Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
He did.
The room buzzed all day. Maddox came and went, talking to Richard in a low voice. Graham and Laura arrived, both encouraging and thrilled to see Richard awake. Nurses were in and out, tests performed, and Alan checked him again, promising results in the morning.
Richard’s eyes tracked me everywhere. He was distracted and quiet, letting others do the talking. He was tired and napped, his eyes shutting at times, although he tried to fight it. He would wake, startled, calling my name. I stayed close, soothing him, seeing his turmoil and worry.
Finally, the quiet of the evening arrived, and I was alone with him. One of the nurses brought me a basin of warm water and some cloths, and I gave him a sponge bath. He sighed as I ran the cloth over his arms and chest. They capped his IV, with the promise that if he continued to progress, it would be removed. He wasn’t happy about the catheter or some of the other equipment, but he studiously ignored it all as I cleaned his skin.
“Feels nice,” he muttered, watching me.
“Good.” I glanced at his dinner tray. “You didn’t eat much.”
He lifted his shoulder dismissively.
“I can get you something—order anything you’d like.”
“Not hungry.”
He needed to eat, and I decided not to push it for now. “Maybe tomorrow.”
He grunted but didn’t say anything else. I had noticed he kept all his answers to a minimum with everyone. I got a fresh cloth and wiped at his face and neck. “You’ve got quite the beard. Maybe I can shave you tomorrow.” I tweaked it playfully, wanting to see a smile. Even the curl of his mouth would be good. “Gracie won’t like it.” She always hated it when Richard’s scruff got longer. She insisted it scratched when he kissed her.
“I heard her.”
I stopped and looked at him. “What?”
“Gracie. I heard her singing.”
“Yes. She was here. She talked to you and sang. She told me you smiled.”
He was silent as I wiped him dry and tugged up the gown over his shoulders. I emptied the bowl and sat beside him.
He held up his hand. “My ring?”
I pulled the chain from my neck. “They had to cut it off. I’ve been keeping it safe.”
“I want it.”
“I’ll have it fixed.”
“Tomorrow.”
His insistence was touching. “Yes. Tomorrow.”
I linked our hands together, sitting close to the side of the bed. “What else do you remember?” I asked.
“I heard you talking. Asking me…to come back.”
I nodded, encouraging him to talk. It was getting smoother, the hesitation between his words shorter.
“And crying.” He frowned. “I didn’t like that.”
I drew in a shaky breath. “I was scared I was losing you, Richard. Terrified that you wouldn’t come back to us.”
He was silent, staring down at his legs. “You want me—even like this?”
“Like what?”
He rubbed his thigh. “Useless.”
“You are not useless. You were in an accident and had surgery. You have to recover.”
He met my gaze, his eyes filled with anguish. “And if I don’t, Katy? What if—” he swallowed “—what if I can’t walk again?”
“We’ll figure it out, Richard. Together. As long as you’re here with us, that’s all that matters. It’s you I love. Your heart. Your spirit. Your presence. Not your legs.”
“I don’t know if I can do it.”
I frowned, confused. “Learn to walk again? It’s too soon to be deciding that, isn’t it? You only woke up this afternoon. Give yourself a chance.”
He exhaled, his eyes drifting closed. “That’s not…what I mean.”
A small frisson of panic hit my chest. “What do you mean, Richard?”
He didn’t open his eyes. “Be less of a man than I was. What if I don’t fully recover?”
I knew how Richard’s mind worked. I understood he was focused on the worst-case scenario and needed to reassure him. I stood, the chair scraping across the floor as I pushed it back in anger. Richard’s eyes flew open, his gaze startled. I leaned over him.
“Listen to me, Richard VanRyan. Whether you’re walking on two feet, with canes to help you, or in a wheelchair, I don’t give a damn. You’ll be here with me. Helping raise our daughters. By my side. You can still work. Be a father. My husband. There’ll be adjustments and changes to our life, but you’ll still be here.” I paused, sucking in a much-needed breath. “Your legs don’t determine your worth as a man. Your heart does. You proved that once before when you changed and became the man I loved. This time, you won’t do it alone. I am right here, and I’m not going anywhere. Do you understand me? Neither are you. We are going to figure this out together.” By the time I finished my diatribe, tears were running down my face.
Richard’s eyes met mine, seeing the determination in them. “I’m scared,” he admitted.
I lifted his hand and kissed the knuckles, then brought it to my cheek. “So am I, my darling. But not as scared as the thought of facing my future without you. I need you. Your girls need you.”