Disclaimers: Nope, they're still not mine.
Summary: Jill and Mike begin making plans her return to home and a more normal life.
A/N: This will be the last long chapter. There will be an epilogue after this to wrap everything up.
Chapter 15: There's No Place like Home
Monday morning, Paul took Jill into town for her appointment with Dr. Conti, who was pleased with her progress and told her so. "Good. I want to go . . . home," she announced as she stared defiantly at the doctor.
"I'm sure that you do. But I also understand that you live in a second floor apartment. I don't think you're quite ready to master stairs right now."
"I want to go home," she repeated slowly and with growing anger in her voice. "I'm tired of having a . . . babysitter."
"So now you think of Paul as a babysitter? Jill, I know that you think that you're ready to go home, but again, I have to tell you that you're not. Maybe in another few weeks. But not right now. Why don't you step outside and let me talk to Paul?" She angrily hobbled out and motioned to Paul that the doctor wanted to talk to him. The doctor was grinning wryly when the therapist stepped in. "She's a stubborn one."
"So am I. What's wrong?"
"She think that she's ready to go home. Has she been walking without the cane?"
"Not really. She'll use the wall if she's only going a short distance. There aren't any stairs on the property for her to practice. I can bring her back here, but she hates it."
"Have her husband start taking her to their apartment. As soon as she can climb the stairs without the use of the cane, I'll consider releasing her. One more thing, Paul. Tell Officer Danko that the other stipulation is she has to climb the stairs without his help, too."
She didn't say a word during the ride back to the cottage. Paul knew that she was angry, but he also knew that there wasn't anything that he could do about it. Unless she could prove that she was able to stay by herself, she was relegated to having him as her keeper during the day.
The minute that Paul parked the car, she threw the door opened and made her way to the stable.
She walked over to the hayloft and stared up the ladder. After standing there for what seemed an eternity, she threw her cane on the ground and placed her stronger left foot on the bottom rung of the ladder. Clutching the sides as tightly as she could, she slowly made her way up the ladder to the top of the loft, where she finally managed to hoist herself into the hay. She was still trying to catch her breath when Trap came in.
He saw her cane lying on the ground and looked upward. "Jill, are you up there?" He asked as she crawled to the edge and looked down at him. "What're you doing? Are you crazy? What if you'd fallen? Climb down from there before you fall."
"No. I want to go home. They won't let me . . . because they think . . . I can't climb stairs. If I can . . . climb up here . . . then I can climb stairs. Right?"
"Jill, they're just looking out for you. What if you're home by yourself and you fall? I mean, you do still fall quite a bit."
"I want to go home . . . with my husband . . . in our own bed. Mike drives a long way . . . every day just to be . . . with me. He wouldn't have to do . . . that if I was at home."
"You know, doctors just make suggestions. There's no law that says that you have to agree with what they tell you. Like when you leave the hospital when the docs don't want you to. You told me once that it's called leaving AMA—Against Medical Advice. All I'm saying is if you want to go home, fire Paul and go home."
"I can do that?"
"I don't know if you can, but Mike probably can. After all, I think he's the one who hired the guy."
"No."
"What do you mean, 'no?'"
"Mike won't do it. Saddle a horse for me."
"Jill, you shouldn't go riding by yourself," he argued as she slowly made her way back down the ladder.
"Saddle a horse or . . . I'll do it myself," she threatened as he sighed and did as she asked.
When Mike arrived home after five, Paul was in the kitchen getting things ready for dinner. "Where's Jill?" He asked as he looked around the room for his wife.
"Probably out in the stable keeping Trap from his work," he sighed as he continued chopping. "Did you get her hopes up about the possibility of going home soon?"
"I told her that maybe after the trial wrapped up."
"Mike, she's doing well, I'm not going to deny that. But she's not ready to tackle the stairs at your apartment. However, Dr. Conti said that if she can manage to climb the stairs unaided – that means without the use of the cane or you, he'll release her from my custody."
"She's not in your custody, Paul."
"Well apparently she feels like I'm holding her hostage or something. Anyway to say that she's unhappy would be a gross understatement," he looked at Mike.
"I'll go get her, so that she can get cleaned up for dinner," Mike left the house and walked toward the stable where he found Trap feeding three of the four horses. One of the horses was conspicuously absent, as was Jill. "Trap, where's Jill?" He asked with a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.
"She went for a ride."
"Alone? Trap, are you crazy? What if she falls?"
"She insisted that I either saddle a horse for her or she'd do it herself. As mad as she was, I think that she would've done it, too. I'm sure that she's at her tree. Do you want to saddle a horse?"
"No, I'll walk," he turned and left the barn.
Jill was lying under the tree, staring up into the leafy canopy as Domino lay contentedly at her side. Suddenly the dog jumped to his feet and ran off, barking happily as he went. She struggled to sit up, smiling as she saw Mike walking toward her. A smile that vanished when she saw the look on his face. "You're mad?" She guessed as he sat beside her.
"No, I'm not mad. I was worried when Trap said that you had ridden off by yourself. How'd you manage to get off of the horse?"
"I'm not helpless, Mike. No matter what you . . . Paul and everybody else . . . seems to think," she answered back angrily.
"Nobody said that you were helpless, baby. But even you have to admit that you're not exactly running on all cylinders here. Your grip in your right hand still isn't the greatest. If you'd fallen, you could've gotten badly hurt."
"But I didn't fall. It's not fair, Mike."
"What's not fair?"
"I know that you drive . . . a long way every day . . . just to be with me. If we went home, you . . . wouldn't have to drive . . . as far. I can take care . . . of myself."
"Baby, until you're 100 percent on your feet, I'd worry about you constantly while I was at work. At least while you're out here with Paul and Trap, I don't have to worry about you falling and lying on the floor helpless for hours."
"Mike, you promised. You said that . . . as soon as the trial was over . . . that you'd take me home," she reminded him as her voice choked with tears.
"I know that I said that. Paul said that Dr. Conti told him that as soon as you can climb the stairs at home unaided, then you can go home for good."
"Then let's go," she said as she held her hand out to him.
"You want to go to the apartment now? Jill, dinner's almost ready and it'll be dark soon. But, I'll tell you what. I'll have Trap or Paul bring you to the courthouse tomorrow and we'll go to the apartment from there."
"Why the courthouse?"
"The defense rested this afternoon. Everything's now in the hands of the jury."
"Is that good . . . or bad?"
"What do you mean?"
"If it was an accident, then maybe . . . he really didn't mean it. I mean, it doesn't seem right . . . for somebody to go to . . . prison for something . . . that was an accident."
"Jill, he was loaded. He'd already had two DWI's before this one. He killed 12 people and injured countless others. Believe it or not, you're one of the lucky ones. One of the people that he injured was paralyzed from the neck down and has to be hooked up to a ventilator."
"But that person remembers . . . the life that they had . . . before that day, don't they?"
"I guess, I really don't know. Is that what's really bothering you? The memory loss?"
"No. Yes. I don't know! The other night . . . was very nice," she smiled as she remembered their lovemaking of a few nights before. "So was . . . Saturday. I used to always . . . be so afraid."
"I know. You told me."
"Oh."
"Jill, talk to me. What's really on your mind?"
"Nothing. I just . . . want to go home. What time should I be . . . there tomorrow?"
"Four o'clock. I'll take you with me to the precinct and you can visit with Lt. Ryker while I change clothes and clock out. We'll grab something to eat and then we'll go to the apartment where you can practice climbing the stairs until your legs give out. Come on, let's go back to the house."
After dinner, Jill got up and began to help Paul clear the table. "You go get ready for the pool. I'll clean up in here."
"I'm not an . . . invalid!" She shouted as she jerked a plate from his hands. "I think that I'm capable . . . of washing a few dishes!"
Paul glanced at Mike for assistance. Mike just held his hand out slightly and shook his head at him. "Okay, then I guess that I'll get ready to hit the road."
Mike didn't say a word as he watched her hobble back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room table. After she'd managed to get the table cleared off, he got up from the table and walked into the kitchen, where she was running hot water in the sink. "Do you want to wash or dry? Don't tell me that you don't need my help. This is our routine at home and you're not going to clean up alone. So, do you want me to wash or dry?"
"You really help me . . . with the dishes at home?" She asked in disbelief. Cleve had always reminded her that washing dishes was women's work.
"If you want, I'll call Willie and Terry right now so that you can ask them."
"You dry, but –"
"But what?"
"Can you wash the pots . . . and pans? They're too heavy."
"I'll wash the cookware. Let me get a dry towel."
The next afternoon, Terry and Willie were standing outside of the courtroom when Paul approached leading Jill by the arm. "I was told to deliver her to one of you guys," Paul said as he led her over.
"Hey, look at you. Mike's running a little late, but he should be here any minute. The jury just came back about 10 minutes ago," Terry explained.
"They have a verdict?"
"It looks that way," Terry said as the elevator doors opened.
"They haven't called us back in?" Mike asked as he walked over. "Hi, baby," he smiled as he kissed her.
She didn't say anything as she apprised Mike in his uniform. While she'd seen the guys in theirs, this was the first time that she could remember seeing Mike in his. It was a sight that was hard to get used to. "Is he out here?" She asked as she looked around at the throng of people who were milling about in the hallway.
"Who, Cummings? No, he's in another room with his attorney. They'll bring him in after everybody else enters the courtroom," Mike explained. As if on cue, the bailiff opened the double doors of the courtroom and let everyone file in. Mike and Jill took a seat behind the prosecutor's table with the other victims and their families. "Are you okay?" He asked as he felt her grip his hand tightly.
"Nervous. Does he look like . . . a monster?"
"No. Would it make you feel better if he did?"
"I don't know," she whispered as the judge entered the room.
After warning the gallery about outbursts, the judge ordered that the jury be brought in before having Cummings stand with his attorney. She craned her neck to get a good look at the man who was responsible for her being a prisoner in a body that didn't do what she wanted it to do most of the time. As Mike had told her, he didn't look like a monster. He just looked like a pathetic middle-aged man whose better days had passed him by. "Has the jury reached a verdict?"
"We have, your honor," the young man who'd been elected foreman announced.
He then proceeded to read the verdict. As collective gasp went through the courtroom when he was found guilty on all counts. "Order!" The judge banged his gavel to silence the courtroom. "Mr. Cummings, you are hereby remanded into the custody of the California Department of Corrections until the date of sentencing while I will set for June 20th. Court is adjourned!"
As Mike had told her the night before, he took her to the precinct and parked her with Lt. Ryker while he changed clothes and clocked out. "So, how have you been getting along?" He asked as he looked her over.
"Fine, but I want to go . . . home."
"That's understandable. Is something else on your mind?"
"Should I hate him? That man . . . in the courtroom?"
"How do you feel about him?"
"I don't feel anything . . . about him. I mean, maybe if he had two heads . . . or was green. I want to remember . . . that day. Maybe if I remembered, maybe then . . . I'd feel something. I know that . . . Mike hates him. He dreams. I feel him tossing . . . and turning at night. Sometimes he gets . . . up when he thinks that I'm asleep."
"Have you talked to Mike about any of this?"
"I can't."
"Why can't you?"
"I don't want him to be angry . . . at me because I don't . . . feel anything. I just want to go . . . home and be normal. Nobody will let me . . . be normal," she choked out as he handed her a tissue. "Thank you."
"Jill, I don't think Mike's going to be angry because you don't hate the guy who did this to you. And I agree that normal would be nice. Believe me when I tell you that you're getting there. But I also know from experience that sometimes normal takes time. I'd be willing to bet that by summer's end, you're going to be back in here pacing back and forth and talking a mile a minute once again," he grinned at her as he heard a knock on the door. "Enter!"
"Hey," Mike walked into the office. "Babe, are you ready to go? I told Paul that we'd try to be back at the house by seven."
"Danko, call me later," Ryker ordered as he looked at Jill and smiled. "Come back and visit me, young lady."
"I will."
Neither of them said anything during the short drive to the apartment. Jill looked at the passing scenery, hoping that something would jog her memory. When they arrived at the apartment, Mike parked the car and walked around to her side to help her out. He then led her over to the staircase leading up to apartment number 27, the home they'd shared for the past two years. She took a deep breath as she looked upward to the top of the stairs. "Are you sure that you want to do this?" He asked as he once again felt her grip tighten on his hand.
"Can I see our . . . apartment?"
"When you get to the top of the stairs, I'll take you into the apartment."
"If I make it to the top . . . I want to stay the night."
"Let's take it one step at a time, okay? I promised Paul that I'd bring you back home tonight. Let's compromise. If you make it to the top, we'll come back Friday night and we'll stay the weekend. Fair enough?"
"You won't back out of it?" She gave him a dubious look.
"No. Believe me when I tell you that I also want to get you back home into my bed."
She smiled as she blushed. Since the night when they'd first made love almost a week before, she learned that their relationship was extremely physical. There hadn't been a night since that first night, when one or the other of them had sought out the other one, sometimes more than once a night. Just thinking about it made her feel warm all over. She shook her head to clear those thoughts so that she could focus on the task at hand. "Okay, take this," she handed him her cane. "You wait for me . . . up there." She pointed to the second floor landing. "This might take a while."
"Take your time. If you can't make it all of the way up there tonight, there's always tomorrow. I want you to let me know if you get too tired to continue, okay?" He looked at her as she nodded. "Okay, I'll see you in a little while."
She stared up toward Mike, wondering if just maybe she'd bitten off more than she could chew. Setting her jaw defiantly, she placed her left foot on the first step and forced her right foot to follow. The first four or five steps weren't that difficult. It was after that that things got a little harder. As usual, when she began to tire, her right hand and foot would start to tremble badly. She clutched the railing with her hand as she waited for the trembling to pass. She'd managed to will it away the night before while she was doing the dishes. She'd also managed to will it away while she'd climbed the ladder to the hayloft.
"Are you okay?" He called down to her.
"I'm fine. Just stay where you are."
He grinned, impressed with her determination. Her determination and sheer guts had played a big part in the early part of their relationship. He'd always marveled at what she'd gone through in that house with Cleve. It amazed him that she'd escaped with even a shred of her sanity intact. Terry had told him that they'd had a talk about Cleve when he'd gone out to the house to visit her that day. He told Mike had she'd explained to him that she hadn't planned to live on that awful day when she'd cut her wrists. She'd never expected Trap to step up to the plate and take her to the hospital like he had. Mike was glad that Trap had picked that particular day to grow a pair of balls. He figured that he owed the guy a steak dinner, at least. He looked down the stairs at Jill, who was five steps below him. "You're doing great, baby," he encouraged her.
It was another 10 minutes before she was finally able to get to the top step. "So, did you miss me?" She asked, trying to catch her breath as she smiled triumphantly at Mike.
"Yeah, I missed you a lot," he smiled back as he pulled her close to him. A smile that quickly vanished when he felt how hard her whole body was shaking. "Baby, you're shaking like a leaf. Come on, let's go into the apartment so that you can rest. Then, I'll take you home."
"We are home," she reminded him as he helped her to her feet and led her to the apartment door.
"I meant to the cottage," he corrected himself as he unlocked the front door and helped her into the apartment and over to the sofa. "Do you want some water?"
"Water would be great," she said as she looked around. She slowly got to her feet and using the sofa for support, walked over to a shelf that contained several framed photographs of her and Mike. "I was talking to Eddie . . . about the man who hit the bus."
"What about him?" He asked as he walked back into the living room carrying two glasses of iced water. "Here, sit down and rest."
"Should I hate him? I know that you do."
He smiled as he listened to her talk. In the last few days, the stuttering had diminished greatly. She almost sounded like she had before this whole nightmare had crashed down on them. "I don't hate him, Jill. I hate what he did. He didn't have the right to get drunk and get behind the wheel of a vehicle. He didn't have the right to ruin the lives of every person on that bus and he didn't have the right to ruin the lives of his own family. He has two young children who have to live with what he did for the rest of their lives."
"Where do you go? When you get up in the . . . middle of the night. I feel you get up."
"Usually I just go and sit out by the pool. Sometimes I go to the stable. The horses are good company. They listen and usually they don't talk back," he said as he forced a tight smile.
"Was it better before . . . I talked back?"
"That's not what I meant, baby. Sometimes I just need to think. I can't always talk about what's going on in my head. As for how you should feel about him, I really don't know what to tell you about that."
"I was telling Eddie . . . that maybe I'd feel . . . differently if he were green or . . . if he had two heads or had horns. People who do things like . . . that shouldn't look like regular people. They should look . . . like monsters."
"You said the exact same thing about Steve Wainz. He was the man who shot you in the restaurant that night. The night that you lost the baby. You thought that he should look like a monster. Unfortunately, the bad guys look just like the rest of us. That's why you can't always tell the good guys from the bad guys."
"I know. Sometimes I think that Cleve . . . should've had two heads and eight arms. He was a monster."
"Yeah, he was," he agreed with her. "How do you feel about the fact that he's dead?" He asked, glad that she'd remembered that. She'd finally stopped worrying about him coming back and hurting her or him.
"One part of me is glad. But the other part of me . . . still sees him when I dream. If that part would go . . . away I'd be very happy, Mike. I'm so glad that you're . . . not like him."
"Are you ready to go downstairs so that we can go back to the cottage? Downstairs should be a lot easier."
Later that night, they were lying in the squeaky bed after having made love. He was holding her close to him as usual, just about to drift off to sleep when he heard her say something. "What?" He asked, not having heard her question.
"We can go back to the apartment . . . tomorrow, can't we?"
"Yeah, we'll do the same drill that we did today. I'll have Paul or Trap bring you to the precinct and we'll go to the apartment from there," he answered sleepily as he tightened his arms around her as he went to sleep.
***MJMJMJ***
Jill was doing her exercises the next morning when somebody knocked on the door. "Are you expecting anybody?" Paul asked her, as she shook her head. He opened the door to find Willie standing there. "What're you doing here?"
"I came to kidnap Jill," he grinned as she struggled to her feet. "I'm off today, and Mike told Terry that he was going to have one of you bring Jill into town later, so I thought that I'd save you the trip."
"I'll go get dressed," she said excitedly as she started to leave the room.
"Hold on!" Paul stopped her. "Here lately I don't feel like I'm even earning my pay, anymore. Jill has a strict schedule that needs to be adhered to. She can't just go off gallivanting with you or your friend just because Mike thinks it's a good idea."
"Mike doesn't even know that I'm here. Look, I'm just trying to do you or Trap a favor. If I'm pissing you off, I'll leave," he turned to walk away.
"Willie, hold it! Can we talk outside?" Paul asked as he stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door closed so that Jill couldn't hear them. "You're not pissing me off. What you're doing is disrupting my work. Jill's doing great, but if I give her an inch, she'll take a mile. Do I come and interrupt you when you're trying to do your work?"
"No, and I apologize. It's just that Mike was telling Terry how much she wants to go home and I thought that I'd take her to the apartment and let her practice on the stairs some more. Maybe I could show her some pictures and try to help her with her memory problems. But it's obvious that this was a bad idea."
"You're as bad as she is about pulling the whole guilt trip thing. She needs to get into the pool. If you'll give me 45 minutes, I'll release her to you."
After finishing in the pool, Paul walked Jill out to Terry's small sports car and helped her into the passenger seat. "Thanks, Paul. I'll see you . . . tonight," she grinned as he shut the door.
"Mike said that you're determined," Willie looked at her as he started the car.
"I am," she agreed. "I want to go home. Can I ask you a . . . question? Do you think that I . . . can drive?"
"You'll have to take that up with Terry."
"Does Mike know that you've . . . kidnapped me?"
"No, but he'll find out when he calls to talk to you at lunchtime."
"How do you know . . . he calls me at lunchtime?"
"Jill, I've known the guy for over two years. He's a creature of habit and one of his habits is calling you at lunchtime. Sometimes he even stops by the hospital to see you at work. Do you think he'll be mad?" He gave her a lopsided grin.
"I don't know. He made a comment . . . that he wants to get me back home . . . to his bed, so . . . maybe not."
"You're talking a lot better."
"Have I ever driven this . . . car?" She asked as she watched him shift gears.
"A couple of times. Jill, give it up. You're not driving Terry's car. Not only would he have my head on a platter, so would your old man."
When they got to the apartment, Jill walked up and down the stairs a few times before Willie led her into hers' and Mike's apartment. "I'll fix us something to drink. There's a photo album in the bottom of that secretary over there," he pointed. "Do you want to look at it?"
"Sure," she hobbled over and removed the large album that Mike had brought her while she was in the hospital. She sat on the sofa and opened it. Some of the pictures took her back to a time when she wasn't sure if she was going to live or die. "These aren't . . . Mike and me," she looked at Willie. "I thought this was the . . . album that he'd brought me . . . in the hospital."
"Mike told us that album belongs to you. That's how we discovered that Cleve was pulling armed robberies," he walked over to the sofa and handed Jill a glass of orange juice.
"Wait! He was doing what?"
"Mike didn't tell you? How much do you remember about when Cleve came back to town a few months ago?"
"Almost nothing. I remember being in the woods . . . and it was foggy. I was running. I remember that he pulled a . . . gun on you and Terry. Everything else is a . . . blank. Tell me about the . . . robberies, Willie."
"He robbed some liquor stores and a bank. We had a sketch of the guy who was doing it. In fact, you almost looked at it. Anyway, he gave you some cock and bull story about coming into some money. He'd also told you that he was dying. We came over to get a picture of him from this album because you'd gone off with him. We didn't know where he'd taken you and we didn't know what he looked like. When I saw his picture in that album, I noticed that he looked like the composite that we had of the robber. So there's a picture of Cleve in that album with an inked beard and a pair of glasses. I'm sorry," he smiled sheepishly.
"Don't apologize. I can't believe . . . I kept any pictures of him. He had money, Cleve. That's how we . . . came to stay in that . . . house. Maybe his father cut him . . . off. I don't know."
"I remember telling Terry when we were looking in the album about how weird it was to see you in pictures in love with a guy who wasn't Mike."
"Love? I never loved him, Willie. I lived in fear . . . of him. I'm sure that Mike's told . . . you everything that he did . . . to me. I mean, he's a man. And men talk to their . . . friends about sex . . . and everything."
"Jill, Mike's never told us anything. We've talked about this before, remember? I told you that it's not any of our business what he did to you. Would you rather see the other album? The one that shows your life with Mike?"
"Yes, that would be better," she smiled as Willie took the album that she was holding and went to get the other album. She remember this album from the hospital and these pictures made her smile, much to Willie's relief. "I still can't believe . . . that I married a soldier," she stared at the pictures.
"He's always telling us that you didn't like him at all when you first met him. He said he wouldn't leave you alone, so you referred to him as a pest."
She continued looking through the pages of the album, trying hard to remember. She traced her fingers along one of the pictures that had been taken on their wedding day. "Mike was a war . . . hero?" She asked, referring to the profusion of medals on his dress uniform.
"I don't know. He doesn't talk much about Vietnam. He doesn't even have his medals and stuff on display. I asked him once about them and he said that they were in a box at the top of your bedroom closet. Do you want to stay here or do you want to go over to our apartment to wait for Mike and Terry to get home?"
"Let's go to your . . . apartment," she decided as she gave the album back to him.
Mike and Terry were on patrol together. As Willie had predicted, Mike wasn't overly thrilled when he called the cottage at lunchtime only to find out that Willie had taken Jill into town for the day. He then tried calling Willie, only to get no answer. He got back into the patrol car and slammed the passenger side door in irritation. "What's wrong?" Terry asked as he looked at his friend.
"I just called the house to talk to Jill, only to have Paul tell me that Willie came by earlier and took her into town. What if she gets hurt?" He shook his head in disbelief.
"Mike, give Willie a little credit, will you? He's not about to let her get hurt. We both know how badly you want to get her home. He's just trying to help. Did you call and talk to him?"
"There was no answer. I'll try again later," he sighed as he stared out the window. "I just worry about what he'll ask her."
"What're you talking about? Mike, I'm not going to deny that we used to be morbidly curious about her life with Cleve. But after that night in the woods when we saw what he was capable of, we both realized that her life with him isn't any of our business. Relax, would you? Willie isn't going to upset her by asking the wrong questions."
Back at Willie and Terry's apartment, Jill's sudden silence was beginning to worry Willie. He wondered what she was thinking about and worse, if maybe he'd made a mistake by being the one to show her the other album. "Jill, are you okay? I'm sorry if I've said or done something to upset you."
"I'm not upset," she quickly assured him. "I'm just trying to . . . think." She tried to force all of the flashes that she'd been having over the past several months into something that made some kind of sense. "Did Mike ever tell you . . . how Trap got me to . . . return to Alabama?"
"No, I don't know that story. All I know about Alabama is Mike told us that he met you his very first day on base. He said that the first thing you ever said to him was something about whether he knew that his eyes were different colors," he closed his eyes as he tried to remember the exact words that Mike had told him and Terry.
Suddenly she had a flash of a day at a track and talking to someone with a cap pulled low over their eyes. It had to have been at the high school. There weren't any other running tracks anywhere near the bowling alley in Anniston. A name suddenly popped into her head. "Willie, did Mike ever mention . . . someone named Garry?"
"Yeah, there were even some pictures of the two of them in that album that I showed you. What do you remember about him?" He asked excitedly as he sat in a nearby chair.
"Not much. I don't think he liked . . . me. I think that he thought . . . that I was going to ruin Mike's . . . career or something like that. I also think that he . . . was a hound dog, if you know . . . what I mean," she made a face.
"I know what you mean. Mike told us that Garry definitely liked the ladies, even though he was married."
"I'm very tired. Would it be okay . . . if I went back to our apartment . . . to rest? I promise that I won't . . . do anything stupid," she said as she stood up.
"Come on, I'll unlock the door for you," he followed her out of the apartment to the apartment next door. The apartment that she'd happily shared with Mike before this whole nightmare had started. "Are you sure that you're okay?"
"Yes, I'm just very tired."
After he left her, Jill made her way slowly through the apartment, trying to familiarize herself with the place. Finally she walked into hers' and Mike's bedroom. She walked over and opened up the closet door, staring at the clothes that were hanging there. The hanging white uniforms brought more brief flashes of memory that were just as quickly gone. She then walked into the bathroom and opened bottles, sniffing the contents, hoping that the smells would conjure up more memories. She then returned to their bedroom, where she stood staring at the carefully made-up bed, trying to remember the last time she'd shared it with Mike. Finally she returned to the living room, where she curled up on the corner of the sofa and tried to force herself to think. She hadn't been lying when she'd Willie that she was tired, but the truth of the matter was that she really wanted to be alone to sort things out without facing a barrage of questions.
***MJMJMJ***
Willie was watching TV a few hours later when he heard thundering footsteps coming up the stairs, followed moments later by Mike entering the apartment ahead of Terry. "Why don't you just come on in, Mike?" Willie called out as he stared at his friend and next door neighbor.
"Where's Jill?"
"She was feeling tired and asked if she could rest at your place. I didn't see any reason to tell her no," he answered as Mike turned and bolted out of the apartment. "Nice to see you too, Mike! Come back when you can stay longer!"
When Mike entered the apartment next door, he smiled when he saw Jill curled up on the sofa, sound asleep. Not wanting to startle her, he went to the kitchen to get a beer and then stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, watching her.
Sensing that she was being watched, she forced her eyes opened and focused on the sight of Mike standing there watching her with a smile on his face. "Hi," she sat up and stretched. "How long have you been . . . here?"
"A few minutes. Are you okay? Willie said that you were tired."
"I'm fine, a little sore. I have a question."
"What would that be?"
"Why are you over there . . . while I'm over here?" She held her arms out to him.
He immediately strode over and pulled her close to him as he kissed her hungrily. "Better?" He pulled back to smile at her.
"Much," she admitted as she pulled him closer to her again. "Mike, I think that . . . I remember Garry."
"Baby, that's great!"
"I think that I overdid it today," she confessed as she buried her head into his chest and just inhaled the scent of him. She wore one of his sweatshirts just because it always smelled like him. At night she sometimes wore one of his t-shirts to bed for the same reason. It was nice to wear when he wasn't with her. He always smelled so wonderful.
"I was a little upset when I called the cottage and Paul told me that you'd come to town with Willie. I thought that we were going to work together this afternoon."
"Mike, it wasn't my idea. Willie showed up. He was careful. He didn't do anything . . . to hurt me. If I overdid things, it was . . . my fault. I'm just anxious to come home."
"Are you really starting to hate it out there that much?"
"I don't hate it. It's just not home. I don't remember this apartment . . . but I know that this . . . is our home. A home that we . . . made together," she pulled away to look at him.
"If you're sure that you'll be okay by yourself, I'll talk to Paul when we get back to the house. Listen to me, though. No stupid chances."
"I won't do anything . . . stupid, Mike. I just want . . . to come home. I haven't even used my . . . cane that much today. That's what . . . Dr. Conti wants. Can I ask you . . . another question?"
"You can ask me anything. What's on your mind?"
"Did we ever go to . . . a track? A running track?" She asked as his face broke into a huge grin. "I'm guessing by your . . . look that we did."
"You came to the high school to watch me run with my squadron. It was the first time that I ever took you out. I asked you to lunch after I finished running. You weren't sure that you wanted to go. We had the waitress from hell. I don't remember her name," he lied, hoping that Jill would provide that information.
"Debbie. She was with Cleve . . . or his brothers. Probably all of them," she said as she made a face. "I think that she's the one . . . who told Cleve where I was. Did he beat me up?" She asked as another flash went through her mind.
"Yeah, baby. I'd never seen anybody who'd been messed up like he messed you up that night when I came to you at three in the morning. You called me and I was furious when I saw you," he remembered as his voice choked up.
"I'm so glad that he's dead," she whispered as she buried her head once more into his chest as he stroked her back.
When they returned to the house, Mike asked her to wait for him by the lake while he talked to Paul alone. The therapist was in the living room leafing through a magazine when Mike walked into the house. "Can we talk?" He asked as he sat down in a chair.
"I think that we need to. You need to talk to your friends. They can't just come over and expect me to release Jill to them. She still has a lot of work to do."
"Paul, you've done a great job under what hasn't always been an easy situation. If it hadn't been for your hard work, I wouldn't have gotten Jill back at all. But she wants to go home. She's been repeating the same mantra for days now and it's getting harder to tell her no. I think that even with the stairs that I can handle things on my own now."
"So, you're dismissing me?"
"Yeah, I guess that's what it comes down to. I don't want you to be angry. I know that you and Dr. Conti both feel that she isn't ready, but she keeps telling me different and I'm the one who knows her. I think that a large part of it is having Trap nearby when she's still battling the memories of her life that she had before me. I want to get our things packed and take her back into town with me tonight," he finished as he stared at Paul.
"Well, she'll remain under Dr. Conti's care for another few months, so I guess that I'll see her on her appointments. Can I talk to her before you leave?"
"She's out by the dock. Tell her that I'm packing."
Jill was sitting on the edge of the dock throwing stale bread to the ducks. "Are you sure that you're ready to be on your own?" Paul asked as he sat down next to her.
"Paul, you've been great . . . but I have to do the rest . . . of this on my own or I'm . . . never going to do it. I hope that you're . . . not angry."
"No, I understand. I don't entirely agree with you, but I understand. You've done extremely well. I didn't think that you'd come back this far when I first started working with you."
"Especially considering how much . . . trouble I gave you."
"Yeah, well there is that. So come and see me when you come in for your appointments with Dr. Conti," he stood up and prepared to walk away.
"Paul," she called out as he turned to look at her, "thank you."
"You're the one who did all of the work. Mike told me to tell you that he's packing, so I'll see you later."
After hearing Paul's car leave, she got up and made her way back to the house and to the bedroom that she'd been sharing with Mike the last several nights. "I thought that you were still outside," he commented as he continued packing their things into a suitcase.
"I'm going to go tell Trap . . . that we're leaving. Unless you need help," she offered as she watched him.
"No, go ahead. I'll come and get you before we leave."
Trap was watching TV when he heard someone tapping on the door. He opened the door to find Jill standing there. "Jill, what're you doing here? Is something wrong?" He stepped aside to let her into his tiny living room.
"No, Mike and I are leaving. I want to go back . . . to our apartment."
"Too many memories, huh?" He guessed as he looked at his longtime friend.
"Yes, but not the ones . . . that I want to have. Can I ask you something?" She asked as he slowly nodded. "That day . . . why'd you take me to the . . . hospital? I remember that the . . . bikers used to call . . . you a mouse. Do you remember?"
He sucked in his breath as he remembered those days all too well. He'd hated the bikers, although he had to admit that some of them had been decent enough to Jill. "You're my friend. I can't believe that I was actually able to get out of the house that day. Do you remember how he always kept the doors locked from the inside? I couldn't let you bleed to death."
"Why Anniston and not . . . Huntington?" She asked, referring to the town where she'd grown up on her grandfather's farm.
"I was supposed to take you to your grandfather. When we got to the Alabama state line, you told me that if I didn't take you to your aunt and uncle instead, you'd get out of the car and hitch-hike there. I think that you met Mike just a few days later. He told me that your wrists were still bandaged when he met you for the first time."
Jill was about to say something more when Mike tapped on the door. "Babe, are you ready to go?"
"Yeah. Thank you, Trap."
"For what?"
"For giving me Mike," she whispered as she kissed him on the cheek.
Later that night, Mike was waiting for Jill to get out of the shower. It was wonderful to be able to relax in their own bed and he hoped that Jill would feel the same way. He looked over toward the doorway as he heard the bathroom door open. "So, what were you and Trap talking about when I showed up?" He asked as he pulled the covers back for her to get under them.
"Not much," she said mysteriously as she lay back on her pillow and pulled him down to her. "Thank you for bringing me home."
"I'm just glad to have you home," he smiled as he bent down to kiss her hungrily as he let his hands wander under her gown as she giggled. "What're you giggling about?"
"Is that all you think . . . about?" She was still giggling as his hand traveled up to her breasts. "On second thought, this is . . . all I think about, too. I love you, Mike."
"I love you, too."
Several weeks later
It was the day of the sentencing for Albert Cummings. Jill was sitting next to Mike as they waited for the bailiff to bring Cummings into the courtroom. In the past several weeks, her condition had improved a great deal. She was now walking unaided and her speech problems only occurred when she was very tired.
The side door opened and Cummings was led into the courtroom. He glanced across the aisle at where the survivors were all gathered, waiting to hear the sentence. The bailiff called court to order as the judge entered and walked up to his bench. "Will the defendant please rise?" He ordered as Cummings and his attorney rose to their feet. "Mr. Cummings, I've spent the last six weeks talking with some of your victims. While I agree that you never intended for this tragedy to happen, you made a conscious decision to get behind the wheel of your work truck after having had too much to drink. Twelve people paid the ultimate price. Three of the injured will never walk again. Therefore, I sentence you to a term of not less than 15 years and not more than 50 years in the state penitentiary. I want you to sit in your cell every day and think about what you've done, Mr. Cummings. Court is adjourned!" He banged his gavel down to dismiss the courtroom.
Mike and Jill followed the other survivors from the courtroom. "So, how do you feel about going out for pizza tonight with the guys?" He asked as they waited for the elevator.
"Pizza sounds good," she agreed. "Has Terry been complaining about the headboard again?"
"Terry's always complaining about the headboard," he grinned. "I told him that we're making up for lost time."
"I love you," she leaned forward and kissed him.
"I love you, too. Come on, let's go home. The pizza can wait an hour or so."