Okay, I haven't updated in...forever. But, I'm still alive, just going through a different phase in life. So, I haven't written in awhile.

I'm really sorry for leaving you guys hanging. It wasn't a very kind thing of me to do.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my plot.


Chapter 7-Brace Yourself

Ronnie stared blankly out the window of the car. Was Brian speeding? It wouldn't be good if he got a ticket. She stared down at the towel wrapped around her right hand. Unconsciously, she tried to flex her fingers and winced immediately. Bad idea. That wasn't about to happen again anytime soon. What was wrong with her brain? It was like she was in a haze. Nothing seemed to be real. Will sat next to her on the seat; their eyes met, and he gave her a reassuring smile. "Hang in there," he said.

"We're almost there," Brian chimed in from the front as he wove in and out of traffic. She nodded woodenly. The car lurched around a sharp corner and went briefly onto the curb. She was thrown towards Will, who braced himself against the door with one hand and kept Ronnie from falling off the seat with the other. "Sorry!" Brian said, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Your mom is definitely the better driver." As if waking from a dream, she realized that her mom wasn't in the car.

"Where's Mom? And Jonah?"

"They're waiting at home. We're supposed to call as soon as we find out anything," Will answered. He chose to omit the real reason why part of her family had stayed at home. When Jonah saw the injury, he became hysterical, and they decided it would be best to not have the child go to the hospital.

The car screeched to a halt at the hospital entrance. Will quickly exited the car and carefully helped Ronnie out. "I'll park the car and come find you," Brian said.

"Okay," Will said before closing the door. They walked through the sliding doors into a busy hospital waiting room and stood at the end of a long line.

"May I help you?" the receptionist asked politely when they reached the counter.

"Uh, yeah, my girlfriend hurt her hand, and it's bleeding." The woman cut him off.

"Go over to the wall, pick up the red phone and explain it to the nurse. I'll check you in when I can. Next please."

"About how long will it be?" he asked. She gave him an exasperated look and gestured towards the full waiting room.

"We've been backed up all day. I'd say you're looking for a two-hour wait."

"Two hours?"

"Kid, if you want to get to the front of the line, you're going to need to have a heart attack or get hit by a bus. Here, these should keep you busy for awhile." She handed him a stack of admission forms and a pen.

"Okay," he backed off. By this time, Ronnie had managed to get to the phone and spoke briefly to a nurse who told her to keep pressure on the bleeding, and she would get some gauze to help pack it. Will somehow managed to find a couple empty seats, and she wearily collapsed in one, resting her head on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"My hand…really hurts," she admitted. The constant throbbing had migrated to her head as well. "Will…."
"Yeah?"

"What if, there's something really wrong?"

"The doctor will do his best," he tried to reassure her.

"What if I get kicked out of the program? If I can't play, there's no reason for me to stay in Juilliard."

"Hey," he tipped her chin up to force her to look at him. "It's going to be okay. Whatever happens, we'll get through it. Don't get too far ahead of yourself. One thing at a time."

"I'm scared." She buried her face in his shoulder.

"I know. I am too. But we'll be all right."

Deep inside, she hoped his words were true. But she had seen her hand, and it would take more than a few stitches to fix whatever had happened. Ronnie decided not to voice those fears.

"Sorry it took so long. I had to drive around the lot a few times before I finally found a spot," Brian said, after pulling up a chair. "What's the story?"

"We're not very high on the waiting list," Will said. Brian gazed around the room. There were people of all ages crammed into the little space, some with visible injuries, others who appeared to be fairly healthy.

"Looks like a busy day."

"The lady at the counter said heart attacks or car accidents are higher priority, so if you'd just go run Ronnie over, we might get in faster," Will said with a straight face. Ronnie cracked a smile. The fog in her head had cleared a little, and the bleeding had lessened.

"If I could drive with this hand, I'd run you over, Will Blakelee," she threatened, not very convincingly.

"Glad to see you're back to your old self," he said dryly.

"Not quite, but I don't feel like I'm sleepwalking anymore."

"How's the hand?" Brian asked.

"It feels a little better, but it looks really nasty." She shifted the gauze and towel around until it was loosely secured around her hand.

"What happened?"

"I don't really know. I had raised the lid of the piano because one of the strings sounded off. Being extremely smart, I stuck my hand between the wires, and one of them happened to spring, which is why my hand got cut. I pulled back, and the lid fell down on and smashed my fingers."

"They'll probably take an X-ray and give you a couple stitches," Brian said. He stood and stretched before reaching into his pocket. "I'm going to go call your mom really quick. Come get me before you go in."

"We're not going anywhere soon." Will replied. The wail of an ambulance siren drowned out his words. It looked like the wait time had just doubled. Ronnie curled up in the hard chair and closed her eyes. Will nudged her gently. "Want something to drink?"

"No thanks," she mumbled. He dumped a heavy amount of creamer into a cup and stirred it. The creamer did nothing to disguise the bitter taste of stale coffee. Will moved his chair around, so Ronnie could rest her head on his lap. She was just getting comfortable when her name was called.

"Want us to come in?" Brian offered.

"I think I'll be fine."

The nurse asked the usual round of questions, and she did her best to recount the story again. "So, what are you going to do?" she asked.

"The doctor signed an order for you to get an x-ray." Ronnie nodded.

"You'll have to wait because there's a wait in radiology." She checked Ronnie's vitals, charted them, and slipped out of the room. Ronnie tried to flip through one of the magazines from the holder on the wall, but couldn't concentrate. She sighed and sat on the edge of the gurney. Too bad the doctor couldn't just come in and get the bad news over with. This whole waiting thing was starting to get to her. After what seemed like an hour, the nurse came and took her down the hall to radiology, where a tech positioned her hand and took several images. Once again, Ronnie was told to wait for the doctor, who had to examine the x-rays and then he would come to discuss her results and put in a few stitches. She laid back on the bed and resorted to counting the ceiling tiles for entertainment. The nurse returned with some pain pills for her to take. Finally, there was a knock on the door.

"Veronica Miller?" The doctor entered and shook her left hand.

"You can call me Ronnie. Only my mom calls me

"I'm Dr. Westfeldt. Let's see what we have here." He examined her hand; Ronnie bit her lip every time he manipulated her fingers. The topical pain killer helped take a little of the sting away, but she still cringed at the thought of a needle. "These cuts are a little too deep for a butterfly, so I'm going to have to put in a few stitches. She nodded slowly, He worked quickly, and the procedure was done much faster than she had anticipated. "Okay, you can open your eyes now," he told her. She looked down at the neat row of black stitches on her hand.

"Did I break anything?"

"Well, you have fractures in both of these fingers," he pointed to her third and fourth fingers. I'll splint those, so you're not going to be able to use them for several weeks."

She let out a sigh of relief. "I'm glad that's all."

"I'm not quite finished. The nurse told me that you reached into the back of a piano? Is that correct?"

"Yeah, I shouldn't have been messing with the wires. I didn't see that one of them was broken. They're sharper than I thought they were," she explained sheepishly.

"There's something else," Dr. Westfeldt said. "You've injured the tendons in those fingers."

"What? What do you mean?" she asked hurriedly.

"They were overextended. As far as I can tell, they aren't ruptured, but it's too soon to tell how much damage has been done." Ronnie listened to his words with growing panic.

"Dr. Westfeldt, I'm a pianist. I mean, that's my major. Is this gonna heal? It's nothing serious, is it?" she blurted out.

"The broken bones should heal in several weeks, but the tendons you injured are what allow for movement at these joints. I'm splinting your fingers at full extension to keep the tendons from healing incorrectly."

"Will I be able to play after that?"

"Depending on the extent of the damage, you might need physical therapy to fully regain use of the tendons."

"So, this could be really bad," Ronnie swallowed hard.

"I can't really tell you. If it heals properly, you should be fine. There is a chance that the tendons are permanently damaged, but I do not have the training in that area to make a clear statement. I'll refer you to a colleague of mine who specializes in orthopedics. He'll be able to tell you more." He continued to tape her fingers together. "How's the pain level?"

"Whatever you gave me definitely did its job," she commented.

"Good. I have a prescription for some painkillers," Dr. Westfeldt quickly wrote on a piece of paper, tore it off his scrip pad and handed it to her. "You can get this at any pharmacy."

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome. I hope to never see you in here again," he chuckled, shook her hand again briefly and left the room. The nurse came in with more paperwork for her to sign. She fumbled with the buttons on her coat, finally gave up and just carried it down the hallway to the waiting room. Brian and Will stood up simultaneously.

"So, how did it go?"

"I have to wear this for at least six weeks," she showed them the splint. "He gave me a referral to an orthopedic doctor, and I have a prescription."
"But it'll heal?" Will asked.

"Oh, yes. I should be fine." Ronnie chose to gloss over the doctor's other words.

"Good," Brian said. He studied the tile floor for a minute, then looked at her again. "I'm really sorry, Ronnie. Your mom and I didn't mean for you to get injured. The piano was supposed to be a good surprise."

"It's okay Brian. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have messed with the piano. I don't know what I was thinking. I love the piano. It's beautiful, and I can't wait to play it again." She gave him a reassuring smile. Boy, those pain pills were sure doing their job. Her anxiety had completely disappeared.

"What about Juilliard?" Will asked suddenly as the idea had just occurred to him.

"I'll have to talk to them this week and see if they will hold my spot for me. If not…" her voice trailed off. Will glanced sharply at her. He had the feeling she wasn't telling him something, but decided not to press the issue.

"The director has wanted you to come for years. They'll do it," he said confidently. Ronnie wasn't so sure. Juilliard was competitive, and she had turned them down before. This could be the last straw. She put on her coat, and Will was kind enough to help her with the buttons. Having a splint on for several weeks was sure going to be fun.

"Why don't we go home?" Brian suggested. He led them through the tangled maze of the parking garage to the car. Ronnie felt like she had been hit by a truck. The drugs were definitely kicking in now. She barely noticed the brief stop to fill her prescription, and when they had arrived home, she was almost asleep. Her mom greeted her at the door with a composed face, but even in her tired state, Ronnie could tell she was worried.

"I'm going to be fine, Mom," she said, showing her splinted hand. "I just have to wear this for awhile." Kim gave her a long hug.

"I'm glad to hear that, sweetie. We can talk about it tomorrow. I know you're tired, but your brother is still awake and would like to see you." Ronnie slowly made her way down the hall. The light was on in Jonah's room, and she could hear quiet sniffling noises.

"Jonah?" she tapped lightly on the door and swung it open. Her brother was curled up in a ball on his bed.

"Ronnie?" he croaked out.

"Hey bud, I'm going to be fine." She sat next to him on the bed. He turned over to face her.

"I thought…maybe, you were really sick or something," he managed to say through hiccups.

"No, Jonah, I'm not sick. I hurt my hand, that's all. It'll heal," Ronnie brushed the hair back from his forehead. She should have known that her going to the hospital would frighten him. Especially after what had happened. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

"I'm glad you're going to be okay," he said quietly.

"All right, I need to get some sleep, and so do you," she said, trying to tuck the covers in around him with only one hand. "We can talk tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," Jonah answered sleepily. As she was about to turn out the light, he stopped her. "Ronnie?"

"Uh-huh?"

"I love you."
"I love you too." Ronnie closed the door and went to her own room. Her head was already on the pillow before she realized Will was still in the living room. She was about to get up when his voice stopped her.

"Hey."

"Will, I'm sorry for forgetting about you. I'm just so tired."

"It's fine, Ronnie," he lowered himself on the bed next to her. "You're not feeling well. I think I'll be fine."

"I forgot to thank you for coming to the hospital with me," at this point, she was almost slurring her words. He had to keep from chuckling.

"You're welcome. I wish we didn't have to go in the first place."

"I know you have to get home, but can you stay for awhile…until I fall asleep?" she asked.

"Of course," Will said. He cradled her left hand in his. She closed her eyes and finally let herself fully relax. It was several minutes before her even breathing let him know she was asleep. He gently kissed her forehead before standing and turning off the light. "I love you, Ronnie," he whispered softly before quietly shutting the door. "Everything's going to be fine." He knew she hadn't said everything the doctor had told her, but he would gladly wait for her to say what that was. Will remembered the look of fear on her face as they had left the hospital. Her injury was worse than she was saying, he realized. The nagging feeling persisted, even as he said good-bye to her parents and headed downstairs. Everything was going to be fine, wasn't it?

At that point, he couldn't really tell.


All right, if anyone is still reading this story, I really do appreciate it. I hope you enjoyed it, and I'm sorry for being a royal failure at updating

Thanks for reading!