Come To Stay

Come To Stay-07

Chapter Seven

"You're sure about this?" Reeve regarded her skeptically.

Aubrey sat on the thick blue mat on the weight room floor, her legs crossed Indian fashion. "Trust me."

"You said that when you asked me to roll around like a man whose clothes had caught on fire."

"Now I want you to crawl just like a baby."

"How much longer before I can work on the parallel bars?" He eyed the set she'd brought in.

"Not long, I promise. If you want, I'll test you for strength again today."

"No." He shook his head, and Aubrey could all but taste his disappointment.

"Don't push yourself so hard. You're doing remarkably well."

"But the progress is so slow."

"It isn't," she replied emphatically. "Look how long you sat in that chair-months. You can't expect to be out running again in a matter of a few weeks."

"Tell me what's next."

Aubrey must have repeated the procedure to him fifteen times, but she didn't hesitate when he asked again. "Lying to crawling, crawling to kneeling, kneeling to standing."

"From there to the parallel bars, the walker, and last, the cane," he finished for her.

"There's a light at the end of the tunnel."

"I'm just beginning to see it."

"Good." She smiled brightly. "I knew you would."

"Should I pretend I'm a dog and bark?" he asked, as he moved into the crawling position.

"Go ahead." Aubrey laughed. "It'll give Bliss a good laugh."

Reeve gave an Academy Award performance that left both Aubrey and Peter laughing.

"Mr. Jewett's here. I haven't seen Dale in nearly nine months," Bliss said.

The laughter drained out of Reeve's face and his eyes turned icy cold. "Send him away. I don't want to see him. Is that understood, Bliss?"

"But Mr. Jewett's been your friend since you were a boy."

"It doesn't matter. I don't want to see anyone."

Aubrey tossed a glance to the obviously flustered Bliss, then back to Reeve. Angrily, Reeve reached out from the mat and grabbed the side of his wheelchair. With a violent shove, he sent it crashing against the wall. The chair tilted onto its side and fell over.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly, and knelt at his side. "Who is the guy?"

"A friend."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"When I want your advice, I'll ask for it," he growled.

"That wasn't advice," Aubrey returned. "I was simply stating an opinion."

"Then keep those to yourself."

"Fine." She stood and wiped the grit from her hands. Walking across the room, she uprighted the wheelchair and brought it to his side. "I want you to make the transfer yourself today."

"I can't."

"Don't give me that, Whitson."
"What is this? Put-the-cripple-in-his-place time?"

"Figuratively speaking, I think that's it."

"Kindly leave before I say something I'll regret later."