CHAPTER 17
"I'm going to drop into the office for a while, on my way home," said
Rachel to John when they were alone, a little later. "I want to catch up
with Gary, he's the replacement they sent out for me. Is there anything you
want or need?"
"I want you here," he replied sulkily, "Not off talking to some guy I don't know. Is he good looking? Is he."
Rachel laughed and leaned forward. "Yes, he is very good looking," she said, "But not as good looking as you. And he is also very married." And she kissed him on the lips.
"I'm nothing to look at," said John with a wry smile "I have curly hair, and a big nose, quite ordinary really! Not like you, you are beautiful, so of course I'll be jealous whenever you go off without me."
Rachel laughed again, thinking of her earlier conversation with Sarah. "You need never be jealous over me," she said to him, "And I'll try really hard never to be jealous over you! But I will warn you, that I have red hair, and yours is only curly, so I have the hereditary excuse for (a) being jealous and (b) losing my temper and (c) being totally unreasonable!"
John grinned reluctantly. "We are talking rubbish you know," he said. "I have the excuse that I was hit on the head, what's yours?"
"I have the excuse of falling in love," replied Rachel, and he pulled her down onto the bed, and kissed her again.
"Get some sleep," she said, when she finally disengaged herself. "I may be back tonight, or if not, in the morning, but I do have some things to do in the office. You need to concentrate of getting better quickly. So do what you're told, eat what they give you and behave yourself, don't give those poor nurses too hard a time!"
John grinned at her and saluted. "Yes marm," he said, and she turned and left the room.
Rachel was welcomed back into the command centre, with everyone wanting to know how John was, and how soon he would be back. She escaped all the attention eventually, and went into her office, to talk to the blonde haired man who was now sitting at her desk, and reading her files. She spent some time catching him up and also catching up on all the gossip since they had last met, so it was quite late when she left.
Deciding not to go back to the hospital, she stopped off to see Grace for a chat, and catch up with her two beautiful little boys, the youngest, named after George, was just starting to walk. After the boys had been put to bed, and bedtime stories read, she and Grace sat in the living room, to talk.
"I can't believe how much better John is," said Rachel. "I honestly thought he would be on his back for weeks. But he's already up and about - tomorrow they are going to let him have a shower. Its amazing how quickly its happened."
"Oh these days they don't believe in letting people lie around too much," said Grace "I mean it used to be a fortnights bed rest after having a baby, but now they get you up almost as soon as you've finished pushing the baby out. Or that's how it feels!"
"I wouldn't know," said Rachel, "Not yet, anyway."
"Oh I do," said Grace dryly. "And trust me, don't leave it till you are as old as me to have your babies," she went on, "Being Mum is much more tiring that being a pathologist, if a lot more rewarding. Pretty soon, I'm going to have to cut down my hours even more."
"Bailey won't be happy," said Rachel, "He depends on you."
"Well he can depend on Jersey, he's just as qualified as me," replied Grace, "and not coping with two small children at the same time."
She looked over at Rachel, and smiled "Have you and John sorted out things?" she asked quietly, changing the subject. "Are you really sure?"
Rachel nodded. "He's coming home with me," she said - "This is the umpteenth time he's been hurt or shot - I just can't let him wander around on his own any more."
"I am glad, he's had a rough time over the last few years, and he is one of the good guys," said Grace, her eyes softening. "And you deserve something good, as well, after the last year."
"Oh yes," said Rachel happily, "I've got what I want."
After a reasonable night's sleep, John was greeted by a pretty nurse, who came into his room, carrying towels and asked if he would like to have a shower. She unhooked the drip, and put a bung in the end that was still in his arm, checked the dressing on the wound in his stomach, putting a waterproof 'second skin' dressing over it, and helped him into the bathroom, setting out his soap, toothpaste, deodorant, talc and shaving stuff.
For one awful moment, John thought she intended to stay with him, but she left after telling him not to lock the door, in case he needed help, and telling him not to forget to use the shower chair if he felt faint.
He turned on the water, and stood with both arms braced against the wall, and let the hot water stream over his head and down his body. He was sore in so many places, he couldn't count them, but it felt wonderful. He stood like that for about 10 minutes, before he began the arduous task of washing himself. He was careful about the gash on the side of his head, but it wasn't too bad any longer. By the time he had dried off, dressed himself in loose track pants and tee shirt, and shaved, he was exhausted again, but he felt good.
Shuffling carefully back to his bed, he was able to sit cross legged on it, without feeling the muscles in his stomach scream too much, and gradually recovering his breath. When the pretty nurse returned, she was carrying a breakfast tray, and was pleased to see that he had made it back to his bed without help.
"Now I want you to eat everything on the tray," she said, "and I hope you drink orange juice, that's what you've got."
He dutifully tried, but all he could manage was a piece of toast. When she came back, she looked at the tray, and shook her head. "The doctors won't let you go home till you're eating properly," she said in a scolding tone, but he looked at her pleadingly, and she smiled, unable to resist him.
He lay back against his pillows, and idly flicked the television on, switching from channel to channel, then throwing away the control in disgust, grabbed the hand held computer game Rachel had brought in the day before.
He looked up as someone peered around his door, and found himself looking at a small child, perhaps four or five years old. He smiled at her and she smiled back at him, and then pointed to the television.
"Is that Black Beauty?" she said in awe. John glanced back at the TV. and the cartoon of the horse story was indeed on. He nodded, and the child ventured further into his room, to stare at the screen with large eyes. She watched it for a little while, and then turned to look at John. Her eyes went to the i.v. tube bandaged in his arm and she frowned.
"Have you hurt your arm?" she asked. "My Daddy has hurt his arm too." John glanced down at his forearm and nodded. "Yes," he said, " I hurt my arm, but it's mostly better now. What's your name?"
"Molly-Jean," the little girl replied. "What's yours?"
"John Michael," he replied with a smile. She came closer, and looked at the box of chocolates, which sat on his side drawer. She had shoulder length curly brown hair, and big blue eyes. He thought she was the cutest thing he'd seen for a long time.
"Are those all for you?" she asked, pointing at the chocolates. He nodded, and opened the box. ""I'm not very hungry though," he said "Would you like one?"
"My mummy said I'm not supposed to take things from strangers," she replied a little primly, but moving closer at the same time.
"Well we have introduced ourselves," he said, "But your mummy's right, you shouldn't speak to strangers."
Molly-Jean nodded again, and moved closer, till she was standing right next to the bed. "I expect I could run faster than you," she said "I can run faster than Jessica, and almost as fast as Aaron."
John laughed. "At the moment, a snail could run faster than me," he said. "And who are Jessica and Aaron?"
"Snails can't run fast," she said in disgust, "Even I know that. Jessica is my best friend and Aaron is her brother. He's a pain."
"Oh," said John "brothers mostly are, I think."
"Don't you have one?" asked Molly, climbing on the chair next to the bed. "I have got one, but I've never met him. He lives a long way away, and doesn't ever come home. He and Daddy don't speak. I only found out about him the other day. He's really old, older than Aimee's brother Paul, and Paul has just left school and got a job! My brother's even older than that! Paul brought Aimee a Ballerina Barbie for her birthday, out of his own money!"
John looked suitably impressed. Molly hesitated then reached out and took a chocolate out of the box. She slid her eyes sideways to see if John was going to stop her, and then shoved it into her mouth. John tried to hide his amusement, wondering who was supposed to be looking after the child, but enjoying her artless company.
"My Daddy is having his stitches out," she said importantly, "and then he has to go to court, to tell on this naughty lady. My mummy is outside there, talking to someone. She said if I am good, we might go to the zoo and have a picnic, while Daddy is busy. I might get to see a tiger."
"The zoo is a great place for a picnic," said John. "I wish I could go there. They won't let me out of here for another day or two though. I hope you enjoy your picnic."
Molly stood up on the chair so she was eye level with him. She looked him over quite critically, and then with a knowledgeable air said "You should come and have some fresh air with us. Mummy always says if you stay inside too much, playing computer games, or watching television, you will get sick. Perhaps you would get better if you came outside to play."
"I don't think I'm allowed to play outside at the moment," he said, unable to stop laughing. She wasn't offended however; she snuck another chocolate, and then looked down in horror at the chocolate mark her fingers had left on her pretty yellow dress.
"Oh Mummy will be cross," she said, "How did that get there? Now she will know I've had chocolate."
"If you pass me that wet facecloth, on the back of the door in there, I'll try and wipe it off for you," said John. Molly hopped down and grabbed the facecloth out of the bathroom, and brought it back. He dabbed at the mark, and mostly removed it, and was rewarded by a huge smile.
"I am going to get a pony," she confided in him, "If I am very good, and I will be allowed to go to Pony Club. Do you like horses?"
"Very much," said John, "I used to have a pony and go to Pony Club. Her name was Smarty."
"Did you really?" she asked, in rising excitement. "Your very own pony! What color was it?" and she bounced up and down on the chair.
"She was a chestnut - a red colour, with a big white blaze down her nose, and three white socks." He said, and suddenly closed his eyes and a rush of pain swept over him, as he remembered the few times he was actually happy, in between bouts of his parents arguing.
He hadn't thought of those times for many years. The mare was just one more thing that had been taken away from him because of his father.
Molly sighed ecstatically, "You could come and see my pony when I get it," she said dreamily, "But I live."
Before she could say anymore, the door opened wider, and Rachel came in, followed by a short, worried looking woman, with dark hair.
"Molly," she remonstrated, and the little girl looked around. "I've been looking for you."
Then as John turned to look at them, Rachel and Molly's mother stopped in the doorway, both of them looking guilty, and John frowned.
"What's going on?" he asked Rachel, and she bit her lip, and then offered him a placating smile.
"Nothing, what do you mean?" she countered.
Molly jumped off the chair and ran over to her mother, grabbing her hand. "Mummy, this is John, and guess what, he used to have a pony," she said.
"I am sorry, I hope she wasn't annoying you," said Molly's mother, "She knows she's not allowed to wander off." And she glared down at the little girl.
"She was no bother," said John, and he smiled at Molly. "She was keeping me company."
"Did you really have a pony?" asked Rachel, sidetracked. John nodded. "Wow, I would have loved one, but my parents couldn't afford it," she added.
There was a moment of almost embarrassed silence, and then finally Molly's mother stepped forward, and held out her hand to John.
"My name is Carolyn Ross," she said, and his eyes widened.
"I want you here," he replied sulkily, "Not off talking to some guy I don't know. Is he good looking? Is he."
Rachel laughed and leaned forward. "Yes, he is very good looking," she said, "But not as good looking as you. And he is also very married." And she kissed him on the lips.
"I'm nothing to look at," said John with a wry smile "I have curly hair, and a big nose, quite ordinary really! Not like you, you are beautiful, so of course I'll be jealous whenever you go off without me."
Rachel laughed again, thinking of her earlier conversation with Sarah. "You need never be jealous over me," she said to him, "And I'll try really hard never to be jealous over you! But I will warn you, that I have red hair, and yours is only curly, so I have the hereditary excuse for (a) being jealous and (b) losing my temper and (c) being totally unreasonable!"
John grinned reluctantly. "We are talking rubbish you know," he said. "I have the excuse that I was hit on the head, what's yours?"
"I have the excuse of falling in love," replied Rachel, and he pulled her down onto the bed, and kissed her again.
"Get some sleep," she said, when she finally disengaged herself. "I may be back tonight, or if not, in the morning, but I do have some things to do in the office. You need to concentrate of getting better quickly. So do what you're told, eat what they give you and behave yourself, don't give those poor nurses too hard a time!"
John grinned at her and saluted. "Yes marm," he said, and she turned and left the room.
Rachel was welcomed back into the command centre, with everyone wanting to know how John was, and how soon he would be back. She escaped all the attention eventually, and went into her office, to talk to the blonde haired man who was now sitting at her desk, and reading her files. She spent some time catching him up and also catching up on all the gossip since they had last met, so it was quite late when she left.
Deciding not to go back to the hospital, she stopped off to see Grace for a chat, and catch up with her two beautiful little boys, the youngest, named after George, was just starting to walk. After the boys had been put to bed, and bedtime stories read, she and Grace sat in the living room, to talk.
"I can't believe how much better John is," said Rachel. "I honestly thought he would be on his back for weeks. But he's already up and about - tomorrow they are going to let him have a shower. Its amazing how quickly its happened."
"Oh these days they don't believe in letting people lie around too much," said Grace "I mean it used to be a fortnights bed rest after having a baby, but now they get you up almost as soon as you've finished pushing the baby out. Or that's how it feels!"
"I wouldn't know," said Rachel, "Not yet, anyway."
"Oh I do," said Grace dryly. "And trust me, don't leave it till you are as old as me to have your babies," she went on, "Being Mum is much more tiring that being a pathologist, if a lot more rewarding. Pretty soon, I'm going to have to cut down my hours even more."
"Bailey won't be happy," said Rachel, "He depends on you."
"Well he can depend on Jersey, he's just as qualified as me," replied Grace, "and not coping with two small children at the same time."
She looked over at Rachel, and smiled "Have you and John sorted out things?" she asked quietly, changing the subject. "Are you really sure?"
Rachel nodded. "He's coming home with me," she said - "This is the umpteenth time he's been hurt or shot - I just can't let him wander around on his own any more."
"I am glad, he's had a rough time over the last few years, and he is one of the good guys," said Grace, her eyes softening. "And you deserve something good, as well, after the last year."
"Oh yes," said Rachel happily, "I've got what I want."
After a reasonable night's sleep, John was greeted by a pretty nurse, who came into his room, carrying towels and asked if he would like to have a shower. She unhooked the drip, and put a bung in the end that was still in his arm, checked the dressing on the wound in his stomach, putting a waterproof 'second skin' dressing over it, and helped him into the bathroom, setting out his soap, toothpaste, deodorant, talc and shaving stuff.
For one awful moment, John thought she intended to stay with him, but she left after telling him not to lock the door, in case he needed help, and telling him not to forget to use the shower chair if he felt faint.
He turned on the water, and stood with both arms braced against the wall, and let the hot water stream over his head and down his body. He was sore in so many places, he couldn't count them, but it felt wonderful. He stood like that for about 10 minutes, before he began the arduous task of washing himself. He was careful about the gash on the side of his head, but it wasn't too bad any longer. By the time he had dried off, dressed himself in loose track pants and tee shirt, and shaved, he was exhausted again, but he felt good.
Shuffling carefully back to his bed, he was able to sit cross legged on it, without feeling the muscles in his stomach scream too much, and gradually recovering his breath. When the pretty nurse returned, she was carrying a breakfast tray, and was pleased to see that he had made it back to his bed without help.
"Now I want you to eat everything on the tray," she said, "and I hope you drink orange juice, that's what you've got."
He dutifully tried, but all he could manage was a piece of toast. When she came back, she looked at the tray, and shook her head. "The doctors won't let you go home till you're eating properly," she said in a scolding tone, but he looked at her pleadingly, and she smiled, unable to resist him.
He lay back against his pillows, and idly flicked the television on, switching from channel to channel, then throwing away the control in disgust, grabbed the hand held computer game Rachel had brought in the day before.
He looked up as someone peered around his door, and found himself looking at a small child, perhaps four or five years old. He smiled at her and she smiled back at him, and then pointed to the television.
"Is that Black Beauty?" she said in awe. John glanced back at the TV. and the cartoon of the horse story was indeed on. He nodded, and the child ventured further into his room, to stare at the screen with large eyes. She watched it for a little while, and then turned to look at John. Her eyes went to the i.v. tube bandaged in his arm and she frowned.
"Have you hurt your arm?" she asked. "My Daddy has hurt his arm too." John glanced down at his forearm and nodded. "Yes," he said, " I hurt my arm, but it's mostly better now. What's your name?"
"Molly-Jean," the little girl replied. "What's yours?"
"John Michael," he replied with a smile. She came closer, and looked at the box of chocolates, which sat on his side drawer. She had shoulder length curly brown hair, and big blue eyes. He thought she was the cutest thing he'd seen for a long time.
"Are those all for you?" she asked, pointing at the chocolates. He nodded, and opened the box. ""I'm not very hungry though," he said "Would you like one?"
"My mummy said I'm not supposed to take things from strangers," she replied a little primly, but moving closer at the same time.
"Well we have introduced ourselves," he said, "But your mummy's right, you shouldn't speak to strangers."
Molly-Jean nodded again, and moved closer, till she was standing right next to the bed. "I expect I could run faster than you," she said "I can run faster than Jessica, and almost as fast as Aaron."
John laughed. "At the moment, a snail could run faster than me," he said. "And who are Jessica and Aaron?"
"Snails can't run fast," she said in disgust, "Even I know that. Jessica is my best friend and Aaron is her brother. He's a pain."
"Oh," said John "brothers mostly are, I think."
"Don't you have one?" asked Molly, climbing on the chair next to the bed. "I have got one, but I've never met him. He lives a long way away, and doesn't ever come home. He and Daddy don't speak. I only found out about him the other day. He's really old, older than Aimee's brother Paul, and Paul has just left school and got a job! My brother's even older than that! Paul brought Aimee a Ballerina Barbie for her birthday, out of his own money!"
John looked suitably impressed. Molly hesitated then reached out and took a chocolate out of the box. She slid her eyes sideways to see if John was going to stop her, and then shoved it into her mouth. John tried to hide his amusement, wondering who was supposed to be looking after the child, but enjoying her artless company.
"My Daddy is having his stitches out," she said importantly, "and then he has to go to court, to tell on this naughty lady. My mummy is outside there, talking to someone. She said if I am good, we might go to the zoo and have a picnic, while Daddy is busy. I might get to see a tiger."
"The zoo is a great place for a picnic," said John. "I wish I could go there. They won't let me out of here for another day or two though. I hope you enjoy your picnic."
Molly stood up on the chair so she was eye level with him. She looked him over quite critically, and then with a knowledgeable air said "You should come and have some fresh air with us. Mummy always says if you stay inside too much, playing computer games, or watching television, you will get sick. Perhaps you would get better if you came outside to play."
"I don't think I'm allowed to play outside at the moment," he said, unable to stop laughing. She wasn't offended however; she snuck another chocolate, and then looked down in horror at the chocolate mark her fingers had left on her pretty yellow dress.
"Oh Mummy will be cross," she said, "How did that get there? Now she will know I've had chocolate."
"If you pass me that wet facecloth, on the back of the door in there, I'll try and wipe it off for you," said John. Molly hopped down and grabbed the facecloth out of the bathroom, and brought it back. He dabbed at the mark, and mostly removed it, and was rewarded by a huge smile.
"I am going to get a pony," she confided in him, "If I am very good, and I will be allowed to go to Pony Club. Do you like horses?"
"Very much," said John, "I used to have a pony and go to Pony Club. Her name was Smarty."
"Did you really?" she asked, in rising excitement. "Your very own pony! What color was it?" and she bounced up and down on the chair.
"She was a chestnut - a red colour, with a big white blaze down her nose, and three white socks." He said, and suddenly closed his eyes and a rush of pain swept over him, as he remembered the few times he was actually happy, in between bouts of his parents arguing.
He hadn't thought of those times for many years. The mare was just one more thing that had been taken away from him because of his father.
Molly sighed ecstatically, "You could come and see my pony when I get it," she said dreamily, "But I live."
Before she could say anymore, the door opened wider, and Rachel came in, followed by a short, worried looking woman, with dark hair.
"Molly," she remonstrated, and the little girl looked around. "I've been looking for you."
Then as John turned to look at them, Rachel and Molly's mother stopped in the doorway, both of them looking guilty, and John frowned.
"What's going on?" he asked Rachel, and she bit her lip, and then offered him a placating smile.
"Nothing, what do you mean?" she countered.
Molly jumped off the chair and ran over to her mother, grabbing her hand. "Mummy, this is John, and guess what, he used to have a pony," she said.
"I am sorry, I hope she wasn't annoying you," said Molly's mother, "She knows she's not allowed to wander off." And she glared down at the little girl.
"She was no bother," said John, and he smiled at Molly. "She was keeping me company."
"Did you really have a pony?" asked Rachel, sidetracked. John nodded. "Wow, I would have loved one, but my parents couldn't afford it," she added.
There was a moment of almost embarrassed silence, and then finally Molly's mother stepped forward, and held out her hand to John.
"My name is Carolyn Ross," she said, and his eyes widened.