Marriage By Necessity. Marisa Carroll
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knees himself.
“Well, not exactly a miracle, but very close to one.” Dr. Jamison pulled a sheet of X rays out of the envelope and snapped them into the light box on the wall by the door. “These are your wife’s pre-op scans.” She pointed to a spidery web of lines curled over and around the vertebrae of Sarah’s neck and then indicated the second X ray, where there were no more lines. “The growth was advancing very rapidly. Another few millimeters, and it would have been too late.” She stared at the scans for a moment with a satisfied smile, then snapped off the light. “But we don’t have to go there anymore. It was touch and go for awhile, but I think I can safely assure you the chance of a recurrence is less than five percent over the next—” her smile grew a little wider “—fifty years or so.”
Nate felt as if a bomb had at last gone off in his face. Blood roared in his ears and for a minute he forgot to breathe. She was going to be all right. And she was his wife again. How were they going to deal with that? Automatically, he held out his hand. “Thank you for everything, Doctor.”
“I’m so pleased to be able to give you such a good prognosis. I don’t have to tell you I didn’t think the outcome would be so favorable.” She glanced down at Arlene, who was staring up at her. “Maybe your mother is right. Maybe there was a little bit of a miracle worked in the mix.”
“A miracle,” Arlene repeated, turning her eyes to Nate.
“Sarah should make a complete recovery over the next couple of months, Mr. Fowler. She’ll need some therapy for the nerve damage to her arm and leg, but I believe it’s completely reversible. The therapy will all be out-patient, of course. Barring any unforeseen complications you can take her home in seventy-two hours.”
“IS THERE ANYTHING I can get for you?”
“No, thank you.” At the last moment the constriction of the brace around her neck reminded her not to try and shake her head. “I’m fine. Just a little tired. Matty—?”
“He’s with Tessa, remember.”
“Oh, yes, of course. I…I forgot.” She missed Matty terribly. She’d never been away from him this long before, although in reality it had only been four days. Ninety-six hours that had changed her world.
“It’s normal. The anesthetic, the pain medication. Your brain won’t feel like such a block of wood after you get some sleep.” Nate wasn’t looking at her as he spoke, but was hanging their coats in the postage-stamp-size closet beside the door.
“I imagine you’re right.” He was talking from experience, she reminded herself. How many surgeries had he undergone to reconstruct his knee and ankle? It hadn’t been a subject that had come up during the few days they’d been together before the wedding. Odd, not to know something that at one point in her life would have been of the utmost significance. Even now she couldn’t bear to think of him hurting and in pain. Her palm itched, so she absently rubbed the tips of her fingers over the skin. It was another sign the surgery had been successful, this uncomfortable, almost annoying return of sensation to her nerve-deadened hand and leg. She kept her eyes on the lake. Gray clouds scudded overhead changing the surface of the water from blue to pewter as swiftly as her moods seemed to swing between light and dark, happiness at being alive and near despair at the dilemma she’d created for Nate and herself.
She had been prepared to die.
Not to live.
She had believed wholeheartedly that she wouldn’t survive the surgery. She’d made him believe it, too, or he wouldn’t have agreed to her mad scheme. But she had survived. Yet in her fear and anxiety to provide for her son what had she done?
To Nate?
To the two of them?
The thought made her head swim. Her knees felt weak and rubbery. She put her hand out to steady herself on the arm of Nate’s huge recliner. It was a man’s chair, wide and overstuffed. David had had one much like it. She’d sold it along with all her other furniture before she left Texas.
Immediately Nate was at her side, helping to lower her gingerly onto the seat. She steeled herself not to jerk away from his touch. To have him so close made her wary of her reactions. He was so big and warm and safe. It would be wonderful to give in to the temptation of being taken care of again. But she didn’t dare allow herself the luxury of such yearnings for even a moment. She and Matty were on their own, or would be again soon enough. “Thanks,” she said, “wobbly knees.”
“Your blood sugar’s probably low. I’ll make you some tea and toast. Then you can get some rest.”
“Please, don’t bother. I’m fine. I ate everything on my tray before we left the hospital.” And the food, bland as it was, was still sitting like lead in her queasy stomach.
Unheeding of her words, he moved into the small kitchen. Nate was a good cook, she remembered. All the men in his family were—it was a competition of sorts between them at holidays and parties. “While you’re resting I’ll go down to the barn and check the answering machine before I head over to Tessa’s and bring Matty home.”
Bring Matty home. Another of the phrases that sounded so right but was so wrong.
“We need to talk—” she repeated stubbornly.
“I’ve put you two in the bigger bedroom.” He spoke over his shoulder. “There’s more room for your things. Matty helped me move your stuff.”
“We can’t force you out of your bedroom.”
“I’m fine in the small room. I think I’ll have a cup of coffee before I go to the barn. Are you sure you don’t want something? Tea? Cocoa? I make great cocoa.”
“So Becca told me.” She wished her head didn’t feel like the block of wood Nate had described, but it did. She’d gotten little sleep in the busy teaching hospital the past three nights. She was so tired that she couldn’t keep a clear line of thought in her head. The pain-killers she’d taken before she checked out of the hospital weren’t helping her concentration, either. But the truth was she needed them, at least for the time being.
“You know, cocoa sounds good now that I think of it. I’ll make us both a cup.” He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a gallon of milk and filled a saucepan on the stove with the deliberate, efficient movements and total concentration on the task at hand that Sarah remembered from their time together. That way of working, of moving, had been drilled into him in the military. When you dealt with explosives, impatience and carelessness were two traits guaranteed to get you, or someone else, killed. He’d told her that early in their relationship when they’d had no trouble talking about what was important to them.
He reached one long arm across the narrow counter and took a tin of cocoa and sugar from a top cupboard shelf in one smooth, unhurried motion. He made love the same way, deliberately and thoroughly. Sarah pushed herself out of the big chair and walked slowly to the banquette. She sat down then removed the neck brace and placed it on the seat beside her. She only needed to wear it when she was riding in the car or walking outside, where her weakened leg muscles might trip her up. She gingerly touched the back of her neck where the row of metal staples held the edges of the long incision together. In ten days they would be removed, and the small amount of her hair that had been shaved away would grow back almost as quickly, Dr. Jamison had assured her. After that it would be therapy twice a week for six weeks at Lakeview Care Manor across the lake, and then a follow-up visit to Dr. Jamison. If everything looked good she would be allowed to drive and go back to work in time for the holiday rush.
She would start apartment hunting then, and she and Matty could be in their own place by Christmas. Except she would still be married to Nate. She rested her head in her hands. It was all so complicated now. The financial arrangements she’d made were predicated on her death, not her living. She had very little ready cash. On top of everything else he had done for her, would she end up having to ask Nate for a loan to divorce him again?
Lord, what a mess. Her head was pounding; the incision ached. She was so tired