Compass (Siren Songs Book 2) (23 page)

We don’t stay long after promising to keep them posted on how they can help. I can’t stop myself from snickering at their offer. They haven’t done a damn thing until now but suddenly, they’re going to swoop in and be Moby’s salvation. Right.

Once in the car, I had hoped to see some of the tension ease from his expression but don’t. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel like this should be cleansing, and it isn’t.”

“It’s going to be a process, Moby.”

“One more hurdle this afternoon and this part is over. Then we can sit down and figure out where to go from here. Together.”

* * *

T
he afternoon flies
by faster than either of us expects, and before we know it, we’re standing inside Healing Wings as our friends pour in the door.

“Hey, guys, we’re going to meet in the building out back. There’s pizza and beer out there.” Cam waves her hands like a flight attendant pointing to the exit routes to direct the traffic. I can’t help but giggle.

“I told you no food, Cam,” I holler at her over the noise of our friends.

“I didn’t listen,” she calls back before the gaggle of people moving to the other building carries her off.

When I turn to Moby, he’s stark white, having lost all color, fear marring his face.

“Moby?” I question in concern. When he doesn’t respond, I call out to him a little louder, “Moby? Are you all right?”

His head snaps in my direction. “I can’t do this, Piper. I can’t go in there. I can’t tell my friends what a piece of shit I am. My brothers are in that room.” The words fly out of his mouth as he points to the building in the back.

Taking his hand in mine, I dip my head under his forcing him to make eye contact with me. “They love you, Moby. It’ll work out.”

“I can’t do it.”

“You can and you will. We asked our friends to put their lives on hold so you could talk to them. We’re going out there.”

I would offer him my hand as we walk but he needs his for the cane, and I can’t bring myself to hold the lifeless one hanging from his other arm. It creeps me out. Maybe I’m shallow or a horrible wife, but I just can’t. Instead, I lead him toward the door and into the other building.

The acoustics in this structure are amazing. When Dax renovated it for music therapy, he ensured the sound quality would be perfect, but also well-insulated to keep neighbors from complaining about the noise. Walking in, everyone’s talking. As soon as Dax sees Moby in the room, he wastes no time silencing the herd, shooing them to beanbag chairs on the floor with pizza in hand.

The urge to heave overtakes me, flying to the bathroom, I barely make it to a toilet before emptying the contents of my stomach into the bowl. The acrid stench is putrid.

“Piper?” Sutton calls from the door, her voice unsteady.

Still hovering over the toilet in case another wave hits me, I respond, “Yeah, Sutt?”

“What the hell was that about? Are you okay?”

“Nerves I guess.” Hell, I don’t know. I’m not the one who did anything wrong, so I have no idea why I’m so bothered by all this. Deciding I’m not going to hurl if I move, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, flush the toilet, and exit the stall.

“You look like hell. Are you sick?”

Looking in the mirror while I wash my hands, I see what I assume everyone else does: dark circles under my eyes, a gaunt face, weary…I look weary. “No, I’m not sick. Just stressed out.” Splashing cold water on my face helps revitalize me mentally, but the same morose reflection still stares back at me from the mirror. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Luckily, she doesn’t ask me for details. I’m sure if she thought she had more time she would but since she was the rescue effort we need to get back to the group.

Dax and Cam stop me when I walk in, keeping me with them. “Guys, I need to go to Moby,” I whisper in an attempt not to garner anyone’s attention.

Dax’s smooth baritone responds close to my ear. “He asked me to keep you with us. Said he needs to do this on his own.”

I could feel the bile rising in my throat again. Swallowing hard, forcing it down, I need to get my shit together.

My husband is sitting on the edge of a table. I’m not sure how he managed to get in that position with a limp arm and a bad leg, his cane is between his knees. His right hand tangles in his hair indicating how anxious he is as his fingers pull on the strands beneath them. When he shuts his eyes, I know he’s gathering his resolve to get this out. This is harder than telling his parents, or me, I knew it would be.

“What’s going on, Moby?” Joey. Always sweet Joey trying to lead his best friend to a safe place. Opening the door to usher him through whatever it is. Joey has Moby’s back, always.

“I met with my counselor yesterday, then Piper last night, and my parents this morning.” He hesitates just long enough for a murmur to start in the room.

“Y’all shut up and let the man talk.” Brooks looks concerned as they all do.

“Misleading people you love is painful, even when it starts, it’s not easy, you think it’s gonna to be a one-time thing and one time turns into three, and then the lies are easier than the truth.” He stops to clear his throat; I could hear a pin drop the room is so quiet. “I’m not going to make excuses for my behavior, I’m simply going to own it and hope you all forgive me.” Inhaling loudly enough through his nose I could hear it across the room, he goes for it. “I haven’t done anything I’m supposed to do since I was released from the hospital. I’ve left my wife carrying the burden of our home, our finances, and everything else in our world while I took advantage of her.” He finds my eyes, wide and bewildered. I had no idea he was going to go this far.

“Piper, I want to apologize publicly to you for everything I’ve done. I don’t deserve you or the love you’ve shown me. Without your dedication the last few months, we likely would be facing financial ruin.”

I respond with a weak side smile, not feeling this is the time or place to do much else.

Turning back to the group, he continues. “I don’t know what to do going forward. Piper and I are going to have to figure that out, but I want to apologize to all of you and ask you to help keep me accountable whenever we do devise a plan. It’s mission critical I get my shit together and focus.”

I don’t hear much else he says. My only concern is our friends rallying around him. There’s no condemnation, no one taking sides; they’re just exhibiting the true definition of loyalty. All offer their hand in anything we need and commit to helping us once we have a plan in place. I need to learn to ask for assistance and take it when offered. They may be the only things that save our marriage.

U
nfortunately for me
, the plan Piper and I came up with, using Ralph for guidance, keeps my time accounted for…all of it. Instead of sitting at home, I now accompany Piper to work, along with Phoenix. Dax drags me around the facility forcing me to do things out of my comfort zone; everyone alternates taking me to physical therapy and doctors’ appointments, and I fill my time doing mundane work no one else has time to do. As much as I hate people treating me like I need a babysitter, having Dax around to do the therapy with makes it bearable. Not enjoyable, but I’m getting it done. I’ve noticed a huge improvement in my hand strength and my ability to walk in the two weeks he’s been working with me. He’d make a great personal trainer if he decides to go into a new field.

My physical therapist at the center has noticed the improvement as well. We, Piper and I, decided against telling my doctors about my faux pas for fear of losing my acceptance in the program and instead opted to make sure I’m honest going forward. Anyway, she thinks I’m nearing a point where I might be able to give up the cane. I’m not sure what that would look like; I’m very self-conscious about my gait as it is. I’m also rather dependent on the stick; it’s a security blanket of sorts. Occasionally when I am alone, I give it a go, just to see how far I can walk without it. If no one’s around, I do all right because I don’t worry about how I look. If someone else is in the room, I’m not going more than a step without it.

When I arrive at the center, I find my therapist with another woman and a briefcase of sorts. I sit down in the lobby waiting for her to finish when she waves for me to join them.

“This is Moby. The man I have been telling you about. Moby, this is Carly. She’s with Walker Assist.”

Hooking my cane on my left arm, I extend my right in greeting. “Nice to meet you.”

“Carly’s here to show you a brand new product they have called The Aid. It’s designed to help patients regain mobility.”

Carly begins to show me the functions of the little contraption worn just under my left knee, calibrated by a computer for my steps, to send electrical impulses to the muscles in my leg with perfect timing. The impulses do what my brain is struggling to, forcing the muscles to move in time with my stride allowing me more freedom.

Fitting it on my leg, I spend the next hour freely roaming the room, and for the first time in months, I hardly notice my limp and a short distance doesn’t exhaust me.

“This thing is amazing. How do I get one?” My excitement is obvious, like a fat kid wanting cake.

“Well, unfortunately, Moby, it’s not covered by insurance because it’s not considered medically necessary, but those of us at Walker Assist believe it’s lifestyle necessary.”

“How much?” Might as well cut straight to the chase.

“Five thousand.” She knows the sticker is shocking, but she also knows the product would revolutionize my life. “What we’d like to propose you do is wear it home today. Use it for a week. Talk to your wife and the two of you decide if it’s worth the investment.”

“So basically, you want me to try it out so I know I can’t live without it regardless of my ability to pay for it?” I laugh, but it’s the truth—an ugly truth.

“We believe you and your family will agree it’s a game changer.”

Sitting down, I start to slide the device back down my leg. “I can’t ask Piper for anything else. She’s already given up too much. We don’t have five grand to throw at this on top of all the medical bills still piling in. I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

Carly sits down beside me, putting her hand on my arm. I don’t like the feel of her skin on mine. The angle she’s playing is crooked; praying on the handicapped. Just as I’m handing her the gadget back, Piper walks in to pick me up.

She smiles warmly in my direction, waving to the ladies with me while she waits in the lobby.

“Is that your wife?” Carly asks as she starts moving in Piper’s direction.

Before I can stop her, she’s shaking my wife’s hand and ushering her toward me. Piper’s eyes are like fireworks. I can see the excitement burning.

“Put it back on, Moby. I want to see.” The bitch got my wife. Piper will move heaven and earth to make this happen.

“We can’t afford it, Piper.” My voice is slight. The admission is a kick straight to the balls—total emasculation.

She just raises her brows indicating there’s no need to turn this into an argument so I do as she wants. When it’s on my leg again, she motions for me to walk around. After taking a few steps away from her, I circle back to see her hand cupped to her mouth and tears streaming down her face. There’s a smile behind the hand, and I know she feels what I do…which is exactly why I didn’t want her to see it.

“We’ll figure it out, Moby,” is all she says to me before giving her attention to Carly. “How much is it?” Piper’s expressions are priceless. You can read everything she’s saying by the look on her face and her eyes go wide hearing Carly’s response. “Any chance of a discount if we could pay cash instead of a credit card?”

Once Carly confirms a twenty percent discount for paper versus plastic, Piper grins before barreling into me, wrapping her arms around my waist in the tightest hug I’ve received from her since the stroke. Pulling her closer with my right arm, I kiss the top of her head, taking in the scent of her shampoo, and the warmth of her embrace. Damn, I miss my wife.

* * *

P
iper goes
into an all-out fundraising mode. We’ve been fortunate, our out of pocket maximum was ten thousand dollars, and the insurance company picked up the remaining seven hundred thousand dollars in medical expenses from the hospitals and different treatment centers. Between the money we got from the gym, our 401K, and the sale of the condo, we were able to pay our portion as the bills came in but it wiped us out.

Piper never once asked either of our parents for help. Had I not gotten into this program I have no idea how we would’ve paid for on-going physical therapy. I never thought she’d be the type to ask for a handout, especially financial but she’s on a crusade to come up with four thousand dollars in a week’s time to pay for the Aid. Having this contraption is the difference between night and day. I can walk unassisted. If I wear pants, no one can tell I have it on; my limp is almost undetectable. She sees what it does for my confidence, and she’s determined to secure it for me.

Her parents have agreed to pay for half if we can come up with the other half. When Piper calls my mom and dad and asks them to match the donation she received from her side of the family, it shocks the shit out of me. My parents don’t have the disposable income hers do but agreed to another thousand leaving us needing a grand before next week.

“Piper, don’t get your hopes up. A thousand dollars might as well be a million right now, and we don’t have time to come up with much of a plan to earn it.” It will crush me if we can’t make this happen but even more, I don’t want to see her disappointment.

“Shush! I’ll come up with something. A thousand dollars is nothing. That’s ten hundreds or twenty fifties. I bet my friends would each contribute.” Her face is alight with optimism.

“We’re not asking our friends. Or my brothers.” Not doing it, hell no. I will not take charity. I don’t want to do it from our parents, but our friends are off limits.

“That’s silly.” She continues doing dishes in the kitchen blowing me off as if what I’d said was ludicrous. “Our friends want to help. They told us to ask for assistance, Moby. At what point are we going to do that?”

“We have asked. They’re all acting as taxi drivers, babysitters, physical trainers. We’re not asking them to become banks too.”

“Okay, don’t ask your friends. I’ll ask mine.”

“Fuck, no, Piper. You’re not asking for handouts from our friends.” She stops what she’s doing, turns the water off, looking at me—shocked by the tone of my voice and my firm stance.

Her eyes are huge, she dries off her hands before continuing the conversation. “What if it were a loan—with interest?”

I cock my eyebrow at her in question.

“I know Cam would lend us the money, Moby. She’d never mention it to a soul, and I’d offer to pay her back with interest.” She shifts on her feet nervously, waiting for my permission to ask her friend, my brother’s fiancée. “Moby, we just don’t have time to do anything else.” She pleads with her face as much as her words.

I can’t help but give in, I want it as much as she wants me to have it, and it might enable me to go back to work sooner. As a man, it goes against who I am admitting I can’t take care of my wife and myself. It’s embarrassing as hell to know I blew through my inheritance playing around, and when I need it there’s nothing to fall back on. I don’t want to be lectured by Dax about my irresponsibility, but at this point, I know I don’t have a choice. “Fine. A loan only!” My voice is raised indicating my opposition to this idea.

Like a giddy schoolgirl, she hops up and down in front of the sink, clapping her hands.

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow when we go out.”

“Please ask her not to mention it to Dax.” I dread hearing his mouth—like adding salt to an open wound.

“I can ask, but I’m pretty sure that will be a negative. She doesn’t do anything without his permission. You know that.”

I shake my head in resignation, not at her but my brother and his silly lifestyle choices. I guess it works for them, but it just doesn’t make sense to me. Women worked so hard to be liberated from the confines of the home in the sixties; Cam is a product of that movement. I don’t understand why she’d revert to a submissive role when she’s solid in a dominant one. The only thing I can figure out is after her incident, Dax became her salvation, but I’ve never asked. She adores him, and he thinks she walks on water.

“Well, try to get her to keep her mouth closed,” I plead hoping she’ll see my desperation and hear it laced in my tone.

“Would you want me lending someone money without your knowledge?” She raises her eyebrows back at me with an in-your-face grin.

“Fine,” I surrender.