Chapter 2
Harlow’s eyelids fluttered. All she felt was pain. Pain in her head. Pain in her legs. So much pain she wanted to cry. Instead, she forced herself to focus, taking stock of her surroundings. She squinted her eyes, staring up at the bright fluorescent lights, struggling to figure out where she was.
She tried swallowing but couldn’t. Harlow lifted a hand and clumsily fumbled with a feather tickling the side of her face.
“Don’t do that,” a gentle voice whispered in her ear.
Harlow turned her head. The woman standing over her was wearing a lavender shirt. The smell. It smelled like disinfectant, the kind her housekeeper used. Home. She remembered getting into her car and driving off after arguing with Robert .
She called her best friend, Eryn, and left a message. Eryn called her back. She dropped the cell phone and reached down to grab it. A big box truck was coming right toward her. She jerked the wheel and then everything went dark.
“Where am I?” Harlow licked her dry lips.
“The hospital. You were in an accident.”
Finally, the soft voice came into focus. It was a young nurse, maybe a year or two younger than she was. Her sympathetic gray eyes met Harlow’s. “You’ve been out of it for almost a day now.”
“Unconscious?”
“Yes.”
Harlow struggled to sit up. So much pain. “The top half of me hurts, but my bottom half, my legs are even worse.”
“Now that you’re awake, I’ve sent for the doctor. He should be here soon, Ms. Wynn.”
“The doctor. What about my husband? ”
“Mr. Barbetz was here earlier. He said he would be back.” The nurse left the room before Harlow could ask more questions.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the pillow, taking inventory of her current condition.
Ability to move her arms? Check.
Hands and fingers? Check.
Feet and ankles? Check.
Head? Harlow moved it from side to side. Check.
She patted her stomach. Harlow could feel her stomach, but not her hips. Inching to the side, she reached past a jumble of tubes and wires and began gingerly tapping her outer thigh. Pain.
Harlow wiggled her leg. More pain. Her muscles felt like they were on fire.
A man clad in white appeared in the doorway. “Ms. Wynn? ”
“Yes.” Harlow scooched back to the center of her bed, warily eyeing him.
“I’m Doctor Ashton. I was on duty when you were brought in.”
“My car…”
“Is totaled, I’m afraid. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“I dropped my cell phone and reached down to grab it,” Harlow said. “When I looked up, a truck was coming right toward me. I jerked the wheel and then everything went black.”
“According to the police report, your car flipped. It took extensive effort and equipment to extricate you from the wreckage. As I said, you’re lucky the airbags and safety equipment prevented your injuries from being much worse.”
The doctor grabbed a chart at the foot of her bed and began flipping through it. “Your memory and mental capacities appear to be intact. How do you feel? ”
“Like I got run over by a freight train on my upper half.” Harlow winced. “My legs are even worse.”
“You suffered muscle contusions.”
“Muscle contusions?”
“The good news is it’s only temporary.” The doctor went into a long spiel about her injuries. Most of the medical mumbo jumbo went right over her head. What she could glean was a crushing blow to her leg muscles had affected the fibers and connective tissue, causing her severe leg pain.
“How long will I be in this sort of pain?”
“It depends on the extent of the muscle and tissue damage. It could be weeks, or possibly even months, before you’ve completely healed.”
Harlow’s mind whirled. She didn’t have weeks or months. She had hours.
“In summary, it is going to take some time to recover. I recommend a regimen of rest along with massage therapy and possibly even a little physical therapy to help you heal completely.” The doctor glanced around. “Your husband, Mr. Barbetz, was here earlier.”
“The nurse told me he’ll be back.”
“I would like to discuss your prognosis with him, so we’re all on the same page.”
“Of course.” The doctor’s diagnosis echoed in her head. Muscle damage. She couldn’t do the movie deal. She couldn’t even walk! How long would she be like this? A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.
Taking note of the look on Harlow’s face, the doctor’s tone softened. “It’s not the best news but not the worst news either. You’ll be back on your feet again.”
“I’m…I have a major project starting soon—a movie deal and need to be in Vancouver in less than two weeks. ”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you won’t be working in two weeks. Realistically, you’ll be back to one hundred percent in six months. Of course, some of this depends on you.”
“Six months?” Harlow squeezed her eyes shut. Six months in the entertainment industry was a lifetime. It was a death sentence to careers. She and Robert would have to sell properties, downsize, cut back. Not necessarily pinch pennies, but be more careful with their money.
She thought about the London apartment contract. God must have been watching over her and prevented her from plunking down a large deposit. They would’ve lost a sizeable chunk of money, money she and Robert would need.
The nurse returned, bringing Harlow her handbag including her cell phone, which had been recovered from the wreckage. “We’ve been keeping your belongings at the nurse’s station. I have to say your cell phone has been ringing off the hook. ”
“Eryn. My best friend, Eryn. I called her right before the car accident. She must be worried sick.”
The doctor had a private word with the nurse over by the door. “I’ve instructed the staff to let me know when your husband returns so we can chat,” he said.
“Thank you.” Harlow waited until they were gone. She scrolled through her cell phone. Eryn had called multiple times and sent dozens of texts. There were also several voicemail messages. Instead of sorting through them, she dialed her friend’s number.
Eryn promptly picked up. “Harlow. Oh, my gosh. I’ve been worried sick. I saw a news story that you were in a car accident. We’ve been trying to find you for hours now.” Eryn rambled on, explaining they had called every hospital in the Malibu area, trying to get information. “No one would tell us a thing. ”
“I’m in Malibu Memorial Hospital,” Harlow said. “I spoke with the doctor. I’ll be okay, but it’s going to take some time.”
“Did you break bones? Do you remember the accident? The news reports showed a picture of your car on the back of a tow truck. It’s totaled. I even heard you flipped it.”
Harlow waited for her friend to catch her breath. “It was a bad wreck. The doctor said I’m lucky to be alive.”
“Where are you again?”
“Malibu Memorial Hospital.”
“Is Robert nearby?” Eryn asked. “Can I talk to him for a minute?”
“He isn’t.”
There was a long moment of silence on the other end. So long that Harlow thought they’d been disconnected. “Are you still there?”
“I’m here,” Eryn said. “Robert isn’t with you? ”
“He was here earlier, before I regained consciousness. The nurse said he’ll be back.” Harlow could almost read her friend’s mind. What kind of husband would leave his wife’s side after a horrific car accident?
Robert. Robert would—and had. Maybe he was too busy meeting with Jillian to be bothered by an injured wife.
Stop it! Harlow mentally scolded herself. Of course Robert cared. He was probably out buying flowers for her right now, packing some of her things up and bringing them to her.
“How long are you going to be hospitalized?”
“I don’t know.” Harlow tried wiggling her toes again. “There are a few complications.”
“Complications?” Eryn echoed.
“My leg muscles were injured. The doctor called it a muscle contusion. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to hop out of bed and check myself out of the hospital. ”
There was an audible gasp on the other end of the line. “You’re paralyzed?”
“No. Just in a lot of pain with the muscle damage. I’ll be out of commission for a while.”
“How long is a while?” Eryn asked.
“The doctor isn’t positive. It could be weeks or up to six months.”
“Basically, half a year of rehab and healing.”
“It’s looking that way.”
“What about the mega movie gig you signed on for, the one that’s filming in Vancouver?”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to do it.” Harlow tightened her grip on the blanket, resisting the urge to break down and start bawling. “I’ll need to arrange for in-home care. Robert’s not big on…staying in one spot.”
“In other words, he’s going to take off and leave you to fend for yourself,” Eryn said bluntly .
“Family care isn’t his thing.” Harlow tried to excuse Robert’s behavior, but to be honest, there was no defense. She also knew there was no way he would play nursemaid for weeks, let alone up to six months. Not by a longshot.
“I’m flying to California.”
“You don’t.”
Eryn cut her off. “I want to be with you. Have the hospital add me to your list of visitors. I’ll be there by tomorrow.”
A movement caught Harlow’s eye. It was Robert, hovering in the doorway, a huge bouquet of flowers in hand and a sheepish expression on his face. “Robert is here.”
“Finally. It’s about time. I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay.” Harlow ended the call and set her phone down. “Hello. ”
“Hey, pretty lady. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up.” Robert held out the bouquet. “These are for you.”
“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
Robert set the arrangement on the table. He leaned over the bed and placed a light kiss on her forehead. “The doctor said it was a miracle you’re still alive. Your car is mangled.”
“I still can’t believe it.” In a faltering voice, Harlow told him what had happened. Driving too fast. Her cell phone fell. She looked away for a fraction of a second, long enough to cross the double yellow line. “I jerked the wheel back and remember hearing a cracking sound right before everything went black.”
“So.” Robert rubbed his palms together. “They’re going to keep you here for a couple of days. You’ll go home and take it easy for the next week or so. I’m sure the bruises on your face will heal. If not, those makeup artists are magicians. No one will ever be able to tell you were in an accident. ”
“I can’t go to Vancouver,” Harlow said. “I won’t be able to do the movie.”
Robert stared at her unblinkingly, as if he wasn’t comprehending what she was saying. “You signed the contract. This is a big one, a major movie. If you back out now, they’re going to sue the pants off us.”
“I can’t walk,” she said bluntly. “My leg muscles have been damaged. The doctor says I’ll need rest and possibly physical therapy.”
Robert’s face turned an ashen color. For a second, Harlow thought he was going to pass out. “Physical therapy?”
“Doctor Ashton seems certain it’s only temporary. I’ll need time to heal. He said it could take up to six months.”
“We don’t have six months. At most, you have a couple of weeks.” Robert started to pace. “I’m sure we can push the timeline out, renegotiate, and have them film around you, giving you a few extra weeks. ”
“You’re not getting it,” Harlow said in a slow voice, enunciating each word. “I can’t walk and am in severe pain.”
There was a light rap on the door. Doctor Ashton appeared. “The nurse told me Mr. Barbetz was here. We can discuss Harlow’s next step and tentative healing schedule.”
“There is no tentative healing schedule,” Robert said. “Harlow signed on for a very large, very important movie project. She needs to be in Vancouver in less than a month. We need the best physical therapist we can find.”
The doctor’s brows drew together. “It will be extremely difficult for Harlow to recover in such a short amount of time. Her leg muscles suffered a traumatic injury. She’ll need rest. Please, have a seat.”
Robert sat, but only because he had no choice. The doctor talked about the treatment plan going forward. Basically, Harlow needed to heal from the physical injuries she’d sustained, along with possibly starting physical therapy. He reiterated the six-month timeframe.
“I can recommend several excellent physical therapists.”
Harlow thanked him.
“Are there any other questions?” Doctor Ashton turned to Robert. “What about you? Do you have any questions? You’ll be Harlow’s primary caregiver.”
Robert shook his head and motioned him away. “I’ve heard enough.”
The nurse, who had been standing near the back, stopped the doctor on his way out. They began talking in low voices. Harlow could only imagine what they were thinking. Robert was not on board with caring for his wife.
Her husband waited for them to step out of the room. “We can deal with this. I’ll hire the best care possible, although you know I can’t handle sick people. ”
“I’m not sick. I’m injured.”
“Injured. Sick.” He started pacing again. “I’ll get you some in-home help, the best in the field, and will be available if you need me.”
“Available?” It dawned on Harlow what he was saying. “You’re moving out of the house?”
“Moving out? No. I’ll be home with you. It’s the other, playing nursemaid. I’m not a good caregiver, or whatever you want to call it.”
“Because you can’t handle the thought of having an invalid for a wife, even if it’s only temporary.” Harlow stared at Robert in disbelief.
He stopped pacing and gently squeezed her hand. “I’m here for you, babe. Like I said, we’ll get through this. All you need to do is focus on healing and let me take care of the rest.” He reluctantly glanced at his watch. “I have to run. I’ll give you a call later.”
Harlow’s husband hurried out of the room, passing by the nurse, who was on her way in. It was clear from the look on the woman’s face she’d overheard their conversation. “Are you going to be all right? Do you have other family you can call?”
Harlow’s throat clogged. Her whole life revolved around her career. The power. The prestige. The handlers. The spotlight. All so glamorous and enviable, yet she had no real friends…except for one. “My friend, Eryn from Michigan, is on her way.”