3/5 Notes: I haven't updated in ages, partly because it was spring break (where computer access was rare to non-existent) and partly because the original draft of the hospital scenes was so horrid I scarcely knew how to fix it. My apologies in advance for anything that still seems not-quite-right. Grant me liberties.
Her injuries: A few stitches, a dislocated shoulder, and a mild concussion.
His injuries: A broken leg, two cracked ribs, head trauma, and a potential spinal injury.
The discrepancy between the two was remarkable, really, and she couldn't believe it was only due to the difference in their horses' steps, especially when she'd been on a clumsy grade and Rebelage had endurance riding trophies stacked in a previous owner's home. Chance and misfortune conspired in cruel ways.
But she hadn't known all of that this morning, had only been brushed off by a string of impatient nurses every time she tried to ask if they knew anything about Tommy. Add this horrible feeling of not knowing to the fact that she'd woken up with bandages on her shoulder and a needle in her arm, it was understandable why she had snapped at the doctor when he came in to ask how she was feeling after the surgery.
"I was tossed off a horse and left in a storm overnight. How would YOU feel?"
"Fair enough. I expect I'd feel awful too," agreed the gentle-eyed Dr. Rosslund, glancing at her over the top of his glasses. "But I'm specifically concerned with your shoulder. You're on medication now and shouldn't be feeling any pain from it - are you?" She shook her head.
"Good. Sounds like everything is fine, then. We're going to keep you here for another day just to make sure the concussion didn't have any underlying lingering effects, probably discharge you tomorrow. Okay?" Impatient to get past her own diagnosis, Kimberly pressed him for information about Tommy. He apologized for not recognizing the name but promised he would try to find out. She assumed he was merely trying to make a gracious exit, and let him go, expecting nothing.
That was why she'd been so surprised to see him return an hour later. Her brief delight at the doctor's return was quickly tempered by the solemn look on his face as he told her the extent of Tommy's injuries.
"And, I'm afraid, he has not yet regained consciousness."
"What...you mean he's in a, a coma?"
"Strictly speaking, yes - "
"But I saw him, he looked bad, but he's not that bad is he!" Kimberly's voice, which had begun so hesitantly, was now rising to a hysterical pitch.
"Let me finish...he's been through a tremendous ordeal, and the brain copes with the shock by shutting down, keeping him at a low level of activity to let his body start reparations. It's doubtful that he's suffered any brain damage, and the doctor working on him is optimistic that it will be a matter of days before he's awake again."
It took a while for her to process this information, not sure whether this response was any kind of comfort. A variety of emotions flitted across her face while it sank in. She frowned, trying to think of an appropriate response, but all that came out was, "Can I see him?"
"Contact is very limited right now...tomorrow you should be able to make a brief visit."
She opened her mouth to say something else, only to find herself at a loss for words and shut it again. With a sympathetic look, Dr. Rosslund left, shutting the door quietly behind him. She turned her head to discover a teddy bear sitting on the table next to her. She didn't know who'd left it here, but her face twisted with unbearable grief as the recognized the creature's somewhat faded white fur. It was the teddy bear Tommy had given her when she'd been hospitalized after a bad fall during gymnastics. She reached out and picked it up, hugging it beneath her chin as if to receive some kind of residual comfort.
"He'll be OK. He has to. He's been looking forward to Sassy's new foal for months," she whispered, trying to pretend it wasn't as serious as it sounded. The smile lost itself on its way to her lips as she looked at the stuffed animal. The bear's eyes, normally so warm and friendly, today were only hard, cold plastic staring back at her. Suddenly, she felt very small and alone, and the tears seeping down the side of her face began to feel as though they were grinding a permanent path.
She didn't have long to feel sad, though, before the door opened again. Swiftly and surreptitiously she dabbed at her eyes just in time to dry them before a little girl sporting a mop of curly black hair burst through the door, bearing a hand-made card and a bright pink balloon. She stopped short within reach of the bedside, eyes wide at the sight of the sling on Kimberly's arm.
"Are you OK?" she asked, suddenly much more subdued. "Will it hurt if I hug you?"
Kim smiled in spite of herself. "I'm not that fragile," she said, but Michelle nevertheless was deliberately ginger as she wrapped her arms around Kim's neck and pressed against her, cheek to cheek, glancing back as her mother entered the room with a bouquet of blue-tinged carnations.
"I wanted to bring you chocolate, because that's what I always want when I get hurt, but I didn't know if I could bring food into a hospital. So we got flowers instead," the little girl rambled, looking suddenly afraid that this news would be too disappointing. Reassured by Kim's compliment, she went on. "Mom got your message, so we took care of the dogs and cats. I'm glad you said it's okay for the horses to stay outside, because MOM wouldn't let me go in the pasture. But at least I got to pet them over the fence, and they all came to see me. I told you they're nice." This last comment was directed at her mother, who gently but firmly warned her not to pout.
"Even Flame?" Kim asked, disguising her question about his whereabouts with genuine surprise that the normally shy gelding would willingly approach anyone besides his owner.
Michelle frowned. "I thought you gave him back…he wasn't with the other horses."
Kim stifled a curse; it wouldn't do to be the one to teach an eight-year-old her first swear word. Instead she groaned, "He hates storms. He must have jumped the fence. The only thing he's more scared of than storms are the woods, so…" So he's probably on a road somewhere. I just hope he went for the dead-end dirt road instead of the busy street. She didn't voice the latter part of her fears, not wanting to upset either of her visitors with things they couldn't help solve, and made a mental note to call someone who would be willing to go look. To the Ameras, she simply said, "He's probably hanging out at the farm on the other side, making friends with cows and pretending he's a wild stallion."
One of the nice things about kids was their ability to switch topics without warning or transition, as Michelle did now, suddenly asking, "Hey, how come you didn't tell me you had baby raccoons in your barn?"
"What?" Kim and Mrs. Amera's voices sounded as one, with nearly equal amounts of alarm.
"Yeah, up in the hayloft. I was up there looking for Gibbs when I found them. First I thought they were kittens, cause they're really small and skinny and they were all sleeping in a ball, but then I saw their black masks. I named them Sheba and Ringo and Bandit."
"You didn't try to pet them, did you?" Mrs. Amera was hiding the fear in her voice with sharp reprimand.
"No," Michelle answered emphatically. "I just looked at them. And they looked really sad and cold, because they didn't have a mom."
"She was probably out looking for food."
"Not in the daytime. Raccoons are NOCTURNAL," Michelle replied, drawing herself importantly at the use of this vocabulary word. Kim added "animal control" to the list of people she would have to call when she got home. The visit lasted only a little while longer, during which time fortunately no further bombshells were dropped. She spent the latter half of the day trying to take her mind off things by reading, only to lay every book aside in turn, unable to concentrate on anything. She decided there was really nothing quite so dull as a barren hospital room.
"Discharge" was a blessed thing; her first stop was not home but to see Tommy. For as frightened as the sight of him in the woods had made her, somehow he looked even more broken now. She did not sit on the bed, as if the slightest jostling would hurt him further, but slipped into the seat beside him. Reaching for the hand unencumbered by the pulse-monitoring clip, she curled his limp fingers around hers. Her gaze remained downward, away from the glaring bandages, and she smoothed the ball of her thumb over his hand. The fingers were roughened from work but still gentle, fingers that had so many times before met hers to dance, or stroked her hair in comfort. She brought them to her lips and kissed them softly before she found the strength to look back at his face. If she blocked out the sight of the stitches and the sound of the machines she could pretend he was only at home with her, sleeping peacefully.
You were supposed to talk to people in comas, weren't you? At least, that's what they told people with family members trapped in this state for weeks and months. He would be awake in a few days, maybe that made it different. Anyway, she couldn't think of anything really profound to say, and when she did speak her words sounded forced. Hypnotized by the steady rise and fall of his chest, she gazed at him and thought instead, remembering all the reasons she had fallen in love with him.
He doted on her, more than he probably should - she couldn't remember the last time they'd really fought. If anything, it was her temper that would flare up and exacerbate whatever situation had irked her. He knew enough to simply leave and let her cool off, and still he was almost always the one that apologized first.
Tommy was nothing like Trey, in Florida, whose initially caring behavior had eventually become ugly and jealous. Kim wondered how she'd ever mistaken the latter for true love. When that relationship had fallen through, she'd taken stock of her life and moved away. It was while packing up her belongings that the collection of letters had fallen out of an upturned box - all the letters Tommy had ever sent to her, words she hadn't read in years but which were such relics of her past that she'd never dared to throw them out. After the move she had finally gained the courage to write to him again, realizing after it was sent that she didn't know if he even still lived in the same place anymore. But the letter reached its intended recipient, and he had answered, and before she knew it she was looking at him in person.
She was back under his spell the moment she saw him again, and their relationship thereafter shifted almost imperceptibly from friendship to what it had once been, with no further mention of the years apart. Having gotten this second chance, they were the luckiest couple she knew...or at least they had been. Before this.
Kim remained there quietly for over an hour before her mind really accepted the fact that he would not simply be opening his eyes. Still, she couldn't bring herself to leave just yet. It felt too much like abandoning him here, even though she knew his family had been called and would be by to visit him.
So she sat with Tommy just a little longer, humming under her breath, thinking of the soft summer days waiting and praying he would soon be able to enjoy them with her.