The Traveling Woman

  Zach escorted me through the hushed corridors, nurses and doctors walking swiftly, too busy to make eye contact.

  Then Zach paused outside a room.

  “He’s in there. I’ll wait ouside, okay?”

  I didn’t reply, but then a nurse came out and frowned at us.

  “I’m afraid visiting hours are over for now,” she said.

  “I’m his fiancee,” I said quickly. “I need to see him.

  I saw a fleeting expression of pity in her eyes as she looked at me, then she nodded briskly.

  “No more than ten minutes, please. He needs to rest.”

  As I entered, I could see Kes lying in the hospital bed, sheets draped over a box-like structure that framed his legs. His tanned chest was dark against the white of the room: white sheets, white floors, white walls.

  His left arm was thrown over his face, and he didn’t react when I walked in. My man was never still—a shudder ran through me.

  “Kes.”

  His arm dropped to the side and slowly he turned his head to look at me. His beautiful face was the same, unmarked, but it was the resignation in his eyes that damn near stopped my heart.

  “Hey, baby,” he said quietly, his eyes searching my face. “I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

  It killed me to hear those words, I’m sorry. Ever since I’d known him, I’d wanted Kes to apologize for something, anything. He never had. Until now. It was too much like giving in, and I hated it.

  I took a shuddering breath. I will not cry.

  “I go away for a few days and you get yourself all beat up.”

  He gave me a small smile. “Yeah, I really did.”

  I leaned down to kiss him, resting my cheek against his chest. I felt his fingers in my hair and his warm breath on my neck.

  “I’m so sorry, baby.”

  “No,” I said firmly. “Don’t be sorry—just get better, okay?”

  He didn’t reply and I stood up to look into his eyes. I needed to hear him say it. I needed him to commit to this with me.

  “Aimee . . .”

  My lip trembled at the depth of devastation that I heard in his voice. So I clamped my teeth together.

  “Kes, don’t . . .”

  He sighed and turned his head away from me.

  “Aimee, if I don’t . . . if I can’t . . .”

  “Kes,” I begged. “Please don’t say it.”

  “I don’t want this for you,” he said quietly. “I wanted to give you the world.”

  I gripped his chin gently until he met my eyes.

  “Why would I want the world when I have you?”

  He closed his eyes, trying to hide from me.

  “We’ll fight this together,” I said. “Whatever happens, we’re in this together. Promise me.”

  His eyes were still squeezed tightly shut. “I don’t want you to be my fucking nurse!”

  “Then don’t be my patient.”

  “Fuck you!” he yelled, his eyes sparking with fury.

  There he was—there was my Kes, my fighter.

  “That would be nice,” I said firmly. “But I guess I’ll just have to take care of myself until you’re better.”

  A shocked bark rattled out of him, and he couldn’t help his lips curling upward.

  I held his hand and he gripped mine tightly, slowly bringing it to his mouth and kissing the palm of my hand gently.

  “Kes,” I whispered. “Are you going to walk again?”

  He took a deep breath. “Of course I am.”

  “Okay then.”

  I leaned back in the visitor’s chair, exhausted, letting the silence stretch out.

  Eventually, a nurse bustled in, insisting that Kes needed to rest and had to take his sleeping pills. He argued for a bit, but then I snapped at him and told him to shut the fuck up and take his meds. The nurse looked shocked, but I didn’t care.

  I stayed with him until he fell into a drug-induced sleep.

  I traced the line of his jaw with my eyes, the strong nose, the thick lashes curling over sharp cheekbones, the softness of his pouting lips. Shoulders and arms thickly muscled—arms that had held me so many times.

  When he was ten, his arms had been like two twigs sticking out of his skinny body, but now they were strong and beautiful, corded with muscle. His perfect chest, lightly covered with a smattering of hair, the hard ridges of his stomach. All so beautiful, so perfect.

  But my beautiful boy was broken.

  I eased my hand free from his and leaned down to brush a kiss across his lips, sealing a promise that I’d made to him.

  “I love you so much. So much. You brought magic into my world the first day I saw you, and every day since—even when we were apart and I didn’t want to remember. I won’t let them take the magic away, Kes. I won’t.” I kissed him again, feeling the soft prickle of stubbled cheeks. “I’ll be back tomorrow, because you’ll never be rid of me. Not ever.”

  And if I listened very carefully, I could hear his heart beating out a message, Love you more.

  I slipped out of his room, leaving half my soul behind, because that’s what soulmates are: two bodies with one spirit. Nothing could separate us, not even death. Because that’s just another part of the journey.

  Outside, Tucker was sitting on a chair with his head in his hands. He looked up when I closed the door to Kes’s room. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was standing on end. His jeans were filthy as if he’d been kneeling in the dirt. And then I thought he probably had been—next to Kes while he lay broken on the ground.

  Tucker must have been here all night.

  “Oh God, Aimee,” he coughed. “I’m so sorry. We were racing . . . oh fuck . . . I never . . . all my fault . . . so fucking sorry.”

  And he started to cry.

  Zach crouched down and tried to talk to him quietly. I stared at them. I’d never seen Tucker like this. I certainly hadn’t expected it. Was he broken, too?

  He looked up at me, tears running down his cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry. I wish . . . I wish it had been me! It wouldn’t have mattered if it had been me. But not him! Not Kes! It’s not right! Why did it have to be him?”

  And for the briefest moment, I agreed. Why couldn’t it have been Tucker? Why did it have to be my Kes?

  It was Tucker’s agony that shattered me. He blinked away more tears and his head dropped into his hands, his body shaking with sobs.

  I threw my arms around him and we cried together.

  “It’s not your fault!” I gasped. “I’d never blame you! Kes wouldn’t blame you! It was a stupid, stupid accident.”

  He held me tighter, gripping my waist painfully as he sobbed in my arms.

  Tucker had disappeared to the men’s room, mumbling something I couldn’t hear and refusing to meet my eyes.

  I waited with Zach.

  “Do you think you should go find him?” I asked after a few minutes.

  He shook his head. “No, he’ll come back when he’s ready. The guilt has been eating him up since it happened.”

  I studied my fingernails.

  “He doesn’t need to feel guilty,” I said quietly. “I’ve imagined something like this happening every time I’ve seen Kes perform. All summer, I felt like it was a game of Russian Roulette and one day . . . one day . . . I kept telling myself that Kes knew what he was doing, that he’d be safe. But it doesn’t make any difference, does it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I struggled to explain myself.

  “Because what Kes does for a living, isn’t safe. That’s why it’s so terrifying and exciting to watch. He does what few people in the world can do. For a while he was the only person in the world who could make those jumps on a motorcycle. But that isn’t how he got hurt—it was just an ordinary, everyday, stupid accident. It could happen to anyone, anytime.” I looked up as Tucker walked back toward us, his eyes red and swollen. “So, no, I don’t blame Kes, and I don’t blame Tucker. I don’t blame anyone.”

  Tu
cker looked as if he couldn’t believe what I was saying. He tried to smile, but it was no more than a half hopeful expression in his eyes.

  We were all exhausted from the traumatic day and the four hour drive back to Arcata. Ollo was waiting up with Bo. The little monkey shrieked with excitement when he saw me, and leapt from Ollo’s lap into my arms. But then he kept looking toward the door, as if he expected Kes to come striding in any moment.

  “How’s he doing?” croaked Ollo.

  “He’s going to fight,” I said quietly.

  Ollo nodded. “Of course he is.”

  I closed my eyes, almost smiling as Bo’s leathery paws stroked my hair and he nestled into my neck.

  We were all so tired and no one felt like talking. I thanked the guys quietly and headed upstairs.

  In my cold, lonely bed, I allowed the tears to fall.

  I stared up at the ceiling, listening to the wooden timbers moan softly. I could hear a gentle surf breaking on the shore, and I could hear my own breathing, too loud in the quiet of the night. I’ll be strong tomorrow, I told myself.

  Early the next morning, I called Mirelle and told her what had happened. She was shocked and upset, and then Zef grabbed the phone from her. He wanted to fly out the next day, but I tried to talk him out of it. After all, there was nothing he could do. I wanted him to stay with Mirelle, but I didn’t have the energy to argue. I regretted telling him, which made me understand the quandary that Zach had been in when Kes had asked him not to tell me while I was still in Minnesota. I’d been so mad at not knowing, and that was the reason I’d called Zef in the first place.

  We left it that he’d fly out the day after Christmas, three days earlier than planned.

  I spoke briefly to Jen, but hearing her sympathy over the phone was too much to bear. When she offered to fly out to be with me, I almost lost it, and had to end the call quickly.

  I tried to phone Con from the number I’d taken from Kes’s phone, but it went straight to voicemail. I left a short message asking him to call me.

  Zach knocked on the door and walked into the kitchen, giving me a faint smile.

  “Couldn’t sleep?”

  I shook my head, and he sighed. “Want some coffee?”

  We sat sipping our scalding drinks, neither of us wanting to eat. I fed small pieces of fruit to Bo while he sat in my lap.

  “I forgot to ask what the visiting hours are?”

  “From 10:30 in the morning till 1PM. Then from 3–8PM.”

  I nodded, then glanced out of the kitchen window.

  “Tucker’s awake,” I said. “I can see lights on in the RV.”

  “He’s not doing so well,” Zach said quietly. “He still blames himself.”

  “I’ll talk to him again.”

  “That’ll be great. Thanks, Aimee.” Then Zach’s eyes narrowed as he studied my face. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m not going to fall apart, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I paused. “Sorry, that was bitchy. But Kes needs me, so I can’t crumble.”

  Zach smiled and reached out to hold my hand.

  “He’s lucky to have you.” Then he raised his eyebrows. “Fiancée, huh?”

  I laughed a little sadly. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “Oh, I thought maybe he’d asked you but hadn’t told us.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Nope. I don’t even know if he wants to get married. It’s not like either of us have any reason to believe in it. Anyway,” I said, fingering my Ferris wheel necklace, “we’re going to be together, so it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

  Zach shrugged.

  “By the way, where’s Luke?”

  “With his family. He’s coming back for New Year’s though.” He pulled a face.

  “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but . . .”

  “What?”

  “I’m not sure it’s the right time, now that Kes . . .”

  “Hey! Kes would be the last person to want you to change your plans.”

  “I know, but . . .”

  I interrupted, my voice fierce. “I mean it, Zach: Kes would hate us all tiptoeing around. Life goes on, right?”

  “I guess,” he agreed reluctantly.

  “Good. Then that’s decided.”

  I stood up, carrying Bo with me.

  “Now I’m going to talk to Tucker. I’ll see you later.”

  He stopped me as I walked past, snagging a quick kiss.

  “See you later, Aimee Andersen,” he smiled.

  As soon as we were outside, Bo went scampering off. I watched him for a moment as he climbed up into a stunted coffeeberry tree, then I knocked on the door of the RV.

  Tucker jumped up as soon as I walked in, his face tense and guilty.

  “Jesus, relax, Tucker!” I muttered. “You’ll give me a heart attack, and one of us in the hospital is enough.”

  “Aimee, I . . .”

  “Now listen, Tucker McCoy, I’ve had enough of your nonsense. Kes doesn’t blame you and I don’t blame you. The only person giving you a hard time is you. So just stop it, or I’ll have to beat some sense into you.”

  His mouth dropped open.

  “But, I . . .”

  “Shut up! I’m not finished. Is Kes one of the best stunt riders you’ve ever seen?”

  “Hell, yeah!” he snapped. “The goddamn best.”

  “Then stop blaming yourself for a dumb accident that could happen to any guy in the street. Although if you want to go and shoot a few gophers, I won’t stop you. And generally I don’t approve of anything to do with guns.”

  “But . . .”

  “So while you’re sitting here on your pansy ass, feeling all pathetic and sorry for yourself, there’s work to be done. The tiling needs to be finished in my shower and I need some more bookshelves in the living room.”

  He sat down and ran his hands through his hair.

  “Yeah, I can do that.”

  “Well, okay then.”

  He looked up and gave me a small grin. “Pansy ass, huh?”

  “Oh my God, Tucker! I spent almost two months traveling with you in the summer. Believe me, I’ve seen enough of your ass to last me a lifetime . . . yours and Zef’s.”

  “Mine’s better though, right?”

  I laughed. “I’ll see you later, Tucker. Visiting hours are from three. And then you can tell Kes that his shower has a full set of tiles.”

  Tucker smiled and gave me a quick hug.

  “Thanks, Aimee,” he mumbled.

  I decided to get on the road and head back to the hospital, leaving the guys to their jobs. Zach said he’d come by as soon as he’d called Kes’s insurance company. I was glad I’d have some time alone with Kes first.

  He was awake when I walked in, but his eyes were blurred, the painkillers making him drowsy.

  “Hey, baby,” he said, his words slurring. “How are you?”

  I leaned down to kiss him, my lips lingering over his. When I stood up, he was smiling, but it was a faded sort of smile, as if the light and energy that made him shine so brightly was slowly leaking away.

  “I’m fine. The guys say hi—they’ll be along later. Tucker’s going to finish tiling the shower for us.”

  Kes frowned. “I meant to get around to that before you came home.”

  “Don’t worry about it—I have to give him things to do or he goes and gets into trouble with some woman, you know how it is.”

  Kes gave a soft chuckle. “Yeah.”

  A quiet knock at the door interrupted us, and a doctor in blue scrubs walked in.

  “Hello, Mr. Hawkins. How are you today?”

  “Peachy keen, doc. This is my girlfriend, Aimee.”

  “Hello,” he said, shaking hands. “I’m Dr. Goldsmith. I’ll be doing the surgery on Mr. Hawkins.”

  I blinked several times. “Surgery?”

  Kes closed his eyes while Dr. Goldsmith frowned.

  “Yes, to repair the SCI to the L4 vertebra.” r />
  “In English, please,” I said brusquely.

  “Sorry,” he apologized. “Bad habit. I’ll explain. The vertebrae, the bones in the spine, are numbered from the tailbone upwards. The first five are the lumbar vertebrae. They do the lion’s share of the work in supporting the body’s weight. Mr. Hawkins has shattered his L4 vertebra . . .”

  “Shattered?” I gasped.

  The doctor looked quickly at Kes.

  “Yes, it’s in several pieces. And that’s what bothers us: one piece is protruding in the spinal cord canal. That’s why Mr. Hawkins doesn’t have any feeling in his legs at the moment. If we can remove that piece, I’ll be much happier. I’ll also need to insert two titanium rods to support the spine. He’s stable at the moment, but the sooner I do this, the less chance of neurological dysfunction. I’ll schedule the surgery for immediately after Christmas. There’s a good chance that the patient will have some mobility afterward, enough to stand up, maybe even walk . . . we hope.”

  “But not to run, doc. Not to ride a motorcycle,” Kes said quietly.

  Dr. Goldsmith sighed. “You will experience a significant loss of mobility, yes. But we’ve got a good chance of getting you walking again if we operate. I want to wait 48 hours for the fracture to stabilize. You’ll probably need other surgeries later, but this is where we’ll start.”

  “No more stunt riding,” Kes said to me, his eyes flat and lifeless.

  “That doesn’t matter,” I whispered. “We’ll still . . .”

  “It does matter,” he said, closing his eyes again. “It really fucking matters.”

  Dr. Goldsmith turned to go. “It’s a lot to take in. I’ll leave you alone to talk about this, but you can call my office any time.”

  I frowned at the square card that he’d given me, then back at Kes, so still, so quiet.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” I said, but he didn’t open his eyes.

  I ran down the corridor.

  “Dr. Goldsmith!” I called out.

  He turned around, frowning.

  “Yes?”

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  He glanced at his watch. “Yes, but it really will have to be a minute—I’m due in surgery. Walk with me?”

  I trotted along beside him as he strode along the corridor.

  “Is surgery the only option?” I asked.