Casey pulled up in front of Abby's house. Turning of the motor, she sat there for a moment with her head laid back, gathering her energy. Two weeks had passed and nothing had changed. If anything, it had gotten worse.

She and Derek weren't even sharing the same room. Derek was in a special bed and the nurse stayed with him in case he needed anything during the night. He had gotten into a horrible routine of sleeping till noon. Then, he would watch TV, read the papers and play solitaire until dinner.

Sam continued to pressure her to tell Derek about the baby. She had lost weight since the accident, and all her clothes hung on her. She could see when she looked in the mirror that she looked gaunt and pale ---- and older.

The worst part though, worse even that the constant worry about Derek getting well, was that she felt so left out. Derek was cordial to her, perfectly friendly. But when she came to him to caress his cheek or give him a loving kiss he seemed, well, almost surprised. It was almost as if he wondered why she would even bother. How she longed for the days when he would sneak up behind her kissing her neck playfully or would gently wake her with a soft kiss in the morning. Those days seemed like another lifetime ago.

She just wasn't needed. Abby had everything under control and the nurse took care of Derek twenty-four seven. The cook prepared his favorite foods, which he hardly touched, and the maid kept his room in order. Casey was grateful to all their friends for coming around and keeping them company of course, but when they were there jabbering about school and games, she just didn't have anything to say. The only one who ever bothered to stop and talk with her was Sam, but their only topic of conversation seemed to be how to get Derek up and about and if the knowledge of the baby would do that.

Frankly, she was sick of all the people waiting on her husband hand and foot. She had finally decided that Derek shouldn't be coddled anymore. That he shouldn't be at his mom's house anymore. She treated him like a child, so he acted like one. She wanted to take care of him – yes that was a part of her reason for wanting him back home with her. But she was beginning to think that being too nice to him was a mistake. The only way pearls ever grow is when oysters get grit inside them and get irritated. The only way to get Derek moving was to rile him. She had made up her mind, no matter what, the day the casts came off, Derek would be coming home with her.

Slowly, gathering all her strength, she got out of her car and entered the house looking for her husband. She was pleasantly surprised to find him out on the flagstone patio.

"Well, you look comfortable," she said opening the French doors that led out onto the patio. Derek was in his wheelchair, wrapped in blankets, a baseball cap on his tousled hair, his head tipped up to the sun.

He smiled and maneuvered the chair around so that he could look at her. "I am. It's nice here. It gives me a chance to think."

She came over and wrapped her arms around his neck, depositing a kiss on his exposed ear. "Not too chilly?"

"No, I like it."

They were quiet together for a moment, and then Casey pulled up a chair beside him. "What are you thinking about?" she asked.

He shook his head, as if he didn't want to tell her. Then, so softly that she had to move closer to hear him, he said, "How much I'd like to hold you."

Casey's heart filled with joy and hope. "Well, why don't you?" She got up and came to him, standing beside the chair. "I could sit on you lap. The casts would keep my weight off you."

He looked nervously back through the windows. "Someone might see."

"Derek, we're married." She was so happy that the subject had come up ---- that he had brought it up ---- because he had stayed so far away from her since the accident. But it was exasperating to have him make excuses.

"But we're on my moms' turf." He wheeled himself away.

She stood there, an anxious feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. "How about coming home to our turf?" she finally asked.

He frowned and shrugged, "I don't know."

"Derek, listen to me. The ramp is all built and I had a carpenter do a few things inside to make the house wheelchair accessible. It's time that we got on with our lives. Not that your mom doesn't mean well ---- she's been great through this whole thing. But you said it yourself, you're comfortable here, maybe too comfortable."

"Now don't you start Casey…"

"It's all arranged. All we have to do is tell your mom you're moving as soon as the casts come off. But I think you should do that, don't you?"

He was about to answer when they both heard the sound of a car coming up the drive.

"Sounds like Sam's car. Great! I've been meaning to talk to him about a few things," Derek declared, moving himself over to the ramp that led to the porch.

Casey licked her lips, pulling her jacket collar closer around her neck. She had made virtually no progress on any front. She wasn't helping him at all, and she felt frustrated and annoyed that, as close as they were, he just didn't trust her enough. So close, and yet so far way.