In Your Embrace (15 page)

Somehow, he knew she would appreciate his attempt at humor.
 Although Timothy is hardly what he would consider a good cook, he can find his way around a kitchen easily enough, but this…this felt right.

She takes a long sip from her juice box and then leans her head back with a great sigh.
 “This is paradise.”

“I doubt anyone has ever said that about this hospital.”

She grins and opens her eyes once more.  “Well that’s just because they didn’t have you planning the surprise.”

Her words touch him and he is forced to set about cutting the sandwich squares instead of staring back into those bottomless eyes of hers.

“I had another no-go this morning,” she says.  “I really thought I was ready, but nothing happened.”

Timothy nods and places her square of sandwich on a paper plate and passes it to her before settling back into his own plastic chair.
 It’s far too low to the ground for him to be able to comfortably unfold his long legs, but he doesn’t complain.  He does not intend to ruin this moment for Hannah.

“It’s only been a few weeks.
 These things take time.”

He knows that he sounds like every other robotic message of encouragement that Hannah’s been given since her accident, but he honestly doesn’t know what else to say.
 He’s worried that Hannah may get her hopes up, that her prayers for healing will go unanswered, that yet again God will prove to be in the business of doing things His own way in spite of the pain it can cause people.

Timothy knows all too well what that sort of pain feels like.

“I know,” she whispers.  When he looks up he finds her picking at her food.

“Would you prefer something else?”

She glances over at him and shakes her head.  “No, this really is wonderful…I just don’t have much of an appetite today.”

Setting aside his plate, Timothy hops his chair closer to hers and takes her plate.
 “Hey, it’s ok.  I know things have been really hard for you.  I can’t even begin to imagine what you must be feeling right now.”

Her gaze is guarded as she stares back at him. He can almost see her choosing her words carefully.
 “Have you ever had a moment in your life when you doubted God’s intentions?”

He snorts.
 “More than one.”

Hannah doesn’t look away.
 “I never have.  At least not until now.  I mean, yeah I wondered why my parents have to be so controlling, why I’m not strong enough to stand up for what I want in life, always thinking that by doing so I would be dishonoring my parents. But this is the first time I’ve ever stopped to wonder if God knows what He’s doing.  I don’t know. Maybe I’m just trying to look too hard into it.  Maybe the answer is simple and right in front of me the whole time, and I’m too blind to see it.”

Timothy scratches the back of his head, growing uncomfortable.
 “Hannah…” he begins but is forced to clear his throat.  “I won’t pretend to know why bad things happen, especially to good people like you.  If you look at the world around us, you can easily see that life isn’t perfect.  Far from it. People get sick.  People die young.  People do evil things.  None of that makes any sense to me, but I have to believe that there’s a reason for it all.”

“Do you?” she questions.

He hesitates, knowing that his own bitterness has seeped into his words.  He can feel his tears drawing near, feel the stinging in the corner of his eyes.  He doesn’t want to cry, not in front of her, but he can’t seem to stop himself.  Wiping at his eyes, he turns away.

“I lost someone not too long ago. Someone that meant the world to me.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.  The sincerity of her words encourages him to drop his hand away from his face.  He doesn’t shy away from her curious gaze, but instead allows her to see his pain.

“I’m probably the last person who should be having this conversation with you,” he offers a weak smile.
 “I haven’t exactly been on God’s cheering squad for a while.”

“But you never walked completely away, did you?”

“No.”  He shakes his head.  “No.  I couldn’t do that.  Not completely.”

She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Why not?”

He blows out a haggard breath and plunges his hands into his hair.  
How did this happy surprise suddenly turn into this outpouring of his past?

“Because I need to hold onto the hope that there is a purpose for my wife’s death.”

She nods and reaches out her hand, gently squeezing his arm.  “I feel the same way.”

He lifts his head and realizes that although their pain is not the same, they have found yet another reason to bond together.
 Understanding.  Grief over what could have been.  Doubt over what the future may hold.

“I’m sorry that you understand me,” he mutters.

“I’m not.”

He blinks, shocked by her words.
 “What do you mean?”

“Why do you think we go through trials like this?”

Timothy hesitates.  “I’ve never really thought about it before.”

“Well, I have.
 Pain is pain, no matter what form it takes, but some pain is only truly understood when you have been there. When you have felt the loss that pierces you so deeply it hurts to take you next breath, to get out of bed, or to put one foot in front of the next.  You aren’t alone in that pain, Timothy. Others have felt it too.”

“So you’re saying that we should join a support group to deal with it?”

“No,” she laughs, “but it might not be a bad idea someday.  I’m saying that the pain we experience not only makes us stronger, but also more compassionate to those who will someday lose a wife, a daughter, a mother to a tragedy.  We’ve both been there.”

Timothy sinks back in his chair, pulling out of her touch.
 His skin still feels warm where her hand was, but he struggles to think beyond the pain that is rising up within.  As he watched Abby’s coffin laid in the ground he swore never to allow himself to be crushed by his grief again.  To shove it down so deep that he could forget about it for a time, but what if that’s not what he was meant to do?  What if he was meant for something more?

He shakes his head and rises to his feet, feeling shaken to his core.
 “I’m afraid I’ve kept you longer than I should have.  We should get back.”

Hannah’s face pinches with regret but she nods in agreement. She says nothing as he lifts her out of her folding chair and descends to her floor.
 It is almost a relief when he is able to place her in her wheelchair and lead her back to her room.

“I’ll take it from here,” she says as they draw closer to her room.
 She places her hands on the wheels and he’s forced to stop or risk pinching her fingers in the spokes.

He steps back, tucking his hands deep into his pockets.
 Every part of him wants to tuck tail and run, to go straight home, close the blinds and sleep the rest of the day away.  It’s what he does best…shoves life aside.

“Thank you for the picnic.
 It was very thoughtful.”

“You’re welcome.”
 There is a definite hitch in his voice now. He can feel his control starting to slip again.  He offers her an awkward wave and turns to leave.

“Timothy?”

He knows that he shouldn’t turn back.  Shouldn’t find out what last comment she wants to say to him. But he finds himself turning at the sound of her voice.

“Don’t give up on God.
 I know He hasn’t given up on you.”

With that, she turns and wheels herself into her room, closing the door behind her.
 Timothy leans back against the wall, his stomach twisting into knots.

If only I could have faith like her.

FIFTEEN

Change of Plans

Draven whistles as he runs a comb through his wet hair, mussing up the sides before giving himself a nod in the mirror.
 He sprays a few squirts of cologne and hurries down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Where are you going so early?” Kevin questions from a barstool tucked under the center island.
 He rustles the paper, folding it in half to stare at his stepson.

Grabbing a banana out of a glass fruit bowl on the counter and a throw-away mug of coffee that Martha holds out to him, Draven spins toward the door. “I’m heading to work.”

“Hang on a second.”  The newspaper is tossed in the trash and the breakfast plate is shoved aside as Kevin rises to his feet.  “I smell a rat.”

“Might want to get that checked out,” Draven calls before the screen door slams behind him.

He smirks as he hears his step-father’s hurried footsteps following after him.  “I said hang on.”

Draven slows his pace.
 “Volunteering at the hospital was your idea, remember?  I’m just trying to do my job.”

Kevin grabs his satchel from the side and snatches his car keys from the air as Martha tosses them.
 The screen door screeches as it opens and closes.  “In the car, now!”

Why does he ha
ve
to make it so easy for me?
 Draven hides his smirk as he balances his banana on top of his coffee and opens the passenger side door of Kevin’s sleek black Mercedes.  The top is up, so at least he won’t have to worry about messing up his hair.  Although Draven might admit to being excited at the prospect of seeing Hannah again, he certainly has no intention of walking to the hospital again.

His step-father grunts as he chucks his satchel in the trunk and then sinks into his seat.
 He turns to give Draven a hard look before turning the key.  The engine emits a deep throaty roar.  “We both know you don’t have a generous bone in your body.  So what’s up?  You met a girl, didn’t you?”

Draven works to keep his face void of emotion.
 “I’m insulted that you would think so little of me, Father.”

“Oh, come off it.
 We both know that’s the only reason why you’d step foot in that building every day this week.  What floor does she work on?”

Kevin presses the gas pedal a bit too hard and Draven’s head is thrown back as they speed out of the garage.
 His step-father hardly waits for the door to close again before peeling out.  Kevin isn’t known for being the most patient driver on the block, but he is usually far more considerate of the families that live nearby with school-aged children walking to school.

Draven considers egging Kevin on a bit more, digging in the knife as payback for making him walk, but he decides he’s in too good a mood to go to the trouble.
 “If you really must know, she doesn’t work for you, so there’s nothing you can say about it.”

He watches as his step-father’s face hardens.
 “It is one thing to mess around with one of my nurses, but it is an entirely different thing to screw with a patient.  I am responsible for their care and well-being, and I will not have you disrupting anyone’s recovery. Is that clear?”

“I have no intention of messing with her recovery, if that is even possible.
 I just want to get to know her.  She’s…different.”

Kevin tosses him an incredulous glance as he pulls up to a red light.
 Although several of the streetlights have yet to be replaced in the more remote reaches of the town, their neighborhood and the roads leading out of Rodanthe have all been properly repaired.  “Different?”

It’s no surprise that he doesn’t believe Draven’s interest to be anything less than downright selfish.
 Normally the women he dates are mere conquests, just another notch on his belt, but Hannah is unique.

“Yeah.
 Different.”  Draven doesn’t elaborate.

“So does this mystery girl have a name?”

He shrugs and turns to look out the window.  The winds are blowing strongly today, sending dust devils across the road in front of the car as they pull into the intersection.  “Hannah Green.  She’s in the physical therapy program.”

He watches Kevin from the corner of his eye and can almost sense the man sorting through a visual index catalog of current patients. “What sort of therapy is she receiving?”

Obviously not as on top of things as he likes to make his staff think.  
“She’s paralyzed from the waist down.  It sounds like the docs are hoping it’s only temporary though.”

Recognition alights in his stepfather’s eyes.
 Draven heard that Kevin spent a great deal of time dealing with Hannah’s irate parents a couple weeks back.  Rumor has it that things got pretty ugly, but Hannah’s insistence in remaining at the hospital won out in the end, that and the steely resolve of her aunt.  Draven smirks as he leans his head against the window.  
Stubbornness sure seems to run heavily in that family.

“Is it true that she saved that preacher’s life the day of the hurricane?”

Kevin nods slowly.  “That’s the story I’ve been told, but I don’t see how a girl like her could manage to push a man of his size out of that building.  You know how tales are woven around here.  I’m sure most of it was just embellished.”

Draven isn’t so sure.
 He’s seen first-hand this past week just how strong Hannah’s determination can be.  He can’t even imagine the mental tenacity it would take for a girl to come to the same spot each day and fight to walk, only to fail over and over again.

He’s spent a lot of time questioning Art about her this week too.
 At first, the old man wasn’t too forthcoming with his answers but over time he discovered Art’s appreciation for a good cup of coffee and savory pastries.  A few dollars well spent to get the dirt on Hannah Green.

Niece to Andrew and Claire Matthews.
 Daughter of some highflying lawyer out in California.  Headstrong.  Caring and possesses the cutest smile he has ever seen—and he’s seen his fair share over the years.

“That’s why you like her, isn’t it?”
 Kevin says, loosening his grip on the wheel.  “She’s a mystery to you.  A challenge that you’ve yet to solve.”

Draven shrugs again and turns his gaze away so that his stepfather doesn’t read more into his actions.
 “I want to know why she did what she did.”

“If she did it at all.”

He tilts his head to the side.  “I know she did.  I just can’t figure out why.”

The familiar backside of the hospital comes into view several moments later and when he reaches to unclick his seatbelt, Kevin grabs onto his arm.
 “I will allow this on two conditions.”

“Go on.”

“First, I’m going to assign you to the physical therapy department during the mornings only.  You will help Miss Green with anything that she needs, but you are
not
to allow her to become fatigued.  You are not to hinder her in any way. When she returns to her room, you will report to my office to be reassigned as I see fit.  Is that understood?”

Draven nods.
 
That’s better than how I thought this conversation would go.

“And second, while you are working with the PT department I expect you to learn a thing or two from Mr. Mendosa so that you can actually be of some use to Miss Green with her recovery.
 You will learn how to lift her properly, how to work the machines that will help rebuild her muscles, and the steps she will be forced to go through if she has any hope of ever regaining the use of her legs.”

His step-father continues with his hand on the door, prepped to exit the vehicle.
 “This will not be a social time.  She has a great deal of work ahead of her, and if you are going to be there, you will be assisting her under strict supervision.  Whatever Art Mendosa says is law and you will abide by it, or I will have you sent to the laundry room faster than you can say Viper.”

Draven grits his teeth at the reference to his beloved car that sits, undriven and abandoned, in the garage.
 True to his word, Kevin purchased a tire clamp a couple of days earlier...just in case.  It now rests against the garage wall as a visual reminder of his promise.

“I get it.
 Screw up and I lose the car.  You don’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

Kevin grabs his arm as Draven moves to swing himself up and out of the car.
 “I’m being far more lenient with you than I should be.  One mistake and I’m pulling the plug.”

Draven nods and pulls out of Kevin’s grasp.
 He heads toward the employee entrance and hurries toward the stairs, too anxious to wait for the elevator to finally decide to land on his floor.  Taking the steps two at a time, Draven reaches the basement level in no time.  The door swings open to reveal a nurse with a figure that would leave any man panting, but Draven hardly gives her a backwards glance as he rushes toward the PT room.

He glances at the hands of his watch and frowns.
 
She’s already going to be here. Kevin’s little impromptu chat has made me late.

As he rounds the corner, he comes to a complete stop.
 Hannah is not alone today.  The man he saw Hannah with a few days ago is back and kneels at her feet, far too close for comfort.  His eyes narrow as he tries to sort out if the man could be any sort of competition for him.  He gives the man’s plain dress and less than stellar facial features a once over and grins.  
Nothing to worry about there.

He feels confident as he swings the door open and heads straight for Hannah.
 He is rewarded with a brilliant smile as she looks over the man’s shoulder as he approaches.  “Well, hi there stranger.  Didn’t think I’d be seeing you today.  What is this…five day in a row?  They sure do work you guys hard.”

Draven smirks and makes sure to ignore the man who rises beside her.
 It irks him that the man’s hand rests on the wheelchair handle, a bit too close to the bare skin of her neck where her hair is drawn back.  Her loose curls are braided and fall heavily down the center of her back instead of spilling over her shoulders like normal.  He doesn’t like that. If he’s not mistaken, it almost seems like she attempted to look nice for the man beside her.

“Seems my dad heard about all the good work we’ve been doing together.
 He’s assigned me to be your personal slave until you’re on your feet again.”

Although Hannah’s smile never falters, the man standing beside her stiffens.
 His chest puffs out a bit as he takes a step closer to the wheelchair.  Draven appraises the man again, taking in the hard planes of his face, the dark stubble along his jaw and the black tar that clings to his fingernails.  
A laborer, no doubt.

“And you are?” he asks, finally meeting the man’s gaze head on.
 He seems familiar to Draven but he can’t quite place him.  Although they appear to only be a few years apart in age, he doesn’t remember ever having seen him at school or at any of the parties he attends on a regular basis, not that the guy looks like the partying type. No, he looks about as tight laced and rigid as they come.  
A real rule follower, this one.

“Oh,” Hannah rolls her eyes as she raises a hand to pat the man on his hand.
 “How silly of me.  This is Timothy.  He’s a good friend of mine.  He just dropped by to say hi before going to work.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

Timothy’s jaw clenches. “I drop in from time to time to visit.”

“Sure,” Draven nods as he leans his hip against the other side of Hannah’s wheelchair.
 “Must be hard to find time to get down here.”

“Why’s that?”

Draven shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest, looking nonchalantly at the emblem on Timothy’s shirt.  “It’s a bit of a drive from Rodanthe just for a quick visit.”

The man looks down at Hannah and returns her smile but this time Draven gets the sense that it’s a bit forced.
 “She’s worth it.”

“That she is,” he replies and closes his hand on the handle of the chair. “I’m afraid visiting hours are going to have to end sooner than normal today.
 I need to get Hannah to work.  We can’t waste time sitting around here when she could be working on getting her stride back.”

Draven nearly crows with delight when Timothy’s face turns to stone but he nods in agreement.
 He leans over and whispers something into Hannah’s ear before he turns and leaves without a backward glance.  Although the parting unnerves Draven, he shakes off his concern as the door closes and he finds himself completely alone with Hannah.  Soon the other patients will begin to filter in and this moment will be lost.

“So, are you ready to get started?” Hannah nods, but he can sense her reluctance as she glances at the closed door.
 “I’m sorry your friend had to leave so soon, but I know how you tire quickly.  I know you want to make the most of your time here.”

Hannah’s smile returns.
 “Well, aren’t you the efficient one today?”