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I Keep On Loving You
Chapter 9
When Grissom returned, he found a revived Sara. She had taken a short nap and then had been given a real shower by two nursing assistants; one was Benita's cousin, Dona.
"They have this special shower gurney, Gil! Kept me wrapped in warm towels—shampooed my hair. I lay there like a slug and let them scrub—it felt like a spa treatment." Sara laughed, adding, "With a nice, comforting smell of chlorine bleach." Flipping the sheet away from her leg, she pointed to it saying, "And they shaved my leg!" Her hand went to her shirt, "And, I'm wearing my day-time clothes!"
The heavy weight of frustration began to slide from his shoulders when he saw Sara's smile and her leg, the t-shirt and shorts, her damp curling hair. Her smile grew as he placed a pet carrier on her bed. She almost squealed as he unzipped the case, but quickly stifled the sound.
"Gracie is still asleep," she whispered. "Dona said her nap usually lasts for two hours—I don't want to wake her!"
He lifted the small white dog into his hands, saying in a low voice, "Sara, meet Bexar—Bexar, meet your mom!"
As she reached a hand to Bexar, Sara asked, "Is it okay? To bring him in here?"
Grissom nodded. "I checked before I left—dogs are welcome here. They even have therapy dogs who visit." He placed the dog in the crook of Sara's arm. "I'll bring Sally Sue tomorrow."
The small dog responded as a loved pet—nuzzling against Sara as she petted and whispered to him, responding to Grissom's soft commands. As Grissom unpacked additional clothes, Bexar curled in Sara's lap, content to have another human join the family.
When Gracie woke from her nap, she was delighted to meet Bexar, saying no more about young men dying in rehab as she headed to a bingo game before her afternoon rehab session.
The morning of her second day, a frame—or canopy—was set up over Sara's bed and she was shown how to use the equipment to move from bed to chair; quite an accomplishment for a woman who had not moved on her own for days.
Grissom walked in as Sara was completing the task for the third time as a therapist and assistant watched and gave encouragement. Beads of sweat gathered across her forehead; her cheeks radiated a glow he realized had been absent since her accident. As he leaned against the wall and watched, his smile was sincere and deeply heartfelt.
There were times, lately, Grissom thought, when his aggravation with everything surrounding Sara's condition and care had almost overwhelmed his usually unruffled composure. Yet, seeing her, staying with her in the hospital, he had experienced a sensation almost forgotten. The intimacy between them went beyond attraction, beyond admiration for her spirit and intelligence, beyond anything he had experienced with another human.
When he had kissed her, one night in the hospital, it was as if he had unlocked a door somewhere inside himself and walked through it to find a realm where things were different. The world on the other side of the door was brighter, more interesting in every way. He found it difficult to remember why the door had closed yet he acknowledged that he was the one who had pulled it shut.
Pushing aside his thoughts, he watched as Sara and the therapist worked together on a pivot while holding a bar over the bed with one arm. He knew there was pain—her eyes revealed more than strenuous physical effort—even though she kept a smile across her face as she followed the therapist's instructions.
Sara introduced Grissom and the therapist, Rhonda, immediately involved him in their efforts, saying, "Always easier with two!"
After thirty minutes, the session ended.
"We don't want to do too much—not in the beginning," the therapist explained. "I'll be back this afternoon and we'll do this again."
Sara asked, "When can I move around? Leave this room? Go outside?" She waved a hand toward the window, saying, "I'd love to feel the sun on my face!"
Rhonda, a woman who had worked with many patients over her career, laughed. "You know, Sara, I think we've got just what you need." Quickly, she checked to the window. "We have a wheelchair that we don't use often—and you will be the envy of every person on the wing—as in your roommate! She'll want one too."
Clicking a message into her phone, she said, "We'll get you outside today!"
As they waited for several minutes, she outlined the therapy plan for Sara. "It appears slow-going," she said, "for someone your age, but your injuries—especially the leg fracture—need to reach a point to be weight bearing before you stand up."
A light knock signaled the arrival of the assistant, pushing a wheelchair. Immediately, Grissom and Sara noticed the young man was not pushing the wheelchair, but was controlling its forward movement with a small device held in his hand.
"Have you ever played with a remote control car?" The therapist asked.
It did not take long to transfer Sara to the wheelchair and within a few minutes, she was using the handheld remote control to propel herself forward, backward, and in circles. For the first time since his return, Grissom heard the sound of true laughter from his wife.
Rhonda walked with Grissom as Sara used the small remote device to operate the wheelchair. Doors opened automatically as the wheelchair approached. Several of the nursing staff called out encouraging words as Sara passed.
A few minutes later, for the first time since her accident, Sara rolled into the sunshine. "I will never complain about the heat, Gil. Never! It feels incredible to be outside."
The open quadrangle in the center of the facility provided a quiet and safe courtyard for residents and employees to be outside so Sara and Grissom were not alone. Brightly colored umbrellas and a long vine covered pergola provided shade. Sara managed to keep her chair on the paved walkway until they found a vacant bench. No one appeared to take notice of another person in a wheelchair.
The day was not a Vegas scorcher but warm enough that Sara was comfortable wearing her shorts and light-weight shirt. She could not stop smiling as Grissom sat beside her, taking her hand in his.
She said, "I'm so thrilled to be outside—moving on my own." Softly, she laughed, "It's strange, isn't it—we never think about—about simple things like walking and going to the bathroom—and getting a drink of water."
Grissom threaded his fingers with Sara's causing her smile to transform into a broad grin. Her uncast leg bent into an angle as she brought her heel to rest against her thigh. Her simple fluid movements caused Grissom to think of their two dogs stretching in the sun—playful and secure—similar to times he had watched Sara do the same thing at home or on a beach or on a hotel balcony. And, again, he was reminded of what he had missed.
His hand tightened on hers as he said, "I'm sorry, Sara, for all I've done—for all I've caused."
She hushed him with a quiet "ssshhh" whistling between her teeth. "No more, Gil. You are home. It's in the past."
"Oh, Sara, what—what would—if you had not had this accident—I would still be chasing bees around the world! How did I close the door on us?"
Sara realized there was a rare and earnest emotion in his voice and turning her face to his, she said, "Kiss me, Gil." She wrinkled her lips into a pucker and then, before he could kiss her, giggled. "Gil, we—both of us take life entirely too seriously. We want a carefully ordered world in one that fringes on chaos. We want a logical reason for everything—even after all these years, I still look for logic—good and bad reasoning in my work." For a few seconds, there seemed to be a battle between laughter and tears; laughter won.
"Kiss me, dear," she said as her giggles bubbled to the surface. "Let's decide we've apologized—forgiven and forgotten the past months—turn the page." Her hand touched his cheek. "I love you, Gil. You know that."
He smiled his slow, sensual smile, one that sent a flutter of emotions through Sara's body.
He said, "Yes, I do—and I love you, Sara." He kissed her, a slow kiss that gently nibbled at her bottom lip. When he pulled his mouth away from hers, he added, "And I will take very good care of you."
Several minutes passed before they actually parted; he caressed her chin. She played with his hair, longer than she had ever seen but she liked it. He kissed her fingers and then gently raised her fractured arm so he could kiss each finger below the cast.
He said, "Catherine sends her love and she'll be home next week so she'll see you then. Nick and Greg want to bring lunch tomorrow—I wasn't sure, but they insisted. And Sally Sue is at the groomer's now getting prettied up for a visit this afternoon."
When an employee, dressed in the facility's dining room blue uniform, rolled a cart of snacks into the courtyard, a dozen people gathered around.
"I'll get you something—any preferences?" Grissom asked.
"Surprise me."
When he returned with a bottle of juice, a chocolate covered granola bar, and a small carton, he said, "She insisted you needed the milkshake." He handed her a straw and opened the carton.
Sara laughed. "I forgot to tell you—Gracie says not to drink the water in the rehab room—it's causing young men to die." She slurped the milkshake.
Grissom's eyebrows shot skyward; a finger passed over his mouth. "Okay," he stretched the word out. "Why would the water in rehab cause young men to die?"
"Not sure, but she says there have been four or five that she's heard about—by young men she means those under fifty, I think."
"Well, the place doesn't exactly have people here in the best of health, you know. Present company excluded," he added with a smile.
"That's what I thought—just from what I did this morning, I can imagine!" She sighed. "And I get to do it again this afternoon—but at least I'm outside."
When Benita visited Sara later that day, Sara's excitement was still there as she demonstrated her ability to move from bed to chair. Grissom laughed as he held up the remote she had left beside the bed.
"You'll need this!"
Gracie, enjoying Sally Sue's visit, joined in the conversation, saying she was eager to show Sara around the facility and introduce her new roommate to others. As Grissom clipped the leash to the dog and Sara was busy saying "good-bye", it was Benita who Gracie confided in, telling her to bring Sara a bottle for water.
"One of those fancy ones—with a ring on it," the elderly woman whispered as she pointed to a similar bottle tucked beside her.
Puzzled, the nurse asked why and, again, in a conspiring whisper, Gracie said, "The water in the rehab room is bad." A puzzled look from Benita and another, quieter whisper from Gracie, "Those boys drank a lot of water from the container—it's tainted with something."
Benita had been in Gracie's company for less than an hour; kindly, the nurse patted the elderly woman's shoulder, saying, "I'll bring one tomorrow!" She leaned to Gracie's ear and whispered, "We don't want Sara drinking tainted water."
Gracie's hand went to shield her mouth as she whispered to Benita, "No one wants to talk about it—those boys dying—but they know!"
Having passed through an area where a dozen old women were watching "McMillan & Wife" on a large flat screen television, Benita decided Gracie was confusing reality with a forty year old police procedural show. She said, "I'll bring a water bottle for Sara—don't worry!"
A few minutes later, Benita left the room, with a promise to return the next day and, on her way out of the facility, decided to find her cousin, Dona.
Thank you...more to come!