Lost Wanderer Awakened - Book One of the Airendell Chronicles (2 page)

Her coven will probably order a death warrant
for her for this day’s work, but it was well worth it. But more
importantly, she’s worried about her enemy’s mate. Once the Spell
Weaver turned vampire catches up with his mate, Kyera is reluctant
to engage him because he is very powerful and full of rage. Kyera
knows that he would gladly risk forfeiting his immortality to take
her life because of what she has done to his beloved mate, this day
and in the past as well.

CHAPTER 2 - AFTERMATH – Deidra

What the hell is he saying? I am trying to
comprehend what this doctor is telling me, but nothing he’s saying
makes any damned sense. Semi-truck? Ice storm? Brain swelling?
Seven surgeries? Coma? None of this makes any sense!

“Doctor, who is taking care of my children?”
I demand, a little less patiently this time. Jeez, that can’t be
that hard of a question to answer. Either Rolan has them… or
someone else. Speak up Doc! I mean I won‘t exactly be thrilled if
Rolan has them, he‘s not exactly Father of the Year, but he is
their father.

“Cat got your tongue, Doc? I asked you, who
is taking care of my children?”

The short, balding surgeon runs his hand
across his shiny bald dome and looks at the nurse standing beside
him. What’s he looking for? Guidance? Does this quack not even know
enough about his patient to know who has my kids?

“Doc, please just tell me who has my
kids?”

“Mrs. Montfort, I am so sorry to have to tell
you this, but your children did not survive the car crash.”

NO! NO! NO! He’s lying! There was no car
crash! This is Rolan’s sick idea of a joke.

“Get the hell out of here!” I scream at the
doctor and his timid little nurse standing beside him. I want to
throw the water pitcher at the man. But I don’t. Innately, I am far
too polite to ever do such a thing. So I just stare at him and wish
him to hell for being so cruel.

“Mrs. Montfort, I know this is a lot to
absorb and I truly wish that I did not have to be the one to tell
you this. Your children and your husband did not survive the crash.
You were on your way home from your youngest son’s funeral. There
was a freak ice storm and… well, apparently the semi was going too
fast and could not stop at the intersection. He crashed into your
family’s minivan. The only reason you survived is because you were
thrown from the vehicle. I never thought I would see the day that I
was glad someone wasn’t wearing their seat belt.”

I always wear my seat belt, what is this guy
talking about?

“Everyone else in the car died before the
first responders could get there,” the doctor is still speaking,
but he isn’t making any sense to Dee.

Several long moments pass without Dee
responding. Bald Doctor looks at Timid Nurse and says, “Her blood
pressure is going too high, give her another dose of the
sedative.”

“I don’t want a damned sedative,” I rage at
the doctor. “I want the truth.” But I can see the truth in Bald
Doctor’s eyes. My babies really are gone! This isn’t some
horrendous bad joke. “Go away, please. I need a moment alone.”

Bald Doctor looks up when Timid Nurse comes
back with my shot to go into I.V. I watch her put the medicine in
there, and wonder vaguely if all of this a drug induced nightmare.
Soon I drift off into a drug induced sleep. I dream about searching
for my kids. They are out there somewhere, needing their mother and
I am letting them down.

The next time I open my eyes, Janice Smith is
sitting at my bedside. Janice and I have taught school in the same
district for over twenty years. We were hired at the same time.
She’s the closest thing I have to a best friend. We are only work
friends, we don’t share intimate details of our lives with each
other, but we’ve always been honest with each other. She is looking
at me with such a sad smile on her face and I know that the damned
nightmare about the doctor telling me I had been the only survivor
of a horrific car crash is real.

My babies are really gone!

I try to sit up in the bed, and the pain is
excruciating. “Easy Dee.” Jan says quietly. “Your body is still in
pretty bad shape. Let me call the nurse to help you.”

Timid Nurse comes back and helps me sit up. I
want to yell at her because it hurts so damned bad when she moves
me, but I know it’s not her fault. I hurt all over. I look down at
myself and think, it’s no small wonder. My left leg and left arm
are both in some kind of apparatus… with metal frames around them
and what appears to be bolts sticking into my body, apparently
holding my bones in place so they can heal.

SHIT!

I look at Jan, “So it’s true? There really
was a crash? My babies are gone?”

Jan just looks like she wants to cry when she
nods. “Yeah, Dee, it’s true.”

“How?”

Jan hands me a manila folder. “I kept the
newspaper clippings. The doctor says you may never get your memory
back of the crash, and maybe that’s a good thing.”

I take the folder in my right hand and lie it
on my waist. I am looking at it like it contains rattlesnakes.
Hell, I wish it did. That would be easier to deal with than what is
actually in there. I know that folder contains proof that my family
is gone.

“Thanks Jan. I am tired…”

Jan takes the hint and stands up, she reaches
out and squeezes my hand. A very un-Jan-like gesture. She’s never
really been a touchy-feely kind of person. “Dee, I’ll come back
tomorrow after school. My church has been praying for you and will
continue to do so. I will leave my number with the nurse’s desk.
They can call me if you need anything. And Dee, I do mean
anything.”

I nod but I can’t look at my friend. I don’t
want to see the sympathy in her eyes. I don’t want her damned pity!
I don’t want anyone’s pity! Somehow, I know this is my fault. I
don’t remember how or why, but it’s my fault my babies are
dead.

Later that afternoon, The Parade of Glorified
Healers march through my hospital room to give me the full skinny
on my condition. I am still grappling with the idea that my
children are actually gone. Now Bald Doctor, the ortho guy is back.
I have no interest in anything an orthopedic surgeon has to tell
me. I have already had to listen to The Neuro Guy and The Plastic
Boob Doctor prattle on about all the wonderful work they have done
to me. They both are taking full credit for my ‘amazing’
recovery.

I snort at that idea because I got the
distinct impression from both of them that they have no idea how I
have even survived, much less how my brain seems to be working
properly, or how come my face doesn’t look like the Elephant Man.
They are both rubbing their hands in anticipation of writing
articles about my recovery.

How ya gonna write it up, boys? You don’t
even understand my recovery, you barely believe the evidence in
front of you.

Bald Doctor interrupts my cynical musings;
“Mrs. Montfort, it’s a miracle you survived. The repair work I had
to do to the left side of your body has been extensive. Your
scapula was shattered, clavicle broken in two places. Every bone in
your arm was broken, even crushed. I don’t know if you will ever
get full use of that arm. Your hip joint was replaced, your thigh
bone snapped in two. The two bones in your lower leg and your ankle
were crushed. That’s not even mentioning the damage done to your
skull. You will have to speak to your neurosurgeon and the plastic
surgeon to get the full details of all of the work they had to do.
But let’s just summarize it all as a true miracle. The rate that
you are healing your bones is remarkable, but you still have a very
long road ahead of you. You will require more surgery. Your
recovery is going to be long and arduous and I can’t even guess at
this point how much you will be able to recover.”

Who gives a shit?

He leans back on the stool and looks me
square in the eye and says, “Deidra, I am a pretty good ortho
surgeon. I am not great, or I would be working in some big city
raking in the real money. But I am good. But your recovery… well
it’s beyond my meager means. Somebody, God or somebody, wants you
to recover. I know you are in hell right now. I have two kids
myself. I can’t imagine what I would do if I lost them. But Deidra,
please don’t squander this gift you have been given. Please don’t
give up.”

Blah, blah, blah… won’t he ever leave?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The weeks go by in a blur. They tell me that
I was in a coma for almost two months. Another month has gone by
since I woke up and got the horrible news that my family is gone.
The time hasn’t really passed quickly, it just all feels like a
blur because the damned nurses kept putting drugs in my I.V.

Finally the hardware is off of my arm and
leg. It took another damned surgery to get it done, but it’s gone.
The I.V. is gone. They keep offering me pain pills, but I don’t
want them. Now maybe they will let me leave. I don’t need their
damned pills. They don’t have any more surgeries scheduled. Bald
Doctor is the only one of ‘The Three Wise Men’ who is still coming
around. Please let me leave this place! In my mind I am ranting and
raving at fate, God, the doctors, the nurses, everyone; Just let me
leave! I hear someone enter the room. I don’t bother to look up.
Probably the tall black girl who’s my nurse today. I like her,
she’s not timid around me. She doesn’t ooze sympathy and pity from
every pore. She’s not unkind or rude, but she doesn’t coddle me
either. She does her job and gets out of my room.

Thank God!

“Mrs. Montfort,” a strong male voice says. I
look up at him in surprise. I like his voice, it’s strong and kind,
but not oozing sympathy and condescension. I like his Texas drawl
too, it makes me think of Pop.

“Yes?”

He smiles a bright, genuine smile and says;
“Hi. I am Seth Bailey. I have contracted with the hospital to do
your physical therapy. I have more experience with extensive
injuries like you have than the hospital’s own staff P.T.” He
chuckles and says; “Besides, Mandy, the chief P.T. here is scared
to death of you. She’s afraid you will push yourself too hard and
do more injury.” All I can do is shrug. I think Mandy has been
babying me and I haven’t bothered to hide my feelings from her, but
part of me does feel bad for making the poor girl so uncomfortable.
She has only been doing her job and I have been kind of rough on
her.

Seth is watching me closely and he smiles
before turning to the man with him. “This is Lucian Michaels, do
you mind if he remains here while we visit?” I look at the P.T.
guy. He’s a tall, good looking boy of twenty-five or so. He has
lovely brown hair and eyes. He has a strong, honest and open face.
I like him immediately.

I look over at his companion; he’s really
tall! I’d say 6’8” at least and built like a dream come true. Oh
crap! God’s gift to women really exists! I almost smile, not only
is he gorgeous, but he’s one of the few men that I would actually
have to look up to. At 6’2” I have spent most of my life looking
down to or directly at almost everyone I encounter. I look at the
tall man again, he has the strangest eyes I have ever seen and he’s
really pale, abnormally so. But he looks harmless enough, if being
sexy as sin can be considered harmless, and I just shrug at the
P.T. guy. The tall guy is probably his student, doing a practicum.
Who am I to get in the way of someone learning how to do the career
of his choice?

“Mrs. Montfort,” Seth begins. “I am here to
do your preliminary evaluation so that we can start your physical
therapy. If you ever want to get up out of that bed on your own,
you are going to have to put out some considerable effort. I
understand from your nurses and your doctors that you haven’t
exactly been real receptive to anyone’s offers to help you. But,
lady, I got to tell you the road ahead of you is going to be long,
and painful. Physically and mentally. I will help, and you damned
well need my help. I can get you out of that bed and on your own
two feet. But you are going to have to do all of the work. I can
only guide and support you along the way.”

“Okay, let’s get started,” I say.

The P.T. kid looks surprised, and his student
just smiles. Weird, it’s like he’s proud. Huh? What’s that
about?

But I force myself to focus on Seth instead.
“You said the only way that I am getting out of this bed is to work
hard. Well let’s get started. The sooner I am out of this damned
hospital the better.”

“Awesome Mrs. Montfort! Let’s get you out of
that bed and down to the therapy room and get started,” Seth says
enthusiastically as he pushes the wheelchair over to my bed.

“Dee… or Deidra. Only my students have to
call me Mrs. Montfort.”

“Students?”

“Yeah, I teach special ed. I work with the
moderately to severely impaired students in my school
district.”

“Awesome. It takes a rare person to be able
to do that.”

I snort at that. I hear that crap all the
time and it just isn’t true. There’s nothing special about me or
any other special ed teacher. “All it takes is a little education,
a little common sense and commitment to see it through. The kids do
the hard part.”

Seth chuckles, “Well guess what, Dee? It’s
the same in my job. My patients have to do the hard part.”

The examination that followed that
conversation was grueling! It took forever and was painful as hell.
But Seth was awesome. He was patient and kind, but he didn’t try to
baby me. He instinctively knew when I wasn’t giving it my all and
would gently remind me it was my responsibility to get myself out
of this bed.

After they leave I am embarrassed to know
that I was letting my attraction to the student interfere with my
efforts during the evaluation and initial treatment. That night I
wake up panting hard and shaken to the core. Lucian Michaels is
haunting my dreams!