He beamed. “I still can’t get you a room with a window, but I’ve brought you the next best thing. A laptop.”
A thousand images rushed across the screen of her mind. “That’s a portable computer?”
“I guess that means you know what the internet is.” She nodded. “How about credit cards?” She nodded again. He pulled the rolling table over, set the laptop up and plugged it in with an Ethernet cord. It had a mouse that detached from the housing for easy browsing. He pulled a plastic rectangle from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here’s a credit card that you can use to get stuff on the internet. I can trust you not to buy cars, right?”
“No cars,” she repeated.
“Yeah, no cars or home theatre systems. Also,” he added offhandedly, "no weapons, or I’ll be in more trouble than usual.” He looked around the room. “You’ve got some space limitations. And please tell me you’re not a jewelry freak.” She shook her head no. “Good. You can use it to get… you know, clothes and,” he looked at her hair, “hair ribbons or magazines or music and stuff. Here’s the address you use for billing.” He handed her a note. “And here’s the address you use for delivery. They’ll do overnight if you want.”
“Hair ribbons?”
He cocked his head. “I guess women don’t really wear hair ribbons, do they?”
“I’m, ah, hoping not.”
“Well,” he smiled, “you know what I mean.” She nodded again and smiled back, wondering if this man was really this kind to monstrous looking clumps of bloody flesh in general, or just her. “Let’s go for our stroll. You think we’ll go faster today?”
“I’m positive you could. Go ahead. Save yourself.”
“Elora!” He sounded surprised. “You have a sense of humor.” He was looking around like he’d lost something. “So where do they keep the booties?”
She thought he had to be the cutest, most considerate person who had ever lived. Seeing this man with the shape and bearing of a warrior of old searching the room for traction booties made her throat feel tight.
“Aha!” He straightened from where he’d been opening drawers, holding up a clean pair of traction booties still sealed in a plastic wrapping. He seemed so pleased with himself, over such a small thing, that it tugged at her heart strings a little. “You know, you can order your own booties or socks or slippers or whatever.”
He knelt down on the floor next to the bed and started pulling the booties onto Elora’s feet like she was a child. He talked about the marvels of internet shopping while he was concentrating on making the booties conform to her feet.
“And movies! Just download them right to your own monitor. You’re not going to feel like a prisoner anymore.”
There was a slight break in his movement when he realized what he’d said.
She jerked her gaze from her feet to his face. “Prisoner?” She thought she saw a flicker of reaction. Was it self-recrimination or… guilt?
He looked serious all of a sudden. “I mean, being stuck in a hospital room has to make you a little stir crazy.”
“Oh. Yes.” Her eyes wandered over the room. “It does.”
He tried to restore the mood. She walked a little further than the day before and maybe just a little faster, although at that pace it was hard to tell. She was too exhausted to do anything but sleep when she returned to the room, but she woke in the middle of the night and wasn’t sleepy. She turned on the laptop, found out that she had a lightning fast connection and that GilesQuery.com was the search engine of choice in this world. She tried some familiar names just to see what would happen. Some came up right away. Some came up as no matches. She ordered Paul Mitchell hair products, make-up from Mac, jeans from Levi’s, and some long-sleeve tees and hoodies from Saks in shades of green, blue, and gray. She knew from watching TV that she was in New Angland and that it was fall, but it was always cold in the infirmary. So she also got two pairs of velvet leggings, black and brown, and a long, black silk sweater from Armani Exchange.
She wouldn’t be able to consider wearing something so sensational at home, but, gods only knew, she wasn’t home. She bought cotton socks, cashmere socks, furry brown house shoes with moose faces and antlers, cross trainers and black, low heeled, Ferragamo riding boots. She bought fine weave yoga pants in a cotton/silk blend and camis with built-in support to use as sleepwear, under-garments, and a thick, plaid robe for warmth and comfort. She bought a skirt just on the off chance she might need it sometime, a lime green backpack suitable to hold a laptop and other valuables and, last, Danskins for when she was able to start working out again.
It might take other people longer to outfit themselves via cyberspace, but she was accustomed to shopping by internet. For a member of the royal house, actual shopping was too much of a production. Permission for such outings was rarely granted because of the expense of needing two guards to protect her from rumor rag reporters and paparazzi.
Undoubtedly the piece de resistance of the internet shopping spree was the iSongs account, a pink iNote player that would hold several gig of songs, and a pair of good headphones. She couldn’t wait to find out if her favorite music existed in this world. She wanted to start downloading to her music library, but she was still getting tired easily and would go to sleep mouse in hand if she didn’t shut down and lie back.
A couple of days later the nursing staff began delivering boxes as they arrived. No one was trying to hide the fact that the packages had been opened and contents inspected first. The jeans were an optimism purchase since her body was still too swollen for her regular size. Tight pants would aggravate bruises anyway. At the moment she required nonbinding, elastic waist, loose fitting clothes. Thin knit sweats and hoodies would have to suffice.
When Storm arrived to a room crowded with shipping boxes and packing paper, he said something under his breath that sounded like, “Woden Almighty,” but proceeded to help organize by ordering a rolling rack and hangers since they hadn’t thought to build a closet. They also bought four stacking crates with front closures for things to be folded or rolled.
She felt so much better in real clothes and it seemed to show in the speed of her progress. She was getting out of bed without assistance and walking up and down the hallway without leaning on Storm - which he missed, but couldn’t begrudge. In two weeks the snail’s pace had increased to a walk almost as fast as Storm’s normal, long-legged gait for half an hour at a time. In a couple of days she added talking and laughing at the same time.
Sometimes they played chess in the infirmary break room with a guard posing as an orderly nearby. It was the only room that had a window. Elora loved to sit where she could see gardens and trees. Storm noticed that she would lapse into melancholy if he took too long to move. One day he sat back and asked tentatively if she was ready to talk about who she was, where she came from, and how she got here. She looked away and didn’t answer, which was an answer of sorts.
Elora had grown accustomed to seeing the same faces every day. She knew everyone who worked in the infirmary, how many children they had, what kind of music they liked, what they liked to do for recreation, what had attracted them to their line of work and on and on. It was a win-win. She was curious and the staff enjoyed talking about their lives.
Designed according to the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ principle, the infirmary was located at a dead end, out of the way corner of the Jefferson Unit ground floor. It was a destination facility, meaning that no one went there unless it was necessary. Active duty knights endured enough uncertainty without in-your-face reminders of mortality and the fragile nature of human bodies. Situated well away from typical traffic patterns, they were not likely to casually wander by and be forced to confront the fact that The Order maintained a fully functioning hospital on the premises.
One morning Storm and Elora were playing chess in the infirmary break room while having breakfast. Storm wasn’t really thinking about the game. He didn’t need to. He’d always been - what did they say? - too smart for his own good. He had learned chess from a cousin in fifteen minutes when he was ten and had never lost a game since.