Authors: Amy Miles
“Oh,” she flushes and looks away, “it’s not about the comfort.
I like the light.”
She raises her hand and points to the window before her.
It is small and rectangular, allowing a narrow shaft of light to filter in. It falls just over her feet. She often imagines that someday she will sit here long enough that she will begin to feel the warmth of the sun beating down on her.
Turning her upper body towards Draven, she notices that Art is backing out of the restroom.
Betty is draped in a new hospital gown. “So what brings you here?”
“I’m doing community service.”
“Really?”
When Draven smiles, Hannah realizes that the rigid planes of his face have softened.
It’s a nice look for him. More relaxed. She has a feeling that Draven spends far too much time smiling for all the wrong reasons. “Nah. Not really. At least it’s nothing court mandated, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Hannah laughs.
“You don’t seem like the sort to get mixed up in stuff like that.”
She notices a slight
tightening of his eyes at the corners when she says that, but his smile never falters. “I’ve had my moments,” is all he says.
“Haven’t we all?”
Draven regards her and silently nods. A shadow falls over his shoulder and she looks up to find Art standing over him. “This guy bothering you, Miss Hannah?”
“No,” she shakes her head, “he’s just keeping me company.”
Although she’s only been here for an hour, Hannah has begun to feel weariness tugging at her. “Would you mind taking me back to my room, Art? I’m feeling pretty tired today.”
He retrieves the wheel chair as Draven rises.
“It was nice to meet you, Hannah.”
She raises her arms and allows Art to lift her off the bench and then sinks into the wheelchair.
“It was nice to meet you too. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
Placing her hands on the wheels, Hannah pushed her chair toward the door.
This is her usual routine. Even though she will be bone tired when she arrives back at her room, she remains determined to be as independent as possible. Art has learned that this is her preference and he has obliged, but Hannah isn’t the least bit fooled. She knows that he has nurses stationed and on guard in case she needs help along the way.
As she waits for the elevator to arrive she hears Draven ask what’s wrong with her.
She closes her eyes as Art says, “There ain’t nothing wrong with her. Her legs just need to remember, that’s all.”
FOURTEEN
Friendship
Timothy paces outside Hannah’s empty hospital room, unsure if he should wait around or leave.
The temptation to flee is nearly as strong as his need to see her. He’d made her a promise to return the following day and that was over a week ago. He hangs his head with guilt, his hands wringing tightly around the bunch of wild grasses he picked from the dunes near her aunt’s house as a gift. He knows how much she misses the sea.
I should have come sooner.
He has been working too many hours. Timothy can feel the strain of the past few weeks wearing him thin. His muscles are in a constant state of protest as he moves from work site to work site, all while trying to sneak in a few extra hours each day to help with the church reconstruction. It’s a slow process, but he’s pleased to see people pitching in.
The problem is that he feels pulled in far too many directions at once and knows that he’s not able to give his best to any one venture.
Least of all to Hannah.
It’s not really that, though, is it?
He glances down the hall and watches as a nurse makes her morning rounds.
I’ve been trying to keep myself at a distance, but it’s not working out too well. I can’t stop worrying about her, wondering if she’s alone or in pain.
Ever since Hannah’s grim diagnosis, Timothy has been riddled with guilt, knowing that even though she made her own decision to enter that church he should have done more to stop her.
Should have dove in after her and pulled her out. Done something other than just wait around and pray.
That should have been enough,
he thinks but knows that it wasn’t. Ever since Abby passed he hasn’t been too good with the whole blind faith thing. Maybe he never will be.
“Timothy?”
He turns at the sound of Hannah’s voice and can feel himself already beginning to smile. “It’s so good to see you. I’ve been worried that you’re overworking yourself. ”
There it is.
That unconditional acceptance that she excels at. Never before has he met a woman who can so easily look past her own needs to those around her. It’s a special gift, one that he deeply admires but sometimes—most times—it only reminds him of how underserving he truly is.
“There you are.”
His smile feels a bit forced as she slowly wheels herself toward him. He’s glad to see that she’s taken to dressing again. The pale blue hospital gowns only made her look sickly, but with her hair pulled back and her cheeks boasting a rosy tint, he can almost imagine that none of the horrors she has dealt with the past few weeks ever existed. Almost…
“How are you?” she asks as she rolls to a stop before him and places her hands in her lap, smoothing out the wrinkles in her beige linen pants.
She has regained a bit of color since he last saw her. It looks like she has put on some of the weight she lost as well. Although he can’t say that she looks good, she does look better.
Better?
As if that makes it all right.
A smirk tugs at the corners of her lips and he realizes that she’s still waiting for him to answer.
“Good. Busy but good. I’m sorry I haven’t had time to come see you until now.”
She waves off his apology with a warm smile that makes his stomach clench.
Does she have any idea how beautiful she is when she smiles?
Timothy thinks she doesn’t.
“You’ve been busy.
I understand that. A lot of people need you right now.” The way she trails off almost makes him wonder if she’d like to add herself to that comment but she doesn’t. Instead, she lowers her gaze, and he notices the slight tremor in her fingers. He dips low before her.
“I brought you these.
Thought you might need a refresher.”
“They are beautiful.”
She places the bundle across her lap. “Will you help me put them in the vase?”
Without waiting to be asked, he wheels her into her room and up to the low ledge that sits below the window.
The wilt of her previous bunch of grasses makes him thankful that he took the time to stop and grab a fresh batch. Taking the vase from her, Timothy dumps the former contents out, fills the glass with fresh water, and returns to place the bouquet on the side.
Hannah rolls her chair back a few feet to admire it. “Thank you,” she whispers.
He turns to look at her and frowns. Something is wrong. She doesn’t quite seem herself today.
“I have a surprise for you, if you feel up to it.”
A spark of interest brightens her hazel eyes as she looks up at him. “A surprise?”
He laughs.
“It’s not really that big of a deal. Just something small I thought you might like, but if you are too tired we can do it another day.”
She shakes her head.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Surprise away.”
Timothy grins as he takes control of her wheelchair and leads her out into the hall.
The darkness that has hung over him this past week begins to burn away in the light of Hannah’s upbeat chatter. She smiles and waves to each of the nurses as she passes, calling each of them by name. Although Timothy has lived on the Outer Banks his entire life, he’d be hard pressed to know even five of the nurses who work here.
He admires the way Hannah greets the patients as well, motioning for him to pause on their quest so she can exchange a kind word.
He watches the interactions in silence, all the while amazed at how easily she brightens each person’s day. Even grumpy ol’ Mr. Dryfus who owned the pharmacy shop on the square until his health began to decline a couple years back gives Hannah a wave as they pass. He suffered a heart attack a week ago and was admitted so doctors could keep an eye on him. The joke around town is that at nearly seventy-five years old, he’s just too belligerent to die.
“You’re a miracle worker, you know that?”
She cranes her head back to look at him. “What do you mean?”
“I have never seen Mr. Dryfus smile, and I’ve known him a very long time.
You waltz in here and he melts like butter.”
Hannah laughs.
“I wouldn’t say that. He only started waving back yesterday.”
“A miracle, I tell you.”
She seems pleased with his remark but falls silent with confusion as he wheels her toward the stairwell. “Where are we going?”
“Off-roading.”
Turning in her chair to see if he is kidding, she sees Timothy grin down at her as he puts the locks on her chair and comes around to face her. “I’m breaking you out of this joint for a bit. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” she chuckles.
“I’m thrilled, but are you sure it’s ok?”
He nods.
“I came by yesterday and had a chat with Dr. Martin. He seems to think you could use a little fresh air.”
“Oh boy, could I ever!
I miss the feel of the wind in my hair.”
He glances toward her loosely curled hair and wonders what it would be like to run his fingers through her hair.
No. Don’t go there. If you do, you’ll regret it!
Clearing his throat, he places his hands on either side of her armrests.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to let me carry you. Are you ok with that?”
Her lips purse for a split second before they soften into a warm smile.
“I trust you.”
You shouldn’t,
hovers on the edge of his lips but he doesn’t speak the words. Abby trusted him too, and that was a mistake that had cost her life. Hannah shouldn’t put her trust in him. His track record for keeping women safe is dismal.
The sting of her words needles at him as he eases his hands around her back and under her legs.
He lifts her with ease despite the awkward position. She feels as light as a feather in his arms.
How can a girl so small possess such great inner strength?
Until he met Hannah Green, he hadn’t realized just how lonely his life had become, or how far he’d managed to push everyone aside.
Losing Abby caused him to want to shut out the world and all the pain it offered. In many ways he had done just that, but Hannah came out of nowhere, catching him unaware.
He tries not to think of how good it feels to have her in his arms or how appealing her lavender and vanilla scented shampoo is as he takes a deep breath.
These thoughts are far too dangerous to linger on.
Timothy takes the stairs at a slow pace, careful not to jostle her too much for fear of hitting her legs against the wall.
The casts feel scratchy against his arm, heavy and cumbersome. His heart swells with remorse for failing to keep her safe.
“Am I too heavy for you?” she asks.
He looks down to find her staring back, her face near enough that he can see the smattering of freckles along her nose and cheeks. He never noticed them before. Maybe it’s because the first time they met she was covered in blood, and every time since then she’s been confined to the darkened corner of her room.
“I haul roofing tile each day for a living.
You hardly compare.”
Hannah smirks and tightens her hands around his neck.
“And here I always thought I needed to lose a few pounds.”
Hardly.
“Will you tell me about your work?” As he climbs the steps the final two flights to the roof, Timothy tells of the progress that is being made across the Outer Banks. People are rebuilding their homes. Communities are removing debris. Great plumes of smoke rise to the sky as items are burned. Others are trucked to recycling locations. People are coming together in the streets to help each other.
“I’ve never seen such an outpouring of love in this town,” he says as he turns and leans against the bar handle of the door leading to the roof.
“I wish I could see it,” she says wistfully.
His grip tightens as he struggles to hold back the pain that cinches his throat.
She should be out there. Not stuck in here in a wheelchair, useless and abandoned.
As they step out onto the roof, Hannah turns her face up to the sun and closes her eyes.
He pauses, watching in amazement at the peaceful smile that tugs at her lips. “You’re happy?”
Her eyes crack open again.
“Blissfully. Thank you so much for bringing me here. This is the best surprise I’ve ever been given.”
“I wouldn’t say that until you’ve seen the rest of the surprise.
”
Hannah laughs and as he carries her around the corner of the building, her breath catches at the sight of the ocean spread before them.
Waves tumble against the sandy shore in the distance. Winds tear at her hair, tossing the auburn strands into her face, but she doesn’t seem to care.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.
Glancing down at her, he realizes that tears have spilled over from her eyes.
“I know how much you like the sea.”
She nods and when she turns to look up at him, he can feel warmth pooling in his stomach.
I made her happy. Really, genuinely happy.
Timothy smiles.
“You’re missing the best part.”
She rolls her head away and laughs when she sees an enormous picnic set up for them, with unlit tiki torches duct taped to the walls, and two hideous plastic flamingoes with broken legs teetering beside a partially collapsed beach umbrella.
A big purple floppy sun hat and wide rimmed sunglasses await her on a fluorescent orange plastic chair. “Wow, you shouldn’t have.”
A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest.
“It’s the least I could do.”
Timothy is careful as he gently settles her into a folded plastic lawn chair that seems to dwarf her small frame.
She plops the hat onto her head and dons the sunglasses before grinning up at him. “How do I look?”
“Stunning.”
And she really does. Timothy realizes with a start that he doesn’t feel guilt over this observation. Abby is the only girl he ever truly loved. The only girl he ever kissed. His friends have been telling him that it’s time to start living again, but what does he know about being around other women? He should be a blundering fool, but somehow Hannah makes him feel at ease.
Her cheeks flush as she turns her attention to the cooler nearby.
“I hope you didn’t slave in the kitchen too long.”
“On the contrary, I made you my famous double decker peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” He reaches inside the cool box and lifts out a four-layer sandwich that has Hannah doubled over in laughter.
It’s a bit lopsided and definitely melted, but it is good to hear her laugh a real, belly-busting chuckle that leaves her in tears. “Oh, we’re not done yet.”
He rummages around and holds up two apple juice cartons with plastic straws attached.
“You sure do know how to show a girl a great time,” she grins and eagerly accepts her drink.