Mary let herself into her home wincing at every little noise her entrance made. Every sound was excruciatingly loud when she felt she needed to be quiet. She had a surprise to preserve. However, then she told herself, it was okay, she told herself, to be calm. And yet she still grimaced as her keys scraped in the lock and her jacket seemed to rustle more than usual. In her arms, she carried a bakery box she had just walked down the street to retrieve. She had only been gone a short amount of time, but Mary was anxious to return without delay from this impulsive decision. She couldn't stop thinking about yesterday, and the Beatles song had been on repeat in her head since then. It had never been one of her favorite songs and now was an internal condemnation. Perhaps it was an overreaction, in fact, she knew it was, but that still didn't seem to matter. Mary was a perfectionist and she had to get this right.

Since her husband (Mary loved that word, using whenever possible) had been released from the hospital one week ago Matthew had to adhere to a rather rigid schedule for his recovery. His mother came by every day, and his physical therapist Asad visited five days a week. The flurry of activities from these visitors, each morning, left Matthew despite his best intentions exhausted and irritable. And so in the afternoon he was often in rather a fragile state of mind and body. With these circumstances on her mind, Mary set the bakery box on the counter to unpack it. She grabbed a tray and added her baked good surprise to the items she was going to carry into their bedroom.

The daily therapy Matthew had to endure was a necessary evil. Rehabilitation had been a very slow process, and it would have to continue that way. And it was a source of constant exasperation for her that all she could give Matthew was her sympathy. With no outlet for her fierce love, she felt helpless. She wanted to protect and shield him and yet she could barely touch him because of his injury. Mary decided it was now time to use Isobel's suggestion that would offer her a plan of action. Between this surprise and the bakery treat it would hopefully be enough to cheer Matthew. She thought of the story, "A Sound of Thunder," which she had read him several days ago in their backyard as her mind wandered backwards.

"So be careful. Stay on the path. Never step off."

Yesterday she had lost track of nearly everything. She had been in the living room with Lucy talking about making a fashion app for mobile phones, her cunning friend requesting her help with the new idea. Since Lucy's brother Colin would provide the necessary tech savvy, all they had to do was design what the application would deliver. Mary would be proud to have her name on a fashion application and a maths book, it was proper symmetry.

When the doorbell rang and it was Asad, Mary had been surprised to see him, having lost track of time.

And when she took Matthew's therapist to him in their bedroom, a silent stench of condemnation followed. It took only one glance at her husband to know he was in pain, and yet he had not told her; had not interrupted her while she was with Lucy. He was an idiot and it made her fume with frustration.

"Why didn't you tell me," Mary sighed as she glanced at him.

"It's okay," Matthew said through slightly gritted teeth. "I'm fine."

Mary opened her mouth to speak again, but she was cut off by Asad.

"SכL Klem Hil," he said breaking the tension of the room. "Salt has climbed the hill;

this proverb is typically used when you meet someone in a situation you don't expect."

The therapist handed Matthew his medication and the glass of water which were both sitting just outside of his grasp as he lay in his hospital bed.

"Next time he will tell you," Asad admonished his patient.

Mary felt a little relief at this declaration and then a little guilty that she had snapped at Matthew. She had been afraid that his therapist would take sides and tell her that this was her fault. Without thinking, she stepped forward and took Matthew's hand, squeezing it gently. She sat on the edge the bed, the unspoken words, "I'm here," communicated telepathically.

Matthew leered at her, his eyebrows rose and he winked.

"Lower my blood pressure," he said with enthusiasm. Knowing exactly what this meant, Mary leaned over and kissed her husband. It was a wedding kiss, only a feather light touch, enough to seal the emotional transaction. As their lips parted, their eyes staring at each other, Mary put her hand on the blanket covering his lower body. She pretended to be adjusting it and subtly touched him in a quick but intimate way.

"Don't hide anything from me," she teased to cover the sentiment that made her quiver.

Matthew's jaw dropped and he nodded as though he was in a trance.

"Mary," Asad said his deep voice was sympathetic and yet at the end of his patience for this ongoing charade.

"I know," she said, "except otherwise," and she smiled bravely as she made her exit from their bedroom.

Once she returned to Lucy, her friend had further surprises in store for her.

"What's the matter?" She asked as her critical eye stared.

"Matthew was in pain and he didn't tell me."

"Oh," Lucy had said. "You should have known that obviously." Her friend's smile was one of genuine concern, the opposite of her snarky tone of voice.

"Mary," she continued, "Let it go. The advice you haven't asked for, but I'm going to give you, is it does you no good to dwell on it and certainly does him no good either."

Mary revealed in the sharp teasing of her friend, it was a balm to her unsettled mood; for Lucy had not understood Matthew, she had ignored and disregarded him at first. And yet in the months since his accident, her friend had completed a three-sixty pivoting from staunch objector to fierce supporter. Lucy had embraced her mistake and worked hard to salvage their friendship from this gaff.

"Furthermore, do you know why I showed up this morning?" Lucy asked.

Mary shook her head, her mind still reeling. All she knew was that she was glad to see her friend.

"Matthew texted me, he asked me to come to see you. So, how could I resist?"

Mary thought about this and it made sense, they had been struggling to find a time to discuss this fashion app idea; she hadn't been able to commit to a time. So, her husband had done it for her.

"I sometimes hate how much he loves you," Lucy said with a smile. "But, enough about me. Now let's focus my friend. Fashion never waits."

Mary set the tray down on the side table as she entered their bedroom; she came out of her daydream remembering yesterday, as she stared at Matthew. She was justifiably upset as her devoted eyes took in took in his appearance as he slept. Her husband had lost significant weight since the accident, and he still had very little appetite. Matthew now resembled neither the chubby awkward man she'd first met nor her lean, confident boyfriend. As he lay on the hospital bed in their bedroom, his loose pajamas and bare feet made him look defenseless and exposed. Matthew did not look relaxed either. The pinched expression of his napping face was harboring pain.

Mary sat down gingerly on his hospital bed. This was perhaps an element of his ongoing recovery that upset him the most. Matthew was home from the hospital and yet not allowed to be sleeping in his own bed, next to his wife. But, the doctors, his therapist and his own mother had insisted that his vulnerable spine needed stability and he could not yet risk the change. Mary did think it was unfair too; she missed sleeping next to him dreadfully. And she wondered about the difficult decision because balancing the needs of his emotional depression with his physical recovery was also a consideration. She was going to remove the bed, first chance she got.

Mary picked up the book that was still lying next to Matthew on his hospital bed. It was Einstein's dreams. The easiest way to wake him without alarm was to read to him. Matthew was already a very sensitive person and yet his recovery seemed to deny him the ability to express himself without repercussions and consequences. It was no wonder he had often been silent with his suffering and retreated into his own thoughts.

And yet sounds and always smells seemed to break through the fog to reach him. Isobel had taught her about aromatherapy and this had been a soothing balm for Matthew. Mary had noticed this even when he was barely able to remain conscious; he still sought out the sound of her voice and he could still recognize her perfume. She soothingly rubbed his shoulder to encourage him to stir and the pattern of his breathing altered. Mary watched as if it was magic that he could twitch his bare feet as he slowly awoke. He was sleeping above the covers having fallen asleep following his physical therapy. Mary caressed her fingers through his hair, her perfumed neck inches from his face.

"Hmm, why'd you wake me?" Matthew said yawning loudly and dramatically. "I was having this delicious dream about a woman with short chestnut hair. Lot's of impure thoughts and many a gesture if you get the thrust of what I mean…" His head careened back against the firm lumbar pillows propping him up. Before Mary could speak he held up his left land which on the palm had a doodle of a maths formula. It was something he had taught her on their trip to Vienna.

128√e980

And then on his right hand as he smugly displayed it was the symbol for infinity, reminiscent of their shared tattoo. Matthew had been quite creative, when given a marker. She chuckled as she scooted closer towards him. Mary continued to play with his hair thinking a Mohawk would be possible to sculpt if he didn't get it cut soon. She found special delight in his hair since she had cut more than ten inches off her own long locks.

"What do I smell?" Matthew asked as he sniffed the air.

"You tell me," she said playfully pulling her fingers through his hair. "What could that smell be?" Mary asked with amusement lost in the simple joy of touching him where she could.

"Be careful with your invalid," he replied with a small pique in his weary voice. Mentally she berated herself as she withdrew her hand from his hair. She had forgotten earlier this morning he had asked for something to dull an unexpected headache and Matthew rarely complained. But, he had chosen honesty and confession over silence and stoicism. And it was perseverance on his part too, as he wanted to take something before Asad arrived; he needed to be ready for his therapist. That was her husband at his best and most determined, moving forward. Mary also thought of the choice of his words. She appreciated the fact that he even though his self esteem was as mangled as his back injury, he allowed her to be possessive. He called himself an invalid, but he was her invalid. This was the kind of tiny victory that Mary now understood and appreciated.

She was empowered by her husband's courage. It should be rewarded.

"Do you want to try a little experiment darling?" Mary reached for the remote control to adjust the posture of his hospital bed and put it in his hand. He opened his beautiful eyes and leered at her, almost cheerfully. She smiled at him and puckered her lips in an equally lighthearted display.

"What…" Matthew couldn't seem to stop yawning, "Do you have in mind?"

"Well, lowering your bed flat is the first step." She stood up from where she had been perched. Mary made sure she maintained eye contact with him as she released holding his hand.

"There are steps?" He said but had already pressed the button. She marveled at the trust he gave her. When he was lying flat on the bed she took the remote from him and set it on the table. Mary started to unbutton his pajama shirt slowly as they both took a measure of comfort in the physical contact.

"Slowly, as Asad has shown you, roll onto your stomach," Mary said after his shirt, and brace was finally removed.

Matthew bit his bottom lip between his teeth but carefully did as he had instructed, groaning several times in irritation at the limitations he had. It took him several minutes to perform the simple movement. Then Mary opened the top drawer of their small beside table. Matthew's eyes were closed again, but his smile remained.

"Well," Mary said as she rubbed some ginger and peppermint scented lotion onto her hands.

"My darling, I have a secret."

"Oh," Matthew said playing along. "Tell me."

"It involves a plan I made with your mother."

"Okay," he said slowly in confusion. "Suddenly I'm not quite as aroused," he joked.

Since his eyes were closed when she lightly ran her fingers up and done his back, he shivered. She could hear his breathing slightly hitch and alter. His delicate flesh was pale and scared. Mary very gently massaged his shoulders from where she stood next to the bed. She was a little surprised by the stress she could feel. The fractures that were healing after all were both in his lower back. She couldn't take away the trauma, but perhaps she could express to him another non-traditional way to say how much she loved him. It was after all a little game they had always played.

Matthew hummed very quietly as she continued to knead the tense muscles affectionately. His breathing was reminiscent of an echo, it was hollow and it occasionally hitched. She could feel a subtle improvement as her very soft strokes floated over his rigid muscles. When Matthew spoke again his voice was stronger and rather self-indulgent, almost even flirtatious. It had traces of his old self returning.

"Hmm," he said. "Mary, this is very nice but I was hoping your secret was a naughty nurse outfit."

She laughed and moved her ministrations down his back slightly, concentrating with serious care on how she touched and lightly massaged the taut muscles.

"Sorry to disappoint you my love," she said, "But, that could hardly involve your mother."

Matthew was holding his breath all of a sudden; there was no rise and fall of his chest that she could feel. And when as he finally released the air his only response was an unexpected growling moan that was almost primal, as if he was a wounded animal she had encountered in the forest. The low sound rattled out of him slowly too as if it had completely surprised him as well.

"Ohhhh, Marrrr-yyyy," he said drawing out her name barely above a whisper his voice completely preoccupied. She felt vindicated that her touch was offering him a brief alleviation from constant pain. Feeling better than she had in days, just because she was producing this reaction by touching him, she joked to keep the mood light for both of them.

"Don't worry that pretty head of yours," she said rubbing very softly. "I took a class in massage therapy at the hospital."

Mary paused as felt compelled to explain further. "I know what I'm doing," she asserted wondering who she was really trying to convince, Matthew or herself.

"I've never doubted that," he said taking in a deep breath, his voice poignant.

The conviction in his voice almost overwhelmed her own emotions, he was relying on her and she understood that this trust was not given without due consideration.

"What do you call this?" He asked suddenly breaking her train of thought. Matthew released another low contented grumble, "Lullaby massage?"

She laughed in response, sometimes they needed no words between them and this was one of those moments. Mary moved her hands down further with extremely gentle care as she concentrated. She was alarmed, however, when she felt a spasm underneath her soft ministrations of his fragile lower back.

"Does this hurt darling?" she asked cautiously, hoping he would tell the truth.

"No," he said instantly and his voice sounded honest. She knew he was a terrible liar after all and he seemed extremely greedy for her nurturing touch.

"Matthew," she said coaxing him further she couldn't bear to cause him pain when all she wanted to do was take it way. "Then why did you flinch?"

"It takes fewer muscles than relaxing," he responded as if he was quoting from a text book.

"Is that true?"

"What am I always telling you – pay no attention to the things I say."

Mary laughed and so did Matthew. It was a start, a brave and beautiful beginning. She stopped the light strokes and leaned over him to kiss the skin covering his lower back several times. He mumbled drowsily, but she could neither properly hear nor understand his words.

"Now," she finished. "I have another surprise."

From his position on his stomach with his head turned in her direction, she saw his eyes open and they had unquestionable devotion predominantly displayed in his gaze. Mary helped him once again roll so that he had returned to his original position, reclining on his back. She raised the bed and suddenly Matthew sniffed the air seemingly having remembered the beginning of their conversation before another sanguine yawn caught him off guard. The intake of air fueled his discovery.

"You brought me cherry pie?" he asked suddenly his voice brimming with bemusement. The rich aroma of freshly baked fruit and pastry had been discovered at last.

"It's not a crumble like your mother makes," Mary replied. "But it does come from that foundation. I got it from the bakery down the street. Maybe someday I'll be able to make one myself."

She reached to display her recent purchase for him. Not only was cherry pie, his favorite, but it had the mathematical symbol PI carved into it. For a moment, Matthew seemed stunned and was quiet as he stared. However, then he licked his lips and spoke.

"I'd like 3.14 pieces please," he said and Mary watched with delight as a coy smile commandeered her husband's entire face.

Thanks for reading!

Penny for your thoughts? I welcome them all.

Next on TML: Texts, early in their engagement; Mary is bored while Matthew is at work.