by Dianne Drake
“Well, now that you’ve clued him in on all the gory details of my dismal failure with the man who once wanted to marry me, don’t you think your work here is done?” Glumly, Anna turned her back on Frank and headed for her bedroom. Her dad was the one holding out hope here. Not her. But hope for the kind of relationship he wanted for her had been dashed into the side of her Jeep on an icy January night, and she couldn’t get it back.
Mitch emerged from the kitchen, the sleeves of his cotton shirt rolled well above his elbows. “Floor’s clean,” he announced, seeing Anna on her way to bed. “So I’m outta here.”
“She said you came by to discuss a training schedule?” Frank asked.
“Yep, to discuss her training schedule and scrub the kitchen floor after a Ralphie incident. He left it a little slick.” His voice lilted with gentle teasing. “And I want it nice and clean for Anna when I get her up walking on it.”
“Young man,” Frank said to Mitch, “I was a judge for over twenty years, and during that time I got to be pretty good at spotting liars, which you are at the moment. If you want to continue lying to me, that’s your business, but I’d suggest you practice in a mirror first to see how bad you are at it. And you, my darling daughter, are just as bad as he is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long day and I’m tired.” Frank extended his hand to Mitch. “I trust I’ll see you in the morning to start that training?”
Nodding, Mitch took Frank’s hand. “Bright and early.”
“You’re not going to tell him about tonight,” Anna snapped, when she heard her dad’s bedroom door click shut upstairs.
“Haven’t decided.”
“It’s none of your business, Mitch.”
“Isn’t this where I came in earlier?”
“I’m going to bed,” she said, whirling around to the bedroom door, leaving Mitch standing in the hall with Ralphie. “And if you can’t keep your mouth shut, don’t come back.”
Mitch followed her, clamping down on the chair before she was completely over the threshold. Spinning her around to face him, he bent down until they were face to face and Anna could feel the heat of his breath on her, smell the trace of aftershave on him. “And what will you do if I don’t?” he asked, his voice not quite so calm as usual.
“Just leave me alone, OK? I’m really tired.” Every bit of fight suddenly drained out of her. “Really tired.”
“And I don’t give a damn if you’re tired. I scrubbed your kitchen floor, lady,” he said, his voice so low she had to lean even closer to hear the words. “I don’t do that for just anybody, which means, like it or not, I’m coming back.”
Then he was gone. Out the door, into the night. Anna made it to her window in time to watch him drive away.
Upstairs, Frank stood at his window, also watching Mitch drive away. Maybe, finally, something was going to work for Anna. Maybe Mitch was the one she’d listen to. He desperately hoped so.
For Mitch, morning came way too early. He’d no more than plopped his tired body into bed than the alarm screamed the start of a new day—a new day he wasn’t ready to start yet since he hadn’t figured out what he was going to do about Anna. Train her, sure, but there were some other issues beginning to swirl around.
Turning over, Mitch punched the snooze button and went right back to sleep. Then he punched it again when it went off, and again, until, when he finally hauled himself up and out of bed, he was already an hour late for his workout appointment with Anna. By the time he showered and pulled himself together, that would make it another hour, then another twenty minutes on top of that to get to her house. Not a good way to start the day, or make a favorable impression on a lady who didn’t want to be favorably impressed.
Come to think of it, when his morning blear cleared, Mitch wasn’t even sure if he even wanted to start the day with her. It had been a long time since he’d worked with someone doing so much mood swinging. Almost a year out of medicine now, and how quickly the patience for that sort of thing disappeared. There was something to be said for sitting out there in the woods alone, carving bowls from burls. Wood wasn’t moody, it didn’t depend on you to cure anything. And if you couldn’t turn it into something recognizable, you simply tossed it in the trash. Bye-bye, bowl.
Not so, turning Anna into someone recognizable.
Don’t get involved, Mitch warned himself, stepping into the hot shower spray. Unfortunately, thoughts of Anna were already burning their way into his mind, fast pushing out the warning. OK, Dr Durant. Reason this thing through. Yeah, right. His manly reaction to that quick flight of fantasy into Anna’s shower last night had been anything but doctorly, and it was waylaying him now before the doctor could come through. Mitch changed the shower setting to cold, and gritted his teeth until the illusion, or delusion, went away.
Minutes later, drying himself in front of a full-length mirror, Mitch surveyed his body. Well tanned, still glistening with droplets of water—not too bad, in spite of the years of long hours and hard work. Probably something most women would still find appealing…not that there’d been any of that kind of action for a long, long time. Sure, his med school and residency days had been pretty vigorous that way. Even his first couple of years in practice had given him time to pursue things other than work. But then his job had started consuming him, and the last serious relationship he’d had, the one he’d actually thought might work into something more, had fallen apart because she’d wanted someone who was part of the relationship and not simply an observer on the sidelines showing up for sex every once in a while.
“It’s always about your work,” she’d told him on her way out the door.
She was right. It had been. Even in the end, work had been devouring everything, including the only real thing they’d had between them—their sex life. And without that, well, there had been nothing else. She’d expected so much and he’d given so little.
Burl bowls didn’t have expectations of him.
By the time Mitch got around to calling Anna, he figured she was fuming, and he was right.
“You could have called earlier,” she snapped. “You’re already two hours late.”
“I put in some extra hours last night,” he reminded her, knowing his defense wouldn’t work. She was hell-bent on being cantankerous this morning. He’d expected that. In fact, he’d have been surprised by anything else.
“No one asked you to,” she countered.
“But you called me.”
And as he expected, she responded, “I didn’t ask you to come over, did I? That was your idea.”
He knew he wasn’t going to win this one, so he changed his strategy. “Shall we argue like this a while longer, and make me even later? Or would you like me to hang up and get over there so I can get this ordeal over with for the day?”
“Sure, hang up. But don’t bother coming by the house because I won’t be here.”
“Going somewhere?”
“Maybe.”
“Bet it won’t be by yourself, will it?”
Anna really didn’t have plans to go anywhere. Couldn’t go anywhere by herself, and he knew that. But she intended on having the last word, no matter what. Stubbornness was a lifelong trait, one she’d once controlled much better than she did now. Something about Mitch was raising her stubbornness to an art form…an art form in ample supply lately, it seemed.
“Having one of those little angers today, are you?” he teased. “You couldn’t reach your cereal box, so now you’re taking it out on me?”
“Leave me alone, Mitch,” she snapped.
“Fine. You tell me where you’re going, and I’ll leave you alone until I get there. We’ve got a workout scheduled and, like it or not, we’re going to do it. Your attitude notwithstanding.”
Damn! He’d called her bluff. “No, we’re not,” she argued. “I’ve changed my mind.” I told you things I’ve never said to anyone, and I don’t want to face you now.
“Is it one of those woman things? I heard they have pills fo
r that.”
“You bet it’s one of those woman things—a woman who doesn’t want to be bothered by a washout doctor and, according to my Physician’s Desk Reference, there’s no pill on the market for that!”
“Let’s set the record straight. I’m a burnout, not a washout. Big difference. If you want to hit below the belt, make sure you’re aiming in the right place. Now, tell me where you’re going so we can meet up.”
His irascible yet patient tone annoyed her. Everything annoyed her. It was yet another day in which anything and everything but her was grabbing hold of her life. “It’s none of your business where I’m going. And I don’t want to meet up.”
“That’s what you think,” he retorted, clicking off the phone.
Great! Twenty minutes to figure out where to go and how to get there. Fifteen, if Mitch was hurrying, which he probably was. That being the case, Anna’s hasty decision was the mall. Big place, lots of stores. “Dad, can you take me somewhere, right now?” Of course he could. He always could. And she counted on that.
Frank appeared in the living room in less than a second, hat in hand, trying to hide his happy smile. “I’m ready when you are, so what’s it going to be?”
“The mall? We can be there in five minutes.”
“Half an hour if I push you,” he replied, opening the front door. “Three hours if you push yourself.”
“Can’t we just take the van?” She’d bought it with the insurance money from her Jeep, and had gone out in it a grand total of six times, always to an appointment at the hospital or some other obligatory meeting. Nothing social, nothing for fun. She hated the van, hated what it symbolized, hated what she’d had to give up for it.
“Mitch wouldn’t want it that way, and you know it.”
“Mitch isn’t here, is he?” she snapped.
Frank opened the front door and gave Anna a push outside, not quite as forceful as the one from Mitch that had sent her flying down the ramp. But the meaning was the same, and to punctuate it Frank said, “Anna, I love you more than life itself, and you know I’d trade places with you if I could. And the only thing I know even more than how much I love you, sweetheart, is that you can beat this thing. But you need help doing it, and right now the guy in the white hat is Mitch. So I’ve got to trust that when he makes rehabilitation decisions concerning you, they’re better than the decisions you would make for yourself. He thought you were up to a walk outside yesterday, so that’s what we’ll do today. Besides, the fresh air will do us both some good. But if you’d like, I could find a bag to put over your head so no one will recognize you.”
“You sound like Mitch,” Anna muttered.
“Then I’ll take that as a compliment, because Mitch is a great guy.” Frank grabbed the handles of Anna’s wheelchair and pushed it down the ramp. “Of course, you wouldn’t know that since you’re so busy snapping his head off all the time.”
“Not snapping,” she argued.
“So let me rephrase that…snarling. Now, shut up and enjoy the sun, sweetheart. You’re pasty, you haven’t had enough of it lately.”
That was definitely Mitch rubbing off on her dad, and what she didn’t need was one Mitch nagging her, let alone two.
Despite her lack of enthusiasm for the walk, Anna did have to admit that the hot July sun felt good all the way down to her bones. It mellowed her mood, filled her pores with a sense that came close to mimicking well-being. “Do you think we could rig up something in the backyard where I could lie outside in the sun for a little while each day since I am, as you put it, pasty?” she asked, spying a scantily clad, well-endowed neighbor sunbathing in a front yard down the street.
Frank also spied the neighbor, and rolled Anna off the sidewalk into the grass. “Only if you wear more than she does,” he spluttered.
“You don’t like what she has on, Dad? Or, shall I say, what she doesn’t have on?” Anna tried to suppress a giggle, but failed.
“I may be old, sweetheart, but I’m not dead. On her, I definitely like it. Something like that on you…no way.” He pulled a sour face and faked a shudder. “Not on my little girl.”
Anna and Frank made their way up the street at a leisurely pace, enjoying their banter for a few blocks until they were within sight of the hospital. Something that had been a convenient distance from home, when she’d worked there, was now a looming monster, one always ready to remind her of what was gone from her life. Catching sight of it, even though she was fighting to ignore it, Anna’s mood turned glum again. “Can we cross the street?” she asked. “Go down another block? I just can’t…I’m not…”
“Of course we can.” Frank squeezed her shoulder, heading for the intersection a block short of the hospital. A red, four-way stoplight hung there, and as they approached it, they were the only ones. No other foot traffic, no cars on the street.
Pushing Anna down the yellow-painted ramp, Frank proceeded carefully into the street, moving to the other side as quickly as he could. About halfway across, however, a banged-up heap of a car from out of nowhere came barreling down the street. Less than a block away, it was heading right for them. And it wasn’t slowing for the blinking red light!
Anna saw the car the same instant Frank did and opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. She froze. Both her mind and body went numb with fright, and her senses retreated into slow motion. The inevitable was stretching out before Anna’s eyes in a long, horrible sequence she couldn’t stop.
Immediately and instinctively, Frank pushed his daughter forward, out of the car’s path, but in his haste to do so, the hard shove he gave her chair toppled it over, sending Anna flying onto the pavement directly into the path of the car.
“Anna,” he screamed, falling sideways onto the road, away from the oncoming vehicle. “I’m coming!” he choked, scrambling to his feet.
Rolling over on her belly, Anna didn’t have time to think about what to do next. She simply began dragging herself, arm over arm, toward the curb. As her elbows and forearms bit the concrete, she managed to maneuver herself forward several slow, painful inches. But it wasn’t fast enough. She wasn’t fast enough. Her legs were deadweight, and the rest of her body was in no shape to compensate.
God, she screamed in her mind, fighting with everything she had inside to get away.
Absolute terror gripped Mitch the split second he saw the car heading for Anna and Frank. Terror like nothing he’d ever felt in his life.
He was just half a block away—he’d been half a block behind them the whole time. He broke into the run of his life, not even thinking about what he was doing. Terror pumped adrenaline straight into his veins, catapulted him to Anna and got him to her side before he even knew he was on his way there. He’d made the call from his cell phone just blocks away from her house because he’d figured she’d try for a fast get-away. Thank God he had, and he’d been following her from the moment she’d left her house.
By the time Anna hit the road and started crawling to safety, Mitch was at her side, grabbing her up into his arms and running for the grass in the parkway. Tumbling to the ground, clutching her, he glanced back over his shoulder in time to see the car swerve on through the red light without so much as slowing down. “Damn,” he choked, pulling Anna even closer to him. “Are you OK?”
There was stark and vivid fear burning in her eyes when she looked up at him. It caused a lump in his throat, a bigger lump in his gut, and he was fighting with everything he had in him not to give in to the shakes. She needed him to be strong right now.
“Anna?” he said, forcing calm to his voice. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“No. I’m fine. And thank you,” she whispered. “If you hadn’t come along…” Anna’s words melted into despair as she leaned her head into his chest, giving in to her desperate need to be held.
“Should I call an ambulance?” Frank called, righting Anna’s wheelchair and pushing it out of the street.
Mitch nodded, but didn’t pull away from Anna. He n
eeded her physical comfort as much as she needed his, and right now he couldn’t do anything other than sit there on the grass with her until they were both calm. “She’s shaken, Frank, probably just has some cuts and bruises, but I think she needs to be checked out just to be on the safe side.” Then he bent and whispered to Anna, “Is that OK with you?”
Anna looked up at Mitch, tremulously nodding her agreement. “Thank you for asking me.”
Frank made calls, and within a couple of minutes the police arrived on the scene, followed shortly by the paramedics. Anna knew them, had worked with them many times, and she simply shut her eyes as they did their initial work-up on her. Vitals good, upper reflexes normal, lower reflexes to be expected for someone in her condition. Overall good condition, but they insisted on taking her in anyway. And for once she didn’t argue. The nurse in her took control and wouldn’t let her.
The ambulance ride, all of a half a block long, was done without siren, but her reception in Triage caused quite a stir. Several friends were there, doctors, nurses, other emergency employees. Bonsi was on days now, a full RN by a couple of weeks, and mercifully he shooed everybody back from the pneumatic doors as she was wheeled in. “She’s all mine,” he called, directing the paramedics to take her straight back without the initial triage assessment.
“Just look at you,” she said to Bonsi as he whipped out his stethoscope. “The real deal, finally.”
“I was always the real deal. Just took you RNs a long time to catch on.” He bent down and whispered in her ear, “So who’s the dude, and does Dr Kyle Wonderful know? And do you want me to get rid of him before your hubby-to-be comes down and catches you?”
“He’s OK,” Anna said. “My new trainer.”
“Well, it’s about time,” Bonsi responded. “We’ve all been wondering when you’d get that tush up and working again.” He looked at Mitch. “And just so you’ll know, she’s not always co-operative. Sometimes she needs a good swift kick in the—”
