would continue.
“Do I wanna bet? Sure, I’d be willing to place a wager on that.”
Mallory eyes flared, as though he’d welcome the opportunity to send her packing. “Any time, any place.”
“Great,” she said gleefully. “We’ll make it easy. You get out of that bed and walk me to the door, and I’m out of here. Until that happens, big boy, I’m going to be your shadow. I promise you, you’ll never work harder than in the next several months.”
His blunt features flushed with anger. “I can’t walk,” he said between gritted teeth. “And you damn well know it.”
“Not now you can’t, but you will in time.”
“Can you guarantee that?”
“No,” she returned evenly, unwilling to pull any punches. “But you’re going to have to give it your best shot, and I’m here to help you.” Rolling up her sleeves, she smiled at him. “Let’s get started.”
“I don’t feel like it.” The anger in his eyes intensified as he glared at her.
“I don’t suppose you do. No one does, and I’m not going to lie to you, Mr. Mallory. There’s going to be pain, plenty of it. For a time, you’ll hate me.” She rolled the empty wheelchair away from his bedside.
“I already do.”
She grinned and promised, “But not nearly as much as you will.”
By the end of the first hour of gently working the stiff muscles of Mallory’s legs, rubbing them down to encourage the circulation, Francine was invigorated. As she worked, she explained what she was doing and why. She wanted to reassure him there was a payoff for the pain she inflicted on him. From Mallory’s tense silence it was unlikely her patient had received the message.
Francine had enough experience to know this procedure wasn’t painless, but after the first few protests, Tim lay on his back, his eyes closed, his expression cast in stone.
“How much longer?” he asked after the first hour. His face glistened with sweat, and his chest heaved as he struggled against revealing his discomfort.
“I’m almost finished,” she said, working the calf of his injured leg. She elevated it slightly, and as he rolled his head to one side, she saw that he’d gritted his teeth. There was no joy in witnessing pain. It was never easy to see another suffer, no matter how cantankerous the patient. More often than not, her lecture on the benefits of the exercise were for her own ears. She needed to be reminded of the eventual outcome for all this agony.
By the end of the session, what little energy Tim Mallory possessed had vanished. Greg arrived, andFrancine asked that he help Mallory out of his clothes and into his swimming suit.
Her patient lifted his head off the sweat-drenched pillow. “I thought you said we were through.”
“We are. But now that I’ve got the circulation going in that leg, I want to put it to use.”
“I’m tired.”
“I know.” She’d wager he was a lot more than tired, but she couldn’t allow her sympathy to show.
“Not today.”
“Greg,” she said, “have him to the swimming pool in fifteen minutes.”
The young man grinned and nodded. “I’ll see that he’s there.”
“Good.” With that she reached for her gym bag and left the room. She heard Tim protest the minute she was out of the room, but he didn’t stand a chance of winning this argument, and he knew it. The mercenary might not willingly own up to it, but he had few options. Eventually acceptance would come, but from what she knew of Mallory’s personality, he’d hold out as long as he could.
One thing was certain, he didn’t have much energy left to put up much of a fight. At least for now.
Linette’s first impression of the ranch house was that it looked like something out of a television western. Bonanza revisited. The two-story log structure, nestled against the backdrop of the Rocky Mountains, looked as inviting as a port in a storm. An apt description in light of the fat snowflakes lazily drifting down from a thunder blue
“Do I wanna bet? Sure, I’d be willing to place a wager on that.”
Mallory eyes flared, as though he’d welcome the opportunity to send her packing. “Any time, any place.”
“Great,” she said gleefully. “We’ll make it easy. You get out of that bed and walk me to the door, and I’m out of here. Until that happens, big boy, I’m going to be your shadow. I promise you, you’ll never work harder than in the next several months.”
His blunt features flushed with anger. “I can’t walk,” he said between gritted teeth. “And you damn well know it.”
“Not now you can’t, but you will in time.”
“Can you guarantee that?”
“No,” she returned evenly, unwilling to pull any punches. “But you’re going to have to give it your best shot, and I’m here to help you.” Rolling up her sleeves, she smiled at him. “Let’s get started.”
“I don’t feel like it.” The anger in his eyes intensified as he glared at her.
“I don’t suppose you do. No one does, and I’m not going to lie to you, Mr. Mallory. There’s going to be pain, plenty of it. For a time, you’ll hate me.” She rolled the empty wheelchair away from his bedside.
“I already do.”
She grinned and promised, “But not nearly as much as you will.”
By the end of the first hour of gently working the stiff muscles of Mallory’s legs, rubbing them down to encourage the circulation, Francine was invigorated. As she worked, she explained what she was doing and why. She wanted to reassure him there was a payoff for the pain she inflicted on him. From Mallory’s tense silence it was unlikely her patient had received the message.
Francine had enough experience to know this procedure wasn’t painless, but after the first few protests, Tim lay on his back, his eyes closed, his expression cast in stone.
“How much longer?” he asked after the first hour. His face glistened with sweat, and his chest heaved as he struggled against revealing his discomfort.
“I’m almost finished,” she said, working the calf of his injured leg. She elevated it slightly, and as he rolled his head to one side, she saw that he’d gritted his teeth. There was no joy in witnessing pain. It was never easy to see another suffer, no matter how cantankerous the patient. More often than not, her lecture on the benefits of the exercise were for her own ears. She needed to be reminded of the eventual outcome for all this agony.
By the end of the session, what little energy Tim Mallory possessed had vanished. Greg arrived, andFrancine asked that he help Mallory out of his clothes and into his swimming suit.
Her patient lifted his head off the sweat-drenched pillow. “I thought you said we were through.”
“We are. But now that I’ve got the circulation going in that leg, I want to put it to use.”
“I’m tired.”
“I know.” She’d wager he was a lot more than tired, but she couldn’t allow her sympathy to show.
“Not today.”
“Greg,” she said, “have him to the swimming pool in fifteen minutes.”
The young man grinned and nodded. “I’ll see that he’s there.”
“Good.” With that she reached for her gym bag and left the room. She heard Tim protest the minute she was out of the room, but he didn’t stand a chance of winning this argument, and he knew it. The mercenary might not willingly own up to it, but he had few options. Eventually acceptance would come, but from what she knew of Mallory’s personality, he’d hold out as long as he could.
One thing was certain, he didn’t have much energy left to put up much of a fight. At least for now.
Linette’s first impression of the ranch house was that it looked like something out of a television western. Bonanza revisited. The two-story log structure, nestled against the backdrop of the Rocky Mountains, looked as inviting as a port in a storm. An apt description in light of the fat snowflakes lazily drifting down from a thunder blue
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