Authors: Janet Dailey
As she walked down the hospital corridor carrying Ridge’s small satchel of belongings, her high-heeled sandals made attention-getting clicks. Sharon was conscious of the looks that came her way. The faint smile that touched her mouth was in remembrance of the entirely different looks she and her mother had received the day before.
All the doors to the hospital rooms were open, but when she approached Ridge’s room, she saw it was shut. A nurse darted out, her expression grim, and went hurrying past Sharon toward the ward station. Before the door closed behind the nurse, Sharon caught the spate of angry voices. She quickened her stride to find out what was going on.
As she pushed the door open, she heard the tightly angry but controlled voice of a second nurse in the room. “Since you insist on being difficult, Mr. Halliday, I’ve sent Nurse Gaines to fetch the orderlies—”
“You can send her to hell for all I care!” Ridge snarled in response. “I told you I don’t want that damned thing in my arm!”
Shutting the door quickly, Sharon moved forward a little hesitantly, trying to take lightning stock of the situation. Ridge was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. The blanket had been pulled loose and partially wrapped around his waist, still leaving most of his legs bare. He was glaring at the flushed nurse who was glaring back.
“Do not swear at me, Mr. Halliday!” she reproved him sharply. “I am not obliged to take that kind of abuse from you or any patient!”
“Then kindly get the hell out of here,” Ridge declared with a dangerously thin smile.
“Ridge!” Sharon stepped forward, drawing attention to herself. She was more than a little stunned that this man, who had the virile charm to wind this nurse around his finger, had resorted to crudeness and anger. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.
The look he flashed her held impatience rather than welcome. “It’s about time somebody showed up,” he muttered. “These damned fools took my clothes. All I’ve got to wear is that damned flapping gown.”
The dismissive gesture of his hand turned
Sharon’s gaze to the crumpled hospital gown on the floor, obviously thrown there by Ridge.
“What have you got there?” His glance fell on the satchel she was carrying.
“I brought some of your things. Mom and I—”
Ridge didn’t give her a chance to finish. “Did you pack me some clothes?’
“Yes—”
“Bring it here,” he ordered peremptorily and extended an impatiently flicking hand to take it from her. “I’m getting out of this place,” Ridge added as she brought it within his reach.
“You’re in no condition—” Sharon started to pull the satchel away, but he snatched it from her before she could succeed. A rush of irritation swept through her. Like the nurse, she was fast losing her patience with him.
“All I’ve got is some bruises and a couple of busted ribs,” he muttered. When he tried to turn slightly to open the satchel, he winced and went pale at the shafting pain that took his breath away. A moment later, he was pulling out the clean shirt and pants she’d packed for him. “Hell, I’ve broken my arm one day and rode the next. I’m not going to stay in here so they can keep me doped up with those damned drugs ‘til I don’t know up from down.”
“I don’t think you know up from down now,” Sharon declared grimly, suspecting there was just enough of the pain-killing drug in his system for him to be numbed to the severity of his pain. “And
you didn’t break your arm. You are badly bruised
inside.”
But Ridge wasn’t listening. The agonizing effort of getting his arms into the shirt sleeves had beaded his forehead and upper lip with perspiration. He was taking short, quick breaths to avoid aggravating the discomfort of his broken ribs. When he shook out his pants and tried to put a leg into them, the subsequent pain was so intense he groaned aloud and fell back on an elbow, swearing savagely under his breath. Involuntarily Sharon took a step toward the bed, feeling sorry for him even though she knew he was bringing it all on himself.
His half-closed eyes caught her movement. Ridge struggled to sit up again, his features whitening with the effort. “Help me get these damned pants on,” he demanded through tightly clenched teeth.
“I’m not going to help you.” Sharon steeled herself against the compassionate urges that tried to push her to his aid. “If you can’t put your pants on, you’ve got no business getting out of that bed.”
Her logic angered him, lighting blue flames in his eyes. “All right, dammit, I’ll show you.” Ridge started all over again, the strain showing in the contortions of his face as he tentatively slid a bare foot into the pants leg.
Watching him, Sharon gritted her teeth so hard they hurt. He had to keep pausing to wait for the pain to subside. By the time he managed to get both legs into the pants, sweat was trickling down
his neck. He slid off the edge of the bed to pull the pants over his hips and his legs nearly buckled under him.
The nurse rushed forward to catch him, but Ridge had already braced an arm on the bed to support himself. “Mr. Halliday, please get back into bed,” the nurse urged with obvious concern.
“Ridge, please,” Sharon added her voice to the nurse’s. It was clear to her that he was so weak and in so much pain that he could barely stand.
He shrugged off the nurse’s supporting hands. “Just get away and let me get dressed.” The roughness was still in his voice, but it lacked its earlier strength.
The door opened behind Sharon. She turned as the doctor came striding through, all brisk and professional. He was followed closely by the first nurse and an orderly. The cavalry was coming to the rescue, and the good doctor was leading the charge. He didn’t stop until he confronted his adversary.
“What’s going on here, Mr. Halliday?” he demanded sharply. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”
“Wrong.” Ridge grabbed the bedrail for support and began inching along it.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the doctor demanded with exasperation.
“I’m trying to find my damned boots so I can get out of here,” Ridge muttered. “Where are they?”
“In the closet with the rest of your clothes,” the doctor replied. “But you’re in no condition to be
released. You need at least three days of total bedrest to give your body a chance to heal itself.”
“If I’ve got to lie in bed for three days, I’ll do it back at the ranch. I’m not staying in this hospital.” Clutching his stomach he staggered to the closet door. Sharon saw the doctor wave aside the orderly when he made a move to stop Ridge. Once he had his boots, Ridge more or less fell into the vinyl chair in the corner.
“It should be evident to you, Mr. Halliday, that you aren’t capable of taking care of yourself.” The doctor changed his confrontation tactics and attempted to reason with him. “You told me you lived alone. Who is going to fix your meals, give you your medicine, help you back and forth to the bathroom?”
The question was met initially with silence as Ridge appeared to concede that he couldn’t manage alone. Then his blue gaze sought her out. “Sharon,” he concluded and stuck a foot into one of the cowboy boots, seemingly oblivious to the fact he wasn’t wearing socks. “She can stay at the house for a few days.”
She opened her eyes a little wider at the way he took her agreement for granted, not even bothering to ask. The doctor appeared startled and glanced at Sharon as if just realizing there was a nonstaff member in the room. After a second’s hesitation, he shook his head grimly.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Halliday, but I can’t agree to release you from the hospital,” he stated.
“I never asked you to release me,” Ridge glanced at him with laughing scorn. “I’m checking myself out of here.”
“If you do, I can’t be held responsible for anything that might happen,” the doctor warned him.
“I never asked you to be,” Ridge pulled on the other boot, then remained partially hunched over, an arm folded across his stomach.
“Are you positive you want to go through with this?” the doctor persisted in the face of the patient’s obvious debilitating pain.
“Yes.” He made the short, one-word reply without looking up.
Resigned to accepting the decision, the doctor sighed his disapproval and glanced at the orderly. “Bring him a wheelchair.”
“I don’t need it.” Ridge struggled to his feet, using the chair and the wall for support, and reached inside the closet for his hat.
“It’s hospital rules, Mr. Halliday,” the doctor informed him. “It’s required by our insurance.”
There was no protest from Ridge as the orderly left the room to fetch the wheelchair. His departure was closely followed by the nurses, who obviously had other duties and patients. The doctor scribbled something on a paper attached to the clipboard chart he carried, tore it off, and walked over to give it to Sharon.
“The hospital pharmacy will fill the prescription for you,” he said. “He should eat nothing but soft foods the next couple of days and there should be
absolutely no strenuous activity at all. I would prefer that he doesn’t get out of bed, but failing that, he should be confined to the house.”
Like Ridge, the doctor was taking it for granted that she was going to look after him and wasn’t wasting his time giving Ridge any advice. Sharon accepted the prescription without comment.
“I know Mr. Halliday insists he doesn’t want anything for the pain,” the doctor continued. “But in this instance, it will be much less wearing on his system if he does take something. Rest is the best medicine for him, but it’s extremely difficult to rest when you’re in pain.”
“I understand,” Sharon nodded, then glanced up to see Ridge staggering out of the room, minus the assistance of a wheelchair.
“The man’s impossible,” the doctor muttered under his breath and went after him.
Silently echoing the sentiment, Sharon hurriedly gathered his dirty clothes from the closet and stuffed them into the open satchel on the bed. As she left the room, the orderly went by with the wheelchair. Ridge was halfway down the corridor, hugging the wall as he moved with obvious care.
When she caught up with the procession of patient, doctor, and orderly, the doctor’s insistence that Ridge sit in the wheelchair was falling on deaf ears. He kept putting one foot in front of the other as if he didn’t dare stop.
“Look, Doc—” Ridge stopped and leaned against the corner of an intersecting corridor “—I’m going to walk out of this hospital. Let this
guy follow me with the wheelchair and everybody pretend I’m sitting in it.”
The doctor looked at him for a long second, then swung away in disgust. “Follow him,” he told the orderly and walked off muttering to himself.
Half an hour had passed by the time Ridge signed for the hospital bill and collected his personal valuables. All the while Sharon stayed quietly in the background, slipping away once to have the prescription filled. Part of her admired the grit that was carrying him through the ordeal, while the rest of her was irritated by the sheer stupidity of his refusing all help.
When they left the office to head for the hospital exit, they found the orderly had momentarily stepped away, leaving the wheelchair unattended. Ridge was free to leave the hospital on his own. Ten feet from the door, he stopped and leaned heavily against the wall. There was a grayness to his face, weakness visibly clawing at him. His gaze flicked to Sharon.
“What are you hovering around for?” he muttered roughly.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen a real macho cowboy up close.” The corners of her mouth twitched with a smile. “You’re so big and brave. I thought it would be interesting to see how long you can keep it up.”
“Sharon.” Ridge spoke her name in a tone that tiredly appealed to her not to hassle him. He shut his eyes and let his shoulders slump. “Get the damned wheelchair.”
She went back for the wheelchair and held it steady while he gingerly lowered himself into it. There was a barely stifled moan that was bitten off, then he cradled his forehead in his hand as if he lacked the strength to hold his head up. Her fingers almost touched his shoulders in a sympathetic caress, but she curled them up tightly and pulled her hand back. Her gaze lingered on the corded muscles in his neck, testimony of his pain-wracked tension.
“Now where?” She made her voice sound falsely bright and watched him stiffen.
“Home,” he answered curtly.
“How do you plan to get there?” Sharon inquired innocently and tilted her head downward in smiling inquiry.
“Sharon, for God’s sake, will you take me home?” Ridge demanded impatiently.
“Oh? You want me to give you a ride home,” she said as if she had just discovered his intention.
“You know damned well I do,” he snapped.
At that point, Sharon had had her fill of his high-handed tactics. The full skirt of her dress swirled about her legs as she moved to the front of the wheelchair. Determination ruled her expression, making her gaze just as hard and unyielding as his.
“I’m not going to take you anywhere until we settle a few things,” she informed him. “First of all, you’re going to do exactly as the doctor ordered.”
“I’m not staying in this hospital.” An instant after the firm declaration was issued, an expression
flickered across his features that invisibly reached out to her with an irresistible poignancy. “I want to go home, Sharon,” he murmured, a touching ache in his voice that was nearly her undoing.
“And you’ll stay in bed for three days,” she added the second condition.
“Two days for sure,” Ridge grudgingly conceded.
“Three days,” Sharon insisted. “And I’ll be there to make sure you do. Do I have your word on it?” She saw his hesitation. “I’m warning you, Ridge. I’ll walk away right now and leave you sitting here in this wheelchair.”
An angry frown darkened his brow. “I’ll call somebody else to come pick me up.”
“And I’ll convince them that you should stay in the hospital for your own good,” she retorted, continuing to challenge him with the steadiness of her gaze. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the orderly approaching.
A brief spark of admiration glimmered in his eyes, although his mouth remained grimly drawn. “I’m in no shape to argue with you,” Ridge replied.