Cocoon (16 page)

They walked.

She, Zoe, could not hold a man's love.

Nope. She'd not set herself up for that particular heartbreak.

Never again.

“Let's go, Peyton,” she said, standing and gathering her purse and coat. This time, she snatched the check from the table before Scott had the chance to sabotage it.

• • •

Seana dressed in a turquoise velour jumpsuit, one of her new outfits, for Ashley's party thrown at the dance studio. Of course, it was more intimate, with only family and a few close friends attending. It was loose enough that she felt comfortable. She finished her makeup and touched up her hair, newly done by Joanie just that morning.

“I'll have the prettiest girl there,” Barth pronounced as he drove them there.

“You're not so bad, yourself,” she said, looking at passing wintry Paradise Springs's landscapes.

Barth chuckled. “Say that again.”

She swiveled her neck and looked at him. “Why?”

“Because it's been so long since I've heard you say that kind of thing.”

Seana sighed and looked again at the evolving scenery, and beyond at the blue mountain range. It was cold up here in the foothills today. Mornings displayed frost-crusted grass and leaves. “I know it's been bad.”

“Ahh, honey.” Barth immediately backtracked. “No, no. I didn't mean it that way. Please don't take it as criticism. Please?” He peered at her, obviously upset with himself and needing forgiveness.

“I'm not angry,” she said. “It's okay. I know it's been tough.”

Barth reached to take her hand, thankful she didn't snatch it away. “No tougher than for you, darling. Let's not look back, huh?”

She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “Okay.”

She was amazed to see tears shimmer behind his glasses. “It's like a dream, Seana,” he murmured huskily. “A beautiful, impossible dream.”

Seana unexpectedly pressed a kiss into his palm. “Not impossible. I'm here.”

• • •

The party was lovely and fun and magical. Especially for Zoe. Because she had her mother back. But something still hung heavily and darkly above her head. Low enough to smother her at times. Perhaps it was because her mother's case had seemed so hopeless for so long. And Barth had shared with her the doctor's dismal prognosis.

Zoe struggled to keep her expectations realistic. She had to.

But this smothery feeling went beyond her mother's precarious situation.

Perhaps it was because Scott Burns showed up tonight with a gaily wrapped gift for the birthday girl. Peyton rushed to Zoe and quietly confessed to having invited Scott.

“Mom, he's my friend. We hang out together a lot and he genuinely loves our entire family. I hope you don't mind.” His appeal was so heart tugging that she found herself smiling and hugging him. What a great guy, her son. She didn't dare try to turn him into a male clone of his odious mom.

The world could handle only one of her, thank you very much.

“Of course not, Peyton. I'm fine with it,” she lied.

Then she'd busied herself to tune out the butterflies that flapped away inside her every time Scott ventured near. As if reading her mind, he'd seemed to steer clear of her so far.

“Hey, Aunt Zoe,” Ashley called from her place of honor at the head of a special table set up for her and her chosen ones. Nana, of course, got to sit next to her and was catered to for the entire event. “How about putting on that KC and The Sunshine Band number for a line dance?”

“No,” Peyton called, headed for the stereo. “‘Boot Scootin' Boogie's' better!”

Ashley slapped hands on hips, stuck out her chin, and boldly enunciated, “Hey, Peyton! It's
my birthday
and I get to do what I want. Right?” Peyton grinned and winked at her, revealing he'd just been yanking her chain. “Yeh, Ashley. It's your party.” He slid the CD into the system and, from the sideline, Zoe laughed at the cousins's little mind games.

“Let's all join in, okay?” Ashley summoned as she arose from her chair.

“Not me.” Seana held up a hand.

“That's okay, Nana; you're excused.” Ashley swooped down, gave her an exuberant kiss on her cheek and rushed to join the entire party on the dance floor as
That's The Way (I Like It
) blasted from the speakers.

Pride gushed through Zoe as she surveyed the entire family along with Chelsea, Joanie, and Scott moving smoothly and efficiently through the catchy choreography.

Choreography and dance steps she'd taught them.

Zoe easily and bonelessly navigated heel tap, cross and tap, heel tap, one-fourth pivot with slap heel, tap and repeat. Just then she felt the warm rush of air from Scott's movements beside her. They stirred that blasted thing inside her that reacted to those insane vibes that he gave off.

Whew.
Powerful they were. One-fourth pivot with slap heel … she now faced his back. His broad shoulders tapered down into narrow hips, long legs and … one-fourth pivot with slap heel.
Good.
He was no longer in her line of vision.

Tap and turn, clap … Zoe didn't know how it happened but it was during the one-fourth pivot that her ankle turned. The mishap catapulted her to the hard floor. It could have been cement, so hard was its impact against her hip. It was there that the pain centered.

The festivities instantly turned to somber concern as she writhed in agony. The music continued as Peyton's white face loomed above her.

“You okay, Mom?” he croaked. She saw Scott's arm slide around his shoulder as he lowered himself to peer into her eyes, his strong features frozen with concern.

She tried to say words to reassure her son but her head, hip, and back screamed with pain like she'd never before experienced. Her words jelled as her teeth clattered and her entire body spasmed with chills. Cold sweat beaded on her face as she moaned incoherent sounds. Dimly, she heard someone calling 911.

Pain … Someone said, “She's gone into shock.”

Then all the world turned black.

• • •

Barth took Seana home, downplaying the accident. “Scott and Peyton have it all under control,” he told her as he watched her dress for bed. She'd taken her meds as soon as they got home, not too far off schedule. For the time being, Seana had relaxed somewhat from her clock vigilance.

“Do you think she'll be okay?” Seana asked, her features tired, emptied.

“I do, honey,” he said reassuringly. “Scott promised to call as soon as they knew anything. He's called in a doctor who works with the football team at Paradise Springs High. He says he's the best. So, don't worry, sweetheart.”

Seana nodded and hung her discarded clothes in the closet. “Thanks,” she murmured.

“For what?” He slid out of his own clothes and climbed into bed. He opted not to wear pajamas. Too warm-blooded. Seana once told him that he was a natural heater, with all the warmth he gave off during sleep. She'd enjoyed snuggling up to him on cold nights, she said.

He smiled tonight as she slid in beside him, dressed in her usual flannel pajamas and a pair of thick socks to keep her feet warm. She sighed and curled up with her back to him. He spooned against her and had just begun to doze when his cell phone's latest tune, “Moonlight Sonata,” startled him awake. He grappled in the dark for it, not wanting to disturb Seana from her deep sleep.

“Yes?”

“Scott here. Doctor Quinn just got through examining Zoe. He found an egg-sized knot on her cranium where she hit her head in the fall. She's also strained her hip flexus muscle, which is a pretty painful injury. So both – the head lick and the hip injury contributed to her blacking out. But thank God, she's stabilized now and moving slowly if painfully.”

“Are they going to admit her?”

“No. Doc says she's able to go home, and he's prescribed an amazing kit we use for football injuries that put the guys back on their feet in record time. I know how Zoe needs to be mobile for her line of work, so since I'm familiar with the process, I told Peyton I'd bunk down there with him at their place and see to helping her heal.”

“That's mighty generous of you, Scott.”

“Glad to help. You get some sleep now, Barth. Everything's under control. Tell Seana Zoe'll be good as new soon. G'night, man.”

“G'night, Scott.” Barth quietly rang off and returned the phone to the bedside table.

Seana breathed deeply beside him, the evenness revealing her sound state of slumber. He said a prayer of thanks that Zoe was okay. He didn't have to alarm Seana.

Thank God. Somehow, he knew. She was still fragile.

Barth curled up to her back and soon slept.

• • •

“But I don't need help,” Zoe protested. “Go home. Peyton can take care of me. He's a smart kid and can –”

“Mom.” Peyton held out his hands in entreaty. “I don't know the first thing about the therapy and stuff Scott does. He's trained to do it, doncha know?”

“That's right. I was going to be a physical therapist before I decided to coach, so no arguing.”

Zoe, woozy from meds given at the hospital, peered blearily at him from her bed, where he and Peyton had gently placed her after she'd managed to pull off her clothes and pull on a comfortable gown. She'd had to force Scott from the room to do that after he'd insisted that she needed help. So to save face for lying, she'd even refused Peyton's help.

The effort had drawn more cold sweat and nausea, but she'd managed to drag the gown over her head and shoulders. Then gritting her teeth, she'd slid it down to her waist and tucked it down underneath the covers without moving her hips too teeth jarringly much.

And she wondered again how she'd managed to screw things up so tonight? She'd been doing okay, if not superbly, what with the money woes that seemed to pop up daily. The empty apartment of her duplex posed a serious matter of budget deficit. Plus the drop off of dance enrollments.

Now, this.

“Mom?” Peyton tapped on her door. “Okay to come in?”

“All clear,” she croaked.

Peyton's face poked through the doorway, then Scott's, both settling into relief when they saw her surviving the harrowing bedtime preparation efforts.

“You okay?” Peyton pulled up a chair and took her hand, his elbows resting next to her.

She looked at him and smiled groggily. “I'm fine, son.”

“I can sleep on the sofa outside your door,” he offered.

“You don't have to do that. I've got enough painkiller in me to knock out a football team.” Her words slurred. “You get some rest.”

“Scott's gonna bunk with me, so –”

She was shaking her head back and forth. “There's no need for Scott to stay. I don't –”

“Listen.” Scott lowered gently onto her bedside, leaning over her, eye to eye. “I'm going to stay. It's perfectly respectable, Zoe. Tonight, I'm sleeping on the den sofa because it's closest to your room. That way, I can hear you if you need help and Peyton can get some rest. Peyton will sleep in his room because he knows I'm here for you. I'm qualified to take care of your injuries.”

“But –”

“No buts, Zoe. This is what's best for you.” He stood, reached to flick off her bedside lamp, and strode to the door. He turned just before he closed it behind him. “Get some rest.” His deep voice resonated masculine strength.

The thought stuck in her brain for a moment, then floated off.

“I'll check on you during the night to make sure you're okay, but you won't even know it. So relax.”

The door gently clicked shut behind him.

Zoe peered at it, trying to work up some umbrage. The door blurred as she tried again to be angry. Then she forgot what was she was supposed to be mad about.

She sighed and surrendered to the soothing, lulling white waves that pulled, pulled … tugged at her. Slowly, like candles in the night flickering out, everything subsided, ceased to exist … as the last wave pulled her under.

• • •

“But – where's Peyton? He can help me to the bathroom,” Zoe staunchly insisted the next morning as Scott patiently tried to assist her to her feet.

“He's gone to the church to go over Sunday's music with Barth. Remember?” Scott bent again to lift Zoe's arm over his and proceed to ever so gently tug her to her feet.

On the way up, however, sharp pain shot and ricocheted through her upper hip, lower back, thigh front, and in the groin where it joins the pelvis.

“Uhnnn,” she groaned and sipped air fiercely through clenched teeth and tight lips.

“Okay?” Scott asked.

Blinking back dizziness, Zoe nodded.

Scott took most of her weight as they made their way to her bathroom, a mere ten feet away, but to Zoe, at that precise moment, it seemed ten miles of littered boulders. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She felt its cold clamminess as Scott eased her down into a small chair at the dressing table.

The elegant bathroom was one of her treasured luxuries in this hundred-plus-year-old historical dwelling. Her father had refurbished and modernized it when he'd decided to bequeath it to her long before his death.

Scott hovered, peering anxiously into her face, which was deathly pale. She knew because she'd glimpsed it in the mirror when they'd entered, before Scott carefully turned her into the softly padded chair. This little nook had once served as a place for conversation and such during her marriage.

Long ago and far away. She sighed weakly.

“Zoe,” Scott softly ventured, “I can help –”

“Oh no you don't!” Zoe shook her head and grimaced when it began to spin. “No, Scott. I'm not so addled that I can't take care of this. Now go away like a nice boy.”

Scott hesitated, peering into her face.

“Shoo,” she managed to hiss warningly.