“How is he?” begged Marilyn, her eyes anxious, wide, and staring in her white face.
“Better than I expected,” the doctor admitted. “His left leg was mangled from the knee down. It took a long time, but I think we’ve saved it. He has four screws and two plates, and he’ll undoubtedly have a limp for the rest of his life, but we did save his leg.”
“He kicks with his right leg anyway,” Rod muttered.
“Ah, well, that’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I’m sorry, Mr. McCallum. I saw him play last year, so I know he had a wonderful career in front of him, but in spite of everything we did, his right leg was hurt too bad to save. We had to amputate right above his knee.”
“At least he’s alive,” Marilyn sobbed as she rhythmically shredded a tissue. “I don’t care about his leg; I just want my son to live.”
“I can almost promise you he will,” the doctor comforted her. “Barring unforeseen complications, he’s going to be fine, and as soon as his leg heals we’ll fit a prosthesis on him and teach him how to walk again.”
“When can we see him?” Marilyn begged as she wiped away her tears.
“He’s in Recovery now. We plan to put him in ICU until he’s stable. The last thing we need is an infection, and we can watch him better there. We’ll let you know as soon as he gets there. Then you can see him for a minute.”
Rod groped for the sofa and fell backwards onto the miserable thing. “The best kicker in thirty years,” he whispered, quoting what a sports announcer had said on TV only hours earlier. “The best kicker in thirty years, and now they have to teach him to walk again.”
He jumped up as if he’d sat on a porcupine. “I’m going home, Marilyn. Are you coming?”
Marilyn’s eyes bugged. “Are you serious? I’m not leaving until I’ve seen him.”
“Stacey?”
“I… I’ll… go with you. I need to tell my parents Matt’s out of surgery.”
Marilyn watched in amazement as Rod and Stacey hurried away and sat back to continue her vigil alone.
****
Matt awoke early the next morning because the dull, aching pain in his legs made him sick to his stomach. Must have been one rough practice , he thought. He didn’t much want to get up yet. He still felt tired out and kind of …heavy. Yeah, that was it; he felt heavy. Too heavy in fact to bother opening his eyes, but Stacey was holding his hand, so he forced himself to wake up.
A short, round, little woman, not Stacey, held his wrist. The way she looked at her watch he decided she must be taking his pulse. Where was he? What had happened to him?
He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Who are you?” he croaked.
She beamed at him as if he had done something wonderful. “Oh, you’re awake now. I’m Nurse Whitaker. How do you feel?”
“I’m tired, and my legs hurt. Where am I?”
“You had a car accident last night, Mr. McCallum.” She pulled a sheet and a thin white blanket across his chest. “You’re in the hospital.”
“Stacey…”
“Your girlfriend is fine. Don’t worry about her.”
Matt closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his throbbing temples. “I don’t remember what happened.”
“That’s normal. You may never remember everything.”
Matt tried to sit up, but he couldn’t muster enough energy. “What’s wrong with me? Why is it so hard to sit up?”
“Oh, that’s because of the medication we gave you to help you rest.” She patted his arm and checked an IV that he hadn’t noticed until she touched it. “We didn’t want you tossing and turning all night.”
“What’s wrong with me?” he repeated.
“ Shh , don’t worry about that now. The doctor can talk to you later when you feel better.”
Matt didn’t like the blank expression on the nurse’s face at all. I must be hurt pretty bad. “No, tell me now,” he insisted.
Nurse Whittaker stuck a thermometer in his mouth. “You have some trauma to your legs, Mr. McCallum, but the doctor says you’re going to be fine.”
Matt spit the thermometer out. “Trauma to my legs?”
“Yes, sir, and I’d rather you talk to Dr. Williams about it.”
It’s bad. It has to be
. “Tell me,” he demanded.
“Mr. McCallum…”
Matt forced himself to sit up. His head spun and made his stomach turn over, but he managed to pull the sheet off his right leg. Wow, he must really be out of it. It looked like most of his leg was gone. He shook his head to clear away the cobwebs and looked again. His leg was gone!
He started to shake and grabbed the nurse by the arm. “Where’s my leg?” he cried.
The nurse took a look at one of the monitors in the room and called, “Jenny, would you bring me another dose of Mr. McCallum’s medication?”
A nurse arrived with a syringe which she injected into Matt’s IV. “There you are,” she soothed. “You’ll be comfortable in a few minutes.”
Dizziness washed over Matt. “What did…you…give…me?”
“Something to make you rest,” Nurse Whitaker answered. “You go to sleep and don’t worry about a thing. We’re taking very good care of you.”
****
Stacey shuddered and splashed some more water on her face. The nausea had passed now. She staggered back into her bedroom and threw herself across her bed. Matt’s legs looked horrible! She’d give anything not to have been at the hospital when the bandages came off. It had been bad enough when a sheet covered Matt, but to actually see his mutilated legs turned her stomach and made her feel faint.
She knew one thing, though. Until this afternoon she hadn’t really understood that Matt’s football career had ended. Oh, she realized he had lost a leg, but somehow it hadn’t been real to her until she saw it for herself.
Rolling over, she curled into a tight, little ball. She had had such fun going places with Matt. People always recognized him and wanted his autograph. He had plenty of money too, and he wasn’t stingy with it. The fame and money had thrilled her, but it was all over and done with now. No more autographs or big money.
Her stomach lurched again. She had more than just fame and money to worry about. Matt had wanted to kiss her this afternoon. In fact, when the doctor came in to take off Matt’s bandages he had caught her sitting on the edge of the bed kissing Matt. The doctor had kidded him about it, but she hadn’t minded being interrupted at all. She…didn’t like to touch him too much now.
Her thoughts drifted to the afternoon of their accident. Their parents wouldn’t approve, but she and Matt had gone to Greenville and checked into a luxury hotel that morning. They had spent his last day of freedom in bed together. She drew a deep, shaky breath. The day had been everything she’d dreamed it could be. Her body tightened with the faint echo of passion. Matt was a good lover.
Oh, why did they have to have such a terrible accident? What would happen to Matt now? Her engagement ring winked and twinkled as it caught the light. She stared at it for a moment and began to cry.
****
Matt stared at the empty physical therapy room and took a sip of the hospital brew the physical therapy assistant had given him. It could use a little work, but it did have a much needed jolt of caffeine in it. He sighed, blinking away sleep. Why’d they schedule him so early in the morning? He could have slept a little longer. It wasn’t like he had anything to do.
The door opened with a click, and a tall, well-built, young man with dark hair entered the physical therapy office.
The man poured himself a cup of coffee. “Who’s the new guy?”
The physical therapy assistant, Betty she’d said her name was, shoved a folder at him. “Matt McCallum.”
“Oh, yeah. Man, that’s a shame.”
Betty scowled at him. “It’s always a shame when people are hurt as bad as he was, Being a football player doesn’t make him any different from anyone else.”
“I know and I didn’t mean anything bad. It’s just that he played one year of pro ball, and it looked like he was going to be one of the greats. Now, he’s here to get fitted for a prosthesis.”
“Well, I think he needs some counseling. He has that dull, withdrawn, shell-shocked look on his face.”
“Most amputees feel that way in the beginning,” the man answered. “We can schedule him with Dr. Whitney if we need too.”
Matt’s fists clenched. Didn’t they know he could hear them? Didn’t they know how it made him feel for them to talk about him like he was an old, washed up nobody?
The man picked up a file and joined him in the waiting area. “Hi, Matt. I’m Sam Dickson.”
He held out his hand, and Matt took it briefly.
Sam indicated the file in his hand. “It says here you got the bandages off yesterday and that the stump is nicely healed. Is that right?”
Matt shrugged. “I guess.”
“Your other leg is banged up pretty bad too, so we have to work with that as well, but the sooner we get started, the better off you’ll be.”
“That’s what they say.”
Sam nodded. “Okay, today I’ll show you how to take care of yourself. After that we’ll fit you for a temporary prosthesis.”
Matt’s head spun; he swallowed hard and focused on a bar mounted on the wall to steady himself. “All right.”
Matt was a quick study. He paid close attention when Sam showed him how to clean and protect the stump. Then, Sam passed him the sock that went over it. “You put it on,” he said.
Matt repressed the shudder that shook him as he pulled the sock on and smoothed it. “Very good,” Sam approved. “I hope your motivation is this good once we get you up to walk.” He laughed. “As a former athlete, a physical task might be more appealing than what you just learned.”
Matt drew a deep, shaky breath. Of course he was motivated! It humiliated him when anybody saw his legs or had to help him get around. He was desperate to regain some control over his own body.
A tall, striking brunette passed through the room and waved to Sam who grinned and waved back at her. “Gorgeous isn’t she?” he asked Matt, the look on his face reminding Matt of a gamboling, goofy puppy. “ Layla is her name. I’ve been trying to get her to go out with me.”
Matt barely glanced at her. “Yeah, she’s pretty.”
Sam eyed Matt with a quizzical expression on his face. “That was sure lukewarm, buddy. A woman that drop dead gorgeous ought to get your heart pumping. Are you worried about women now that you’ve lost your leg?”
Matt’s face colored, but he made no reply.
“Man, you need to think about how lucky you are. I know you’ve lost a lot, but you can still be with a woman and father children. Hurting your legs doesn’t mean the romantic side of life is over for you.”
Matt raised his eyes to Sam’s for the first time. “You left out one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Not too many women are interested in having sex with a cripple. Seeing a stump like mine is a good way to kill the romance.”
Sam squatted down so he and Matt were on eye level with each other. “Matt, the nurses said you’re engaged. Have you talked to your fiancée about all this?”
“That won’t be necessary. Stacey was with me yesterday when the bandages came off. She turned as white as a sheet and said she had to go home. A messenger brought her engagement ring to me this morning.”
Matt cringed when he saw the look of pity of Sam’s face. His stark, unemotional rendering of the facts hadn’t fooled the therapist.
Sam slapped his shoulder and said, “Not all women are like that, buddy. Some of them will stand by a man through thick and thin. Next time you’ll choose better, right?” He stood up and took hold of the handles on Matt’s wheelchair. “Let’s see about fitting that prosthesis so we can get you walking again.”