Unrestrained (Unrestrained 3)

CHAPTER TWENTY

My father's condition improved a tiny bit every day and soon, he was sitting up and dangling his legs over the side of his bed. He wasn't ready to walk yet because the weakness remained in his body on the left side. He could do very little other than kick his legs and move his arms around to get some circulation to his limbs. He was still struggling to eat, his mouth not working properly, half of his face still drooping and his eye watering. He sat in bed with a tissue in hand, wiping at his mouth and eye.

When we met with Dr. Clark, I asked him how long the paralysis would last.

"Difficult to say. The swelling is decreasing a bit each day and as long as no further bleeding occurs, your father should regain almost full use of his arms and legs. The swelling will fully resolve within a month or so, and then we'll know how much use he'll regain."

"What are the chances of another bleed?"

He pursed his lips. "Each year, he has a five to twelve percent chance of another bleed compared to someone who has never had a stroke like this. We think we got all of the malformation, but there could be an area that is still susceptible to bleeding. Only time will tell if we were completely successful."

Drake wanted me to go to the apartment on 8th Avenue with him, but I decided to stay at the hospital and sleep in the extra resident's room. Drake didn’t like it, but he relented when he saw that this was not a point of negotiation. I didn't want to be woken up in the middle of the night by a phone call and have to drag myself to the hospital in the cold. I wanted to be right there, in case anything happened.

On Thursday, we spoke with Dr. Clark again.

"Kate's afraid that her father may have another bleed and so she's staying here at the hospital, but she's not sleeping well," Drake said, his arm around me. "Is there anything you can say to alleviate her fear?"

Dr. Clark frowned and shook his head. "I really don't expect anything more at this point," he said. "Your father's made steady progress and the likelihood of another bleed at this point is very slim. Not zero, but I don't expect it. You should feel comfortable going home tonight. His vitals are all fine and the swelling is going down a bit each day."

Dr. Clark turned and walked away, leaving Drake and me alone in the waiting room.

I turned to Drake and forced a smile, my arms crossed. "I'm fine here."

"You have to get used to being away from all this," Drake said, his expression stern. "Ramp down the anxiety a bit. Being here surrounded by nurses and medical personnel all day makes your father seem more frail than he really is. Aaron doesn'

t expect anything more to happen. Come with me to 8th Avenue. We can have a nice warm bath and I'll give you a massage. You'll sleep like a baby."

I turned away, feeling a bit resentful that Drake was trying to make me leave when I didn't want to but I'd been using the resident's shower and washroom for several days. I had to admit that it would be nice to have an actual bath.

I sighed and relented. "I'll come home with you tonight but if anything happens, I'm staying at the hospital."

"Good," he said.

And so, late that night, after my father had turned off his light and after Elaine and Drake and I had a late cup of tea while we discussed how the day went, Drake drove us back to the apartment on 8th Avenue. When we drove up, I felt a sense of excitement and nostalgia for the building. It was here that Drake and I really started as a couple. I remembered how excited I would be to meet Drake there and how he'd be waiting for me expectantly, a smile breaking out on his face when he saw me coming up the stairs. As we were parking in the lot down from the building, I took his hand and squeezed.

"So many good memories here."

He smiled and kissed my knuckles. "The best. I feel like when you walked up those stairs the first time, my life started again after being on hold for five years."

I said nothing, for my throat had choked up. He leaned over in the car and kissed me tenderly.

We walked down the street to the building, the night cold due to a freak storm, steam rising from the manhole covers, a thin dusting of snow having fallen earlier in the afternoon. Drake put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to keep me warm while he fumbled to find the right key to open the front door.

We went up the flights of stairs to the third floor apartment, butterflies in my stomach to be back at 8th Avenue after being away. Drake turned the key in the lock and then before I could step through the doorway, he stopped me and lifted me into his arms, carrying me across the threshold. I laced my arms around his shoulders and buried my face in the crook of his neck, smiling, remembering him carrying me that first time. He closed the door with his foot and then carried me all the way back to the bedroom before depositing me gently on the bed. The apartment was dim and so he went around and turned on a few lights while I removed my coat and boots, dropping them on the floor beside the bed.

I heard the water running in the bathroom. He was running us a bath as promised. My body warmed at the thought, for we hadn't had sex since we left Nairobi. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, but Drake peeked into the room and shook his head.

"You stay there and let me take care of you. You've been neglecting your health for the past week."

I sighed and lay back, closing my eyes. He wanted to take care of me? I'd let him. I surrendered myself over to him – whatever he wanted, I was willing to accept. He went to the living room and turned the music system on, playing some soft classical music – Debussy. I smiled. He knew what I loved.

Finally, he came back over to the bed after removing his coat and boots, and started to undress me.

I tried to help him with the buttons on my cashmere sweater but he stopped me. "Let me do this, Ms. Bennet. You’ve been such a devoted daughter, you've hardly done anything for yourself. Let me pamper you."

I stopped trying to help and lay limp while he removed each article of my clothing, one piece at a time, kissing my newly exposed flesh. When I was down to my bra and panties, he leaned over me, his hands on either side of my head and kissed me warmly.

"I've missed you," he said, his voice husky. "I often thought of sneaking into the resident's room and waking you for a quickie but I didn't have the heart to interrupt your sleep. You look so tired and stressed out."