Being Neighborly (6 page)

She’s waiting for me, all sated and luscious on her bed. I tackle her, grinning as she squeals. “I want to kiss every inch of you.”

She wraps her arms tightly around my neck. “Best house call ever.”

I pull back. “Shit. Forgot about your sink.”

She shrugs, pushing a curl out of her eyes. “It’ll still be there when you’re done kissing me.”

I pull her back into my arms.
“Fair enough.”

Chapter Five

The weeks that followed our first time together were full of laughter, good food, getting to know each other even better, and the hottest sex I’ve ever had. Every spare moment I’m not working on the farm, I’m over at Bethany’s. I can talk about anything with her and she with me. I finished that book she edited and am reading another one; only I’m not doing it alone this time. Now, as I read, I do it with her feet in my lap as she works.

Together
, we’ve also worked on and gotten frisky in just about every room of her house. She’s still just as messy as ever. There’s at least one unpacked box shoved in a corner of each room, but otherwise, her place looks great.

I’ve questioned a couple of her paint selections
, but after seeing those off the wall colors actually on the wall and surrounded by her things, I can’t help but like them. Each room has Bethany written all over them. There’s even some of me as well. The other day I mentioned how much I liked Ansel Adams pictures, just in passing. Next time I came over, there was one hanging up in her living room; it’s like she’s unconsciously fitting me into her future.

At the farm
, it’s assumed that I’m eating over at Bethany’s place unless I let them know she’s coming over to eat with us. She’s heading to Florida for a week in a couple days and it’s already messing with my head. Stupid what ifs that have zero basis is in reality plague me. What if she decides she wants to move to Florida? What if she tells her parents about me and they don’t think I’m good enough for her?

I’ve been short and snapping at everyone around me all week. I’m on my way to my parents
’ cabin, hoping the walk will clear my head and relax me. I try and stop by at least once a week to check on my folks. I haven’t told them anything is going on with me and Bethany yet. At this point, they just think we’re friends. I plan on telling them just how much I’ve grown to care for her today, and see if it’ll be all right for me to bring her by to meet them.

I’ve told her all about them. She’s too married to technology to ever go off the grid like they have
, but she still thinks the idea of it is romantic. It’s hard to think of my parents that way, as romantics.  It’s almost as weird as knowing they had to have sex at least once for me to be here. I’m maybe fifty yards from their front door when it happens.

Trying not to think about my parents sexual relations and not paying attention to where I’m walking is not wise in a wooded area.
I step right on to a cottonmouth snake and thoroughly piss him off enough for him to bite me.

“Damn it.”

They aren’t extremely venomous, but I’ll still need to go to the hospital. This isn’t the first snake bite we’ve had on the farm, so I know not to panic. Thankfully, my mom keeps a four-wheeler at the cabin in case of emergencies. This qualifies. I limp the rest of the way to their place.

Man
, my leg hurts. The bite is on my left calf. Halfway to the cabin, I stop and call the house line.

Luckily
, Bess answers.

“Bess
, I got bit by a cottonmouth. I’m maybe twenty yards from Mom and Dad’s cabin, but it’s killing me to walk. Can you come get me?”

“Be right there
,” is all I hear before she hangs up.

A half
-assed glance behind me is all I can manage before sinking to the ground. I drag the back of my hand across my forehead to find I’m soaked with sweat. Something isn’t right. I’ve seen reactions to a cottonmouth bite before and they weren’t this bad. This is my last clear thought before I pass out.

****

My eyes swim as I try and figure out where I am. It hurts, correction everything hurts, but my attempt to turn my head to look around hurts enough to make my head spin.

“Hey
, Beau.”

It takes a moment for my eyes to focus
on Bess. I’m still not sure where I am, but my nerves settle a bit at seeing a familiar face. That doesn’t stop my head from spinning. I’ve never been so dizzy lying down before.

“What?” My throat burns so badly I stop at that one word.

“Well, big guy. You gave us quite a scare. You had an allergic reaction to the snake bite and have been unconscious for the last two days.”

I start to shake my head
, but it makes the room spin.

“Is somebody awake?” An unfamiliar voice
precedes a woman in light blue scrubs entering the room.

“Beau, this is Lilly, one of your nurses
,” Bess explains.

She turns my hand over
, her fingers taking my pulse. “How are you feeling, Beau?”

“I’m dizzy
,” I rasp, keeping my eyes closed. “And thirsty,” I add.

“I’ll grab you some water in just a minute. That sound good?”

A slight nod of my head is all I can manage.

She takes my temperature and checks my blood pressure. I zone out, trying to remember what happened.

“Can you feel this, Beau?”

Huh?

“Can I feel what?” I ask, my eyes opening.

She’s standing next to my left leg, a grim expression on her face.

I lift my head to try and see what she’s doing. Even though my vision blurs and the exertion of lifting my head is exhausting, I need to see. She has my foot in her hand and is turning it from side to side.

I’m watching her move my foot
. I see it. My brain recognizes that I see it, but I can’t feel it. Time stands still as I tell myself to feel it, as if mind over matter could come into play.

“Well?”
she asks again.

I let my head fall back to the bed allowing the exhaustion to win. “I can’t feel it.”

There’s a gasp from the doorway and I turn my head, opening my eyes to see who it is. Bethany. Her eyes are wide, her hands covering her mouth. She clearly just heard I can’t feel my foot.

“Darling
,” I breathe and she rushes to my side.

Her hands are on my face, her lips on mine. “Oh
, my God, Beau. I was so scared.”

“Shh.” I want to put my arms around her to comfort her
, but I’m either too weak or medicated to.

My nurse interrupts us, letting me know she
is getting me some water. Bethany is so busy fussing over me; I barely notice when the nurse returns with my water. I open my eyes slightly, risking the dizziness to see Bethany. She’s holding my water, her hands shaking as she brings the bendy straw to my lips. Even here, no makeup, clearly sleep deprived Bethany is beautiful.

When I notice the redness around her eyes
, my chest tightens and my throat swells, making it hard to sip the water she’s offering me.

“What happened
?” I manage.

Bess walks around to other side of my bed, opposite to where Bethany is stan
ding and pulls a chair forward before taking my hand in hers. “You were unconscious when I got to you with the truck. Thank God, Bethany was with me when you called. If I’d have come by myself, I never would have been able to get you into the truck.”

A sniffle pulls may attention to Bethany and I watch her wipe fresh tears from her eyes. I try to lift my hand again
, but am only able to raise it a couple inches before it falls back onto the bed, useless.

“Don’t cry
,” I plead.

She shakes her head and attempt
s a brave smile. “I was so scared,” she croaks, her voice thick.

“I’m okay
,” I try to reassure her.

She leans over me, pressing her forehead to mine, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Frustration bleeds from my inability to take her pain away, pain I caused. She drops a kiss on my lips before pulling away to collect herself.

Bess clears her throat and I turn my head back toward her. “You had an allergic reaction to the venom and were in shock when we found you.”

“Allergic reaction?” I repeat.

“Yes,” a new voice confirms, entering the room.

“Hel
lo Beau. My name is Dr. Vanson.” An older gray-haired gentleman in a lab coat says.

I lift my chin in reply.

“Ladies. I need a couple moments with Mr. Hamilton.”

“They can stay
,” I breathe.

He goes right
to examine my foot, turning it from side to side before lifting it asking me what that nurse had asked. I confirm that I still can’t feel what he’s doing. Instead of stopping like the nurse has, I watch as his hands move up my leg. He stops every inch to ask if I can feel anything. He’s almost to my knee before I do.

As scary as the loss of sensation is below my knee
, it’s a relief to know it doesn’t go farther than that.

Bess asks the question on the forefront of my mind. “Is it permanent?”

“Allergic reactions can present themselves differently from one patient to the next. Partial paralysis is not unheard of, and unfortunately, only time will tell if it is temporary or not.”

He start
s to explain a condition called foot drop or drop foot. This is important; this is stuff I need to know about. Unfortunately, my body has other ideas, and exhaustion claims me.

The next time I wake
, the room is much darker, only dim lights above a sink in the corner are on. I’m less disoriented and dizzy this time around. Light breathing to my right draws my attention. Even in the dim room, I know it’s Bethany. She’s curled up on a recliner, a long sweater as a blanket, her shoulder a pillow. Not wanting to wake her, I watch her sleep.

Her being here, not leaving me is an unexpected relief in this otherwise scary moment. I’m not sure how long I’ve been watching her when a nurse, a different one from before
, comes in to check on me. Her movement wakes Bethany. She rubs her eyes, groggy in a way I’ve grown used to from our occasional overnights. It takes a moment for her to realize I’m awake.

When she does,
she takes my hand in both of hers and presses it to her cheek.  “Beau.”

“Hey
,” I rasp.

“Are you thirsty?”

I nod and she releases my hand to get me water. I only take a few sips before shaking my head to let her know I’m done. Then her hands grasp mine again.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep before.”

She squeezes my hand and kisses it. “You need your rest.”

“I feel weak
,” I grumble.

For a moment
, she looks as though she might cry. “Shh.”

“I do
,” I argue.

One of her hands comes up to push hair back from my forehead. “Just give it time. The
doctor said you’re going to be just fine.”

“What about my foot?”

“You might be unsteady but you should be able to walk, and since it’s your left foot, drive an automatic. He said something about needing to lift your leg higher when you walk since you won’t be able to lift your toes.”

I rub my thumb back and forth across the back of her hand. “How are you?”

She gulps, dropping her forehead onto our joined hands, her body shaking.

“
Get up here,” I plead.

She shakes her head.

“Dammit, Bethany. Get up here.” I just about beg.

She slowly climbs up onto my bed and tucks herself against
me. Sleep finds us both not long after. When the nurse comes back around to check on me again, Bethany doesn’t wake. The nurse takes pity on me and doesn’t make a fuss about her sleeping on the bed with me. After she leaves, sleep eludes me. Each time I wake, I’m not as weak. Relieved to be feeling like myself again, I just want to go home.

Bethany wakes first the next morning, her sleepy stretching against me waking me as well.
I’m sitting up comfortably the next time a nurse comes to check on me. The doctor visits me not long after. He’s pleased my strength seems to be returning and has me stand next to the bed. After he seems happy I won’t keel over, he okays the removal of my catheter. Thankfully, Bethany steps out of the room for that.

The mind is a curious thing
. No matter how many times my foot and leg have been poked and probed, I’m still surprised the first time I go to put weight on it that I can’t feel it. If Dr. Vanson hadn’t caught me, I would have fallen on my face. There’s just nothing there, no pins and needles, no soreness, nothing.