She laid down and cuddled up to him with a smile. "I'm tired."
"I should say so - you spent me several times. But that was unbelievably hot, Em." He rolled on top and kissed her neck.
A giggle bubbled up, and she pushed him off. "I'm hungry."
He grinned. "Far be it from me to keep a pregnant woman from food." The man hopped out of bed and pulled on his clothes. "What sounds good? There's a grocery on the corner."
"Are you offering to run a crazy pregnancy craving errand?"
"You're hardly keeping food down. If I have to run to China for food that you want, I will." The crazy man was dressed already.
"I'll come with you. Strawberries sound wonderful."
"Strawberries? You need more than that." He frowned and helped her dress.
It was nice to do something as simple as hold hands and walk down the street. "I miss this. How much longer before you come home?"
The happy gleam in his eye disappeared and he looked straight ahead. "You know I can't answer that."
She held his hand with both of hers. "Should I be ready to give birth without you?" Even the thought of it hurt.
He pulled her into the grocery store that was as small as it was crowded and led the way toward the fruit section, not even acknowledging the question.
"Jay?" She planted her feet, pulling him to a halt.
But he didn't turn for a second. When he did, grief shined in his eyes. "I don't know," he snapped.
She swallowed hard and let go of his hand to go over to the strawberries.
He stepped up beside her. "I'm sorry. This is really hard on both of us. If I had a choice, I'd have been home yesterday."
"It was only a question. Mom almost hemorrhaged having me," she said quietly and picked through the cartons. "I'm scared of childbirth and not having you there too."
"We need to take this a day at a time." He rubbed her back. "Being prepared for the worst will only make us more stressed."
She nodded. But things weren't quite the same the rest of the shopping trip.
The doorbell rang that afternoon. She opened it to Pete and Trudy standing there with Henrietta. The moment those little eyes saw her, Henrietta shrieked and ran forward with her arms outstretched.
She knelt down and took the hug. "How's my baby? Did you have fun on the airplane?"
Babble replied as the adorable love bounced her legs to bob up and down in excitement.
Then she turned with Henrietta. "Is that Daddy?"
The little darling jammed her fists in her mouth and screeched with excitement, her little legs flailing as fast as possible to get to him as he knelt near the bedroom doorway with a huge grin. She leaned forward too much and plunked face first into the carpet, but she put her hands down, got her little legs up, and then pushed her torso upright and ran again. This time, her arms stuck out for balance as she teetered from her run. "Odd-eeee!" The screech was ear piercing and probably hurt with Jason's hearing device, but he didn't seem to care.
He laughed and scooped up his daughter, cuddling her tight. "How's my baby?"
Tears welled at the sight of him kiss Henrietta and bury his face in her hair and weep. She walked over to them.
He shifted Henrietta to one arm and wrapped his other around her. "I missed my girls," he sniffled and kissed her and Henrietta again as he held on tight.
"Wy?" Henrietta patted his damp ski mask and made a sad face like she was confused. "Owie?"
He smiled. "No, love. Daddy's not crying because of an owie, I'm just happy to see you and Mama."
Henrietta pulled at his mouth.
"That's her new thing when she wants you to smile," she explained.
He laughed and kissed Henrietta's cheek. "You're learning so much, poppet." Then he stepped forward and shook hands with Pete and gave Trudy a hug. "Thank you for bringing her." After exchanging pleasantries and getting Pete and Trudy settled in bedrooms on the other side of the kitchen, he took her hand and carried Henrietta into the master bedroom.
Jason closed the drapes and climbed on the bed with Henrietta. "Come sit, love. I think we need family snuggle time." He grinned as he held Henrietta's hands while she did her best to jump on the bed. Then the little darling dropped herself into his lap and curled against his chest. His eyes lifted to meet hers. "I miss this." His voice came out thick with emotion.
She climbed on the bed and laid down beside him, closing her eyes.
"Are you tired, love?" He stroked her belly.
"All the time," she yawned.
"Then we shall take a nap. You're probably due for a nap too, poppet." He stroked her belly as he laid down with Henrietta curled up on his chest.
The little one babbled with her eyes closed until her words faded away and she breathed in a deep slumber.
He pulled a blanket over Henrietta and kept a hand on the back of her head.
"Has the Foundation tried to reach you? I haven't heard a word from them for awhile." Too long, it seemed like.
"Yes," he sighed and stared up at the ceiling. "I've heard from Ms. Williamson a few times." Then he turned his head and looked at her lying on her side. "There's a meeting next week for the board to discuss construction of another hospital wing."
She cracked a smile. "That sounds like a hint to go."
"Only if you're interested - you could attend through teleconference. Obviously not being a board member, you could not cast a vote. However, it would be beneficial should you voice the pros and cons you see in their proposal."
"Jason, you have some of the world's brightest minds there. I do not think it is wise for me to walk in with my two cents."
He shrugged. "The board was impressed with you before and respect your opinions. I do not think they'd have objections."
"Let me see the baby." So much hope and excitement filled his eyes. When she lifted her sweater with hot cheeks to reveal the small swell, he sank to his knees and cupped her belly in his hands. "You're so beautiful, Emma," he whispered and set his lips to the babe.
Henrietta waddled over and lifted her shirt way up for him. "Eee too!"
Laughter filled the room. "You too?" He scooped her up and kissed her round little pooch. Then he pointed. "Mama has a baby growing in her tummy." He stroked. "You have to be very soft. The baby will come out in the summer when it's hot outside."
Henrietta copied his strokes and then leaned forward like she tried to see inside. Leaning back and looking at Jason, she swung her head vigorously from side to side.
"No?" He chuckled. "You don't see the baby?"
The darling lifted her shirt and pointed to her own belly.
"No, you're still like a baby. There's no baby in your tummy. Mama's tummy will get bigger as the baby grows, and then the baby will come out. You'll be a big sister."
Henrietta wiggled to get down and play, so Jay set her down. She walked over to the electric fireplace and stood there staring up at the flickering flames.
"It's not hot, so she won't get hurt." He stood and caught her sweater when she let it down. "I have almost five weeks to make up for. Let me see the babe awhile longer." He stepped behind and cupped her bare belly while pressing a kiss to her neck. "Are you able to eat more?"
"The strawberries are staying down, but I'm reluctant to push anything else yet. Henrietta is probably getting hungry for dinner."
With a grin, he scooped up Henrietta and slipped out the door. He returned minutes later without her.
Her eyes widened. "You didn't - "
"No, I didn't ask them to babysit. Henrietta was enthralled with getting food out of the refrigerator to help Stevens cook. He suggested that I go spend time with my wife." His smile grew.
"Jay, I don't really feel up to..." She blinked when he laid on the bed beside her and stroked her belly.
"No, let's just be together. Look." He got up and opened the tall drapes.
A soft gasp escaped and she sat up. The New York skyline was beautiful. "Oh, Jay. We can see the ball drop from here too?" She got up and walked to the window.
He set an arm around her waist. "Yes, right there." He pointed to a building nearby where hundreds of people began to swarm the streets below. "I laid in best last New Year's Eve when we were texting. I wished to be here with you for the next one." His voice fell to a husky purr.
She smiled and turned in his arms to rest her head on his chest. "I don't want tomorrow to come."
"I know, my love." He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Thinking about tomorrow will make us too sad, and it'll rob us of tonight. Just be here with me."
Henrietta slept curled up in a tiny ball on the side of the bed against the baby railing that Trudy had thought to bring.
Jason held her in his arms, stroking her belly as the electronic fireplace crackled and warmed the room. The television blared the New Year's festivities in the background, with another few minutes until midnight. There was something so special and magical about simply being in the moment with Jason and not speaking. He handed her a champagne glass of orange juice and took one for himself. "It was the best year of my life, but I know each one will get better. Challenges will only make us grow closer, love. To a wonderful New Year with our new family."
The bed was empty when she woke up, cold even. She rolled toward his pillow, the knot of dread already forming in her stomach before she opened her eyes. He was gone. On his pillow lay a note in his elegant scrawl.
Forgive me, Emma. I promised almost another day, but I received a call at five o'clock. We are sometimes told incorrect departure times for security reasons; apparently this was one of them. I hate that they stole another day with you. The right thing to do would've been to wake you up to say goodbye, but...I'm so devastated that it's hard enough watching you sleep and not cry knowing that I must leave you and the babies again.
Send me pictures of your belly. I didn't realize exactly how beautifully pregnant you look until I saw you in-person yesterday. Now I understand what I'm missing, and it makes it that much harder to go. I will have better reception to make contact, hopefully daily, this time around. I love you and the babies.
I leave my heart behind with you,
Jay
It was hard to be without him again, but something about having even one night with him gave renewed strength to go on.
Her birthday passed, along with their one-year wedding anniversary. He sent a text every other night. Whether he received her long emails or not went unanswered. She watched the news every day. The President was in the midst of negotiations with Middle East officials, and times were tense. Security for Jason was likely very stringent. As international tensions rose, Jason's texts fell to a word: Alive. That single word from an untraceable phone kept her heart beating for the next forty-eight hours until the next check-in would come.
She turned on the news one night at the end of January. It had become like a religious obsession to watch every glimpse, every press conference, every bit of news about the President in hopes of spotting Jason. Like a good Navy SEAL, he was never caught on camera.
The news camera showed the President get out of the car and reach to shake hands with a Middle Eastern diplomat on live stream. Gunfire exploded.
The camera shook as the cameraman and reporter ran for cover, catching glimpses of security rush the President back into the car. Yelling and shouting. Men in heavy armor swarmed the car and fired large rifles - they acted like security for the President.
Rushing to the TV, she dropped to her knees to be eye level. One of them might be Jason. Her heart thundered and eyes scanned the screen for a glimpse of a mask. Too much movement for a clear view as the cameraman ran.
A scream ripped out of her throat as one of the securitymen in black fell. "No!"
Trudy and Pete ran into the cabin room.
"Jason! I can't tell if it was Jason who was shot!" She banged a hand against the TV, as if somehow able to still the shaking and get a closer look by doing so.
"We have a SWAT member down," the reporter said, her voice shaking.
"It's alright, it's not him." Pete grabbed her shoulders to calm her. "It's alright."
"Correction, it's Navy SEALS - " THe reporter stopped for a moment as more gunfire broke out. The camera feed lost connection for a minute. "Two SEALS down! It's unclear who is attacking! It seems to be an ambush! Shots are coming from rooftops and windows! Security was stationed everywhere!"
A boom silenced the microphone. Smoke obscured the camera. As the smoke cleared, the camera caught image. It laid on it's side. A glimpse of body parts on the dirt road before the in-studio news cut back to the screen.
"We'll give you an update as soon as we hear what's going on. Next, sports news - "
Her hands cupped over her mouth in horror as tears streamed down. "Jason. He was right there for the suicide bomb. What if that was him?"
Trudy cradled her to her chest and rocked. "It wasn't him. It's alright. He'll contact you in the next few hours to say he's fine."
Pushing to her feet, she ran for her cell phone. Maybe he'd reply to email if he knew she saw what had happened. Sending a quick email, she frantically flipped over to text. It would be fruitless, but she had to try.
Saw attack. You alright?
It beeped a second later. Failed delivery.
Pacing and flipping news channels the next five hours led to nothing except experts giving their speculations about what happened.
The next day, her phone rang. She snatched it up. "Jason? Are you alright?"
"Mrs. Port? This is General Morrison."
The world stopped.
"Is this Mrs. Emma Port?'
She sank to the floor. "Is he dead?" The words barely squeezed out of her throat, the grief so crippling that even tears refused to form.
"No, ma'm. He's alive but in a coma. I shouldn't be calling you personally like this, but I know how difficult he found it to be away from home. He's being flown back to the States today. He'll arrive at a VA hospital in New York. They relieved the pressure on his brain. He just has bumps and bruises otherwise."
"I don't understand. Only the mortally wounded are shipped back." She gasped in air, unable to breathe.
"He's critical and needs the expertise of our neuro surgeons. They have hope that he'll survive, but the full extent of brain damage is unknown. Get a flight out there. He'll likely already be in surgery when you arrive." The line went dead.
Room twenty-six in the ICU. She ran down the hospital halls, not even waiting for Pete and Trudy to follow. Charging into the room, she stopped in her tracks in shock to see Jason reclined in bed and awake. The only difference was a bandage around his head and the scarred side of his face, and some nicks and bruises on his face and arms.
A doctor in surgical scrubs stood beside the bed and smiled. "There she is."
Jason gave no sign of recognition.
She walked slowly to the other side of the bed and set her hand over his. When he simply looked at her, she turned her attention to the surgeon. "I'm his wife. I was told he was in a coma and had to have pressure relieved?"
"Yes, they did it overseas. A nice job too. He arrived conscious and stable enough that we'll watch him rather than jump into surgery. He has normal pupil reflexes and EEG. The CT scan and other tests show minimal swelling now. However, he has a traumatic brain injury. Such an injury can manifest in many ways, whether through emotional, physical or mental function."
She shook her head. "I don't understand." A glance at Jason revealed him still looking at her.
"A lot of this could reverse in the next few days, so we don't know the extent of brain injury. We think the swelling has affected his speech. So far, he hasn't spoken. He seems to have difficulty comprehending things, as well as difficulty with movement."
"What do you mean? How can you not know?"
"Much of the brain is still a mystery. He was given anesthesia and had a severe concussion and the TBI, so there are a multitude of factors going on. He could rapidly improve. Let's see if he recognizes you." The doctor turned to Jason. "Jason, do you know who she is?"
He just blinked at her, his expression not blank but not showing recognition either.
"Jason, can you squeeze my hand?"
His fingers twitched, and he turned his hand over under hers. The movement wasn't fluid, but it seemed like a sign of recognition.
She dug a pen and the back of the checkbook out. "Can you write something, sweetheart?" She set the pen in his hand.
He held it in his fist like a toddler, and the lines were squiggly. But he wrote it. Emma.
"Good," the doctor smiled. "Amnesia is likely not a problem, and he is conscious enough to follow directions."
"But that's not how he writes."
"That's alright. He has a very good chance of improving with time. We'll do some more tests, but rest will be very beneficial for him. He will likely be aware of his limitations but not put the two and two together at first that he has them. It's not uncommon for patients to become frustrated or have mood swings with TBI. I'll have a psychologist and rehab and some other specialists come in and talk."
It was overwhelming. So much information and it was all guesses yet about what was wrong with him. Trudy kept Henrietta occupied with walks down the hall while Pete helped her try to keep everything straight that everyone said.
Jason looked blankly at people and her, seeming to not understand anything that people said. He didn't respond to things that people asked him to do, even though his movements seemed to become a bit smoother as the anesthesia fully wore off. After a bit, he simply stared at the sheets.
"I think maybe he needs to rest now." She nodded toward him while talking to the therapist. Pete walked the therapist out and went to find Trudy and Henrietta to get supper.
Once alone with him, she sat on the edge of the bed and set her hand on his thigh. "You understand more than they think, don't you?"
His eye drifted up to her, a bit more clarity in his eye than earlier.
"Do you hurt at all? There's a pain button right here so you can take more meds if you need." She reached across the bed and set it in his hand. "Do you hurt?"
He set the button down and pulled his hand away, staring at the sheets again. It was like he was sad, not having trouble understanding things.
"Did they tell you why you're here?"
That got his attention.
"When you were in the Middle East, you were helping protect the President. I saw a suicide bomb go off while watching the news. You were caught in the blast, and they had to do brain surgery to release the pressure."
A frown touched his brow, the first expression he'd given all afternoon. His fingers drifted up to touch the bandage.
"Can you speak? We think maybe the injury is making it difficult for you to talk."
His lips didn't move quite right, and his words came out like a garbled moan. That blue eye widened like he'd frightened himself.
Her heart pounded, not having expected that either, but she set her hands over his. "That's alright. It'll just take some time. Your brain is still swollen. In the meantime, you can point or write what you need."
He blinked hard all of the sudden. And got sick right in his lap.
She hit the nurse's button and grabbed a basin as he got sick again.
"That's probably the anesthesia," the young nurse said as she bustled in with a syringe. "Are you having double vision, sweetie?"
Again, he blinked hard and turned green. And then he tilted to the side.
"I think you need to call the doctor."
The nurse ran out as she held his shoulders back against the pillow. "Hold onto me. Does it feel like everything is spinning, Jay?"
He held her forearms and stilled the moment she covered his eye.
A doctor walked in and looked at the blood pressure reading. "Sometimes TBI can cause blood pressure to go crazy." He ordered the nurse to inject some medicine into the IV line, and Jason's color gradually returned. Then he pointed to a monitor. "There's a catheter monitoring his cranial pressure. It's creeping up just a bit again, which might've contributed to the dizziness. The nurse will help get him cleaned up, and then we'll release just a little cerebral-spinal fluid from an epidural-like line we have in his spine."
She burst into tears all of the sudden - the brain and spinal catheters a surprise that somehow tipped her over the edge. "I'm sorry, I'm just overwhelmed."
The nurse helped strip Jason and the bedding. "That's perfectly normal. It's hard seeing a loved one in the hospital, much less with injuries that we don't even fully know yet."
Grabbing the spare hospital gown, she draped it over him to keep him modest as fast as possible.
He caught her hands and pulled her against his chest, not seeming to realize he had EKG wires in the way. Then his hand moved under hers, the movements not quite as smooth as usual. I feel better. Don't cry.
That earned a watery laugh of wonderful surprise. "You remember how to sign and are aware enough?" She wrapped her arms around him very carefully and wept with relief. He would be alright.
"Jay, you need to cooperate with the nurse," she scolded the next morning.
The nurse reached to do the bandage change, but he turned his head away and pointed to her.
"I can't, Jay. I know nothing about brain injuries, and this has to be incredibly sterile so you don't get a brain infection. I will sit right here and smack the nurse if she reacts to your burns." She sat on the edge of the bed and glanced at the nurse, who gave an understanding smile.
"My brother was a firefighter and got hurt pretty bad on the job. I helped him change bandages. I won't embarrass you. Mrs. Port already explained what the burns look like. I've seen a lot of IED burns and things that are much more impressive," she teased.
Jason gave the nurse a long look, as if uncertain if she was serious, and sat still. He gave no sign of pain during the bandage change, but he didn't give much sign of anything with his eye downcast.
A small drop of blood ran down the side of Jason's face from the incision. She glanced at the nurse.
"A little bit of incision bleeding is normal because it's still fresh. Do you have a headache or any incision pain, sweetie?"
The poor man sat as tense as could be, visibly drawing into himself.
She picked up a stray, fresh gauze and dabbed away the blood on his warped cheek.
His eye flew to her.
"I know you're in there, Jay. You have to let me in so I can help, though."
One word was all it took to break her heart. He looked at her with the saddest gaze and signed home.
"I know, honey. We'll go home as soon as we can. Henrietta is here with Trudy. Do you want to see her?"
He nodded.
"I'll go find them right after your dressing change." She pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.
Henrietta was fast asleep by the time she got back to Jason's room. "Trudy said she was running all over in the halls and wore herself out."
He held out his arms for her.
"Here, I'll lay her on your chest because you're not supposed to be lifting much weight."
Thankfully, the man didn't protest and reclined back against the pillows. His arms wrapped around the little princess the moment she laid her on him. It took only moments for his eye to drift closed in slumber too.
She moved to take Henrietta when his grip relaxed enough. The moment she lifted the girl from his chest, he startled awake. "It's just me. You fell asleep, and I didn't want her to fall. I'll send her with Trudy and Pete to sleep at the condo."
He yawned and scooted over in bed to make room.
"No, honey. You need sound sleep. I'll sleep on a cot." The poor thing was asleep again before she left his room.
An odd grunt and moan woke her up from her cot, the noises peppered with odd beeps. She blinked in the morning light. Jason reclined in bed, his complexion white as he tried to reach the nurse's button. She shot off the cot and hit it. "What's wrong?" She cupped his face in her hands and pulled a hand away that had clear, warm fluid. Then it dawned. "We need a doctor!"
Yanking on gloves, she whipped off his bandages. Cerebral fluid trickled down from the incision. His eye fluttered shut and his body went lax. "Now! His pressure is dropping!"
Two doctors and a nurse ran in and reclined the bed flat, pushing her back.
She hovered in the corner, trying to look over their shoulders. Jason didn't open his eye as the nurse began pushing drugs. "He did this once before when his eye was removed and he had cerebral fluid leaking."
The doctors disengaged the locks on the bed wheels. "His brain is swelling and forcing out fluid. We're taking him to OR." And then they ran out of the room with him.
A nurse returned when she was in tears. "He'll be alright. They need to check what's going on. We have the best neurosurgeons in the country. Come wait in the waiting room. It's closer to the OR, and the doctor will be out in a bit to talk. Do you want me to get a chaplain or someone to sit with you?"
"Will someone give updates of how he's doing?" She sniffled.
"Yes, one of the nurses will come out in a few minutes and let you know what they need to do."
A few minutes later, the surgeon came out.
She shot to her feet. Surgeons never came out fast unless it was to deliver the worst news. Clutching her fists so her nails bit her palms was the only way to keep from fainting.
"Mrs. Port, he's alright."
Her knees buckled and she plopped into the chair.
He sat beside her. "It was the cranial catheter that had somehow tore and released cerebral fluid. He lost enough that I was concerned, so we injected his own blood into his spinal catheter so the pressure isn't too low. As you probably know from last time, this will help him." He smiled and patted her knee. "I was afraid I was going to have very bad news for you. All things considered, this is a very benign bump in the road. He may have a bit of a headache for a couple days. We'll monitor him closely to be sure it's not pain due to something else. He's awake already. He knows sign language?"
She nodded.
"He keeps signing something like this. I assume that's your name?"
"Yes."
"They'll bring him out in a moment to go back to his room. We're also going to swap out his cranial pressure monitor. It's supposed to send a signal of distress to the nurse's station for precisely this reason."
"Look at you, handsome man," she smiled a few days later. "Upright and mobile."
He gave her a look when the nurse brought in a walker.
"Here you go. You're still a bit dizzy, so policy is you have to use this." The older woman put it in front of him.
But he didn't stand up from his seat on the edge of the bed. He just gave the nurse a dry look.
"Come, honey, it's the only way they'll let you walk around, and you can't move to the rehab center until you're mobile. It's one step closer to coming home."
With a dark glare, he took the walker. But the stubborn man just set his fingers on it enough to appease the nurse without actually using it.
"I'm so sorry. You are right - we should let you fall and smash your head," the nurse said with a cocked eyebrow.
"Alright, everyone." She set a hand on Jason's back and matched her steps to Jason's slow ones that portrayed his unsteadiness. His feet didn't seem to drag in any manner, so that had to be a sign that his motor skills weren't affected.
After a lap around the unit, he sat in bed and poked at the plate of real food that the candystriper put in front of him.
"Jay, I don't want you to be offended, but do you have trouble forming words with your mouth? My concern is if you have adequate muscle movement to swallow without choking."
He kept his head down.
Gently tilting his head up, she searched his eye. Shame clouded his gaze. "Can you try to smile?"
One corner of his mouth quivered in an attempt but failed. When she helped him open his mouth, he couldn't stick out his tongue either.
"Do you have sensation? Does it feel like the muscles are locked at all?"
A slow shake of his head. And he pulled something out from under his hip. A tissue that he kept hidden. He wiped his mouth - and not the scarred side.
"Oh, honey, you need to tell me. A speech therapist never came in, right? Do you want the therapist you've used before? I can fly him out here, and we'll see what he says."
The next afternoon, she sat back as the therapist did an exam. Jason seemed more patient with him than any of the other medical staff.
"A stroke has been ruled out, correct?"
"Yes, they're certain it's TBI."
"We will try some exercises, but it's possible that there's still brain swelling that's causing this. That will have to resolve in it's own time. Swallow." The man set his hand on Jason's throat. "Good. At least that isn't obviously affected more than before. We'll start with simple jaw exercises to keep the muscles from atrophying. It's as simple as using a device that opens the jaw, if you can help him close it, Emma. If he'll let you. Otherwise, I think we just wait until he's released to rehab once all brain swelling is resolved. Who knows? He might improve on his own by then."
"Now, is there a way to get some soft foods into him yet, or is it too dangerous until he has more movement?"
The therapist got out a device from his bag. "You're familiar with this, Jason." He handed Jason one end of a cord that appeared to have a flat spoon-shaped end while he held the computer monitor end. "This measures tongue strength."
She leaned closer to the screen when Jason put the other end in his mouth.
"He has paralysis here and here because of the fire - that's normal for him. At the back of his tongue he has muscle strength, which we knew because he can swallow. See up here at the front of his tongue he has practically no pressure? That's paralysis. He also seemed to have lip paralysis. I'd say it was a stroke if the tests didn't indicate otherwise. Thank you." He took the end from Jason. "It's going to be a trial and error test, but I believe if soft foods that don't need chewing, such as mashed potatoes, are put at the back of his throat, he could swallow it. Should we give it a go?"
"Help ease his jaw open. There's not muscle lock, so there's no need to use a tongue depressor or anything at this time to open his mouth, just ease his chin down. His muscles are a little bit stiff, though. Now, Jason, you're in charge of putting the food back as far as you can without gagging yourself."
He did, but the poor thing began salivating like crazy having real food again. Not having control over his mouth, he needed more tissues than with just the burn scars. The poor thing grabbed a wad and then hesitated.
Tears welled when he held them out to her. Taking them, she gently wiped each side of his chin.
His lip quivered with humiliation as a tear ran down his cheek, but trust shimmered in his eye.
"I love you for your strength," she whispered and leaned her forehead against his.
On Valentine's Day, she walked into the rehab home in Denver with a dozen roses from the greenhouse. It was a much needed gift to cheer up his room.
To her surprise, he sat on the edge of a chair at the window, as if anxiously waiting for something. When her shoe clicked on the floor in his room, he looked over his shoulder. A grimace, that was the extent of his smiling capabilities, greeted her.
"Morning, handsome."
He stood, his balance still somewhat shaky at times yet from headaches, and held out a single rose.
"Ohhh," she cooed and hurried forward. "You remembered it's Valentine's Day. You didn't sneak out to get this, did you?"
His eye twinkled, but he shook his head.
"Good." Then she set his bouquet and vase on the small dresser. "I'm going to stick my rose in with yours until I go so it has water." Turning to him, she gave a big hug. "Were you able to sleep last night? I don't understand why they can't figure out why your nights and days are mixed up."
He nodded. Four hours, so not bad, he signed.
"Should we get breakfast? I imagine you're hungry. I already ate, but I'm hungry enough to eat again - " When she took his hand and grabbed the cane that he needed to steady himself, she stopped at his resistance. But she didn't turn right away. It was hard being three weeks out after the injury and still no progress in speech. His mind seemed slightly slow with processing things yet, and he was often not too steady on his feet. Keeping busy prevented thoughts about it all.
His eye held hers, and he pulled her into his arms again. He traced her lips with the tip of his finger and then pointed to his lips, a question in his eye.
She looked away. "I do kiss you." Sometimes it was like he didn't understand that he had new limitations...almost like he'd lost some memory or maybe cognitive function. When he tapped his lips again, she shook her head. "I'm not going to kiss more than a peck on the lips because you cannot move your mouth much at all." Her eyes flicked up to his face to see if he understood.
I comprehend more than everyone gives me credit for. It's harder to think, but I still understand. His signing was slower than it once had been.
"Then why are you pushing this?" Tears welled.
When she didn't move, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. Because you used to kiss me all the time. You mourn, but I'm still right here. I know you cry, but you won't do it in front of me.
Laying her forehead against his chest, she let the tears fall. "No one knows exactly what's wrong or how much. Oftentimes you have a blank look, and I'm not sure if you can't understand or if you're just pulling away. It's so hard to see you trapped, and sometimes I don't know how much to push or not push."
Talk to me. You don't talk to me like this anymore. Sometimes I hear the words, but it takes a few moments for my brain to make sense of them. By then, everyone is on to the next topic. I know I'm slow, and it's humiliating. My thoughts occur at speeds like they used to, but processing speech or movement are slower. I'm trapped in here, and I need everyone to slow down.
She sniffled. "Why didn't you say that sooner?"
He gave a small shrug and held her tight. I've been practicing something with the therapist for today. Don't get scared - it'll sound more like moaning than anything.
Leaning back in his arms, she looked up at him in confusion.
His cheeks stained pink with embarrassment. "Waaaa." His brow knit, and he took another breath to try. "Wuh uuuuu." The dear man looked so embarrassed. Then he dug out a handkerchief and had to wipe his mouth.
Her lip quivered. Having experience with Henrietta's speech made it easier to understand his. "I love you too," she whispered as the tears fell.
A grimace tugged at his lips, but his eye shined. He was smiling.
Love surged all of the sudden and poured out. Grabbing his face, she pressed her lips to his and used her thumb to help him open his mouth. His arms wrapped around, and he seemed content as long as she was content to let her tongue dance with his limp one.
A deep sigh of pleasure escaped him, and he tilted his head to try to kiss to the best of his abilities. His hands slipped up the back of her shirt, the sensation of his touch on bare skin felt like it was the first time.
"Whoa there, Dr. P.! You're on restricted activity, man."
She broke the kiss in embarrassment as his nurse came in. "Hi, Matt."
"Hey, Mrs. P. My man, I leave you alone for five minutes and you gettin' action! You gotta teach me that. Look at you - she got you havin' the best color I've seen in your face all week. Mrs. P., I gotta take you around to all the patient rooms!"
Jason gave him a stern look.
"I just joshin' ya, man. I won't let someone steal your woman. I came to tell ya that I pulled some strings and worked my awesome magic to get you some meat on the menu! Now, it ain't gonna sound appealing, but it'll get those muscles back in shape. We gotta blend it so you can swallow it, but it's meat, my man! You can have steak without the work of chewing it! That sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me. Anything where I can be a step lazier is good!" The young man grinned and clapped his hands together. "What do ya say to that, Dr. P.?"
The nurse spoke fast and full of energy, and Jason looked as if he concentrated hard to follow the conversation. After a few seconds, he looked a bit grossed out.
"Aw, come on!" The nurse slapped him on the shoulder. "It's meat!" His hands cupped the air with exuberance.
She laughed. "I take it you're a meat man."
"Yeah, Mrs. P.! All guys are! Aw, man, I thought you'd be all excited and jumping around! You gonna thank me later. It's better than this chic food of mashed potatoes and soup they've been givin' ya. Well, peace out, my man. I gotta go check on Will down the hall. You behave yourself with Mrs. P. She got that bun in the oven too, you know."
Jason cocked an eyebrow, as if saying, 'I know.'
Once Matt left, she turned to Jason with a smile. "You know, Dr. P., I think we should do some daily therapy sessions of our own."
His eye lit up.
"I can't believe it. What are you doing? For three weeks, none of my equipment or exercises did anything to improve your muscle tone, and now you have a little since I tested last week." The speech therapist took the device from Jason a few days later.
He exchanged a secret glance with her.
When the therapist looked at her, intense embarrassment swept up her face. "Um, we've sort of been doing exercises."
"What kind?"
Jason sat back with his grimace-smile, taking unfair advantage of not being able to speak and watching her squirm.
"Um, the makeout kind," she mumbled.
"Sorry?"
Oh goodness, better to just get it out there. She gave Jason a look. "Thank you for helping." The blasted man just seemed to enjoy the moment. Then she turned to the therapist. "I figured making out is a good way to give him incentive, and it can target several muscle groups. I can't tell any difference yet, but it seems to be working. We're at about three minutes twice a day before his muscles get sore."
The man laughed. "Well there's a therapy I've never tried with my patients. No offense, but I'm leaving your wife to that one."
Jason let out a laugh that ended in his throat and held up his hands to keep the therapist back.
"Well, we'll see how that goes. It could be pretty interesting if it works."
She held his arm as he used the cane on his other side to walk through the halls to the dining room for lunch. "I'm glad they let you walk without a nurse now."
He rolled his eye. Speaking a little slower seemed to help him keep up with conversation. The poor man earned many stares, but not as many as when he'd first arrived at the home. The mask and half of his head shaved with a long scalp scar on the opposite side were bound to draw attention. He glanced and caught her staring.
"You look good without hair. Not many men can carry it off, but you have the physique and square jaw that make it look manly rather than sickly." When he cocked an eyebrow, she smiled. "I'm serious."
He led the way to what had become his usual corner since arriving at the rehab home. Then he pulled out a chair for her.
She stilled, a sense of dread forming a ball in the pit of her stomach. "Jay, we have to go get our food." It was as if he didn't remember how things worked here.
He stepped forward and eased off her coat.
"Oh!" A flush burned hot. "I forgot I didn't take it off yet."
That blue eye twinkled. It's your pregnancy brain not working, not mine.
"Oh, ha ha." She rolled her eyes and then took his arm after he draped her coat over the back of the chair. "I'm sorry, I just worry. I hate it that you can't be at home yet, and I'm not sleeping well without you."
I don't sleep much either without you. You can call... He stopped signing, as if realizing he couldn't speak to be on a phone. You can text. Maybe once in awhile they'd let you sleep over.
He was supposed to be here for three more months at best, possibly until July when the baby was due. Being at home probably wasn't the best place for him with the stairs being he was so unsteady yet. And it was possible that the full extent of brain damage wasn't realized yet, so he needed expert medical care at a moment's notice. He wouldn't be able to come to any of the OB appointments, and the birth would probably be too hard on him to stay the whole time. It was like he was home without being home.
A finger hooked under her chin, and Jason turned her eyes to him. Talk to me. You don't have to do everything on your own. I'm right here, but you act like I'm still gone.
"I - " A tiny kick. Her hand flew to her belly. Another tiny twinge against her palm. She grabbed his hand and pressed it under her sweater. "The baby kicked." Her eyes flew to him. He hadn't been around to feel the baby move yet. She waited, concentrating on any possible twinge. "There." She pressed her hand over his. "Did you feel it?"
His brow furrowed and he searched her eyes. Then the baby kicked again. The corner of his lip twitched. It pulled up into a grimace. And then it crept a tiny bit higher. It wasn't his usual smile, but it was a smile. Tears shimmered in his eyes.
A watery laugh slipped out, and she let go to cup his face. "You're smiling. Your lips moved." She raised into her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Do it for Emma," the therapist urged a few days later. "She'll be so proud of you. We'll see if there are certain sounds you can do. 'The dog can walk.'"
She moved to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. "I don't care how it sounds, honey. Just try."
He drew a deep breath. "Ha hah..." His 'can' escaped like a woosh of air. "Hauk." His 'k' was soft like he had to use the back of his throat. Lip movement was almost nonexistent. His cheeks burned pink, and he wouldn't look at anyone.
Tears stung and she kissed his cheek. "I missed your voice. Tell me that you love me." She leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes.
His arm wrapped around her. "Ah wuh uuu." He whispered the words in her ear. His humiliation seemed to flee, and he brushed a kiss over her lips.
A smile escaped when he turned to the therapist and said, "Maw."
She smiled. He wanted to practice more.
"Tell your wife that you aren't leaving here in July. Tell her how you're gonna surprise everyone. When are you going home? When are you going to show everyone that you're better?"
"Ahil."
"April? We're gonna have you walking and talking by April?" The therapist smiled, clearly impressed at Jason's determination.
Jason gave a firm nod and gave a gentle pat to her belly. He wanted to be home before the babe came.
"Alright, let's get to it!"
Hope took hold and wouldn't be shaken as she set her hand over his on the baby. If anyone knew how to overcome the impossible, it was Jason.