Chapter Fourteen

It was the hardest work of Woody's life. As the months clicked by, he hurdled one painful obstacle after the other. Even after he had learned to walk again, the physical therapy was relentless. And the skin grafts were excruciating. He finally quit counting how many he had. He just concentrated on getting better.

Not that he was real sure what he would do once he healed completely. Technically, he was dead. Peter Brannigan, an old friend from Sunny D, had visited Woody many times during his recovery…to renew their friendship and help Woody as much as he could. Brannigan had confirmed that Woody had indeed been declared DOA after the site had been processed. Nigel had signed his death certificate. Talk about a twisted world.

Finally, Woody got up enough courage to ask about Jordan. Brannigan made some discreet inquiries. "She's left Phoenix and returned to Boston, Woody," Brannigan said. "She's working back at the morgue…at her old job, living in the house that you two shared. From what I hear, she's not doing too well…she misses you a lot. To her, you're dead. That's what Nigel told her. They found your car completely incinerated and no body. They assumed you had been burnt up. She believes she's your widow…and is grieving for you. Woody, you need to tell her you're alive."

And that was the decision Woody was pondering…when he should tell her. And if he told her, could he win her back? She may be grieving, but was she grieving him or the fact that he was dead? There was a difference. Could they put their relationship back together?

Did she need to be saddled with such an injured man? Should he do that to her? He still had a long way to go physically to get back to normal. He more skin grafts to go… not to mention reconstructive surgery. His face, shoulders, and arms were a mass of burns. There were also numerous burns on his arms and legs. Those had been covered fairly successfully with skin grafts. There were faint, silvery scars, but the nurses had teased him that these would fade with a few trips to a tanning bed. The burns that lingered outside the arena that would not be covered by a shirt would need extensive reconstruction surgery.

"Let me get better… She doesn't need to be held down by me…I've still got such a long way to go."

"Woody…your wife is grieving you…deeply."

"And I still love her. I love her enough to walk away from her life if I think that living with me would be too much of a burden on her."

"But she needs to know. She deserves to know."

"Let me get some more of this surgery out of the way…especially the reconstructive."

Brannigan nodded. He understood where Woody was coming from. Woody's face was simply a mass of burns. The reconstructive surgery would take months. "Sure, Woody. I understand," Brannigan said. "Just let me know what I need to do."

Woody nodded, leaning back in his bed to rest. His first reconstructive surgery was scheduled for the next week. He would know more after that. He did recognize that he still loved his wife. He also was aware since he did, he couldn't bring himself to tell Jordan that he was alive…not yet. If she found out, he knew what she would do. She'd be to LA in a heartbeat. But he didn't want her sympathy. He didn't want her pity. He wanted her…he wanted to know that she loved him…not that she felt sorry for him.

Jordan stared out the window of her office. She knew the date. All too well. Garret even told her to take the day off if she needed to. Peter had promised to cover for her. But what was she supposed to do? Stay in an empty house that was so full of memories that sometimes she could hardly breathe?

She knew she would feel better if she worked…so that's what she was doing…in a way. Thankfully, she was off rotation, so her job today consisted of only paperwork. Not that she was pushing the pencil too hard….

It had been a year. Woody had been dead a whole year. For 365 days, she had been a widow….a new title that she didn't easily wear. Widows were little, old, gray-haired ladies that were secretly glad their husbands were dead so they could have a few years of peace before they died. Widows were not thirty-something women who still loved their husbands and had been looking forward to the rest of their lives with them.

She pondered today, as she often did, what would she and Woody be doing today? Would they be divorced? Would he have gone on with his initial plan? Or would they somehow have reconciled? She hoped it would have been the later.

Living for her right now, was a bit of a time-warp. She hadn't changed the house. His suits and clothes were in the closet. His boxers and socks were in his drawer. His Boston PD badge was on the dresser. His cologne was in the bathroom. His robots were in the great room. It looked as though he had never left.

But her bed was empty at night. She couldn't even bring herself to sleep in it. She either slept in the guest room upstairs, or on the couch in the living room. She had never filled the hot tub once during the past year….the grill sat idle, too.

She had not moved on. Despite encouragement from her friends and understanding from her father, she hadn't moved forward much since the day Nigel had told her Woody was dead. She had gone through weeks of disbelief, thinking that each day around six, she'd see him come through the door of their home…but it remained stubbornly shut.

Then there was that undeniable, unreasonable anger she felt. At him…for coming to Phoenix and then trying to drive back the same day. Who did he think he was, Superman?

At herself, for letting him and not telling him what her heart really felt. Anger that she still felt today….along with guilt. The guilt was the worse. She'd give anything if she could turn back the pages on her calendar. But she couldn't. She had to face the future and go on, even if her heart remained in the past.

It seemed everyone was moving forward, but her. Nigel and Ronnie had a baby girl. They had named her Jordan Marie Townsend. She had flown out to see her god daughter and had been there for the christening. Ronnie e-mailed her pictures of her namesake nearly weekly. She was planning to return to Phoenix on her vacation to spend time with them and the small Jordan. Bug and Lily had a baby boy, Hunter Mahesh. They were returning to the states in the next few months…Bug was through with his research there. Garret had hired him back. Jordan would once again be working with an old friend.

Old friends were returning to the roost in Boston…new lives were being born. And her heart remained encapsulated in a time and place that no longer existed in any form for her. She sighed and turned away from the window. She wondered if Woody, wherever he was at now, could realize just how lost she was without him, how she was struggling…and that she had no idea what to do. Maybe she should sell their house and move…try to get away from some of the memories.

That thought seemed to strip her soul bare. Memories were all she had left…what would she do without them?