Sheridan's Fate

by Gun Brooke

  Lark straightened up, thrust her shoulders back, and elevated her chin like her stepfather had taught her when she was a teenager. “I’ll vacate my room then.” She hesitated for a moment but then thought better of extending a hand. She just couldn’t. “Good-bye, Sheridan. I wish you the best of luck, and I hope things work out better for you with your next PT.” It was hard to utter these words; her senses felt like they had been scalded by boiling water.

  “Farewell, Lark,” Sheridan said quietly, suddenly not seeming angry at all. Rather, the thickness in her voice spoke of other, unexplained emotions.

  In fact, Lark thought as she left the gym, it seemed as if both of them had hidden something entirely different behind all that anger. What had just happened? She tried to examine her whirling emotions, but it was no use. Lark drew a trembling breath. She simply didn’t know.

  Chapter Ten

  “Goodness, child, you don’t look well at all!” Doris Hirsh rose from the kitchen table where she sat with Lark’s stepfather, having lunch. “Come here.”

  “I’m fine, Mom.” Lark sighed, but enjoyed the firm embrace just the same.

  “What’s up?” Arthur asked. “I’ll find you something to eat while you fill us in. It’s clear that something’s happened.”

  Lark smiled faintly. “I can get a bowl myself, Dad. Stay where you are.” She grabbed a bowl from the counter and filled it with her mother’s chili. Sitting down next to Doris, she took a spoon full of food and savored it as she gathered her thoughts. “Okay, folks. I was fired today.”

  “Why?” Doris asked. “What happened?”

  Lark looked at her parents. Doris was obviously stunned, and a dark edge ringed Arthur’s irises, a surefire sign of concern on his part.

  “My patient wasn’t pleased with my work.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Doris slammed her palm onto the table, making her glass of iced tea jump. “You’re the best at what you do.”

  “Thank you for your vote of confidence, but she obviously doesn’t agree. To be truthful, I wasn’t quite my usual diplomatic self.”

  “That says a lot,” Arthur said. “You were always the diplomat among you five girls. What can your patient have said or done to mess with that?” He tilted his head.

  Lark had always admired Arthur’s astute way of reading the situation and aiming for the core of the matter. “I questioned her judgment.” Lark sighed again. “I guess I should have made my point more delicately, but she’s so direct that I fell into the trap of thinking she could handle the truth.”

  “And she couldn’t.”

  “Nope.” Lark frowned and had to swallow twice to force the next spoonful of food down. “I think she panicked. I mean, I know she did and then, when she reacted by insulting me, I couldn’t see past her words. So, I’m fired.”

  “Poor darling,” Doris said loyally and put an arm around her. “Well, you can stay here until you know what you want to do next. Actually, that might be good for Fiona.”

  Lark stopped eating. “She okay?”

  “Yes.” Doris patted Lark’s shoulder. “But of course she’s still upset that she had a setback like this. It takes her so long to bounce back emotionally, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Lark looked up as if she could penetrate the ceiling and look at her sister. “I’ll go up to her. I can finish this upstairs.” She grabbed her bowl and kissed the top of her mother’s head. “Delicious as always, Mom.”

  “Thank you, darling.”

  “Hey, Lark,” Arthur called out as she reached the doorway. “If anyone calls, I mean about this, what should we tell them?”

  Lark glanced back over her shoulder. “They won’t. But if I’m wrong, just tell them I’m not home.”

  “Okay. Will do.”

  Lark ascended the stairs to the second floor, with its four bedrooms and three bathrooms. The downstairs consisted of the kitchen, living room, guest bathroom, and her parents’ gallery and gift shop. Arthur and Doris had bought this house shortly after they were married. When Lark had moved with her mother and sisters to live with Arthur in Boerne, she had loved the place from day one. The house with the gift shop and gallery held such ambience; coming home was like swaddling her heart in a bowl of cotton.

  The door was half open to her old room where Fiona now stayed alone. Lark rapped her fingernails on the door frame and heard a muffled, “Enter.” She pushed the door open and stood motionless on the threshold.

  Fiona sat in an electric wheelchair, her upper body strapped tight to the backrest and her legs resting in cushioned indentations, equally strapped into place. Fiona turned her head, and as usual, the sight of the stunning woman tore at Lark’s heart. Only able to move her head and her right arm, Fiona had an ethereal beauty that made everyone forget about her disability. Dark brown hair, kept in a simple, low ponytail, framed a delicately chiseled face with large blue eyes. Her lips, usually soft and luscious, were today pressed to a thin line, and the eyes were nearly black.

  “Hello, sweetie,” Lark greeted Fiona. “Heard you had a bit of a rough time.”

  “You could say that.” Fiona spoke tightly, clenching her right fist. “I’m okay now.”

  “Sure you are. You’re the okayest person I know,” Lark joked, knowing Fiona had a soft spot for her silliness. As she hugged her sister she could feel the stiffness in Fiona’s neck and wondered how much was because she was upset, and how much of it was spasticity. “I’m back home for a bit.”

  “You have a vacation already?” Fiona’s thin, black eyebrows knitted in disbelief.

  “Nope. Got fired.”

  The statement seemed to reach Fiona. Her features mellowed and she touched Lark’s face. “What kind of idiots are you working for, sis?”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. And no, they’re not idiots. Just someone who’s scared and lashes out at everyone, especially those who try to help.”

  “Sounds familiar.” Fiona made a face. “So your patient sacked you because you got too close, huh?”

  “You’re an astute young woman, that’s what I’ve always said.” Lark pushed a few errant strands from Fiona’s forehead. “And yes, you’re probably very right.”

  “Been there, done that, burned the T-shirt.” Fiona operated the joystick on the right armrest and pivoted the chair to face Lark fully. “Sit down. You make my neck ache when you stand so close.”

  “All right, all right.” Lark sat on Fiona’s bed and placed the bowl of chili on the nightstand as she picked up Mr. Gogo, her old teddy bear that had found a new home there. “I’m exhausted, but I still want to hear about what happened the other day.”

  “It was tough on Mom. She wanted to call in the cavalry, but the thought of all four of you dropping everything just because I…stumbled, so to speak, was too much. I’m twenty-seven years old, for heaven’s sake!” Fiona gestured impatiently. “I also wanted to move on, go home and get back to work.”

  “I don’t blame you. Just tell me that you’re really doing better and I’ll back off,” Lark said gently, not wanting to antagonize Fiona.

  “I promise. I was pretty bad off when the flashbacks hit, and I totally freaked out. It’s been so long since last time. I woke up and heard the gunshots all over again. And I swear, I felt the bullets hit me. They drilled…into me…and…and…” Fiona began to breathe faster, her lower lip trembling. “I mean, it’s been almost fifteen years! And still, it was like it happened last week.”

  “But you handled it. You rode the demon until he gave up and you won. Take pride in that, sweetie.” Lark took Fiona’s motionless hand. She knew Fiona allowed very few people to touch her paralyzed limbs, and Lark was one of them. Caressing the hand, she knew Fiona could sense her touch even if she had very little feeling left. “You’re a champ, sis. A true winner.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t feel like that sometimes. There are days…” She quieted and her gaze strayed to the window, as if she longed to be somewhere else. “You know.”

  �
�I do. I really do.” Lark knew that her parents had built in every possible helpful solution for Fiona’s sake, including an elevator between the floors and ramps everywhere. The bathroom was better equipped than even Sheridan’s. Lark winced at the thought of Sheridan, images of the furious woman flickering in her mind.

  “What?” Fiona tilted her head, looking as inquisitive as only she knew how to.

  “Nothing. I just thought of something.” Lark knew this explanation wouldn’t fly with Fiona, but it was worth a try.

  “What?” Fiona repeated, a little smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

  “You’re like a dog with a bone, you know that?” Lark couldn’t help but smile back, genuinely happy and relieved to see the new light in Fiona’s eyes.

  “I have to be. Nobody tells me anything if I don’t nag.” Fiona blinked and suddenly Lark felt as if they had been transported through time and were teenagers again, sharing a much smaller room in their house in Houston.

  “Well, but you nag so well. Wouldn’t want to keep you from showing off your talent, would I?”

  “And you’re changing the subject.”

  “And you prove my point!”

  Fiona raised an eyebrow and Lark saw something so strong about the ethereal features that she relented, knowing she’d cave in sooner or later. She always did when it came to Fiona.

  “I don’t know, sis. I have a hard time thinking professionally with this patient. She…she gets under my skin with just a few words, you know. There’s something about her, no matter how annoying and arrogant she can act.”

  “Act. As in it’s a front?”

  “Yeah or, well, I’d like to think so.”

  “You attracted to her?” Fiona’s tone wasn’t judgmental, and her eyes were kind but unwavering while she waited for Lark’s response.

  “As I said,” Lark sighed, “I’ve never had this reaction to a patient. Ever. She’s not even my type!”

  “You mean she’s not short, blond, and timid?” Fiona’s eyes sparkled as she summed up Lark’s first long-term girlfriend Tina perfectly.

  “Funny. And no. She’s not anything like the women I’ve usually found interesting. She’s out of my league in all sorts of ways, and the fact that she’s my patient…well, hearing myself talk now, her firing me was probably clever. I could have ended up being reported for unprofessional, unethical, and generally lewd behavior.”

  “You?” Fiona’s eyes glittered. “Surely you would’ve been able to control any untoward lusts and desires? Or would you have jumped the poor defenseless creature’s bones at the first possible opportunity?”

  Lark burst out laughing, feeling altogether cheered up being teased by this fragile-looking woman, who had the will of a thousand mules and a greater sense of humor than anyone meeting her for the first time would ever credit her with.

  “You’re crazy! Me jump anybody?” Lark giggled, but recalled her body’s unmistakable reaction to Sheridan’s presence. How Sheridan’s silken skin had felt under her touch, and how her massage could have easily turned into caresses.

  “Lark, honey. What are you thinking about? I was only joking, you know.” Fiona looked remorseful.

  “Oh, no, no. I know you were, Fee. I know. I’m okay.”

  “No, you’re not. Why not tell me the rest?”

  Lark hesitated, her cheeks burning. “One night she was hurting badly and needed lots of help.” She stopped talking and scrutinized Fiona’s expression.

  “I know what that’s like. Go on.”

  “I held her in my arms, well, on my lap really, and gave her that massage I give Mom when her migraines hit. And she relaxed against me. It really helped her.”

  “And how did you feel?”

  “I…I don’t know. I ached with her when she hurt, more than I normally do with a patient. And I ached for holding her, when the pain went away. It’s odd. I can’t describe it, and I sure as hell can’t understand it.”

  “Come closer.” Fiona motioned.

  Lark obeyed and Fiona touched her cheek again, much like their mother had done when she wanted to convey something very important to them. The gesture fit Fiona, Lark reflected absentmindedly as she focused on her sister.

  “Listen,” Fiona said. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re only human, and the fact that you found your patient attractive isn’t the end of the world. Who knows, she might find you drop-dead gorgeous too! You know what’s right and what’s wrong, and I assume from what you’ve told me that she’s an adult?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course,” Lark answered, startled.

  “Then, since nothing really happened, you’re fine. Ask yourself if you ever contemplated crossing the line and seducing Ms. Arrogant and Dazzling.”

  “No! But just the thought that I—”

  “But nothing,” Fiona said with finality in her voice. “You’re beating yourself up for nothing. And look at me, you have me all rallied to defend you for actions you never committed. Just look how much you’ve brought me back into the real world.”

  It was true. Fiona’s eyes sparkled and her skin had a new, healthy tone, rather than the earlier paleness, which had emphasized her brooding, haunted eyes.

  “Trust me to bring you into my world and then not be considerate while doing so.” Lark grimaced, only half joking.

  “Good God, woman. Don’t you think I need more real world in my life instead of old ghosts that really need to be put to bed?”

  “Yeah. I understand. And I agree.” Lark stood, suddenly restless. “How about we go down the street to The Daily Grind for some java? You up for it?”

  Fiona hesitated only two seconds. “Sure. We need some latte, or something. I just need to powder my nose. Lend a hand?”

  “No problemo, my dear.”

  Lark followed Fiona into the spacious bathroom designed to fit her needs. At times like these, when Fiona needed help with the most basic things in life, her face seemed to soften until she looked thirteen again. Perhaps she regresses in her mind to when she was a child and this handicap wasn’t as invasive for her.

  But that wasn’t true either. Even at thirteen, Fiona had hated having to accept help with such private matters. But what choice does she have? Putting on her cheeriest face, Lark went about the task in a way that she hoped Fiona would interpret as both casual and loving, because it was.

  *

  “Fuck!” Sheridan looked at a shocked Erica. “You mean they have only these two to offer?”

  “Yes, and Mr. Vogel was most apologetic, but on such short notice, this was the best he could do.”

  Sheridan stared at the folders before her. “One woman in her fifties who only recently came back to practicing physiotherapy after having stayed home and raised her children. How old were they when she let them out of the nest? Thirty? And this, a guy, attending his last year at the university. He’s not even qualified yet! What the hell is this? Aren’t there any other agencies in this city?”

  Erica stepped back as if the strength of Sheridan’s voice forced her to. “The Vogel Agency is the best, ma’am. I called two others and they’re going to fax me resumes of their available personnel.”

  “Let me know as soon as they arrive. They can’t be worse than this!” Sheridan pushed the files off her desk and into the bin. “Where’s that nurse, eh, Brenda-something?”

  “Mary Ann.”

  “What happened to Brenda?” Sheridan frowned, disgusted with herself and the entire situation.

  “Brenda quit a month ago, ma’am.”

  “Oh. Is Karen on tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” Sheridan found Karen refreshing, and in a way she reminded her of Lark. Sheridan winced. She didn’t want to even think about the last, disastrous meeting with Lark. For some unfathomable reason, Lark’s brown eyes seemed to regard her from a distance wherever she was, no matter what she did. Knowing deep inside that she had screwed up, Sheridan wasn’t prepared to confess the fact out loud.

  Surely there
were a dozen, at least, equally competent physical therapists in San Antonio. Or, if not in the city, then in the great state of Texas. Sheridan ignored the small voice that tried to tell her that if these people were as good as Lark, they’d make the same demands on her that she had.

  “Eh, ma’am?” Erica cleared her throat.

  Sheridan looked up and felt a twitch of remorse at the sight of the uncertainty on Erica’s face. When even her long-term employees tiptoed around her, the situation was bad. “Yes? What else?” she said, nearly slapping herself over the head at how pesky she sounded. “Sorry, Erica. What’s up?” That was as close to the heartfelt apology that Sheridan meant to give, but Erica smiled faintly, which was a good sign.

  “Your two o’clock meeting is here. The Granger Conglomerate’s president.”

  “Oh, God. I forgot.” Sheridan felt her cheeks flush. What the hell was going on? She never used to forget anything. Lark would have been able to explain this memory lapse in terms that gave her hope for the future. Damn, I wasn’t going to go there. Unproductive.

  “Give me five minutes to freshen up. Page me before you send them in. And treat them to that wonderful coffee you make, all right?”

  “Sure thing, boss,” Erica said, her normal humor back in her voice, which made Sheridan feel a little better. At least she hadn’t been so bad toward Erica that she’d threaten to leave too. These thoughts startled Sheridan into action and she wheeled toward her en suite bathroom.

  When there, she examined her reflection, not at all surprised to see herself look just as haggard and haunted as she felt. The words “emotionally incontinent” from the hateful brochure the hospital counselor had brought her came to mind, but she disregarded them with a disdainful huff. Lark would never have described her reactions anything like that. Lark would have told her that it was normal to feel out of sorts, lose footing and all, when you’d nearly died just a few months ago and had your entire life turned upside down.

  Sheridan ran the faucet and washed her hands. Lark would have reassured her on this issue and many other things. And I, like a prize fool, chased her away by being totally out of control. How’s that for emotional incontinence?