strength any longer to build the muscle back up.
Slowly, she let the weights come back down, then leaned back against the seat of the machine and caught the towel Muriel tossed at her. She wiped her face and leg before she reached for the leg brace to strap it back on.
“You look tired, Maxi. Are you hurting too much at night? Do you need me to call your doctor to give you something to help you sleep?” Muriel moved to the weight bench across from her and gracefully sat down.
“No.” She tossed the towel on the floor. “I’m just having nightmares.”
Muriel’s eyes were direct, unwavering. “Why don’t you draw them out onto paper? It’s good therapy.”
Maxine stole a surreptitious glance at her mangled left hand and shrugged. “It’ll pass.”
The therapist stared for several more seconds before she nodded and stood. “Okay. You need a shower, I’ll make us lunch, then I want to show you some exercises you need to do before bed every night.”
Maxine nodded and inched forward on the seat while Muriel walked behind her. When she came back into view, Maxine’s eyes widened. “Where’s my chair?”
Muriel pushed a walker toward her. “No more wheelchair. It’s time for you to be back on your feet.”
She shook her head, as much to protest as to beat back the tension that mounted toward her neck. “No. I’m not ready.”
“Maxine, your arm is strong, now. You need to start teaching your leg to work again.”
She stared at the walker, her vision closing in until that was all she could see. “I could fall. You’re not here all the time. I could fall and break my arm and I wouldn’t be able to get back up again.”
Muriel’s expression never changed. “I’ll go make lunch. If you want to eat, then I suggest you take a shower and walk into the kitchen.”
Hot tears of rage quickly sprang to her eyes. “Why are you doing this?”
Muriel smiled. “Because someone has to. Lunch in twenty minutes.”
Maxine stared at the door, enraged that Muriel actually left, but not surprised. That was how she did things. A command, unrelenting, and then she’d leave, fully expecting Maxine to comply. Her eyes moved back to the walker.
She snarled at it. Then her stomach growled at her. Muriel would leave her there until the next full moon. Or until Barry came home, which would be hours yet. He would pick her up and carry her around if she asked.
Knowing that, she gripped the handles of the walker and pushed herself into a standing position. Barry would carry her around, coddle her, and then talk to her with that infuriatingly pleasant look on his face. Then he would tuck her into her bed downstairs, brush one of those whispers of a kiss on her forehead, and make his escape upstairs.
She’d get strong and walk again, if for no other reason than to follow him up and demand that he start acting like Barry again. A good rousing argument would be nice. A real kiss would be wonderful. Just seeing genuine emotion in his eyes would work for her.
Before she knew it, she had crossed half the room. It was slow, but the brace kept her leg from collapsing. It hurt a little. She knew enough about pain by now to know it was a good hurt – a muscles working kind of hurt. Her arms were strong, easily taking her weight while she compensated for the leg.
By the time she made it to the bathroom she was a little tired, but energized at the same time. She’d just crossed the entire house, and it felt great. She sat on the lid of the toilet to get undressed, then used the bars that had been installed to help her maneuver into the tub. A chair had been installed inside the bathtub, and she smiled as she sat under the warm spray. Soon she would be able to stand under it.
Her workout clothes were gone and a towel and fresh clothes waited for her when she finished her shower. She was tired now, but it would do no good to call for Muriel. She’d said she would be in the kitchen, and that’s where Maxine would find her, no doubt.
She slipped on a long, loose dress, her standard outfit since her release from the hospital, dried her hair with the towel, strapped the brace back on, and gripped the handle of the walker again. Her leg trembled a little, and acted like it wanted to cramp up, but she adjusted the way she put pressure on it and it felt better. Her left hand ached. As she walked into the kitchen, Muriel was setting plates on the table.
“Do you still think you’re going to fall?”
“Not if I don’t overdo it.” She laughed as she lowered herself into a chair, sighing at sitting
on something that wasn’t her wheelchair. “And you were right, as always.”
“Every patient thinks they’re the only one who has ever been through it.” She set glasses of tea in front of the plates before she sat down.
Maxine raised an eyebrow. “To us, we are.”
Muriel paused before she nodded. “You’re right. But I still have to push. Family won’t.”
Thoughts of Robin and Barry fluttered through her mind. “No, they wouldn’t. I have the benefit of Sarah, though.”
“Even Sarah wouldn’t have left you alone with it. She would have hovered over you, worried you might fall. I knew you wouldn’t.”
“And if I had?”
Muriel snickered. “Then I would have been wrong. Very rare.” She speared a piece of pasta from her salad with her fork. “I need a favor.”
“Sure.”
“My mother’s birthday is next week. I was wondering … ”
“You need some time off?”
She shook her head. “No. That wasn’t what I was going to ask you. I was wondering if you would do a portrait of me. Not a painting, just a drawing.”
Maxine’s hand trembled and she set her fork down. “I’m sorry, but no.”
“Why?”
“I’m not ready.”
Muriel leaned forward. “Not ready for what?”
She hadn’t voiced it, and her voice wanted to close in on the words. Tears quickly filled her eyes, and she bit her lip to fight them back. “Not ready to find out that I can’t.” Despite her efforts, the tears spilled over, rolled down her cheeks. “I’m afraid to try.”
“You’ll never know if you don’t pick up a pencil and just draw.”
She gripped her left hand with her right and held it up for Muriel to see the scars, the gouges of skin that used to be smooth. “Look at this. Nothing is like it was. My hand was literally put back together. I don’t have the same grip. I won’t have the same stamina … ”
“I don’t care. You’ll try.”
“I don’t want to.”
Emerald Fire (Christian Romance) (The Jewel Series) Page 20
