by Gun Brooke
“Need me to ease up?” Lark’s hands slowed down.
“No. Well, yes, perhaps a bit. Didn’t know I was so sore.”
Lark’s movements remained slow, but she went deeper and deeper into the muscles with skilled hands. Finding every knot and aching ligament, she focused on the shoulders for at least fifteen minutes. “Can you feel yourself loosening up?”
“Yes.” Sheridan’s shoulders burned with hot sensations that traveled down her arms and up her neck.
“You’ll probably feel quite sore tonight and tomorrow. If you do, and if you’re too uncomfortable, let me know, and I’ll give you some heat treatment.” Lark palpated the muscles down Sheridan’s back with gentle hands. “These aren’t as bad, and I don’t want to do too much on our first session. Let me help you up.”
With a few swift operations, Lark assisted Sheridan into a sitting position. Feeling utterly vulnerable, perhaps due to the warm, relaxed awareness in her shoulders, Sheridan clutched the towel to her chest with one hand and steadied herself with the other. “Thank you.” The towel slipped and Sheridan pressed it closer to her chest and found it utterly silly that she, who’d been prodded and poked, with every one of her sensibilities violated in that hospital bed, would react this way. Lark was a seasoned professional, wasn’t she, used to every possible human frailty.
Lark grabbed another heated towel and placed it around Sheridan’s shoulders before she removed the one Sheridan held on to so tightly. “Here, let me get that for you. It’s got oil all over it.”
The precious towel slipped away and Sheridan fumbled for the corners of the other one, only to feel it begin to slip as well. Is the room really this hot?
“Whoops!” Lark caught the errant towel and held it closed until Sheridan got her hands around it. “Got it? Good. Call me when you need help with your pants.”
Without any further infliction, she left the room and Sheridan exhaled audibly, only then realizing she’d held her breath since the towel began to drop.
*
Lark stopped outside the half-closed door to the massage room and wiped her hands on her sweatpants. It wasn’t only the grape-seed oil that made them wet, and she frowned at the implications of this realization. Sheridan was an attractive, in fact, stunningly beautiful woman, even like this, pale and without a trace of makeup. Lark had had many female patients, but this was the first time she’d responded this way.
Ashamed at how her heart had raced when that towel slipped down one shoulder and began to fall off the other, she’d grabbed it and tugged it close around Sheridan’s slender figure. It bothered Lark that she’d even noticed the fact that she glimpsed the outline of a breast. Unprofessional. Beyond unprofessional. Lark dragged her fingers through her hair twice as she tried by sheer willpower to calm down her thundering heart.
“Lark?” Sheridan’s resonant voice called out. “You there?”
“Of course.” Lark cleared her throat and rubbed a hand over her face before she entered the massage room. “Good job. You’re fast.”
“I’ve had some practice.”
Lark took the sweatpants and knelt before Sheridan to push them up her legs. Rising, she wrapped a steady arm around Sheridan’s waist while holding the lining of the pants with her free hand. “Hold on to me and rock slowly from side to side. With a little practice you can learn to do this yourself.”
Sheridan’s lower lip disappeared between her teeth, a habit that Lark was beginning to recognize as a sign of deep concentration. Wrapping her arm around Lark’s shoulders, Sheridan and Lark swayed slowly back and forth together, as they both tugged her sweatpants up.
“Thank you. Very useful.”
Lark managed to smile, still incredibly self-conscious. Was it her imagination, or did Sheridan seem shy? Out of the question.
“I know.” Lark stepped back a little too quickly and almost tripped over her own feet. “Well, I think that’s all you can muster today. Tomorrow morning, I’d like to start early and develop a good routine for you, if you don’t object.” She knew she was babbling. I never babble like this, no matter what! “And tomorrow afternoon we’ll start the pool exercises too.”
The thought of Sheridan in a swimsuit surfaced, but Lark slam-dunked it before it attached itself permanently to her mind’s eye. As Lark left the room, she knew she had some soul-searching to do. Having lost her footing, she had to figure out what the hell was going on.
Chapter Four
Sheridan regarded the faint light of the rising sun with vehemence. She had been up, sitting in her study most of the night, with neural pain plaguing her legs and bitter thoughts shattering her mood. Mrs. D had looked in on her twice, probably roused by the night nurse, whom Sheridan chased away when she fussed too much. She grimaced at the thought of having to apologize to the woman yet again.
Lark had not fussed over her, Sheridan mused absentmindedly as she watched a flock of birds take off from the closest oak tree. She hadn’t chastised Sheridan either, or admonished her for her admittedly lousy attitude, which was…refreshing. Sheridan gave a short bark of a laugh and turned the wheelchair back toward the desk. She certainly is no doormat, though. Instead, Lark had persevered with the calmness of someone sure of what she was doing and confident in her expertise. Lark had massaged her skillfully, and something in her unwavering touch had made Sheridan feel safe for a while.
Sheridan glanced at her watch. Quarter to seven. “Oh, well.” She had begun to wheel toward the door when it suddenly opened, and the woman in her thoughts materialized on the threshold.
“Oh, my. I didn’t think you were up yet. I mean, at least not in here already.” Lark looked startled, but then smiled. “Erica gave me a copy of your schedule last night, so I could set up a program for you that you’ll find convenient. I thought I’d put it on your desk—”
“Thank you. In the future, I suggest you knock before you enter.” Sheridan uttered the harsh words almost as a reflex and regretted them instantly.
Lark looked down at her paper before she replied. “Naturally. I apologize.” When she met Sheridan’s eyes again, Sheridan was surprised that the enthusiastic gleam was still present, even if Lark’s smile had vanished.
“Well,” Sheridan said gruffly, “sometimes I’m conducting late night or early morning teleconferences, or long-distance phone calls, so…” She shrugged, uncertain what to say next. God, when was I ever speechless before?
“Don’t apologize. I was wrong. Now that I know what crazy hours you keep, I’ll be careful to knock in the future, okay? Have you had breakfast?”
Sheridan blinked at the sudden change of topic, and at how quickly Lark accepted the ground rules regarding her study. “Eh…no. I normally don’t eat breakfast. Never have.”
“That has to change. You’re in a different situation now,” Lark said. “Your body needs regular intakes of small meals, and to skip breakfast is to ask it to perform on nothing when it needs energy more than ever.”
“It’s never been a problem before.”
“You weren’t convalescing before. I’ve studied your medical history. You were fit and athletic before you succumbed to this virulent strain of meningitis.” Lark leaned closer and placed a hand on Sheridan’s arm. “There’s nothing that says you can’t be that way again. Perhaps not on your feet, but out of this chair.”
Fury, fueled by sleeplessness and pain, surged through Sheridan. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You didn’t know me before this happened, but I will tell you, I know that I’m stuck in this chair. I’m not going to be fit ever again! So stop trying to blow smoke up my ass!” She wheeled out of Lark’s reach and turned to face her head-on. “This is how it’s going to be. I’ll heed your little exercise schedule and give it a couple of weeks. If there’s no progress, we’ll call it quits.”
“Wrong.” To Sheridan’s astonishment, Lark looked unfazed. “If you work with me, instead of against me, you will see progress, and you’ll learn other ways to do things. I can’
t promise you that you’ll walk again, but I can assure you that with your attitude you won’t. It’s time to go beyond self-pity and get to work.”
Sheridan wanted to throttle Lark, slowly squeeze the life out of her for talking to her that way. “How dare you?” she asked, her voice a low snarl. “You presumptuous—”
“Yes, I’ve been called worse. But that doesn’t matter.” Lark stood and walked toward the door. “What really matters is that I do the job I’m hired to do. Help you help yourself feel better. See you in the gym in ten minutes.” She smiled and left, quietly closing the door behind her.
Sheridan stared at the closed door, her eyes burning enough to scorch holes in the wood. She couldn’t remember a single instant when her low, angry growl hadn’t made people cower. And there Lark stood smiling, not bothered in the least. Am I that predictable? Just another difficult patient of hers, probably.
Disheartened at that possibility, Sheridan wheeled toward her room. One of the day nurses, new since two days ago, was waiting for her. Sheridan tried to remember her name—Anne, Anita something. Mrs. D hired the nurses, a chore Sheridan couldn’t be bothered with, since they came and went every other week. Mrs. D had implied that Sheridan’s mood sent them packing. Sheridan huffed and glared at the young woman waiting to assist her in the bathroom. “I’ll let you know if I need you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Now this is the reaction my tone of voice always commands. But the fact remained, it hadn’t affected Lark one little bit.
*
Lark glanced up from her laptop, and seeing Sheridan was now in her gym clothes, she closed her e-mail software and tucked the computer away. “Good. That was quick.”
“The sooner we begin, the sooner I can take care of business.”
It was clear that Sheridan’s mood hadn’t improved.
“So true.” Lark stood and approached Sheridan, deliberately not sounding too perky, but enthusiastic enough to get her attention. “I want to see how many low-impact exercises you can do.”
Sheridan folded her arms over her chest, her eyes darkening. “Why?”
“Because we have to document where you are now, to be able to judge every week what progress you make.”
Hesitating, Sheridan seemed to consider the indisputable logic in Lark’s words. “How do we go about it? I thought Anne, Annie…eh, the new nurse would assist us.”
“Annette. She had to go home early. Allergies, I believe,” Lark lied. She had found the younger woman in tears in the corridor, and it didn’t take a Nobel Prize winner to figure out who was the cause. “So, it’s just us.”
“Then how?” A worried frown appeared, like a crack in Sheridan’s tough image.
“Like this.” Lark knelt and pushed Sheridan’s immobilized feet off the footrests. She folded the footrests out of the way before she got up and fetched the special walker and a harness from the back wall. “Here you go. Buckle this tightly around your waist. Tell me if you need help.”
Sheridan fumbled with the belt, but managed to close it eventually. Lark wasn’t about to step in and offer help when it was obvious that Sheridan would be able to figure it out.
“Good. Now, pay attention. This walker is special. It’s taller than most, which means you can lean on it with all your strength. It may seem too tall for you to reach, but that’s where the belt comes in. It has handles that I can hold on to, and together we’ll raise you to your feet. I just have to put the braces on you, so your knees don’t buckle.”
“Sounds like a lot can go wrong.”
“I can summon your head gardener, if you like.” Lark had run into him, literally, when she completed her morning run.
“No. Let’s do it.”
Lark attached the braces, then took a position at a ninety-degree angle from Sheridan. She held on to the back of the belt with one hand and the walker with the other. “There we go. On three. One, two, three.”
Sheridan grabbed the handles and pulled, and the walker wobbled slightly. Lark tugged hard at the belt, and suddenly Sheridan was hanging with her arms fully supported on the tall walker. Wrapping her arm tightly around Sheridan’s waist and holding on to the far handle, Lark stood pinned at Sheridan’s side. “Good. Now walk over to that bench.” A bench of queen-size-bed proportions stood about ten steps away.
“You could have told me we were doing it over there. I could’ve simply scooted over!” Sheridan was apparently still angry.
“No, you couldn’t. The bench is at least nine inches too tall. This way you proved to yourself that you can rise into a standing position, with a little help.” Lark kept her voice low and calm. “Now, I’m going to roll the walker. Try to imagine your feet walking. Try to move them.”
The attempt turned out to be more than Sheridan was capable of, but they inched across the floor, and Sheridan put a lot of weight on her legs.
“You’re doing great,” Lark said. “This is so good for you. It prevents the risk of blood clots in your legs, as well as helps nutrition enter the cartilage in your joints. That can only happen when bones grind together from putting weight on them.”
“All right. We’re here. Now what?” Sheridan still sounded grumpy, but a little less so than earlier.
“You sit down. Hey, wait until I tell you to. This is all about collaboration. You’ll notice that further on. You can’t do this alone, and I can’t do it for you.” Lark helped Sheridan lower herself onto the bench. “There we go. Good.”
“So we’re joined at the hip until…?” Sheridan raised an elegant eyebrow, her face so close to Lark’s, Lark felt tremors in her belly.
“Pretty much, at least during training. I’d also like to accompany you on typical things you do around your work, so I can fine-tune your training to suit your needs.”
“I have a need right now,” Sheridan groaned and looked unhappy. “I have a need for this to be over.”
“This, as in this session, or this, the whole mess your illness left behind?”
“All of the above,” Sheridan muttered.
Lark wondered if Sheridan knew how much she revealed of herself when she spoke like that. She meant to sound sarcastic, but the pain and exasperation shone through as clearly as if she wore it printed on her T-shirt.
“I won’t keep you very long these first sessions. Now some push-ups. Try as hard as you can. I need a good number to start out with, so we can try to top your record twice a week.”
“Very well.” Sheridan tried to move over on her stomach, but kept slipping on the leather bench. “Damn!”
“Like this.” Lark gently but insistently gripped Sheridan’s hips. “A rocking motion. Feel it. You can do this. Rock or roll back and forth. Yes, like that. If the surface is hard enough, you’ll be able to flip onto your stomach.”
True enough, after a few attempts Sheridan twisted her body over, with only her left ankle still crossed across her right leg. Lark moved it for her, and without saying anything more, Sheridan forced her upper body up on straight arms.
Lark counted quietly to herself as Sheridan completed one push-up after another. After eight, her arms trembled so badly, she couldn’t continue.
Cursing under her breath, Sheridan slumped onto her stomach, out of breath and sweating profusely. “How many?”
“Eight. Nearly nine.”
“That has to be wrong. There were more. I’m beat, for heaven’s sake!”
Lark bent down and stroked sweat-soaked bangs out of Sheridan’s face without thinking. “No, Boss, you completed eight push-ups.”
“But…Boss?” Sheridan’s eyebrow went up again. “Are you sure you know how to count?”
Her new tone, with a slight teasing tinge to it, surprised Lark.
“Yeah, I know how to count. And you’re my boss, aren’t you?” She grinned at Sheridan, delighted that she still had a sense of humor.
“Then I have some work cut out for me.” Sheridan grimaced and rolled over on her back. Placing her elbows behind her, she tried to s
it up.
“Not like that. Here. Place that elbow like this. And the palm of your other hand like so. Now push.” Lark smiled at the wondrous look on Sheridan’s face as she quite easily maneuvered into a sitting position.
“Why haven’t any of those other physical therapists showed me this?” Sheridan frowned.
“Did you listen to them?” Lark asked softly.
Sheridan’s cheeks turned the faintest of pink. “Not really, I suppose. They infuriated me with their animated, overbearing ways. I didn’t feel safe with them.”
“And now?”
“You’re more practical. Not so annoying. I appreciate that.”
Lark coughed to hide a surprised laugh. Thank goodness, I’m not so annoying. I suppose that’s a compliment. Looking at Sheridan when she tried the move she had just learned again was, however, reward enough.
*
The men and women at Ward Industries headquarters, located not far from the Riverwalk Center, knew better than to gawk at their boss, Lark surmised. She had accompanied Sheridan in the limousine to the tall glass structure. Finished two years ago, the thirty-floor building hosted the headquarters, as well as the cutting-edge nanotechnology research center.
Sheridan wheeled past her employees with a rigid smile, not really acknowledging any particular person. Lark observed how she hesitated and tensed up even more for a few seconds before she entered the elevator, and made a mental note of the minor incident.
They exited on the top floor, and Lark had to look down to make sure her loafers didn’t disappear into the thick carpet. An elegant woman in her early fifties, whose skirt actually matched the steel gray carpet, sat at the front desk.
“Ms. Ward! I wasn’t sure you’d come in today. There was no message—”
“It’s all right, Belinda. I’m taking the opportunity to show Lark around.” Sheridan continued to formally introduce Lark and Belinda. “Lark’s here to study my daily routine at the office. I think she’ll be bored to tears very soon, when she realizes that all I do is sit by my desk and turn papers.”
