The Dance (20 page)

The anesthesiologist came into the area and pushed another drug into the IV line that knocked Will out completely. They rolled him away while I returned to the waiting room to update Sophie and the family. As I walked up I was surprised to see a police officer had joined them. All the men stood as I approached.

“Bryson, this is officer Dickson,” Dad said.

I took the officer’s extended hand and shook it. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you but . . .”

The officer chuckled. “I completely understand. I hear your husband is going to make a full recovery.”

“Yes, it looks that way. Thank, God.”

“I know it’s been a rough day but do you mind if I ask you a few questions about the accident?”

“That’s fine but I’m not sure what I can tell you.”

“I just have some routine questions. Your father-in-law told me pretty much everything I needed to know about the moment it occurred.”

“Would you like to fill me in? I haven’t had a chance to hear the whole story,” I said.

Officer Dickson flipped open his notepad. “Mr. Forsyth was coming out of the offices of his construction company. He heard screeching tires, which made him look up. He saw your husband’s car careening around the corner at a speed well over the limit. It then spun out of control and smashed into the side of the brick building across the street. Fortunately, no one else was hurt.”

The knot that had been lodged in my stomach all morning twisted even tighter.

“Did your husband ingest any drugs or alcohol before he got in the car?”

“No, it was early in the morning.” There was a hint of defensiveness in my tone that I hadn’t intended.

“It’s routine, ma’am.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound . . . it’s been stressful.”

“I understand.”

“Barring any mechanical malfunction with the car, can you think of any reason why your husband would be traveling at such an accelerated speed?”

Shaking my head, I answered. “No. Will wasn’t a speed junkie.”

“Could he have been upset or worried about something causing him to be distracted?”

I glanced over at both sets of parents. Everyone but Sophie was in the dark about mine and Will’s marital problems. This wasn’t the time or the place to let that cat out of the bag. The idea that the argument could have been the reason for the accident made me nauseous.

“No. It was a normal morning for us. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Well, that’s all I needed to know. I’m glad your husband will be alright. He’s a lucky man to have made it out of that crash and to have so many people care about him.” Officer Dickson stood. “Take care.”

I gave him an appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

He shook the hands of each member of our little group before heading out the door.

Four hours passed before I got word that Will was out of surgery. Doctor Bernard assured me that all went well and he expected a full recovery. Although our relationship was over, I was legally Will’s wife so any medical decision making fell on me. Other than running home to shower and change clothes, I was by Will’s side. Even for the first few days when he was in and out of sleep and didn’t know I was there. But I wasn’t going to turn my back on him regardless of how things were between us.

Obviously we hadn’t discussed the cause of the accident. The guilt of responsibility was like a dull headache that wouldn’t go away. I needed some relief.

By hospital day four, Will’s medication fog lifted and he was more coherent and clearheaded. He was flipping through the channels on the TV while I sat quietly in the corner flipping through a cooking magazine. The sound of sheets rustling caused me to glance up. Will was looking at me.

He cleared his throat and said, “I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here. I know you’re ready to end this.” He weakly motioned with his hand, pointing between us.

“It’s not just me.”

Will’s gaze dropped briefly and then bounced back up to mine. “Um . . . I need a favor. Two actually.” He paused. “Could we hold off on the separation until I’m back on my feet?”

I closed the magazine as I ran my tongue over my suddenly dry lips. “I don’t see a reason to prolong things.”

“Christ, Bryson, all I’m asking is for you to stay with me until I’m well. It’s the least you could do, don’t you think?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The morning you asked me for the divorce . . . I couldn’t think straight.”

My heart was pounding against my chest. “Is that why you were speeding?”

He didn’t say anything. The look he gave me answered my question. Guilt and obligation flooded me in equal parts.

“Okay, I’ll stay until you’re recovered.”

“And let’s keep this quiet from everyone, especially our parents. No need for them to know what our plans are right now. Who knows, this may be a blessing in disguise.”

Will picked up the remote and returned to flipping through channels. He wanted to keep up appearances for as long as possible. There was no tangible reason why I couldn’t play the dutiful wife for a few more weeks while he was recovering. It was a small price to pay to clear a guilty conscience.

I followed closely behind the assistant as she wheeled Will into the brightly lit aquatic therapy room. He had been discharged to one of the best rehab facilities in town. Before we arrived I had a picture in my head of a drab and depressing sterile place. This was the complete opposite. The area we were in was buzzing with activity and laughter.

To the right, large windows lined the upper wall while the bottom half was reserved for equipment. I recognized barbells and exercise bands. Then there were other things that I was clueless about as to their purpose in the water, for example the multicolored belts that hung like a rainbow along one wall. At first glance the pool looked like any other giant pool but on closer inspection it was anything but. The steps were a lot wider, there were more of them sinking into the water, and the railing was a lot thicker than normal. At one end there was a lift that lowered wheelchair-bound patients into the water. Every patient in the pool got the undivided attention of a therapist.

I glanced over at Will to gauge his reaction to how he’d be spending his time for the next several weeks. Somehow he had convinced himself that he was being discharged to home and I’d be hauling him back and forth each day for therapy. He was not happy when he was informed otherwise. He was pouting at the moment, his expression nonexistent as he ignored everything and everyone around him. He’ll get over it.

“As you can see we have a pretty aggressive program,” said Kim, the therapy assistant giving us the tour.

She whirled the wheelchair around pointing Will toward the pool for him to get a better look. He stared blankly ahead.

“Will, you love swimming, now you’ll get to do it every day.” I worked hard to sound cheery and optimistic like any good wife.

“We have a pool at home,” he grumbled.

Kim plastered an understanding smile across her face. “Well, this concludes the grand tour. I’m sure you’re pretty tired and would like to get back to your room.” She gave me a sympathetic glance. “Will, would you like to wheel yourself back to the room?”

“Isn’t that what they pay you for?”

“Will!” I snapped.

“It’s okay. You’ve both been through a lot lately.”

I took my position a few steps behind Kim as she pushed Will’s chair toward the exit. As we rounded one corner of the pool a high-pitched squeal caused me to turn around. Another high pitched giggle accompanied by a head tilt came from the very young brunette at the other end of the pool. She was holding two small aquatic barbells and obviously playing up that they were too heavy. I followed her gaze curious to see who her performance was for.

The second I saw her audience I froze. Blinking several times, I tried to clear my vision. But each time I opened my eyes the same figure was still sitting on the side of the pool. Hart Mitchell.

Just like in the hospital cafeteria and at the traffic light, I couldn’t help but stare as Hart encouraged the giddy girl to continue with her exercise. He was wearing a fitted black tank with black long board shorts. His hands clutched the edge of the pool causing his muscles to flex. I knew back in school he had some bulging happening underneath that flannel shirt. My gaze landed on the chain tattoo wrapped around his bicep and just above it was a series of numbers etched across his arm I hadn’t noticed during the drive by. The time since high school had been really good to Hart. He no longer looked like a bad boy. He looked like a badass.

Before my brain had a chance to catch up with my body, I found myself walking toward him. I was completely clueless as to what I would say. It had been a little over nine years since we last saw each other. Our encounter was so brief, I wondered if he would even remember me.

“Bye, Hart. See you Wednesday,” the high pitcher squeaked.

I should’ve turned around and left. I was still a safe distance and hadn’t been noticed. I could leave without him ever knowing I was here. Besides, ambushing Hart this way could be extremely awkward. We shared an incredible moment at the dance. We also never spoke to each other again. My body and mind seemed to be working independently of each other. Because before I knew it I found myself at the point of no return. Hart’s head turned in my direction and our gaze locked.

“Hart?”

Shock slapped across his face.

Placing my hand on my chest, I continued. “It’s Bryson Walker.”

“I know who you are.” His expression changed but I couldn’t read whether it was good or bad.

I nervously shifted from one foot to another. “I can’t believe after all these years. And here of all places.”

“Small world.” Hart was still a guy of few words.

“What are you doing here? I hope it’s nothing serious. God, I can’t get over running into you.” I was rambling and I needed to be stopped.

“I work here.”

“Really? That’s a relief. I mean the only other reason you’d be here would be if you were a patient . . .”

“I’m the head of the physical therapy department.”

My gaze roamed down his bare arm. “Well, I can certainly see why.”

Did I say that out loud?

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. “You look very . . . healthy. Why are you here?”

I hesitated for several seconds, debating whether or not to bring up Will. If I didn’t I’d look like a perverted creeper who stalked rehab facilities in search of my next victim. “Will. Do you remember Will from school?”

“Barely.”

“Well, he’s a patient here. Was just admitted today, in fact. He was in a car accident.”

“I hope he has a quick recovery.”

“He’ll be fine.”

The sexy dimples that had popped into some of my dreams over the years made an appearance. We stared at each other for several seconds before being interrupted by a deep voice.

“Hart, you have a staff meeting in twenty minutes,” said a very cute, very tall dark haired guy.

“Thanks, John. I’ll be right there.” He looked back at me. “I’m sorry but I have to go.”

I frantically flailed my hands. “Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re working. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“I’m glad you did.”

My insides got all warm and cozy.

“Me too.” I smiled.

“I’ll be seeing you around then,” he said.

“That would be great.”

That was a stupid response.

“I mean, have fun at your meeting.” I giggled.

Pivoting, I walked toward the exit as fast as my strappy sandals would carry me before I humiliated myself further. My heart was beating a mile a minute and my stomach felt as if a flock of hummingbirds had taken up residence.

Pull it together, Bryson. You’re not a giggly schoolgirl anymore.

Once I got to the door the urge to get one last peek overwhelmed me. Standing just inside the entrance of the therapy room, I grabbed one last eyeful. Seeing Hart again after all these years was shocking but it didn’t compare to what was happening in front of me.