Chapter Twelve #2
A niggle of worry had been at the back of my brain since our discussion in the cottage.
I couldn’t help but wonder if she knew that I was an amputee by the way she watched me when she thought I wasn’t looking.
I hadn’t told anyone in this town that I’d lost my left leg, so it wasn’t likely, but the thought made me sweat.
Did it matter? Yes and no. I’d felt that way about it since it had happened nine years ago, and not much had changed.
Oddly, no matter how many times I changed jobs and cities, that feeling stuck with me.
I was worried it always would. The smart thing to do was to tell her, and I would, once she was no longer taking narcotics and her mind was clear.
While I didn’t know everything about her, I did know she’d have plenty of questions and would want a clear head for the discussion.
As evening approached, the clouds gathered and the temperature dropped, but the sky hadn’t opened yet, so with any luck, the trick or treaters would get their fill of candy before the last rain of October fell.
When I returned to pick her up, I helped her into one of my warmer flannel jackets that would wrap around her sling since she’d need it outdoors tonight.
The air was crisp with the scent of rain and fallen leaves.
I was grateful. We’d finally get that cold air I’d been wishing for, now that November was here.
“I can’t eat another bite,” she said, pushing the bowl away. “Mason’s soup is always so filling.”
“I agree,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “And those rolls are out of this world.”
“Bells Pass Bakery for the win,” she said with a smile. “It was nice of Ivy to bring it over. You’re too busy to cook.”
“Ha,” I said, holding up my finger. “More like because I can’t cook and she knows it.”
“There’s that,” she agreed with a wink.
How I wish she’d stop winking at me. Every time she did it, I wanted to push her up against a wall and steal a kiss until she was breathless. Thankfully, I was smart enough to know that wouldn’t be welcomed, appreciated, or appropriate. That didn’t mean it wasn’t my gut reaction every time.
A glance out the window told me it was time to move out to the deck before the doorbell started ringing. I stood and helped her up. “Leave the dishes, I’ll get them after the tricks and treats are over. Let me help you out to the deck.”
“I can walk, Major,” she promised. “I’m steadier on my feet after that nap.”
“Maybe, but it hasn’t been twenty-four hours since you had anesthesia, so I’d rather ensure you don’t faceplant on my front porch going over the threshold.”
The word brought around a vision of me carrying her across it, her wearing a white gown.
I bit back an eye roll at myself. Like this woman would ever marry you, much less let you carry her over a threshold when you’re held together by baling wire and grit.
Well, okay, so very expensive baling wire, but the same idea, nonetheless.
Once she settled in the chair with a pillow under her arm, I went back in for an ice pack and the candy. She tucked the ice pack inside her sling, but I shook my head.
“Who taught you how to ice an injury?” I asked, removing it again.
“Uh, did I do it wrong?”
“In this case, yes,” I explained, taking the pack and resting it in the crook of her elbow over her shirt to protect her skin. “Since the splint is so thick, the cold will never seep through enough to impact the swelling.”
“I was too out of it to notice what they did last night, to be honest.”
“That’s not surprising, but by putting the ice at your elbow, it will cool the blood as it goes down to your wrist and hand.
That’s the only way to effectively ice an injury that’s splinted the way yours is.
Once they replace it with a removable one, you can then apply ice to the wrist. For now, this is the best you can do. ”
“Wait, I won’t have a hard cast?”
“Like a fiberglass one?” I asked, and she nodded.
“While I’m not your doctor, so I can’t say for certain, my guess would be no.
Since the surgery repaired the fractures and we don’t have to worry about the bones becoming unaligned,” I said, sliding my fingers off kilter until she nodded.
“They’ll make you a custom brace. We call it a spica thumb splint.
They’ll trace your hand and then make it right there, so it fits you comfortably.
It will be strong and hold the arm properly, but it will feature Velcro straps that allow you to open it and remove it for physical therapy.
You’ll have to wear it in the shower, but they’re made from a material that you can dry off and put right back on. ”
“Fancy,” she said, a smile lifting her lips for the first time all day. “I was dreading the cast and wondering how I was going to do anything at work or home with it.”
“We still use them for a lot of breaks, but in your case, it would be overkill. The only difference is, you’ll wear it longer than someone who would go from a cast to the brace.”
“Either way, I’d have to wear something, so I’m happy to wear the one that’s more convenient for longer. I feel better now, thanks for telling me that.”
I smiled but held up my hand. “Just remember, I’m not your doctor, so you’ll have to roll with his decisions.”
“You could put in a good word for me? Tell him I’m a model patient and will follow all his orders about wearing it and not wearing it, as well as attend all physical therapy appointments.”
“You play hardball,” I said, laughter leaving my lips at her smile. “I will discuss it with Dr. Russel since I did the fixation. He’ll ask me my opinion anyway, and I’ll be happy to give it.” The first group of kids was headed our way, and I smiled at the secret I held. “Here comes some littles.”
That smile I loved to see found its way to her lips, and she grasped the basket in her right hand, ready to let them pick out their favorite. Until she saw who it was. Then she dropped the basket on the porch and nearly pitched out of the chair. I grasped her by the shoulders and held her in place.
“Let them come to you,” I whispered.
“Auntie Jae-Jae!” Joy called from her wheelchair, which had been turned into a police car. “I’m a detective!”
“I see that, baby,” Jaelyn called as Heather pulled her out of the chair and carried her up the stairs.
“She’s been very worried about you,” Heather explained, holding Joy up so Jaelyn could kiss her cheek.
“I’m okay, Joy-Joy,” she assured the darling little girl. “Thank you for coming to see me. That was so nice of you. Would you like a treat?”
Joy clapped her chubby hands, and Jaelyn held out the basket that was filled with treats galore.
I may have bought way too much candy, but I had no idea how many kids came through since this was my first year here.
I would donate any extra to the hospital, but as I glanced down at the block, something told me there wouldn’t be much.
“Jaelyn!” A short Strawberry Shortcake was running toward the house with a little Bluey by her side. “Oh, Jaelyn!”
Heather stepped aside as Strawberry Shortcake came barreling up the steps. I was ready to grab her, but she stopped just short of the patient and set her plastic pumpkin down.
“Hi, Lucy Lou,” Jaelyn said, leaning down for a hug from the girl who was, thankfully, extremely gentle. “Or should I say Strawberry Shortcake?”
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Lucy said, her gaze taking Jaelyn in as though she were a trained physician. “I’ve been so worried since Mom said you got hurt.”
“I’ll be okay,” Jaelyn promised the little girl, as she accepted a hug from the boy dressed as Bluey. “Hi, big boy Bryce,” she said, and I deduced that was Lucy’s brother. “I’m so happy you came to see me.”
“There was no stopping them,” Ivy said as she walked up the pathway to join the group. “I mentioned that we might stop over, and these two demanded to come here first.”
“I’m so glad you did, thank you,” she said with a smile. “I was sad to think I’d miss all the kids in their costumes this year.”
“Major had your back,” Ivy said.
Then more of the girl gang arrived until my front lawn was overflowing with kids dancing around the grass, waving at their friends, and singing silly Halloween songs.
The joyful sound of the children's laughter was a stark contrast to the solitude that usually filled my evenings.
Jaelyn had only been here for a few hours, and she was already brightening my world.
As she hugged the kids, handed out candy, and complimented costumes, I realized that she was teaching me how to live again.
The last few years, I’d done nothing but exist, going from the hospital to home to the hospital.
Friends were nonexistent. At least the kind of friends I could count on the way Jaelyn counted on the girl gang.
It was only as I watched them laugh and tease and care for each other that I realized how isolated I’d made myself since leaving the army.
I’d picked places to work where I could blend in and never be required to put myself out there as part of the community.
Then this position became available in a little sleeper town.
For some reason, I couldn’t stop myself from applying.
Was I unhappy in Denver? No, not at all, at least not in my work.
But when this job came across my desk, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Watching this community rally around one of their own made me wonder if the universe knew how much healing I had left to do, and Jaelyn was how it planned to help me do it.
“What a night,” Jaelyn said several hours later as the lights over the front doors blinked off, but we continued to sit on the deck, her eyes heavy but her expression happy. “Tonight was just what I needed. Thank you, Major. For everything.”
As we sat together, I understood that Bells Pass was more than just a place.
It was a home. It was a way of life. A place where people took pride in what they did and in caring for one another.
The woman beside me was part of that, and she had given me hope.
A reason to look forward to each new day rather than dread them. For that, I’d forever be grateful.