Road to Recovery

For three weeks following their son's funeral, Isla and Mark stayed at his parents palatial home, both recovering from the accident that led to the premature birth and death of their first child. Both had numerous cracked ribs that caused discomfort and sometimes pain, as well as restrictions in their breathing. Both had suffered minor concussions and multiple deep bruises. Mark's left hand and wrist were in a cast, Isla had a cracked vertebrae and deep contusions to her hips, back and shoulders. Where once she had complete control over her finely tuned muscles, now, the slightest movement caused pain.

Both sides of the family had been constant in their devotion to helping the couple recover. A private duty nurse was available for Isla during the day and Mark was rarely far from her side. All were grieving the loss of the life that might have been. Flowers and cards arrived by the dozens from friends when they heard the heart-breaking news. The Rats had returned to their homes but kept in touch with phone calls and letters.

Once Isla felt strong enough, Mark was taking her to Switzerland where she could continue her recovery and rehabilitation in a private hospital, especially equipped to handle such situations. Isla's Scottie, Lorna, spent much of the day snuggled up next to her "mom," to aid in her healing. The doctor visited each day and Rev. Knack stopped by several times a week. Isla especially spent long hours of conversation with him as she worked through the grief of losing her baby.

After two weeks, several of Isla's closest dancing friends and Mark's work colleagues came for brief visits, along with school and family friends. While the family limited the number of guests, Mark was looking forward to getting her away so they could both heal properly, physically and emotionally without any disruptions or distractions. He was worried about her goal of dancing again. He knew what she put her body through on a daily basis to be able to perform at the level required for a principal dancer. Currently she could barely walk or lift her arms over her head. He dreaded the long road of her recovery, fearful she may want to push her body too quickly or even worse, that she would not be able to attain her previous flexibility and control.

A few times they had ventured to their apartment where Isla directed Hitch in packing for the trip abroad. He settled her into an overstuffed chair in their bedroom and wouldn't allow her to lift a finger to help. Both mothers came along to fold and pack her suitcases and trunk.

"Do you think my Dior Bar Suit is too outdate?" she asked, and Hitch looked at her as if she was speaking a different language.

"Not at all," her mother replied, "It's a classic." Moira transferred the suit to the steamer trunk along with the accessories.

"Did I tell you, Mr. Dior, sent me roses and a lovely note?" Isla said and the two older women shook their heads. "He expressed his condolences and wishes for my recovery. He acknowledged I would not be able to model for his spring show but hoped I would be available in the fall. He's still giving me a deep discount on anything from the spring collection." Since helping him out at his first preview show a few years prior, he had always asked Isla to model at his bi-annual fashion shows in France. He repaid her with an outfit of her choice from the collection and a deep discount on anything else she wished to purchase. Her mothers and Granny Mac were some of his best customers.

"I guess, we'll just have to attend and pick out a few things for you," Ellanora suggested, and Moira nodded in agreement.

"Just don't forget Granny Mac," Isla warned.

"Remember, you're going to be in a hospital most of this trip," Mark reminded her. "You don't need an entire wardrobe."

"I'm thinking about when I will be sufficiently recovered to go out in the evenings with my dashing husband. I can't have him ashamed of my appearance," she responded.

"As if that could ever be a possibility," he leaned over and kissed her.

"As you get stronger, you could always slip down to Paris and pick out some new things," Moira suggested.

"No, she doesn't," Mark stated. "She just needs to focus on regaining her strength." The women smiled at him indulgently, knowing that he would make sure Isla got whatever she wanted.

"How about you pack my dance bag since you know everything I need and where it's kept," she smiled at him.

"Sure thing, Zu-Zu," he said and begin laying things out on the bed for her to say yea or nay. She soon had a small suitcase filled with nothing but leotards, tights, ballet shoes, toe shoes, the kit of supplies she used for "breaking in" a new pair of pointe shoes, toe pads, first aid kit, etc.

"Do you really need this much?" Hitch asked.

"I don't plan to come back until I'm able to dance again, Tadpole," she insisted, and he closed the lid of the case. Noticing she was growing tired, he drew the packing session to a close, saying they would finish in a few days.

A week later, the doctor released her for travel, and they flew to France in the extravagant plane Matthew kept for his most important business and clients. It was like a flying apartment, complete with a bedroom, so Isla could lie down when needed. As they flew over the ocean, they sat next to one another on a comfortable couch. Mark opened a bottle of champagne, and they raised a glass to what lay ahead.

"It's not going to be easy, Zu-Zu," Mark said, "but I will be with you every step of the way."

"I know, Tadpole," she kissed his cheek, "and I appreciate you being with me. We're both so much stronger when we're together."

"I have every faith in your determination to dance again, but I want you to know that I'm here if things don't work out as well," he slipped his arm around her shoulders.

"I need you to keep me on task, to give me a nudge or even a push, if I lose focus. You have to help me be strong and not give up when I feel I can't go on," she said, putting her head against his should.

"That's going to be hard for me to do. I don't like to see you hurting or in physical pain," he answered honestly.

"But you will, because I need you too," she replied simply.

"Yes," he acknowledged, "and each time I fail to do so, you can drag me to Paris and buy one of Monsieur Dior's creations," he promised with a laugh.

"Oh, Tadpole," she said delighted, "You have no idea of the bargain you've struck" She sipped the champagne.

"It will be worth it," he said firmly. "Anything to see you dance again."