Iain: A Hathaway House Heartwarming Romance

by Dale Mayer

  He shrugged. “That makes no sense.”

  But it did because individually they weren’t big for the most part, but, when the memories were added in the mix, they became one much bigger issue. Because of what he was doing right now. He was trying to figure out just what he wanted to do with his life, something that he hadn’t had to do ever because he had always wanted to join the navy. And now he was no longer in active service but had money to go back to school, if he wanted to, and the world was wide open to him. And yet Iain had no idea what to do. And he realized that really what was going on—maybe for the first time in his lifetime—was fear of making the wrong choice, which he was pretty darn sure was really his fear of being a failure again.

  Somehow, in that crooked, twisted mind of his, he’d decided that the accident had been his fault, ending up where he was—which was also his fault—and not having a foot. His fault too. He shouldn’t have taken that damn route. If he’d gone the other way, none of this would have happened.

  He’d come here not planning to be a failure, but he hadn’t planned to be a success either.

  And somehow that seemed important. He searched Google for planning to be a success and not planning to be a success and found many videos and blogs on it. He picked up his laptop, sat down, and listened to some of the recordings. Several touched him and highlighted his situation.

  So much of it was about goal setting. His goal had been to get here to Hathaway House and to leave that old persona behind. Which he had done. But then he’d been in a state of existing, adjusting to what this life was all about here. He’d thought he’d been adjusting to life as it was physically now and would carry on. And Shane had kind of blown that because, according to Shane, there had been a ton of progress.

  If there was this ton of progress, then Iain had to adjust again and do what? He would have to adapt. He stared out the window of his room, wondering why adapting and seeing progress would hurt. And he was pretty sure it was because he was afraid. Afraid that he’d still be this person who had to adjust and to adapt to whatever he had.

  Maybe the bar would be up that tiny little bit, but it wouldn’t be enough to make a difference. He wouldn’t ever be whole.

  He took a slow deep breath as that realization hit him. Because, of course, he would never be whole again. He’d lost a part of himself. He’d lost part of his leg, and somehow losing a piece of his physical body had meant that he’d lost a whole chunk of his emotional body too. Part of his soul. And that was wrong. Because, although that physical piece was missing, there was no reason that the rest of his person couldn’t go on as being deemed whole and happy. But somehow he got sucked into believing that, because he was missing a foot and part of his shin, all of him was missing something. He hadn’t planned to be a success—which meant “whole” in his mind—and, therefore, he was a failure because he had failed to plan for being a success, even without his foot.

  With his head shaking, he looked at the clock and realized it was four. He really didn’t want to go down to the pool now though. His mind was too busy churning on everything rolling through it. But he also knew that he felt a sense of grounding when he was around Robin. A sense of calmness and peace surrounded her, and, right now, with this hurricane going on in his heart and his mind, he really needed those things.

  Slowly and carefully, he got dressed in his loaned swim trunks, grabbed a towel, and then moved himself to the wheelchair and headed to the pool to meet up with her. He just hoped that they could avoid too many heavy conversations. His heart was already struggling. And it shouldn’t be that way. When he got to the pool, he found her already there, sitting on the edge, leaning back on her hands, facing the sun. She was just resting, her eyes closed, enjoying being done with a hard day’s work, facing the weekend, and ready to spend some time with him. And he realized that, once again, he hadn’t been planning to succeed with her either. He’d just been putting in time, hoping that maybe something would happen. But he hadn’t taken any concrete steps to actually see that it did happen.

  He sighed and slipped quietly into the water, then swam toward her.

  She didn’t even open her eyes when she asked, “Hey, how you doing?”

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “I recognized the heavy sigh,” she said with a bubbling laugh, opening her eyes.

  He looked at her in surprise.

  She smiled, nodded, and said, “You’re going through some heavy-duty stuff these days. Heavy sighs are part of that.”

  “So, when I solve some of these big issues, do they stop?”

  “I think so,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “I actually think they do.”

  He grinned. “Are you ready to do some swimming, or are you’re just going to sit there like a sunny mermaid?”

  Chapter 11

  “I need to do some swimming,” Robin said. “I get so little exercise these days.” She slipped into the water beside him, and together they started doing laps. As a Friday after work went, this one was pretty peaceful. She’d had a long, hard day, but she was looking forward to the weekend. Iain appeared to be working his way through some stuff, and that was always good. She didn’t want to push, and she certainly didn’t want to open up the topic, but he appeared to be almost incapable of relaxing. “Maybe we should just lie in the sun and rest for a bit,” she said.

  He gave her a distracted look and then nodded. “That sounds good.” They made their way up poolside, and she watched as he sat on the edge and grabbed his towel, then dried off his good leg and used the ladder to hop up. Then he used the railing to cross the few steps to one of the loungers.

  “Would it help if I brought the wheelchair closer?”

  He looked at it, then shrugged and said, “I can get it later.”

  She studied its location and said, “I’ll move it, just in case.” She unlocked the bottom of the wheels and brought it back over, then parked it beside him and crashed on the lounger beside him.

  “Does it bother you?”

  She tried hard to figure out what the question really meant because she wasn’t sure what he was asking. She looked at him and said, “The wheelchair?”

  “That I have a disability.”

  She smiled, loving the fact that he didn’t say he was disabled. “We all have a disability,” she said. “Sometimes it’s physical, and everybody can see it, and sometimes it’s internal, and nobody can see it. But none of us are perfect. We’re all dealing with something.”

  He looked at her in surprise and laughed. “I hadn’t seen it from that point of view,” he said. “And lately it seems like all I do is think about some pretty heavy-duty issues.”

  “We all do,” she said. “Or at least I do. There are definitely good things and bad things in life right now.”

  “Did you buy yourself a journal too? And thank you for that, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said with a pleased smile. “I was really surprised when I found them.”

  “I haven’t used a fountain pen since I was in high school,” he said.

  “I never used one before,” she said. “It’s taking a bit to get used to.”

  “I’m enjoying it.”

  “I am too,” she said, “but I tend to leave blotches.”

  He laughed at that. “Me too, but whatever.”

  “So it’s helping?”

  “I don’t know if it’s helping or not,” he admitted, “but I’m certainly filling the pages.”

  “Good,” she said. “Then it’s helping.”

  “Maybe, the words sound like the ranting and raving of a crazy mind,” he said with a laugh.

  “It still helps to get it out,” she said. She shifted under the sun and closed her eyes. “I don’t want to sleep out here because that sun will turn me to a fried crisp very quickly, but I am tired.” Just then she yawned.

  “Go to sleep,” he said. “I’ll wake you in ten minutes.”

  She thought about it, nodded, and said, “Oka
y, but make sure it’s not any longer than that.”

  “No,” he said. “I’ll even set my watch for you.”

  She shifted, laid her head down, and let the sun take her under. At least she thought she was under. It seemed like two minutes and not ten minutes when he leaned across and patted her hand gently. She opened her eyes to find him right there, close to her, and she smiled. “Has it been ten minutes already?”

  “It has, Sleeping Beauty,” he said, his voice thick with emotions.

  Something electric passed between the two of them. She reached out and gently stroked his cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t want to get burned out here.”

  “Then I suggest we move our chairs so that we’re in the shade now.” And he drew back, breaking the moment.

  The fact that the moment had even existed, that it was something now in her memory, something to smile about, something to cherish, was special all in itself. She got up, stretched, shifted the chaise longue so it sat in the shade, then looked at him and said, “Maybe we should move yours here too.”

  He nodded, shifted onto his good leg, and stood. This was the first she’d taken a good close-up look at his leg since his arrival here. It was all she could do to hold back her shock. But he must have noticed.

  He looked at her face, looked down at his leg, and in a harsh voice said, “It’s not very pretty, is it?” And he slammed himself back down onto the chair in the shade.

  “It doesn’t matter if anything’s pretty about it or not,” she said. “It’s a marvel of human engineering.”

  Startled, he stared at her.

  She looked at him with a flat expression on her face and said, “Did you expect me to be turning away in revulsion?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah,” he said. “I did. It’s pretty ugly.”

  “I’m not so superficial,” she said quietly. “A lot in life is ugly, but it doesn’t mean that there isn’t something good about it.” She sat down in her chaise and studied his leg. “I mean, I just can’t believe how much work they did to actually rebuild that leg for you. It must have been quite the process.”

  “Multiple surgeries. Some of the muscle off my buttocks, some off my back,” he said. “It was kind of amazing. They took a little bit from my amputated foot and shin as well.”

  She studied both, seeing multiple scars. “It’s still amazing,” she said. “The fact is, that leg is functional, and it’s definitely bigger than when I first saw you.”

  He looked at her, looked at his leg, and said, “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Did they take any measurements when you first arrived?”

  He frowned, thought about it, and then slowly nodded. “I think they did. I just don’t remember what the numbers were.”

  “Should be in your file somewhere, I’d think,” she said. “They do that. They take measurements and weights to see how some of their patients handle surgeries and whether they’re building up and getting stronger. And when the bone’s involved, of course, the bone regrows around the damaged area. But with muscles, it’s not quite the same process.”

  “No,” he said. “And I’m getting more adjusted to the look of the leg.”

  “You should,” she said. “Not only is it your leg and it’s the one you’ve got and have been blessed to have, but it also looks more like a human leg now than a chicken leg.” Her voice was cheerful, and she couldn’t stop herself from bursting into laughter.

  Iain settled back and studied her. “And that’s what I meant earlier. Does it bother you?”

  “No, it doesn’t bother me,” she said. “Except that I see the ingenuity of the human condition. I see the miracles of modern medicine. And I see the incredible courage of the human spirit. Don’t ever be ashamed of that.”

  She stared directly into his eyes. “Hold your head high and ignore anybody who criticizes you. They haven’t been through the wars, like you have. They don’t have any right to the inner wounds and to the war wounds that you have. Wear them as badges of honor,” she said. “And tell anyone else who makes a negative comment to stuff it.”

  He burst out laughing at that. “Out in the real world, I’d spend my entire day doing that some days.”

  She grinned. “I guess that’s true. I just don’t know why people have to be so mean. And why these mean people have time for that kind of crap.”

  “Exactly,” he said with a laugh. “I certainly don’t. I’m too busy trying to rebuild a life.”

  “Good,” she said. “I’m really glad to hear that.”

  Chapter 12

  Several days later, with both of them slowly spending a bit more time together, she was sitting down alone for breakfast when Shane approached. She looked up, smiled, and said, “Hey, how is the boss?”

  “Hardly the boss,” he said, pulling out the chair and sitting down with a cup of coffee.

  He looked tired. She frowned. “Are you spending too much time on your patients and forgetting to look after yourself?”

  He looked up, then smiled, and said, “Well, I wouldn’t have thought so, but it has been known to happen a time or two.”

  “Absolutely,” she said. “How is Iain doing?”

  “I was going to ask you that,” he said in a teasing voice. “Seems like you two are really hitting it off.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “I know he’s got some issues, and I would like to see him get a little further down that path.”

  “Does his issue bother you?”

  She shook her head and smiled. “No, but I don’t want to hold him back either. I don’t want him to be stopping short or shortchanging himself because I’m here.” Shane stared at her in surprise, and she shrugged. “Just something I’ve been wondering about.”

  “Sounds like you need to shut off that part of your brain,” he said.

  “Maybe,” she said, “but he doesn’t see his progress. I did ask if you guys had taken any measurements. And he said yes, but he didn’t remember them. I told him to ask you about them. Or, at least if I didn’t, he should.” She laughed. “We get into such deep conversations that sometimes I forget what’s been said.”

  “It’s a good idea though,” he said. “I was planning on taking more in the next few days anyway.”

  “Good,” she said. “It might help him see that progress better.”

  He nodded. “What about you? You staying around now that you’ve been on the job what, four or five months?”

  “I love it here,” she said with a smile, “but it’s not been quite three months, yet it seems like I’ve always been here.”

  He leaned forward and said, “And what if he leaves?”

  She winced. “Right,” she said. “That’s not such a happy thought.”

  “Yet that’s what we want for him.”

  She nodded slowly. “I guess it depends on what he ends up doing for himself.”

  “Exactly. And where,” he said with a smile. He looked up and nodded toward the doorway. “Speaking of which, there he is.”

  She twisted, saw him, lifted a hand, and waved. “I guess those future discussions are something that might need to be discussed sooner than later.”

  “Something is there between you. It might help both of you if you could get a few of those details worked out.”

  She laughed. “Doesn’t mean any of the details are ready to be worked out,” she said.

  “Maybe, but getting some of that stuff out of your head will help you to not worry so much.”

  “Me or him?”

  Shane stood as Iain approached. Shane looked at her with an insightful gaze and said, “How about for both of you?” And then he smiled at Iain and said, “Hey, Iain, how you doing?”

  “Well, it’s Tuesday. I made it through Monday,” he said. “So, maybe we’re doing okay.”

  “Maybe,” Shane said. “We’ll take a bunch of measurements here this Friday and see how your progress is doing.”

  Iain nodded. “That’s a good idea,” he said. “Maybe then I
can see something tangible.”

  “Ah,” Shane said with a smile. “Here I thought they were very tangible. But you’re looking for data, aren’t you?”

  Iain shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “I hadn’t realized how much I was looking for proof.”

  “Another very interesting and valid point,” Shane said. “I’ll see you later today.” And he took off.

  Iain sat down slowly, then put his crutches to the side.

  She looked at the crutches and smiled and said, “You must be feeling better today.”

  “Tuesdays are often rough,” he said. “After the weekend, Shane gets ahold of me on Monday and doesn’t let go. On Tuesdays then, I tend to pay for it, but yesterday wasn’t too bad.”

  “I think, like everything,” she said, “it takes six weeks to get used to any routine. I’d sign up for a yoga course, and, for the first six weeks, that instructor would twist my body into a pretzel and force it into all kinds of movements, and I’d pay for it in pain for weeks. Then, all of a sudden, around six weeks, it’d be like my body would automatically form that pretzel without being forced into it, and I wouldn’t have the pain afterward.”

  He chuckled. “Same for any new gym routine too,” he admitted. “So maybe I’m finally adjusting to being here.”

  “How long has it been?”

  “A couple months,” he said easily. “But let’s not forget I set myself back at the very beginning.”

  “Yes, you did,” she said. “Doesn’t matter though. There’s no back. There’s no right. There’s no wrong. You’re where you’re at right now, and it sounds like maybe there is some progress.”