"I'm fine," he said.
"You can't be comfortable," I said. "If you insist on staying here tonight then come to bed," I said.
He smiled. "Okay."
He rose, got undressed and slipped in beside me. I turned my torso to him and we embraced. Snuggled in his arms. I felt safe again, safe and content. He kissed me softly on the lips and we both finally, fell asleep.
I woke with a jolt when my bedroom door was opened and the air just seemed to rush over me. Austin was still asleep.
"Well, this is a fine sight!" Mrs. Bogart cried, She stood there with her hands on her hips. "A fine sight."
Austin opened his eves and looked at me and then at her. He dropped his head back to the pillow and groaned.
"Close the door. Mrs. Bogart, and never, never come bursting into my room again," I told her.
"You don't need to worry about me doing that." she threatened. "I won't stand by and just watch this sinfulness and be talked to like that."
She slammed the door hard as she left.
"Uh-oh," Austin said.
"Don't worry. My grandmother was famous for rotating household help. I'm just following in her tradition," I said and he laughed.
Mrs. Bogart didn't leave immediately, but she gave notice to Aunt Victoria, who used it as another excuse for one of her fiery lectures about the pitfalls of being involved with men. I paid even less attention to her than before; when she moaned about how difficult it was going to be to find someone else as qualified as Mrs. Bogart. I told her not to worry about it. I'd find someone myself.
"That's absolutely ridiculous," she declared and marched out of the house, grumbling under her breath about how this was all happening at the wrong time. She had too much to do and was too busy to babysit for a reckless invalid.
During the next two weeks. Austin continued my therapy and often stayed overnight with me. Every chance we had, we drove over to the hospital to visit Jake. Sometimes he knew I was there, sometimes he didn't. On occasion he babbled what to other people sounded like nonsense, but to me it was a weaving of all the secrets that made up the cocoon that had enveloped him at the end of his life.
Austin gave me driving lessons with the van and expanded my therapy to include other daily activities, all des fined to ensure my growing independence. I couldn't help but be a little terrified the first time I drove somewhere by myself, but the mechanized van made all of it possible. I even went to the supermarket and shopped. That night I told Mrs. Bogart to take the evening off and I made Austin and myself dinner.
He raved about the food so much. I thought he was deliberately overdoing it, but he swore everything was truly delicious. When I challenged that, he put down his fork and looked at me reproachfully.
"Were you a good cook before your accident?" he asked.
"I was often told so," I admitted.
"Did you cook and bake with your feet?"
"No," I said laughing.
"Then how could your accident have any effect on your ability to cook?" he cross-examined me. "Well?"
"I guess it couldn't," I confessed.
"If I compliment you on your jogging, you can doubt me," he told me. "Until then. I insist that my honesty not be challenged."
I laughed. How wonderful he could make me feel. He toasted me with another glass of wine and then he rose and kissed me.
"Let's leave the dishes for Mrs. Bogart," he whispered, his lips grazing my ear. "It's the least she can do." I turned to him and smiled.
"Oh? And what will we do?"
His eyes told me what he wanted. Mine spoke just as clearly and as loudly. He wheeled me from the table and gently lifted me out of my chair and onto my bed where we made love more passionately-- yet more lovingly-- than we ever had before.
Afterward. I felt complete and contented. I only hoped and prayed it wasn't a will-o'-the-wisp dream that would fade and turn dry and crisp like an old leaf and finally crumble to dust.
I could be happy. I could be happy again. I told myself.