Eye of the Storm (Hudson 3)

"You shouldn't do that. Jake."

He continued to look down for a moment and then he lifted his eves. They were so bloodshot, the tiny veins in them crisscrossing brightly.

"I got a call from Grant," he said.

"Oh?"

"He asked after you. They haven't told Megan anything yet."

"It won't make any difference to her. Tell them not to bother. Tell them... it doesn't make any difference to me anymore either," I said.

Jake looked at me, then out the window.

"You don't have to keep coming here. Jake. I know you'd rather go home."

"Hey, don't tell me that," he said. "I'm not leaving you here by yourself."

"I've got to get used to that. Jake. Who's going to want to be with me now?"

"Now don't talk like that," he ordered. "Frances would be very..."

"Sorry she had ever taken me in," I finished for him. "If I ever was a burden before. I'm a burden now."

Jake stepped closer to the bed and seized my hand. He squeezed it firmly.

"You're going to get better, Princess. I'm not going to let you fade away. You'd better get used to having me on your back," he threatened.

I stared up at him. His eyes brightened and then grew dim. I felt sorry for him.

"Okay, Jake," I offered. "Do what you want."

"Right," he said. "I'll be back with more information tomorrow. You just make up your mind we're going to beat this," he said.

He smiled.

"I mean, how can you disappoint Victoria? If you don't get better, she can't go after your fortune. right? How would that look now? She's stuck. Have some pity on her, will you," he joked,

I had to smile

It felt good, almost like cracking open a surprise package. Then they wheeled in my chair.

Reminding me that smiles and laughter were like precious antiques. You could dust them off, but they had no more function except to lie there on the shelves to help us recall a time more beautiful, a time when there was still something called hope.

7

Going Home

.

A week later, the stone-faced Doctor Casey

appeared with a mousy nurse. When he spoke to her, she didn't face him, but held her head straight so that it seemed like she was gazing at me while her eyes lifted until they were almost under her lids and then turned toward him. It was as if she had to sneak a look or as if he was someone of great royalty who couldn't be looked upon directly.

He went through his usual examination. His wearing those plastic gloves when he touched me made me feel contaminated enough, but when he finished and stepped back from the bed abruptly as if he had been in and out of a bed of disease. I felt absolutely infectious.

"Doctor Eisner and I have completed our evaluation of your condition," he began with that thin, nasal tone. He held his narrow neck stiffly when he spoke, his hazel eyes unmoving. He made me think of a life-size puppet as his jaw worked the words fate itself wove over that dark pink tongue. "Therapy will enable you to strengthen your legs and keep the musculature from atrophying. However, until a new, more promising treatment for spinal injuries is discovered, you will be at your threshold of recovery.

"As you know, you will have occasional painful muscle spasms.