“Do you feel it now? How about now?”
He felt like he was living through some bad cellular phone commercial, and he got tired of saying no. Every time they poked him and he didn’t feel anything, he sank deeper into despair.
Finally, they turned him back over and moved his legs into what should have been a comfortable position.
“Tell me, Dan,” the physiatrist said. “How are you doing, really?”
“I feel like somebody operated on me and put the wrong bottom half on. Like my legs belong to someone else.”
“That’s understandable. We have counselors available, who are used to dealing with paraplegia. If you need to talk—”
Anger surged through him. “So—what are you saying? That I’m a paraplegic and I need to deal with it? Have you guys given up? Is this paralysis permanent?”
The doctors exchanged looks. This time, Dr. Grist spoke. “Dan, the injury to your spinal cord was pretty severe. We’re giving you drugs to help with the swelling. Until the inflammation is completely gone, we can’t know for sure whether it’s permanent.”
Dan realized the doctor was evading. He was tired of playing games. “Tell me the worst-case scenario, Doc. I need to know what I’m dealing with.”
Dr. Dalton, the physiatrist who specialized in physical medicine and rehabilitation, patted his leg. “There are degrees of paraplegia, Dan. Yours may not be complete. For example, you could have paralysis in your legs but still have hip control and bladder and bowel function.”
He felt as if someone had shoved a solid object down his throat, and he tried to swallow. “You mean this catheter and bag might not be temporary?”
Dr. Grist sighed. “Dan, we’ve begun to feel that there will be some degree of paralysis. We’re hoping this is an incomplete SCI, but we won’t know for a while. As soon as we get you moved into your own room in a couple of days, you’ll be starting intensive physical and occupational therapy. First they’ll work on getting you into a wheelchair—”
Dan felt the blood rushing to his face. “A wheelchair?” The words knocked the breath out of him.
“After that, they’ll begin working with you to maximize the mobility you do have.”
Dan just stared at them. “I’m a fireman. That’s what I do. I have to be able to walk. Are you telling me that I’ll never walk again?”
The doctors exchanged looks again. “In all probability, you won’t,” Dr . Grist said. “But there’s a chance that you could. We don’t want to give up hope.”
Damaged goods, he thought. He was damaged goods. He wondered what Jill was thinking about her husband who would be wheelchair-bound for the rest of his life. Big, strong Dan, who could bench-press more than anyone else at Midtown, confined to a wheelchair.
Tough Dan, the rescuer who would never rescue again. Fireman Dan, who would now be put on medical disability and replaced with someone who had use of his legs.
Oh, God, what have you done to me?
Tears burned in his eyes, and he hated himself for them. If he was going to be weak physically, he couldn’t afford to be weak emotionally, too. He wiped his eyes and forced the tears away. When Jill came in for her 7:00 A.M. visit in a few minutes, he would smile and laugh and pretend that he was fine.
He would be a man, even if he didn’t feel like one.
Chapter Fifty-Two
The doctors updated Jill before the visit.
“You told him—when I wasn’t there to help him through it?” she asked. “Why would you do that?”
“Mrs. Nichols, he knew we were testing his feeling in his legs. He understands the extent of his injuries.”
“No, he doesn’t! Until now, he thought the paralysis was just temporary. He had hope. How could you have taken that from him?”
The doctors hadn’t given a satisfactory answer, and she supposed there wasn’t one.
The damage was done, so she was filled with trepidation as she went in to see him. He lay still with his eyes closed, as if he slept.
She went to his side and touched his shoulder. “Dan?”
His eyes opened, and he smiled up at her as if she was the only bit of color in a black-and-white world. “Hey there, beautiful.” He chuckled and touched her face. “Going home agreed with you. You look rested.”
She hadn’t expected such a bright greeting. She had expected anger, sorrow, despair. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” he said. “Can’t wait to get into my own room. These people are driving me crazy. They wake me up in the middle of the night to take my pulse. The hospital is a terrible place for a sick person to be.”
Jill wasn’t fooled. She knew what he was doing. “Dan, I just talked to the doctors. They told me—”
He set his fingertips over her lips. “Shhh,” he said. “Those guys don’t know what they’re talking about.”
So it’s denial, she thought. Dan was pretending that it wasn’t true.
“They just don’t know me,” he said. “They don’t know how hard I’ll work. They don’t know what I’m made of.”
A flame of hope flickered inside her. It was true, they didn’t. Dan wasn’t an ordinary patient. He was an athlete, a competitor. He loved a challenge.
Maybe he really could beat this.
“So tell me how things went last night, what with Ashley and my mother there together.”
She knew he was trying to change the subject. She sat down next to his bed and leaned on the mattress. Gazing at him, she saw that his eyes were red. Was his nonchalance about all this just a façade for her?
“Were there any casualties?” he asked.
Jill wanted to talk more about his paralysis, but she decided to defer to him. “Well, things were fine until Ashley woke up in the middle of the night with a terrible nightmare. She was reliving the whole thing. Screaming for her mother.”
His bright façade faded. “Yeah, I know those dreams.”
“Me too,” she said. “I’ve had them every night since the building fell.”
He took her hand. “In mine, I’m always looking for you.”
“At least I’m here. Ashley never did find her mother. Not alive, anyway.” She sighed. “She’s just a kid.”
“Funeral’s today?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “She’s going to come by here and get me. She was up before dawn.”
“I’m glad you’re going with her.”
“Yeah. God must love her a lot, because he’s poured it into me.” Her eyes glistened. “I want you to meet her soon.”
“Me, too. What about my mother? Is she coming to see me today?”
“Of course.” Jill hoped her dread wasn’t evident in her voice. “She insisted on being here while I’m gone, although they won’t let her in until visiting time.”
He sighed. “Well, that’s fine. It won’t hurt to catch up.”
That surprised her. She would have expected him to express dread, as well. “She’s just . . . a little outspoken. Sometimes she says things . . . that are hurtful.”
He smiled. “You don’t think I can take it?”
“I’m just suggesting that you might want to brace yourself.”
“I may not have been around her in years, but I’m well aware of my mother’s level of sensitivity. I had a dog that got out of our fence and was hit by a car when I was ten or so, and I was brokenhearted. My mother responded by lecturing me about fence maintenance and the irresponsibility of our gardener, who should have fixed it. Then she bought me another puppy.”
Jill winced. “She meant well.”
“I guess. But I doubt she’s changed that much in all these years.”
“Maybe not. But she loves you, and that’s the main thing.”
His eyebrows lifted. “She said that?”
Again his reaction surprised her. “Well, not in so many words. But she dropped everything and came here, and she’s been throwing her weight around. . . . Wouldn’t you agree that that’s how she loves?”
He stared at t
he air and seemed to think that over. “Maybe, though that might be a stretch.”
“She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t,” Jill said. “She’s not the type to just go through the motions.”
“No, I guess not.”
Was that a longing in his tone? It occurred to her for the first time that he might be glad his mother was here. Maybe he needed for her to be.
They brought Dan his breakfast, and since he could not sit up, she fed it to him, chattering the whole time to get his mind off of his helplessness. She could see from the strained look on his face that he resented the help yet knew he couldn’t do without it.
His paralysis was going to be the greatest challenge he’d ever faced, she thought. And his biggest battle would be accepting this new phase of his life.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Jill was battle-weary by the time Ashley came for her at the hospital.
But when she saw how the girl had groomed herself for the funeral, her strength was renewed.
Ashley had combed her hair down and had a silver barrette on one side, pulling it back from her face. She wore a tasteful black dress, its collar covering her tattoo. Her black pumps had a slight heel, and she wore a delicate chain with a gold locket that hung gracefully below her throat. She had taken out her eyebrow and nose rings and only wore a few gold studs in her ears.
Jill almost came to tears as she crossed the room to the girl. “Honey, you look beautiful. Your mother would have been proud.”
“She should be,” Ashley said with a weak smile. “She bought all this for me. First time I’ve ever put it on.”
Jill’s throat constricted, but she told herself not to cry. Ashley seemed to be holding together by a thread. One tear might just do her in.
Ashley followed her to get her purse. Clara looked up as she recognized Ashley. “Well, you look very nice, young lady.”
Ashley didn’t meet her eyes. “Thanks.”
They left the hospital and got into Ashley’s Subaru, and Ashley was quiet as she drove to her mother’s church. They went in the back way, and Ashley opted to stay in a room with just Jill and the coffin, unable to greet her mother’s friends. The preacher came in and prayed with them, and when it was time, the funeral director ushered them into the packed sanctuary.
Ashley’s face was gray-white as Jill walked with her to the front row and sat down with her. She put her arm around her, but the girl was rigid as stone. She sat like a statue as a church member sang a hymn. The preacher spoke of Debbie Morris’s commitment to Christ and her prayers for her daughter, and quoted the psalm about the death of a saint being precious to God. But Jill feared Ashley did not hear a word. Even when her mother’s closest friend got up and tearfully told happy stories of Debbie’s life, Ashley didn’t shed a tear.
She rode quietly with her in the funeral home’s limousine as they followed the hearse to the burial plot next to Ashley’s father.
When they reached the cemetery, they waited as the pallbearers carried the coffin to the tent set up for them.
As the cars pulled up and the people began to surround the tent, Jill noticed a rugged group of young people. They looked as if they were dressed for a heavy metal concert, with their hair tousled and spiked like Ashley’s usually was, and their clothes a combination of nightclub glamour and crack house.
But they were here.
Jill tapped Ashley’s shoulder and pointed to them. Her rock-hard façade finally cracked, and for a moment Jill thought Ashley was going to shatter.
They came toward her, and Jill put her arm defensively around her.
“Hey, baby,” one of the guys said and reached down to hug her.
“Chris.” Ashley returned the hug stiffly. “How’d you guys know about this?”
“The church lady told us,” one of her girlfriends said, and gave her another hug.
“Yeah,” Chris said. “We were floored, babe. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Ashley swallowed hard. “Couldn’t.”
The crowd was gathering around, and the funeral director was motioning for them to come and sit in the folding chairs in front of the coffin. Jill didn’t know whether to whisk her away or hold the director off.
“So where have you been, babe?”
Jill saw the discomfort on Ashley’s face, so she intervened. “She’s been staying with me.” She extended her hand. “I’m Jill Nichols. You guys can talk later, okay? After the burial.”
“Yeah, sure. We’ll talk after, Ash.”
Ashley nodded and allowed Jill to lead her to her seat.
She sat staring dully at the coffin as the preacher said the final words for her mother, then ended with a prayer. The pallbearers each came by to hug her, then took the roses off of their lapels and set them on the coffin.
Finally, the director ushered Ashley and Jill out of the tent and left them there for well-wishers to approach. She accepted all of the condolences with whispered thank-yous, then finally turned to her friends.
Jill heard her agreeing to call them later.
By the time they were back in the car, Jill could see that the girl was completely drained. They were silent again as they were driven back to the church.
When Ashley was back behind the wheel of her own car, Jill sat quietly in the passenger seat. Ashley stared through the dirty windshield for a moment. “Well, it’s over,” she said.
Jill knew better, but she didn’t say so. “It was a nice funeral. Very honoring to your mother.”
“Yeah. They did a good job. I never could have done all that.”
“God’s good to send helpers when we need them. Your mother sounds like a fun person. I wish I’d known her.”
Ashley started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “I wish I’d hung out with her more.”
“I wished the same thing about my mom.”
Ashley glanced over at her. “But I bet you weren’t like me. You’ve probably always been a straight-and-narrow kind of person. The kind parents brag about.”
Jill decided not to take that as an indictment. She wished the girl could forgive herself for her rebellion. She needed the forgiveness of Christ, she thought. Then maybe she could start healing.
Her mother’s prayer for a godly person to love and guide her reminded Jill of her mission. Ashley had been sent to her for a reason. She hoped she wouldn’t fail Debbie.
“Chris wants me to come hang out today.”
An alarm went off in Jill’s heart. “Are you going to?”
Ashley seemed to think that over for a long moment. “I don’t know. Going back there just seems like throwing it all back in Mom’s face somehow. She wanted me to stop using drugs. She wanted me to quit hanging out with that group. And now that she’s gone, it seems like I ought to do what she asked for once.”
“Honey, you can stay with me as long as you need to. And as soon as your head’s clear, you and I can work through all the legal stuff with your mother’s estate.”
Ashley looked over at her as if she hadn’t even considered that. “Oh, yeah. I guess I will need a lawyer, huh?”
“Just to handle the probate and all. It won’t be a problem. It just might take some time.”
Ashley just shook her head. “Five days ago I was a sixteen-year-old kid. Now I feel like I’m eighty.”
Again, Jill could relate.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Clara was in top form when Jill got back to the waiting room, ranting about the lukewarm coffee and the cafeteria food. Ashley left, and soon after, Jill decided she had to get out of there as well. It was a good time to visit Gordon.
His door was partially open, and she knocked lightly and heard a grumbled, “Come in.”
She stepped inside and saw him standing up, trying to walk on crutches as a nurse walked beside him.
Jill smiled. “It’s good to see you up, Gordon.”
Sweat glistened on his forehead. “Wasn’t my idea,” he said in a hoarse, phlegmy voice.
“We’re lett
ing him go home tomorrow,” the nurse said, “and he’s got to be able to get around.”
She could see the pain on his face with each step, and his breathing sounded wheezy and heavy. The smoke inhalation had done a number on Jill and Ashley. She could only imagine what it would do to someone who was out of shape and Gordon’s age. It wasn’t going to be easy for him to go home to an empty house with no one to cook or clean for him and nothing to do with his time.
“So how’s your old man?” he asked her.
“He’s still in ICU, but he’s doing great.” She decided not to mention the paralysis.
Gordon looked genuinely pleased. “Now that’s good news. And what about that other young lady that was helping me on the stairs?”
“Ashley? We buried her mother this morning.”
He sagged on his crutches. “You’re kidding me. She died?”
“She was actually the first one to see the bomb and report it. She was probably right there in front of it when it exploded.”
The intensity of compassion on Gordon’s face surprised her. He hobbled back to the bed and sat down. She thought he was going to cry. “That’s just wrong. How old is the girl?”
“Sixteen,” Jill said. “Her father died when she was five, so she really doesn’t have anybody now.”
“Sixteen.” He swallowed hard and rubbed his face. “Being alone is a very hard thing. I wouldn’t have wished it on her, not for anything. She seems like a good kid.”
Jill sat down and leaned her elbows on her knees. “Gordon, are you going to be all right when you go home?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, “I’ll be fine.”
“How are you going to get there?”
“I’ll call a cab. No big deal.”
“A cab ride from New Orleans to Newpointe could be pretty expensive,” she said.
He shrugged. “Well, you do what you got to do.”
“You need someone to help you, Gordon.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Naw, I’ll be all right.”
Jill thought of all the people at her church who would probably rush to help one of the Icon victims. They would love to know there was anything they could do for one of them.