by Dale Mayer
“Exactly,” Robin said.
Jessica headed back to her room, smiling because just something about doing things for others made her happier. And, with a big smile on her face, she fell asleep.
When Lance woke up the next morning, he felt marginally better. He didn’t recognize the nurse who came by with his medication first thing in the morning, immediately thinking of Jessica. Then he stretched, wondering if he felt better because of the antibiotics or just because he’d gotten some sleep. It was a hard thing to know. But at least he was feeling a little bit better. He also knew it would be pretty easy to overdo it and be right back where he was too. But he was happy to take this over the last few days he’d had.
Feeling a bit better, he got up, had a shower, and got dressed. When it was time for breakfast, he managed to get into his wheelchair and saw a guitar leaning against the dresser. He stared at it in surprise. Pushing the wheelchair closer, he reached out to stroke the long neck of the instrument.
“Well, this definitely has to be from Jessica,” he said quietly. And wasn’t that just so typical of her. She’d also been the one who had stayed on past her shift, who had tracked down the test results and the doctor, and who had given him his antibiotics last night, just to make sure that he got his treatment started. She was definitely somebody who cared and went above and beyond. It was such an odd thing. But, at the same time, it was really lovely.
She was a special woman. And maybe he was lucky enough to actually touch her in some way too because he certainly enjoyed every moment he spent with her. He just hadn’t been feeling all that great since his arrival here, so it was hard to actually do anything for others. He let his thumb drift across the strings and smiled as he heard the notes that came from the instrument. It wasn’t a high-end or an expensive guitar, but it had been tuned. He couldn’t wait to play it when he got back from breakfast. Bolstered by the unexpected gift or loan or whatever it was, he resolved to ask her the next time he saw her, and he headed down to the dining area.
Dennis took one look and said, “Well, it looks like you got some sleep last night.”
“You’re right,” he said. “I am feeling better this morning.”
“Good,” he said. “Now you need another good meal.”
“That’s what I was hoping for,” he said. “How about lots of protein?”
Chuckling, Dennis made him up a platter of eggs and sausage, with bacon on the side.
“Pretty hard to argue with the food,” he said.
“You’d be surprised,” Dennis said. “Lots of people do complain.”
“Well, that’s hard to believe,” he said. In his wheelchair, he stopped at the coffee station and tried to put some on his tray, but it was already pretty full.
“Not to worry,” Dennis said. “I’ll come behind you and bring you a fresh cup.”
“Only if you’ve got time,” he said, looking back at him.
“I’ll make time,” he said. “It’s coffee after all, and we all need it in the morning.”
Lance smiled and said, “Well, I sure do. I’m definitely a coffee drinker,” he said.
And he slowly pushed his wheelchair outside in the sun. If nothing else he needed the sunshine and some vitamin D. Jessica was right about that. In the morning he wouldn’t burn. He knew it would still take a few days for the antibiotics to kick in fully, but he had to admit to feeling a little bit better. When Dennis arrived with a cup of coffee and a glass of juice, Lance smiled and thanked him.
But Dennis just laughed. “Be prepared for company,” he said, as he turned to leave, seeing Jessica coming with her own plate of food.
“One of the benefits of living and working here,” Lance said, motioning at the food, “is that you get to have the same food that we do.”
“And that’s a huge benefit,” she said. “This is actually fresh orange juice,” she said, picking it up and taking a sip. She studied Lance over the rim of the glass, and he smiled back at her.
“Yes, I feel much better,” he said. “I think I just overdid it yesterday.”
Her gaze still watchful, she nodded. “And who knows if that iron is starting to kick in or not.”
“I doubt if it’s that fast,” he said, “but I did make sure I had lots of dark greens and beef for dinner last night.”
“Good,” she said. “We’ll get you there eventually.”
“I just hadn’t really expected the eventually to start off so dismally,” he said.
“Everybody is different,” she said. “Everybody has to heal on their own.”
“I know,” he said with a smile. “I’m just so grateful everybody came in and out last night, keeping me awake,” he said, rolling his eyes. “But you guys were checking up on me, so I can’t really complain. Speaking of which,” he said, lifting his fork and pointing it at her, “I presume it’s you I have to thank for the guitar.”
Her face beamed into a beautiful smile.
He stared at her, fascinated, because she was one of those people who showed every expression on her face. Whereas he didn’t seem to show any, she was like this open book.
“Yes, indeed,” she said. “I remembered what you said, and I was at a secondhand store, so it didn’t cost very much,” she said. “Honestly, getting it tuned cost more than buying the guitar itself.”
“Well, I did run my fingers across the strings,” he confessed. “And it was nice to hear that it was tuned and in good order.”
“Good,” she said. “I never really know if people are doing what they said they’ll do,” she said. “And it’s certainly not my field.”
“Not a problem,” he said, chuckling. “When I go back after breakfast, maybe I’ll try it out.” He flexed his fingers. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to play.”
“It’s worth a try. Do you have sessions today?”
“No, not for a couple days,” he said. “Shane has put me on minor stuff, no heavy-duty workouts until I’m back on my feet again.”
“That’s probably best,” she said. “Much better to take it slow and steady instead of going too far, too fast, only to end up going backward.”
“Exactly,” he said. Just then somebody called her, so she excused herself, and he could see that she would not likely be back.
So, finishing his coffee, he rolled his way back over and filled it up again, tucked it into a little cupholder on the wheelchair, which he thought was one of the best little add-ons to a wheelchair that he’d seen. He slowly made his way back to his room. Once there, he put the coffee cup down, so it was out of the way, then picked up the guitar, trying to adjust his position. He shifted awkwardly up onto the bed, then shifted again so the bed was in a better sitting position, where he could sit with his legs stretched out.
Gently at first, he strummed the guitar. Soon soft gentle musical notes filled the room. He leaned back, closing his eyes, and let the pleasure of hearing the music float through him again, soaking it into his bones. It was such a healing sound for him, and he wondered why he’d never thought to have some musical instrument with him. Mostly because music had been out of the realm of possibility, so he’d just stopped letting it be part of his world. He gently let his fingers play, going from a love song to a country song and back to a ballad. By the time he opened his eyes, several people were in the doorway. He looked at them in surprise, his fingers coming down over the strings to silence them.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I never gave it a thought, but I shouldn’t be playing inside, should I?”
Dani stepped through the crowd to say, “Maybe not at certain times,” she said, “but, during the day like this, something like that is absolutely beautiful,” she said. “You are very talented.”
He smiled at her. “Thank you,” he said. “And I promise I’ll try not to fill the halls with music all day long.”
“You’re definitely welcome to play inside during the day,” she said. “But, when you want to take it outside, just let us know,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll have quite an audie
nce who will enjoy the music with you.”
He loved that. He loved the freedom to be a part of this. And he really loved the acceptance from those around him.
Chapter 8
Jessica hoped Lance didn’t see her in the back of the crowd, but she’d been leaning against the wall in the hallway with her eyes closed, just enjoying the music. When the crowd had swelled to the point that Dani was forced to step in, Jessica had felt a little guilty but not by much. She’d do anything to help this guy heal, and it seemed like the way to his heart was through music. Although the antibiotics and the new medications and supplements might just do the trick too, the combination of that with the music may give him a whole new lease on life. It wasn’t always just the emotional or the mental setbacks but frequently also underlying physical reasons which caused somebody to not make the progress they thought they should.
When everybody had cleared out of the area, Dani stepped up, leaned against the hall beside Jessica, and asked, “So, was this impromptu performance your doing?”
“Am I fired if it was?” she said in a half-joking voice.
“No,” she said, “but you’ve brought up a really good point. Music hasn’t come up around here many times, but, when it has, it’s been pretty important to those involved. We have a piano around here somewhere, but it probably needs tuning.”
“He said he can play almost anything,” she said quietly. “I thought I might find a guitar, and, when I happened across it, at a really cheap price, it seemed like it was worth a try.”
“Definitely is,” Dani said. “We’ll have to set some hours and see if anybody complains.”
“And maybe he can take it outside too,” she said.
“As soon as he gets a little bit more strength in him, he will. It’ll be months before he leaves, and it’s obviously something that’s good for his soul. Who knows? Maybe the music will be good for some of the other patients too,” she said thoughtfully.
“The problem is,” Jessica said, “there will no doubt be at least one person who complains.”
Dani’s grin was swift and lethal. “There always is,” she said. “Anyway, good job.” And, with that, she pushed off the wall and headed back to her office.
Jessica stayed here for a long moment, wondering if she should go talk to him. When she looked up at his doorway, she saw him sitting there in his wheelchair with the guitar in his lap. He just stared at it. She gave him a lopsided grin. “I was kind of hoping for another concert.”
His grin flashed. “And I’d love to, but that would be pushing it,” he said, rotating his shoulders to ease the strain. “And thank you. It was sweet of you to bring it.”
She shrugged. “You’re welcome. I’d like to see it help you on your path to recovery.”
“It will,” he said. “I know it. I’d forgotten how much I’ve missed it,” he said, his fingers gently stroking the strings.
“We’ll just have to see how much pushback there may be from other patients,” she said. “Just because 98 percent of the place likes it, doesn’t mean everybody will.”
“I was thinking I should take it outside and to the pastures, where it won’t disturb anybody.”
“That’s quite possible too,” she said. “How does your afternoon look?”
“Sounds like I’m still on a reduced schedule until the new meds have a chance to work, but I am supposed to visit with my shrink this afternoon. And Shane for a short session this morning.” He looked at the clock and said, “Uh-oh, I better get going.” He quickly put the guitar gently against the wall inside the doorway and wheeled past her.
She called out, “Have a good one.”
“Is that possible?” he called back, laughing.
“Sure,” she said. “Why not?” She watched as he disappeared around the corner; then she headed back to the nurses’ station. As she settled in, one of the other nurses huffed.
“Well, thank God that noise calmed down.”
“You don’t like music?”
“If I go to a concert or I’m at home and turn on the music, sure,” she said. “But I don’t like music rocking down the hallways.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” she said, “because music is really good for him. It’s helping him to reconnect.”
“There are other ways to do that too,” she said.
“Such as?”
“Who knows? But everybody else has managed it without music, so I’m sure he can too. Maybe get him an iPod with earbuds.”
Jessica laughed at that. “Well, that’s another answer too,” she said. “I didn’t realize you were such a curmudgeon.”
“I’m not,” she said, “but I want music when I want it, not when it’s not a choice.”
“Good point,” she said. As she sat here, she wondered if she had done Lance a disservice, as it was obvious that they had already found one of the two percenters who weren’t happy with his playing.
“I guess I sound kind of cranky, don’t I?” she said.
“I don’t know about that,” Jessica replied. “I guess you have a right to how you’re feeling. It’s just kind of frustrating, since it was a promising step in Lance’s recovery.”
“Is he really that happy with it?”
Jessica looked at her. “You have no idea,” she said. “It’s seriously amazing to see the change on his face.”
“Great,” she said. “So I’ll have to listen to that for the next few months now.”
“Who in your life hated music?”
“Me,” she said, “and it’s because of everybody else who shoved it in my face all the time.”
“And who was that?” Jessica asked.
“My parents, my brother, my husband. Everybody,” she said. “It seemed like I was always surrounded by musicians.”
And that gave Jessica an inkling of what the problem was. “And you don’t have the same affinity, I presume?”
“No. God, no,” she said. “I don’t have the slightest bit of skill in that direction at all. It’s really very sad.”
“Maybe,” she said, “but that’s also life, isn’t it? And you have plenty of other gifts.”
“It doesn’t seem like it,” she said. “I spent a lifetime being the butt of jokes because I couldn’t sing or play an instrument. It made for a pretty rough childhood in some ways.”
“But you’re an adult now,” she said, looking at the woman who had to be in her late thirties. “Surely it doesn’t still bother you.”
Instead, Bridget looked over at her and groaned. “Even my kids play.”
“Of course they do. I’m so sorry,” Jessica said. “Obviously it’s a sore point with you.”
“Whatever,” she said and forcibly turned her head back to the screen.
Jessica watched her for a few moments and then returned to her own work. It was an odd thing in life that some people were so happy around music, and others were just cranky about it. She suspected that Bridget’s entire world being sucked into the whole music thing, yet feeling excluded herself, was the reason behind her bad reaction, but Jessica didn’t want that to affect Lance’s progress.
By the end of the day she stopped in to see him, but his door was closed, and he wasn’t answering.
She checked in on him twice the next day, and he looked tired.
“I’m fine,” he said, “really.”
She nodded slowly. “Maybe, but, hopefully by tomorrow, everything will be looking better.”
The next day he was perked up and looking much better again.
“You’re looking a bit better.”
“Maybe,” he said. “I’ll be doing my therapy work today, so we’ll see how that goes.”
“Just don’t overdo it,” she cautioned. Then she had to go because they had several patients leaving today and several new ones arriving, so she was rushed off her feet.
As it was, it was two days later before she had a chance to stop in and to really talk with him. “How are you doing?” she asked, bustling in, delighted to see
some color on his face. “You look much better,” she said warmly.
“Then I must have looked like death warmed over before,” he said, but his smile was bright, his color healthy, and his gaze clear.
Even his disposition appeared a little more bouncy in her eyes. She checked his vitals and nodded with satisfaction. “Definitely an improvement all around.” She watched as he slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, shaky but absolutely upright. She stood back and admired. “Don’t you look fine,” she teased.
He flushed but gave her a brilliant smile back.
“How’s the music going?”
At that, the smile dimmed slightly. “Have to find a way to get outside because apparently, Dani has gotten some complaints.”
“Oh,” she said. “Isn’t that typical.”
“It is,” he said, “but you have to expect, when you’re in a place like this, that not everybody’ll have the same relaxed attitude to music.”
“Well, with any luck we can get you out at lunchtime.”
“I was thinking maybe after work,” he said, “like around four o’clock.” He looked at her hopefully. “Want to join me?
“Absolutely,” she said. “Where do you want to meet?”
“How about down by the pool?” he said.
“It’s a date.” And she skedaddled off. It just seemed like everything was so busy right now. But her heart was singing at the thought of meeting him this afternoon, even if the guitar was silent. And she barely had a chance to think about it again throughout the day until, all of a sudden, four o’clock came, and she dashed to the pool. When she got there, he was here with the guitar in his lap. Waiting. She smiled and said, “I’m here. I’m here.”
He looked over at her and said, “No rush,” he said. “I know you just finished work. I should have made it for fifteen minutes afterward to give you a break.”
“Not a problem,” she said. “I’m just grateful to be here,” she said. “Let’s go down and play some music to the animals.”
He laughed. “Not sure they’ll like that too much.”
“You never know,” she said. “I think all animals like a certain amount of music.” And she walked with him, checking out that he was strong enough to do the actual rolling, so she asked, “Do you want me to carry the guitar?”
