Authors: Brooklyn Wilde
In the months since the accident, everyone at the company had scrambled to cover for Ethan. They’d been out on back-to-back tours without even weekend breaks in between. All of them were exhausted, and Ethan didn’t know how he could ask them to do any more.
He was busy signing payroll checks and authorizing expenses when Tony Charles, his top guide, walked in and plopped down on a chair.
“Welcome back.” Tony whistled at the stacks of paperwork. “You home now?”
“The hospital cut me loose this morning. I came straight here. Haven’t even been by my place yet. How you been doing?” Ethan noticed the dark circles under Tony’s tired eyes, circles that hadn’t been there before.
“Oh you know me, I’m just coasting.”
Ethan ran both hands through his hair. “Listen, Tony, I’m so sorry about all of this. About all I’ve put you guys through. It’s a clusterfuck.”
“What are you sorry for? How many people get paid to go spelunking and scuba diving? Vacationing is my day job. Can’t complain.”
Tony’s endless gratitude eased the tension in Ethan’s shoulders. Tony hadn’t seen the inside of his house in nearly two months, and instead of getting pissed about it, he was thanking the man who’d made it happen.
“I don’t know what to do. I can’t keep asking you guys to cover for me, and I don’t think I’m going to be in any shape to lead a tour anytime soon.”
“Did they say how long you’re going to be stuck in that thing?” Tony nodded down toward the wheelchair.
“Hard to say. These things, nobody can tell.” Ethan couldn’t bring himself to say the thing that he hadn’t yet accepted, which was that he’d probably be in the wheelchair for the rest of his life.
Tony looked worried, but didn’t press for details. “I hope it’s a really long time. You always did Bogart the best tours for yourself. Now I get first dibs.”
Damn it felt good to be picked on, to be treated like the person he was…even if he wasn’t anymore. He would have liked to give Tony a hug, if he could have gotten up. He tried to distract himself by turning the conversation back to business. “I’ve got ads out. I’m trying to hire more people, but the response has been pretty thin.”
“Seriously? People aren’t banging down your door for a job?”
“You’d think so, but it’s not that simple. Even in a down economy, it’s hard to find people to do this kind of work. When it comes down to it, most folks don’t want to spend half their lives away from home. And when you find someone who does, more often than not, they aren’t physically capable of performing the job.” He gave a disgusted laugh. “How’s that for irony? I turn people away for not being able to swim or climb mountains, and look at me. I’m a goddamn cripple. I should just go ahead and sell. Find someone who can do the work.”
“No.” Tony’s demeanor had turned serious. “You shouldn’t. We can handle the extra workload until we find more people. You built this company up from nothing, and you aren’t bailing out now. Besides, what the hell else are you gonna do?”
* * *
Ethan was two and a half hours late for his doctor’s appointment the next morning.
“Do you know what time it is? You think I got all day to wait for you?” Dr. Sanchez didn’t even have the door shut before she started in on him. Her eyes locked onto the dark bruise on his cheek and the deep gash in his forehead. She instantly started prodding and checking the wounds. “
Ay dios mio
. What the hell happened to you? You get robbed?”
“Nothing. It was nothing. I…fell out of my chair.” Ethan cowered ever so slightly when he said the words. Dr. Sanchez was a small woman in her late 50s, but she had an absolutely commanding presence. She left no question as to who was in charge. In fact, she was downright intimidating. He thought they ought to let her run prisons; she’d get those convicts to act right in about twenty minutes.
“How did you fall?” She rifled through Ethan’s chart. “What’s the aid’s name? The one who was on shift when you fell? I’m calling Home Health to report this and give them a piece of my mind.”
He looked at the wall, the tiles, anywhere to avoid Dr. Sanchez’s eyes.
“What? Spit it out.” She tapped a foot expectantly.
“Yeah…about that. I didn’t actually hire an aid. I just signed the forms so they’d let me go home.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “And look what happened. You do this the first night you get out of the hospital? What did I tell you? Eh?” Dr. Sanchez gave Ethan a light smack right on the bruise, and he winced as much from surprise as the pain. “You can’t be by yourself. Somebody needs to be with you twenty-four hours a day.” She slapped her hands together, accenting each syllable. “All day, every day. I’m going to have to run a full workup now just to make sure you didn’t injure yourself any further.”
“I can’t. Don’t you get it? What it means if I have to hire some stranger to wipe my ass? I can’t handle being an invalid—a cripple who needs a nanny.”
Her tone softened. “Do you have someone who can stay with you? Family or friends? Anybody?”
“There’s no one.”
“What about your parents?”
“Died when I was little.”
“A girlfriend?”
“Never had time for one. The only relationship I’ve been able to maintain long-term is with my business.”
“Maybe a co-worker then?”
Dry laughter escaped Ethan’s throat. “They’re all tied up covering my ass.”
“Then you either need to hire live-in help or you’re going to have to move into a long-term care facility. It’s too dangerous for you to be on your own. I’m sorry.” Something seemed to occur to Dr. Sanchez, and she asked, “You do have someone to take you home today, right?”
“No, I called a car service.”
“
Qué tonto eres
. You’re going to need stitches. I’ll patch you up and give you something for the pain, but I can’t send you home alone.”
“There isn’t anyone. I’ll be fine.”
“Either you find someone who will sign for you, or I’m going to have to admit you for the night.”
After Dr. Sanchez left the room, Ethan pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through his contact list. No family, no close friends, no girlfriend. That’s what happens when you’re gone three weeks a month. He couldn’t ask any of the other guides, not after all he’d asked of them since the wreck. There was no one.
Ethan dropped the phone in his lap and cracked his knuckles in frustration. Just before the phone went dark, he noticed the entry for “Physical Therapist” in his contact list.
“Shit.” He’d forgotten to call and let Sarah know he wouldn’t be able to make it. He snatched the phone back up and hit dial.
“Northeast Orthopedics. This is Sarah.”
“Sarah, it’s Ethan. I’m sorry for missing my appointment today.”
“Scared you away, huh?”
“No, nothing like that. I…” He considered lying, but figured she’d find out soon enough when she saw the new x-rays. “I took a spill. Fell out of my chair. Doc’s doing a workup.”
“You all right?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m just frustrated with myself and pissed off that I have to spend another night in the hospital.”
“They’re admitting you? I thought you said you were fine?”
“I am. I just need stitches, and the doc won’t let me go home alone all drugged up.” The image of Sarah’s piece-of-shit Honda flashed in Ethan’s mind, and a radical idea formed in his brain. “Listen, how would you like to make some extra cash? I need an overnight caretaker. It’ll be the easiest money you ever made, because I don’t actually need an overnight caretaker. I just have to have someone vouch to the doc that they’ll stay with me.”
“I, uh, I’m not sure. I’m not a nurse. That’s not really what I do.”
“I don’t need a nurse. Just a warm body.”
“Isn’t there someone you can call? A family member? Someone you’ve met more than once in your entire life?”
He took a deep breath. She was right; he sounded crazy. Asking her had been a mistake, but he’d gone too far to back out now. “They’re…you know, they’re busy. All of them.”
“Listen, I’m sorry. I really can’t help you.”
“Whatever you make an hour, I’ll double it. I can’t spend another night in a goddamn hospital.”
She hesitated. “Let me make some calls. I’ll get back to you.”
The phone went dead. In the minutes that passed, Ethan wondered what the hell he’d been thinking, begging some random stranger to spend the night with him. Then he took a deep breath, sucking down a big gulp of stale, disinfected air, and he knew exactly what he was thinking. He’d beg Jeffrey Dahmer to stay with him if it meant not spending another night in the hospital. His fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm on the arm of his wheelchair, and his stomach tensed. Was that butterflies? Finally, the phone rang again.
“Sarah? Can you come?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there. I just have to finish locking up and take care of a couple of things. Give me an hour.”
“That’s great. And Sarah?”
“What?”
“Thank you for this.”
Chapter Three
Sarah maneuvered her old Honda into the parking lot. The car came to a stop with a rattle and gave out a sad little sputter when she turned off the ignition. She shook her head and walked inside. After a brief chat with Dr. Sanchez, she was given the green light to take Ethan home. She stopped cold when she found him in the waiting room with his head in his hands.
“Geesh, you’d think Nurse Ratched was coming for you. I’m not that bad.” She noticed the gash on his forehead. “Ouch. Nice one.”
“Thank you for coming.” The words sounded genuine, if grudgingly offered.
Ethan looked up at her, and Sarah was struck by how different he looked. Humbled or humiliated, maybe. Vulnerable. She felt the urge to touch him, comfort him, hold his hand, but she pushed it down. That would be unprofessional, and she really wasn’t sure whether he’d appreciate the gesture or bite her head off. Instead, she wordlessly made her way around his chair and rolled him out to the car. She even forced herself to let it go when he refused her help into her tiny hatchback. After folding the chair and piling it in back, Sarah did her customary pre-start ritual: pumped the gas three times and tapped the wheel. The car fired up on the third try.
“You really drive this heap?”
“Aww, the old bird’s got life left in her yet.”
They rode the entire way in silence, punctuated only by Ethan’s terse directions: “left at the light” or “right at the stop sign.” The shabby car got more than a few curious glances when it pulled into his gated community.
“You actually live in here?” Sarah asked incredulously, leaning forward in her seat to take it all in. Palatial homes sat back off the road on manicured lawns. Most of the vehicles they passed were brand-new luxury imports.
“Sort of. My parents bought the place years ago, when there wasn’t much around. The McMansions sprung up around it over the years.”
There was a note of bitterness in his voice. When he finally directed her to turn into a long driveway, she understood why. The house was lovely, but extremely understated. It sat on at least five wood-covered acres, and as they made their way up the drive, the size of the house slowly became apparent. You’d never have a clue just how big it was from the road, and that was the point.
“Pretty place.”
“Thanks.” Ethan seemed to realize he was being curt and continued, “My father designed it and had it built for my mother. He was an architect.”
“His Taj Mahal.” Sarah noticed a strange look on Ethan’s face, but let it go when he said nothing more.
She parked the car near the door and brought the wheelchair up to the passenger side. She hit the chair’s parking brake and leaned in to lift Ethan out of the car. He bristled at her touch.
“You’re paying for my assistance, remember? Let me assist you.”
His muscles relaxed, and he allowed her to slip her arms around him. His face was nuzzled into the nook of her neck, and she felt him inhale deeply. She could tell he’d expected her to struggle under his weight, but she lifted him with ease, shifting his weight from right to left before depositing him in the wheelchair.
“Don’t look so surprised.” She tucked a loose hair back up into her ponytail. “Physical therapy is very physical.”
She struggled getting him up the stairs and wondered why a ramp hadn’t been installed yet. Inside, the home was immaculate. Each room was decorated simply and elegantly, and there wasn’t a hint of clutter. Ethan directed Sarah to the back of the house. There, she found a family room with a huge sectional sofa and a big-screen television.
“Ahh, the man room. Looks like you.” She glanced down at her wristwatch. “I’m starving. Got anything to eat?” She was up and rummaging around the kitchen before he could say a word. The cabinets were pretty bare. She yanked open the refrigerator door with that distinctive
suck-whoosh
sound, and found it just as empty. “Bachelorhood at its finest. Cheap salsa and a very expensive bottle of Scotch. Where are your take-out menus?”
“There aren’t any.”
Sarah was already looking up pizzerias on her smart phone. “No problem. What kind of pie you like?”
“Whatever you want. I never eat pizza.”
“You lactose intolerant or something?”
“No, when I’m home I usually pick up something from Whole Foods or the vegetarian place down the road.”
“Health nut?”
“Guilty.” Ethan glanced down at his legs. “Although I don’t know that it matters now. Order a supreme with everything.”
“That’s the spirit.” Sarah ignored the sarcasm. “I’m going to run and grab my bag while we wait. You okay in here?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry I’m so…useless.”
“Then make a choice to be useful. There’s nothing stopping you.”
She turned on her heels and headed for the door, taking in the details of the house that she’d missed when she was concentrating on not banging Ethan’s chair on the walls or doorjambs. Such a big place for just one person. Beautiful. She wondered what it would feel like to have a man love her enough to build something like this for her. They don’t make men like that anymore.
When Sarah returned, he directed her down the hall to a guest room before giving a hard push and rolling off in the direction of his own bedroom. She listened as the whisper of his wheels faded into the distance before turning to unpack her toiletries.