doctor frowned and shook his head slightly, raising six fingers.
“Fine, fine. We'll work out the details later.” Right now her patient needed rest, not arguments, Annie decided. She opened the door and jumped down. “Tomorrow I'll give you the grand tour, including the exercise area and whirlpool. I hope you like exercise, Mr. McKade.”
“Call me Sam.”
As if they were strangers.
“Sam it is.”
“And I like exercise just fine. Always have.” For a moment his eyes were troubled. “At least I think I do. My memory's a little whipped right now.”
“No problem.” Annie forced her voice to stay light as she guided the group inside. “You're right down this hall.” She pointed to a room dominated by a wall of windows framing the dark coast. Only a few lights rocked, far out at sea.
“The king-size bed is yours. You've got a remote control for lights, television, and curtains.”
“All the comforts of home.”
“That's the idea. This handset will page me, wherever I am.”
“Seems like a lot of bother for one man.” Sam sat up awkwardly on the gurney. “When do we start the therapy?”
“Tomorrow.”
Sam nodded, fighting to keep his eyes open. Only tension and pain were keeping him awake now, Annie realized.
Moving behind him, she beckoned to the doctor, holdingup thumb and two fingers as if for an injection. When he nodded, she placed her hands on Sam's face. “Why don't you close your eyes while we help you onto the bed? No sense getting dizzy.” As she spoke, she massaged his forehead, placing her hands along his face.
“Nice hands,” he murmured.
Annie could feel him fighting the tension, fighting sleep. Teaching him to relax would be one of her biggest challenges, since he would fight any hint of weakness.
“Let's get you into bed, shall we?”
His eyes didn't leave her face. “Best offer I've had in weeks.”
Annie helped him maneuver to the bed using crutches. After he was settled, she stood behind him and covered his eyes, massaging his face. Then she nodded at the doctor, who held a prepared syringe. “My hands are going to be important, Sam. Focus on them so you can learn to direct the healing process.”
“You've got my complete focus, ma'am.”
“Good. Stay with me.” Annie skimmed the muscles at his jaw, feeling his tension. “Still with me?”
“Oh, yeah.” His eyes were closed now.
Deception was rotten, but sometimes it couldn't be helped. Annie nodded at the medic. The syringe slanted down, touched Sam's arm, slid home.
He tried to sit up. “What the—”
Annie held him still. “Don't tell me a big tough guy like you is afraid of a teeny widdle needle?”
His lips curved in the hint of a smile. “Yeah, I'm shaking in my boots, Doc. Whatever you do, just don't stop doing that thing with your fingers.”
One hurdle crossed, Annie thought. The pain medication would soon help him sleep. “What I'm doing is cranio-sacral massage and counterpoint balancing, with a little acupressure thrown in for good luck.”
“Lost me there.” He sighed, turning his head toward her hands.
“No need to move. I'll do all the work.”
“This must be illegal. Probably breaks some AMA protocol. Or maybe that's FDA.” His words were beginning to slur.
“We're in California. The only thing that's illegal here is not recycling.”
“Never felt anything so good.” His mouth tightened suddenly. “I don't think I have. Can't remember. Tried damned hard, but I can't.”
“There's no rush,” Annie said soothingly. She moved down to massage his neck and shoulders. “Give it time.”
“Funny.” His eyes opened, narrowed against the pain. “Your voice. It almost seems … familiar.”
Annie kept her smile impersonal. “I bet you use that line on all the ladies, Mr. McKade.”
“Sam.” He shook his head, his face so pale that Annie hurt inside. “Wouldn't use a line, ma'am. Not with someone special like you,” he said gravely.
Emotions fluttered, but Annie
“Fine, fine. We'll work out the details later.” Right now her patient needed rest, not arguments, Annie decided. She opened the door and jumped down. “Tomorrow I'll give you the grand tour, including the exercise area and whirlpool. I hope you like exercise, Mr. McKade.”
“Call me Sam.”
As if they were strangers.
“Sam it is.”
“And I like exercise just fine. Always have.” For a moment his eyes were troubled. “At least I think I do. My memory's a little whipped right now.”
“No problem.” Annie forced her voice to stay light as she guided the group inside. “You're right down this hall.” She pointed to a room dominated by a wall of windows framing the dark coast. Only a few lights rocked, far out at sea.
“The king-size bed is yours. You've got a remote control for lights, television, and curtains.”
“All the comforts of home.”
“That's the idea. This handset will page me, wherever I am.”
“Seems like a lot of bother for one man.” Sam sat up awkwardly on the gurney. “When do we start the therapy?”
“Tomorrow.”
Sam nodded, fighting to keep his eyes open. Only tension and pain were keeping him awake now, Annie realized.
Moving behind him, she beckoned to the doctor, holdingup thumb and two fingers as if for an injection. When he nodded, she placed her hands on Sam's face. “Why don't you close your eyes while we help you onto the bed? No sense getting dizzy.” As she spoke, she massaged his forehead, placing her hands along his face.
“Nice hands,” he murmured.
Annie could feel him fighting the tension, fighting sleep. Teaching him to relax would be one of her biggest challenges, since he would fight any hint of weakness.
“Let's get you into bed, shall we?”
His eyes didn't leave her face. “Best offer I've had in weeks.”
Annie helped him maneuver to the bed using crutches. After he was settled, she stood behind him and covered his eyes, massaging his face. Then she nodded at the doctor, who held a prepared syringe. “My hands are going to be important, Sam. Focus on them so you can learn to direct the healing process.”
“You've got my complete focus, ma'am.”
“Good. Stay with me.” Annie skimmed the muscles at his jaw, feeling his tension. “Still with me?”
“Oh, yeah.” His eyes were closed now.
Deception was rotten, but sometimes it couldn't be helped. Annie nodded at the medic. The syringe slanted down, touched Sam's arm, slid home.
He tried to sit up. “What the—”
Annie held him still. “Don't tell me a big tough guy like you is afraid of a teeny widdle needle?”
His lips curved in the hint of a smile. “Yeah, I'm shaking in my boots, Doc. Whatever you do, just don't stop doing that thing with your fingers.”
One hurdle crossed, Annie thought. The pain medication would soon help him sleep. “What I'm doing is cranio-sacral massage and counterpoint balancing, with a little acupressure thrown in for good luck.”
“Lost me there.” He sighed, turning his head toward her hands.
“No need to move. I'll do all the work.”
“This must be illegal. Probably breaks some AMA protocol. Or maybe that's FDA.” His words were beginning to slur.
“We're in California. The only thing that's illegal here is not recycling.”
“Never felt anything so good.” His mouth tightened suddenly. “I don't think I have. Can't remember. Tried damned hard, but I can't.”
“There's no rush,” Annie said soothingly. She moved down to massage his neck and shoulders. “Give it time.”
“Funny.” His eyes opened, narrowed against the pain. “Your voice. It almost seems … familiar.”
Annie kept her smile impersonal. “I bet you use that line on all the ladies, Mr. McKade.”
“Sam.” He shook his head, his face so pale that Annie hurt inside. “Wouldn't use a line, ma'am. Not with someone special like you,” he said gravely.
Emotions fluttered, but Annie
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