Last Of The Joeville Lovers

“I love it when you talk tough.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see how tough you are in the months to come.”

“Months?” He shook his head. “Uh-uh. Weeks. Once I get out of this place, you wait and see. I’ll be the best success story you’ve ever told.”

She glanced at his elevated legs, hoping he couldn’t read her worries about his paralysis, about the severity of the damage that may have been done. When she looked back at his sleepy face, his smile had disappeared.

“You will be my therapist, won’t you?”

“Yes. Of course. You were one of my favorite patients to abuse.” She swallowed hard and decided it was time to leave. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said, and turned to go.

Josh reached out and snagged her hand, his fingers shaking. “I’m glad.” He held her gaze a few seconds too long, then, as if sensing her discomfort, he waved his free hand in the direction of his legs. “It’s temporary, you know. Traumatic something-or-other. Nothing hard work can’t cure.” He tried to move and winced. “I’ll just have to pretend it’s training camp for football. Used to have a pretty grueling schedule, you know. Two-a-days...that’s what they called them. With lots of running and weight lifting in between.” He stopped talking suddenly and studied her face. “But the coach never looked as good as you.” He shot her a roguish wink.

Taylor shook her head, seeing the fear and uncertainty behind all his bravado. “You never quit, do you?”

“Nope,” he said, eyeing her closely and still holding her hand.

The feel of his lingering touch sent her pulse racing. She wondered if he was still thinking of physical therapy; she sure wasn’t. She caught herself quickly and placed his hand on his chest with a gentle pat. She must remember her objectives: to be his physical therapist and part of his healing process as well as her own.

“You need your rest,” she said. “I’ll be back later.”

“Promise?”

She forced a lazy smile. “Promise.”

“Today?”

“If you’d like.”

“I’d like.”

Taylor left the unit, rounded the corner and then stopped, pressing her back to the cold concrete wall and breathing deeply through her mouth. She’d always prided herself in being able to control her emotions. Yes, she had cried over her mother’s death and she surely would again, but she knew Mom was in a better place now and that Dad and Michael would take care of each other.

But who would take care of her? She longed for a hug and a shoulder to lean on. That must be why Josh’s gentle touch had shaken her so.

She pushed off the wall and headed for Max’s office.

Vulnerable. It was only natural that she would feel vulnerable for a while. She would be wise to remember that whenever she was with Josh. He needed her help; she needed to keep busy.

That’s all there was to it.

Josh stared out the window, wishing he was on the other side, feeling the sunshine on his face. And more importantly—the ground beneath his feet. He tried focusing on a list of calls that had to be made, chores that had to be delegated. His first crop of wheat needed attention.

Yet the farm was a hazy image eclipsed by a beautiful face, one surrounded by waves of hair fairer than his precious wheat, framing eyes bluer than his beloved Montana sky.

He bent an arm behind his head and pictured her fragile smile, and suddenly guilt prickled in his chest. Damn. He’d been so glad to see her, he hadn’t even mentioned her mother’s death. What an insensitive oaf she must think he is. A self-absorbed oaf. Who better than he knew how it felt to lose a mother? Next time...when she returned....

He closed his eyes and his head grew fuzzy, the drugs numbing more than his pain. His thoughts were again a jumble and it was hard to concentrate. Wheat fields blurred with blond hair, and yellow combines turned into oak caskets. Then, mercifully, images of mothers and deaths were overtaken by the fluids dripping into the back of his hand and everything went blank again.

Max rose to greet Taylor, stepping quickly from behind his cluttered desk. He gave her a gentle embrace and then sat back on the edge of his desk. “How are you holding up?”

Taylor bit her top lip and nodded, not meeting his dark eyes.

“I wish I could have been there. I’m so sorry—”

She held up a hand, stopping him. This was the worst—hearing someone say they were sorry and seeing the sadness in their eyes. Sometimes she wished everyone would pretend nothing had happened, that they would give her a few days, even hours, to mend.

She was being unkind, she thought, and expelled a long breath.

When the silence became uncomfortable she changed topics. “I just came from Josh’s room. His spirits seem good.”

Max nodded and looked at the floor.

“How bad is it? Can you tell me?”

Max exhaled loudly. “Too soon to say, but we’re optimistic.”

“Spinal cord?”

“Not severed.”

Taylor dropped into the chair behind her, only now realizing how much she had dreaded another answer. Max took the seat next to her, tugged at a leg of his scrubs and crossed an ankle over one knee. “I keep reminding myself how much worse it could have been. If Shane hadn’t been on his way over to the farm when the plane went down—”

“You mean he actually saw the crash?” Bile rose in her throat just thinking about it.

Max shook his head. “Hannah and Jenny had done a lot of baking that morning, and Shane volunteered to drive some things over to the farm. Thank God he was in his Explorer and had his cell phone.” Max rubbed his temples and Taylor saw the fatigue and worry on his face. “Josh tipped his wings when he spotted Shane on the road below... the way he likes to do whenever he sees one of us...or at least that’s what Shane thought he was doing. Then the plane cleared the trees and—” Max sucked in air and finished “—we all heard the impact. The ground shook and I knew...”

Taylor reached out a hand and touched his arm. “We don’t have to talk about this now.”

“No. It’s okay.” He patted the back of her hand. “Shane called 911 and got to the site soon after. But all he could see was fire and smoke. Then he said he thought he was seeing a mirage. Heat waves rose from the ground and he saw Josh’s jacket. He drove as close as he could and dragged Josh far enough away before the explosion.”

“And Shane?”

“Just scrapes and bruises when he hit the ground.” He uncrossed his legs and braced his elbows on his knees. “And an unwarranted dose of guilt.”

“Guilt?”

“He can’t get it out of his head that he might have done the damage to Josh’s legs when he dragged him.”

“But, Max, the alternative—”

Max slapped his knees and stood. “I know. I’ve told him that. But until Josh walks again, Shane won’t listen to reason.”

Taylor pushed out of her chair and faced Max, feeling the effects of the worst week of her life. “Then we’ll just have to make sure Josh walks again, won’t we?” She tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth wouldn’t move.

Max smiled for her. “If anyone can do it, Taylor, it’s you...but it will mean a lot of extra hours. I know the timing couldn’t be worse—”

“The timing couldn’t be better. I need to work right now.”