Woven Wishes (Whispered Wishes Book 4) (14 page)

“Not entirely,” the surgeon responded. “He has a lot of rehab work ahead of him and is going to need a tremendous amount of support and patience. You will also. It’s often said that rehab is harder on the family than on the patient. However, from the entourage I’ve seen coming in and out, it looks like you’ve got the support side covered.”

“Yes,” she nodded, “I’m very lucky.”

“To have married me?” the hoarse voice asked as eyes fluttered open. “I agree. Some vacation we’re having, huh?” He coughed as he struggled to continue.
“Sorry, they don’t have room at the inn here for you, too, babe. But I’ll save the pudding for you at my next meal. Only the best for my sweetie.”

“I see our resident jokester is waking up,” Dr. Golden said, walking into the room. “Ben, how are you feeling?”

“Awesome.” He cleared his throat again as the nurse began checking his stats. “What time are the wheelchair races? I heard they just waxed the sixth floor.”

“I’ll have to check on that and get back to you,” Dr. Golden responded, shaking his head with a snicker. “Holly, have you met Ben’s surgeon, Dr. Steiner?”

“Not officially. It’s nice to meet you,” she replied, only nodding as she didn’t want to let go of Ben to shake his hand. She immediately turned back to her husband. “Sweetie, are you sure you’re okay? They can give you something if you’re in pain. You don’t have to be a martyr.”

“I can’t feel a damn thing. I take it that’s not good, Doc,” he said, his voice taking a more serious tone.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t worry about it,” the doctor told him. “You’ve got quite a bit of morphine pumping through you at the moment.”

“Another perk of this luxury resort?” Ben asked.

“Something like that,” he said, laughing. Dr. Steiner closed up Ben’s chart and looked up with encouraging eyes. “Your vitals are remarkably strong for what you’ve been through, but it’s important you get your rest today. We’ll want to get you started on an aggressive program of therapy as soon as you’re ready. By the looks of things, I’d say that could start as early as the end of the week. Do you have any questions for me?”

“My surgery, it was successful?” he asked.

Holly looked away, knowing her husband so well. She knew exactly what he wanted to know; the one thing no one could truly answer.

“In terms of repairing the damage to your leg? Yes.”

He took a deep breath, so obviously trying to come to terms with the possible answer to his next question. Holly felt the grip around her hand tighten. His hands worked, why didn’t his legs? “So then I’ll walk again, right?” he asked quietly.

Dr. Steiner pursed his lips together and hugged the chart close to his body. “That’s certainly our goal.”

“But—”

“There are no guarantees,” Dr. Golden interjected. “As we discussed the other day, spinal cord swelling can sometimes mask permanent damage.”

“Right,” he said, looking completely defeated. His hand dropped from Holly’s and fell to the side of the bed.

“Ben,” the doctor continued, “I want you to keep something in mind throughout your therapy. The brain is a remarkable and complex organ. The more we study it, the more we learn about the connection between positive thinking and positive outcomes. I know it sounds like a bunch of new age crap, but right now, when your body is fighting so hard to heal, now is not the time to give up. Do you hear me?”

Ben nodded, looking about as convinced as Holly’s fifth grade students on the first day of school when she tried to tell them how much fun they were going to have in her math class.

Dr. Golden, completely in tune to his patient’s reaction, continued. “Now I want you to look at your wife. Look her straight in the eyes and tell her you’re not giving up. Tell her you know it will be hard. Tell her it might take longer than you’d want, and yes, tell her it’s probably going to hurt like hell. But you look her in the eyes, the woman you promised to love for better or for worse, and you tell her that you, Benjamin Oakes, will not give up.”

Ben waited while Holly wiped her tears away and put his trembling hand out for her to hold once more. “I promise, Holly,” he began, his voice still sounding groggy from being under anesthesia, “for you … for us, and for the family we
will
have one day. I promise not to give up. I’m going to fight through this. However long it takes, and for as hard and painful as it might be. For better or for worse. I will not give up.”

The determination in his eyes matched the words that left his lips. Nodding, Holly met his gaze and replied, “I’m going to hold you to that promise, Benjamin Oakes, and I promise to be by your side the entire way.”

Chapter 30 - Ava

Ava clenched her teeth almost as tightly as she gripped the wheel on her drive over to the gallery. She shouldn’t have snapped at Ryan’s babysitter like that when she’d dropped her son off. Mrs. Connelly had only made an innocent and polite comment as to how pretty she looked all dressed up and with makeup on. She was completely annoyed she was letting her nerves get the best of her. She would look this way for any important
business
meeting, not that Mrs. Connelly would have assumed otherwise. Perhaps the bright red lipstick was a poor choice.

At least she’d been honest with Max as he left for work … she told him she’d be spending the morning looking at art. It wasn’t her fault he didn’t ask where or with whom … or make any comments as to her appearance. A husband should be more interested in his wife’s activities and how she spent her day. She always took the time to ask him details about his flights.

Pulling into the parking lot, she regretted being so early. There were only two cars there. No doubt Gregory and Gene, the owner of the gallery. Why did she agree to this again? The art. Right.
Concentrate on the art.
Just that thought alone brought a smile to her face. She wondered if she’d know any of the critics. It’d been years of course, but back in the day she’d known them all and was a pro at wooing them. Suddenly, the rush she’d missed so much returned as she wiped off her lipstick and headed toward the building.

“Ava!” Gregory called, pouncing on her with a hug the moment she walked through the door like a needy child. “Thank God you’re here. I’m a wreck.”

“You’re going to be fine.” She pulled away under the auspices of having to take off her coat. “You’re a seasoned pro.” Her confidence, having finally returned just moments ago in the parking lot, started to slip again the moment his strong arms embraced her. She needed a Plan B: distance. “How about some coffee?” she asked, already walking over to the table where drinks were set up. If his hands had something
in them
, he couldn’t put them
on her.

“Oh, no, thank you,” he insisted, walking toward her. “I’m already shaky enough as it is.”

Taking a few steps back, she nodded. “Maybe some herbal tea, instead?” The corners of her lips formed a slight smile.

“Champagne would be better, but I suppose it’s a bit early for that. Anyway, how does everything look? Gene filled in all those blank spaces you noted last time you were here with some more of my pieces. Come to think of it, you haven’t actually had a chance to see my exhibit yet, have you?”

“No, not yet,” she answered, looking around, but more to figure out where Gene was than to check out the art. Being alone with Gregory was not part of her Plan B. However, he was right. She did want to see the exhibit. Now was as good of a time as any. It would keep her moving at the very least. She walked from piece to piece and was grateful Gregory stayed by the front windows, allowing her to take a moment to herself to enjoy the true reason for her visit. Circling back toward him, she smiled. “Lovely,” she said, cautious with her words. He was incredibly talented, but now was not the time to gush. “The critics will love it.”

“And the arrangement?”

Standing back to take in the entire scene, she tilted her head—a habit she had picked up from her early days interning at the prestigious Main Street Gallery back in her college days. Her mentor, Cynthia Sims, used to joke that perhaps by tilting, she was combining both sides of her brain into one, to bring in more clarity. Whatever the reason, it seemed to work.

“Well, it looks fine the way it is,” she started, “but—”

“But if it were your gallery you’d do something different?” Gene asked, entering the room without warning from a back area.

“I’m so sorry.” Ava was quick to apologize, a cold sweat taking over her entire body. If she could think of an excuse to run out the door that very minute, she would in record speed. “Everything looks great, really.”

“Please.” Kindness and sincerity filled Gene’s voice. “My reputation is on the line here today, too. If you have suggestions, I do want to hear them. Sometimes a fresh pair of eyes is needed.”

“Well …” Ava, who truly hoped she wasn’t overstepping her bounds, walked around the room one more time to double check her observations. “The three lights you have above this wall of paintings are casting a shadow that’s distracting. I think if you adjust them slightly up so they’re bouncing just above the paintings instead of directly on them, they’ll highlight the brushstrokes nicely.”

She waited for Gene’s reaction before going on, remembering Cynthia’s initial reaction when she’d first recommended adjusting a light fixture during her internship interview. At first, Ms. Sims, tops in her industry, became defensive. However, upon trying the preposterous suggestion, Ava found herself being offered the highly sought after position on the spot.

“Yes,” Gene murmured, rubbing his chin. “I didn’t notice that before. It’s so subtle, and yet, I think you’re absolutely right. Brilliant.”

“Anything else, Ava?” Gregory asked, grinning.

She stopped at a collection of three paintings tucked in a corner. “The colors here are so vibrant and fresh. To me they’re exactly what you need to set the tone for the day. If this were my gallery, I’d want my customers to see these first. They should be your showcase pieces. Let’s get those critics in a good mood from the moment they walk in the door.”

“Absolutely,” Gene exclaimed, already removing the painting he’d chosen to leave the first impression, for the much more suitable works Ava picked. He let her arrange the paintings as she saw fit and reached for a stepladder, which was hidden behind a faux wall to work on the lighting.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Gregory asked, as Gene made the adjustments.

Ava took a step back and watched the shadows disappear, just as she had envisioned they would.

“Just fabulous,” he agreed. Putting the ladder away, he checked his watch. “Everyone should be arriving soon. Would you excuse me for a moment? I forgot to put out the pastries I picked up this morning. No one ever eats them, mind you, but it you don’t have them available, you never hear the end of it. Well, I’m sure you know how it is, Ava. I’ll be right back.”

“You don’t think he’s upset, do you?” Ava asked once she was alone with Gregory. “I mean about me giving him advice about his set up.”

“Gene?” he asked. “Oh, no. I’ve known him for years. He’s a great guy, but his exhibits all look the same. I think he really appreciated your take on things. I know I did. You’re something else.”

Before Ava had a chance to remember Plan B, Gregory wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in close to his body. She allowed herself to give in to the movement and stared into his eyes, getting lost in the moment as their lips slowly inched closer together, his breath warm against her skin.
Was this really happening
? With just barely enough room to let air pass between them, she pushed her hands against his shoulders.

“No,” she said with determination. “This is not why I came here today.”

“
Ava, wait! I’m sorry
,” was the last thing she heard as she ran out the door.

Chapter 31 - Tessa

“I want you to know I’m not mad at you, sweetheart, but I am concerned.” Nicholas took a seat next to his wife in the audience of the theater as she watched her actors run through the production from start to finish. Opening night was quickly approaching, and she couldn’t be happier with how everything was pulling together. From media coverage to ticket sales, the business side was a well-oiled machine, thanks to her husband. And as far as the show went … well, in her humble and professional opinion, it was in the same caliber as Broadway. Make that Broadway on a budget … a very small budget.

“Concerned?” she whispered, not wanting to interrupt the scene. Had she spent too much on set design and costumes? The ballroom scene was a bit elaborate, but in her defense, it wasn’t easy recreating a twentieth-century gilded mansion on the cheap.

“Yes,” he continued in a low voice, his view focused on the stage. “The bank called me last week. I had to give approval for a $5,000 wire to an account owned by an S. Warren in Oxford. That’s Scott, correct?”

Her eyes widened, not at all expecting that response. “Take five!” she yelled up to her crew.
The bank called Nicholas?
They didn’t mention anything about needing approval when she put in the wire request. Beads of sweat along her hairline began to form as she thought of an excuse to tell her husband.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I told them it was fine. I know you’d do anything to help and protect Sophie. I just wish you’d come to me first.”

Turning her head to her husband, she honestly didn’t know how to respond. “I’m so sorry, Nicholas. You’re right, I should have told you. I was afraid you’d say no, and I didn’t want to disappoint Sophie. Well, he got laid off and was low on cash. At first I only sent him a smaller amount to cover travel expenses to get to Sophie, but then he was offered this great job out of state and needed more money to travel there and help cover some bills. He kept telling me what a great opportunity it was and how he only wanted Sophie to be proud of him.” She paused, hoping Nicholas understood why she had made the decision to send the wire behind his back, and added, “It’s just I remember what it was like to be struggling and down on your luck.”