God's Gift - By Dee Henderson Page 0,74

left her in a wheelchair? What if she got mobility back in her right hand but not her left? Her spine had taken a severe blow—the fracture had cut into the nerves. What they didn’t know was what would heal and what was permanently damaged. It was an ugly circumstance to consider.

He was ready to deal with it; he knew he could adapt to whatever the final outcome was. The question was, could Rae? If she remained partially paralyzed, would it be her choice this time to leave the relationship just friends?

It was difficult, watching physical therapy. She was out of intensive care, in a private room in the rehabilitation wing of the hospital. The paralysis persisted. The swelling still lingered. There was no determining which muscles in her back, arms and legs obeyed her wishes and which ones still did not get the message to move.

The broken ribs hurt. She was constantly fighting a headache. Because she wasn’t able to move easily, her body throbbed with pain from lying in one position for too long.

James felt for her and wished there was something he could do.

He sat on the far side of the room and watched as the physical therapist worked on helping her get motion in her arms. He could see the strain on Rae’s face as she tried to coordinate the muscles in her shoulders and upper arms to get the movement she wanted. It was difficult—lying flat on your back, head in a brace to prevent your neck moving, knowing you had to battle to raise your arms.

After fifteen minutes the therapist declared the day a success and spent several minutes talking with a discouraged Rae to explain the improvements that were occurring.

James could see the improvement, too. Rae was getting better. It was slow, but it was definitely there.

After the therapist left, James moved back to Rae’s bedside. “You are getting better,” he confirmed.

She wanted to reply with something sharp, but bit back her words. James couldn’t blame her for the bad mood.

“Would you like to get some sleep, talk for a while, have me pick up reading where I left off?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

She sighed. “Finish the book.”

James studied her face, finally nodded. He picked up the suspense novel he had been reading to her, pulled the chair back to her bedside. “Is the mirror angle okay?”

“Yes.”

She hated the mirror. Positioned over her, it let her see the room while she was flat on her back. She really hated it. James reached over and gently squeezed her hand, didn’t let go of it as he used one hand to find the page they were on in the book. He began reading.

It took her several minutes, but she turned her hand over to grip his.

Rae was able to move now, but only with great care. The physical therapist had had her on her feet yesterday, a reality that had caused her an immense amount of vertigo. The exhaustion after therapy had caused her to sleep through the afternoon. James had sat with her, reading a book, watching for any signs of the nightmare returning.

She had been dreaming about the accident recently, waking terrified, reliving the moment she had turned her head and seen the headlights right there, the instant before the car had slammed into her driver-side door. She had no memory of the accident past that point; didn’t remember the emergency room, nor much from the first couple days in the ICU. James wished her memory had erased those first few moments before the accident as well.

The first time the dream had happened, her heart rate had jumped to almost one hundred sixty beats per minute in only a few seconds. The nurse had seen it happen and shaken her awake. The doctors told her the dream would fade in intensity with time. James preferred to be there to shake her awake rather than let her complete the dream.

“She’s bored.”

James laughed at Lace’s conclusion, joining her at the hospital cafeteria table for a cup of coffee. “I brought the reference books she asked for with me. That should help serve as a distraction.”

Rae was healing, feeling better, fighting to regain motion, mobility, strength. She was fighting her way back to health.

“I hear she goes down to the physical therapy room today,” Lace commented.

James carefully picked up his coffee mug, knowing his hands might drop it if he didn’t concentrate. He nodded. “They want to get her relearning to walk.”

“Did the doctors