Rolling over to his other side, he heaved a sigh, knowing that whatever he felt for Morgan was not going to disappear quickly. And that thought, surprisingly, did not scare him…not even a little.
15
Stopping at the nurses’ station, Jaxon asked, “Are Morgan McAlister’s parents here? I thought I would visit when she had no other visitors.”
“No, they came this morning and will probably be back later.”
Nodding his appreciation, he walked down the hall and peered into the room. This time, Morgan was lying in bed with her head raised in an elevated position, her eyes pinned on the wall. Her left arm was still propped on a pillow to assist in reducing the swelling. He knew the doctors had her pumped full of antibiotics in an effort to reduce the risk of infection.
He stepped into the room and heard the sound of the TV in the corner. She never looked at him, keeping her eyes fastened to the newscast.
“Richmond’s Olympic swimming hopeful, Morgan McAlister, was involved in a near fatal automobile accident two days ago, shattering not only her arm, but possibly her chances to swim competitively again. Her father and coach, Sam McAlister, stated that she is doing well, spirits are good, and she should be released in a day or so from the hospital. He assures us that she’ll be back in the pool as soon as she is able and fully expects her to be right back at the Olympic trials in four years, stronger than ever. We certainly wish her the best with her recovery. And now for the weather—”
Channel flip.
“In national sporting news, powerful swimmer, Morgan McAlister, the American hopeful for the upcoming Olympic games, will not be able to compete due to a tragic car accident that left her fighting for her life. Her coach assures us she will be back, quoting her as saying, ‘Swimming is my life’. This now opens the field for other swimmers, with her out of the competition until she recuperates and returns to the field of honor—”
Channel flip.
“Today, the swimming world was shocked to learn that Morgan McAlister—”
Walking over, he gently took the remote from her hand and clicked the TV off. Her eyes jumped to his and she scowled.
“Morgan. Don’t. Don’t watch the news.”
She spoke, her voice soft, yet gravelly. “Fighting for my life? I’ll be back?”
He winced at the guttural sound. “I think that the news just wants to make the story a headliner—”
“A headliner?” she said, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
He stepped closer, “Babe, please take it easy. This isn’t good for you—”
A harsh chuckle came from deep inside her chest. “Good for me?” Shaking her head, she sucked in a ragged breath, her chin quivering.
As she continued to repeat what he said, he knew she was still in shock mentally, unable to understand all that had happened. “You need time to heal and then you can start physical therapy. It’ll take a while, but you’re in top physical condition—”
“Everything’s gone.”
He stood perfectly still, unsure how to respond.
She continued, blinking back tears. “All my life…all my work…everything. Gone.”
“You can come back from this,” he began.
She interrupted him again, nodding slightly as she fought to compose her face. “I know. I know.” Looking at her swollen arm, with stitches crisscrossing from her wrist to almost her shoulder, she said, “I…I’ll swim again. Time…it’ll just take some time.”
Morgan’s gaze moved back to his, but he saw nothing in the blue eyes but shock and disbelief. He did not know what to say, so he chose to remain quiet, slipping into the chair next to her bed instead. He reached over and placed his hand on her right one, hoping to offer her strength through his touch.
For a second, he thought she was going to pull her hand away, but after a flinch, she let it stay in his hand. He watched as she swallowed several times and he wanted to tell her to go ahead and cry, but hesitated.
After a few minutes, she turned her head away from him and closed her eyes. Whether she was sleeping or faking sleep, he was not sure. When it was apparent that she was not up for more talking, he stood, bent over and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back, Morgan,” he whispered. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”
As the door closed behind him, Morgan allowed her tears to escape. Ever since she had woken up to this nightmare in the hospital, she had tried so hard not to cry. The narcotics had kept the pain at bay but as the fog in her brain had cleared and her eyes had focused, she’d stared at her swollen arm. The Frankenstein appearance of metal pins jutting from wounds and stitches holding it all together had been overwhelming.
The surgeon had explained the internal and external fixators, the metal rods and plates holding her bones together until they could heal.
Swiping at her face, she let out a shuddering breath and stared at the blank screen of the TV. Grateful Jaxon had turned it off, she winced at how she had clicked from one news station to the next, repeatedly hearing how her life had altered in an instant.
Hearing a noise at the door, she looked up as her mother walked into the room, a smile plastered on her worried face.
“Hey, darling, it’s good to see you awake.”
“Mom,” she acknowledged, her gaze glancing over her mother’s shoulder to watch for her dad’s entrance.
“He’s not with me right now,” her mom explained. “He’s dealing with…uh, some things, and I thought I’d take the opportunity to visit alone. How are you feeling today?”
“I don’t feel much,” she admitted, refusing to look back at her arm. “The pain medicine still has me numb.”
“Good, good, sweetheart. That’s best for now.”
Her foggy mind slid back to what her mother said about her father. “You said Dad was dealing with things?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.
Her mother’s face contorted slightly as she sat in the chair recently occupied by Jaxon. Letting out a sigh, she replied, “Honey, he’s giving some interviews to ease the way for you.”
“Ease what way? I had the news on earlier. Why did he tell them I had a life-threatening accident? I don’t understand.”
“Oh, Morgan, he’s just trying to feed the media to keep it from becoming a frenzy. Keep it at bay for now. At first, all we knew was that you were in an accident. We had no idea how bad it was, and frankly,” her mom dropped her eyes to her arm, shuttering, “this isn’t good.”
A tear slid down her cheek, plopping on the ugly blue hospital gown as she dropped her eyes once more to her arm. “Not good,” she repeated numbly.
A nurse bustled into the room and her mom took the opportunity to jump up, seemingly glad to have a chance to escape the heavy emotions. “Yes, yes. I’ll let the nurse take a look at you and come back later with your father. By then, we can talk to the orthopedist again.”
She watched as her mother walked out of the room and let out her held breath slowly. Too tired to think, she pressed the PCA button, allowing the pain medicine to course through her body, easing her way back to sleep. The last conscious thought she had was that it was going to be a long time before she was part of the swimming world again. And it was the only world she knew.
“I had no idea what to say to her.”
Jaxon sat on Miss Ethel’s sofa, scrubbing his hand over his face, his shoulders hunched as he unburdened himself. The familiar room with its corresponding scent of roses gave him more peace than he had had since the accident. Sucking in a deep breath, he added, “I’m just not good at this.”
Her sharp, grey eyes pinned him as she asked, “Good at what?”
He shook his head, self-recrimination pouring from him. “Knowing what to say to make someone feel better. I know the medical stuff, how to take care of someone until we get them to the hospital, but afterward, I’m never around them. Not like a nurse or doctor who knows what to do. Hell, not like my brothers.”
She lay her knitting needles in her lap and tilted her hea
d to the side. Pinning him with her grey eyes, still sharp behind her wire-framed glasses, she said, “Jaxon, I can usually read all my boys, but you just jumped from not being like nurses to not being like your brothers. Son, I need you to give me a little more to go on.”
Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his knees, clasping his hands together. Dropping his head, he sighed. “When Rosalie was in the hospital, Zander read to her. Gave her a lifeline until she was conscious again. Rafe was always connected with Eleanor, giving her what she needed when she doubted herself. And Cael? Jesus, when his niece, and then Regina, went through their cancer treatments, he was there, giving them comfort all through the procedures.”
Nodding slightly, she leaned back in her chair. “Ah. And you think you don’t have that ability.”
“I know I don’t,” he bit out. “She’s losing everything that’s important to her, and I just sat there, not saying anything, like some bump on a log, completely useless.”
They sat quietly, the sound of knitting needles clacking once again filling the room.
After a few minutes, Miss Ethel said, “Do you remember when Asher fell on the sidewalk while running and skinned both legs?”
Looking up, he watched as her fingers never faulted, even though her eyes were on him. Nodding, he said, “Yes, ma’am.”
“You jumped in and took your shirt off, made Cael take his off as well, and quickly tied them around his bleeding legs. Your action was what was needed at the moment. Later, that evening, Zander read to him, taking his mind off his injuries, but it was you that got the immediate help to him.”
He sat quietly, unsure what she wanted him to take from his.
“You wrote a letter to me when you were in the Army and had been out on a medical mission. You talked of having to take cover when the rescue you were on took a turn for the worse and it was touch and go as you drove the ambulance back to the base.”
“Miss Ethel,” he began.
“You’re a man of action, Jaxon,” she said, halting his words. “You were there when Morgan needed a man of action and you probably saved her arm.”
Nodding, he said, “I get that, but what about now?”
“Just be what she needs.”
“How do I know what that is?” he asked, his heart heavy.
“She’ll let you know what she needs with each stage.”
“Stage?”
“Of grief,” she replied easily, lifting her gaze to his. “Jaxon, grief is the emotion we have when we lose something dear, not just to death. We grieve the loss of relationships, employment, our health. Shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance.”
“So, she’ll go through each of those in order?”
“Oh, no, my dear. Our grief journey is never that easy. She may skip one to return to it at a later time. She may stay in one stage for a long time and then hardly spend any time in another stage.” Holding his gaze, she asked, “What emotion did you see with her today?”
“Shock and some anger coming through,” he admitted. “I know a lot of that is from the pain meds, but it was as though she could not quite believe she was injured.” Looking down, he nodded. “Shock…that’s the first stage, isn’t it?”
“You recognize shock as a medical term, but it is very much a reaction to emotional upheaval. Right now, her mind cannot process the accident, much less the repercussions.”
He leaned back, cracking his knuckles, a grin slipping out as she winced at the noise. “Sorry.”
She shook her head, saying, “You and Jayden were my only two boys who cracked knuckles. You, to relieve stress. Always drove me crazy.” Sobering, she said, “Give yourself a break, Jaxon, when it comes to Morgan. Just realize that she will have a lot of ups and downs as she deals with the aftermath of the accident. Be supportive. Don’t patronize. Don’t let her give into depression, while understanding that she will need to have days where she feels depressed.”
Snorting, he quipped, “That’s all?”
Setting her needles down once more, she stood, and he immediately jumped up to assist. She patted his arm and said, “You’ll be fine. Just keep being you, Jaxon.”
She walked him to the door and added, “Don’t let her push you away. Her father has practically had her living in the water her whole life. Now, she needs to figure out what to do on her own.”
He bent to kiss her cheek before he headed out to his motorcycle. Roaring down the street, he thought of her words. Don’t let her push you away.
16
“Morgan, at this time, we don’t know what all you’ll be able to do, but we’re going to start as soon as you’re able and work on occupational therapy as well as physical therapy.”
Morgan stared at the young woman standing next to her bed, hearing the words but unable to process them quickly. “Occupational therapy?”
Theresa, the physical therapist, nodded. “She’ll start with simple things like making sure you can hold a spoon, fork, and knife. It’s good that you’re right handed so that writing will not be impacted. Being able to button a blouse, pull on socks and pants, things like this are what the occupational therapist will want to work on first.”
“Socks.” Her voice was soft, her mouth hanging open in stunned silence after the one word was uttered.
Theresa’s smile slipped, and she stepped closer. “Morgan, I know who you are and what this accident has cost you. I won’t pretend to understand what you must be feeling right now to have your Olympic hopes dashed at this time.”
“But she’ll be swimming again just as soon as she’s cleared to get back into the pool, right?”
Their heads swiveled in unison, seeing her father walking through the door, her mother right behind. Before either of them could speak, he continued.
“I’ve talked to her surgeon, who admits that he doesn’t know what she will be able to do, but I know my daughter. We want an aggressive regiment of PT to strengthen the muscles once the bones are healed and then she can continue with PT in the water. I’m lining up the best sports medical evaluation for when she’s ready.”
“Sir, I understand your desire, but it’ll be a long road and we need to focus on one thing at a time. With the nerve damage—”
He drew himself up, announcing, “Missy, I’ll take the word of the orthopedist over a hospital physical therapist any day.”
“Dad…please stop.”
Three pairs of eyes landed on her and she shifted uncomfortably, wincing at the pain. “I don’t want to hear arguing now. I can’t take it.”
Theresa smiled and patted her shoulder. “We’ll talk later when your doctor is here.” With a nod toward Sam and Pamela, she walked out of the room.
Before she had a chance to speak, her father said, “I’m not having negativity around you, Morgan. This is a setback, but one that can be overcome. The Olympics this year are shot to hell, but with the right spin on this and a lot of work, you can be billed as the comeback queen.”
His words landed like a punch to her gut and she grimaced. She looked down at her useless arm and for the first time, tried to move her fingers. Nothing. She felt nothing. No…no…this can’t be right. It’s the pain meds. They’re keeping me from being able to move.
Panic slithered through her, snaking from her gut to her heart. Her breath caught in her throat, but she let it out slowly, using the breathing techniques learned from years in the pool.
“Morgan,” her mother said softly, and she shifted her eyes to her.
“We don’t know anything yet, honey, and there’s no reason to think you won’t be back to one hundred percent.”
Nodding, her head moving in a jerky motion, she agreed. “I know. It’ll take time.”
“Time and hard work,” her father interjected.
“I’m not ready for hard work,” she whispered, the panic returning.
“Morgan—”
“Sam, hush,” her mother said, placing her hand on his arm. “Let’s let her rest some more and c
ome back later when the surgeon is here.” Turning back to her, she added, “When you get discharged, I’ll have clean sheets on your bed and will make sure you’re comfortable.”
It took a few seconds for her mother’s words to penetrate. Jerking, she responded, “Why? I’ve got my apartment.”
“No need to pay for your apartment when you need someone to look after you,” her mother assured.
Before she had a chance to respond, her father butted in with, “That way I can monitor your progress and can make sure the therapists are on the right track.”
Sucking in a quick breath through her nose, she said nothing, but her heart sank at the thought of spending even one night in her parents’ house and under her father’s thumb. “We’ll see. Right now, I just want to get back to my apartment.”
She watched as her father pursed his lips, wanting to argue but holding back. He patted her leg before turning and walking out as her mother bent to kiss her cheek, sending her a sad smile. “Baby, it’ll be fine.” Turning, her mother followed her father out.
The room was quiet, the monitors now unhooked, the PCA pump no longer in place as the nurses were giving her pain medicine by mouth and no longer intravenously. She blew out a long breath again, her mind exhausted from all the information slamming into her.
She had no idea how much time passed as she stared into space. A noise at the door caused her to look up and, seeing Jaxon standing there, she was unable to keep her lips from curving.
“Hi,” she said softly. Too exhausted to care about her dirty hair, horrid hospital gown that today was a pea-green, and the fact that she must look like an alley cat that had been in a fight, she offered a smile.
He smiled in return and walked into her room, stopping at the bed. “How’s it going today?”
Shrugging, she said, “Okay.” Seeing his lifted eyebrow, her heart plunged, and she amended, “Well…maybe not so good.”
Jaxon Page 11
