Chapter Ten

Jordan carefully untangled herself from his arms and slid her leg out from between his. She paused for a moment to catch her breath. If sleeping with this man every night meant being held so tightly....she blushed. She knew she'd do it every night for the rest of her life, if given the opportunity. She made for the shower and then began to fix breakfast – French toast sticks and syrup. She had really gone out of her way to make sure most of what she had in the refrigerator and freezer could be managed with his fingers....at least for a while. Then she'd build up to a fork and spoon.

Going back over to the bed, she gently shook Woody. "Hey...wake up."

"I am awake."

"Oh. Sorry. Can't tell..."

"When do these bandages come off?"

"The end of the week... I'll take you back to Dr. Little. You'll still have to wear sunglasses when you're outside, though."

"That's still better than these," he tugged at the bandages over his eyes.

"Be careful! You don't want to do anymore damage..."

"I don't see what else could possibly make it worse."

She pulled his hands away and helped him up out of bed. "Kitchen. Breakfast. Eat." She commanded in a playful voice.

"Yes ma'am."

He ate breakfast with a good appetite, much to Jordan's relief. It was good to see him eat...regaining his weight and his color. He looked better. Now she had to get him dressed, change the bandages on his eyes, and dress his bedsores.

"Shower?" she asked him.

"With you?"

"Woody....no. I've already had mine. I was asking if you wanted to get a shower."

He sighed. "Well, you can't blame a guy for trying...yes. A shower would be good."

She led him back to the bathroom and adjusted the water temperature. After letting him feel his way around the bathtub again, she left him to shower in private. Thankfully, he was able to attend to most of his personal hygiene and grooming himself. She heard the water turn off and him step out of the tub. He wrapped a towel around himself and came back into the bedroom, and started to reach for his clothes on the bed.

"Hey," she said, stopping him.

"What are you still doing in here?" he asked rather stiffly.

She swallowed...his mood had changed from the teasing banter they had this morning. "I....I... need to change the bandages on your eyes and check your back."

"My back? What's wrong with it?"

"Bedsores. The nurses at the hospital didn't turn you enough...you have three bedsores on your back. I need to dress them so they don't get infected."

"Oh." He held out his hand, trying to find the edge of the bed to sit on. She grasped his it and gently led him over to sit down. Then she set to work on his back, sitting behind him on the bed, rubbing in antibiotic ointment and covering them with bandages. Then, with some trepidation, she began to change his eye bandages. They were a little wet from the shower. She lowered the lights in the bedroom first, and pulled the shades. Carefully, she cut the bandage off that circled his head and then removed the gauze pads.

His skin was a little red from being bandaged. She gently washed the area, including his eyes, with a warm cloth and saline. He winced just a bit. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "Did I hurt you?"

"Not too bad...it's just sensitive."

He was right. She was no expert, but she could see where some of the meth chemicals had burned him...and probably his eyes. There would be scaring....not noticeable to anyone unless they got really up close to him, but scars he would carry on his body and in his mind for the rest of his life, seeing or blind. She carefully dried the area and replaced the pads and gauze, being cautious not to make the bandages too tight. "There," she said when she was through. "Better?"

It did feel better...both his back and his eyes. She touch had been light and caring...he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Yeah. Much," he said brusquely. "Can I get dressed now?"

Confused at his sudden mood swing, she answered "Yes," and let herself out of her bedroom.

She knew sick men were babies. That theory had been confirmed. And she knew disabled men were more prone to depression. That she could live with. But his mood swings were driving her nuts. If she hadn't have known better, she would have been sure Woody was suffering from PMS on steroids. He was nice to her and then he was cold. He was sweet and then he was bitter. She sighed. The only thing that was constant with him were their nights...which neither of them mentioned. She would always go to bed after him... giving him a chance to fall asleep. She would slide into bed with her back towards his back. In the morning she would wake up spooned tightly against him, with his arm possessively wrapped around her waist. If he had awoke and found the situation odd, he never said so.

And she wasn't about to dare mention it, because she was afraid he'd stop doing it.

But today would be different. Today she had to take him back to his doctor. She roused him early and he showered. They grabbed drive through at a fast food joint and made their way to the doctor's office. Soon, she and Woody found themselves waiting in an exam room on Dr. Little.

He came in, finally, and took the bandages off Woody's eyes. He examined the skin around them. Then, he asked Woody the question he had been both dreading and looking forward to since the accident. "Open your eyes, Woody," the doctor commanded softly. Jordan held her breath.

Woody shielded his eyes with one hand and slowly eased his lids open. Jordan caught sight of the brilliant blue she had so missed.

"I can't see. Damn it. I still can't see."