Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Sela

Sunday dinner is some kind of mystery meat―I think it's supposed to be meatloaf―and mashed potatoes. All of the food is made for people without teeth. The bad part is that if you came in with teeth, by the time they get finished with you, you won't have any. No wonder everything they cook is soft. They're getting us ready for the inevitable.

Thank god for weekends. There's no physical therapist, so I don't have to mess with the ever-cheerful Kimberly. Sometimes I'd like to punch her lights out. Somebody's managed to find Wheel of Fortune on the TV in the game room, and there are like twenty people in wheelchairs in there, watching. It would be nice to watch, but I can't stand all the fucking togetherness, so I'm going back to my room.

Once I get there, I go to the bathroom, then climb back up on the bed. Four walls, off-white. Not a picture, not a poster, nothing. The curtains are drab beige. The ceiling is those stupid tiles with the holes poked in them, and they've got water stains on them everywhere. We won't even talk about the bathroom. It's beyond pitiful. I actually take my showers down the hall in the big communal bathroom where they shower the people in wheelchairs. Sure, I'm terrified of foot funk, but it's better than the shower in my room.

I've managed to drift off a bit, listening to some music on my iPad with my headphones, when I hear a sound and open my eyes. Someone's in my room, and when I finally manage to focus, I smile. "Hey!"

"Hi. I knocked, but you must not-a been able to hear me. You listenin' to some tunes?" Tinsley asks.

"Yeah, yeah. There's not much else to do around here, ya know. What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to come see ya. The last time I seen ya, I was big as a house! Now I'm back to my little skinny self," she says and twirls.

"You look good! How's that baby?"

"Oh, he's amazin'. But I needed a few minutes away, and Bulldog said, ‘Why don't you go check on Sela? You ain't seen her in a while.' So here I am! You doin' okay?"

"Eh. Good days and bad days."

"Yeah. I know all about bad days." She stops, and I get the feeling something's wrong and she's afraid to tell me. "Bad days all over the damn place."

Something in her tone sets off an alarm in my chest. "Tinsley, is something wrong?"

"I don't know how to tell ya this… Bear's in the hospital."

I feel a twisting sensation in my gut. "What? He's in the hospital? Is he sick?"

"No. He was comin' back from here Tuesday night and had a wreck. Guy was tryin' to pass another car comin' towards him and almost hit him head on. He took the ditch and flipped Patch's truck. Destroyed the truck. He's been…" A tear rolls down Tinsley's cheek. "He's been in a coma ever since."

"Oh my god." It's hard to breathe all of a sudden, and the room is getting spotty. "Oh my god, Tinsley. Oh my god. Coma? He's… He hasn't woken up?"

She shakes her head and wipes her eyes with the backs of her hands, smearing her mascara in the process. "No. They're watchin' him real close. We don't know if he's gonna be okay or not."

I am a bitch. The absolute worst bitch.

The idea that I may never see him again makes everything clear to me. What the fuck is wrong with me? To have gone through all he has, he's about the purest soul I've ever known, and I've treated him horribly. He came around when he knew I was going to eat him alive, and he did it anyway because he didn't want me to be alone. And now he's lying in a hospital room somewhere, between life and death, and I'm lying here feeling sorry for myself. Without another thought I blurt out, "I have to see him. Can you take me? Please? I have to."

"Honey, I don't think I can. I don't have time. I told Bulldog I'd run over here to see ya and then come back home. Hey, come to the farm with me. Somebody from out there can take ya to the hospital. I'll have to go nurse Patrick, but we can find ya a ride. Okay? Ya got some clothes?"

"Not much of anything. Mostly pajamas."

"Come on. You can wear somethin'-a mine if'n we can find somethin' that we don't have to worry about length, since you're way taller than me. Ya know, like a dress or somethin'." I haven't worn a dress in probably twenty-five years. "Ya wanna?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. You'll have to check me out at the desk."

"Consider it done. Let's go. Get yore slippers on and we'll head out."

The nurse working the desk starts to give Tinsley some trouble, but the little spitfire says, "Wanda, I 'member when ya didn't have a pot to piss in ner a winder to throw it outta. Ya gonna give me trouble 'bout takin' a friend to the hospital to see another friend? That's kinda low, ya know? Just gimme the damn sheet." A minute later, the sheet is filled out, Wanda is still scowling, and we're hurrying out the door.

She throws the cottage door open and the baby is squalling. "Where the hell you been?" Bulldog snarls.

"Talkin' this crazy woman into comin' back with me. Go raid my closet, honey. Find somethin' to wear. I'm sorry, baby. Let me have him. He's prolly hungry."

"Yeah, he kept trying to suck the buttons on my shirt. Not very productive."

"Nope. Not like Mama's knockers. Come here, little man. Got yore dinner right here." I can hear slurping and smacking, and then I wonder if the baby gets anything or if Bulldog gets it all. That thought makes me chuckle under my breath, especially since I hear Bulldog walk out the front door.

There's a dress hanging there, kind of like a long tee shirt, and that looks promising. "You got any leggings?"

"Yeah. Second dresser drawer on the left. Help yoreself."

I open it to find about two dozen pairs of leggings. Then I remember that she wears them to work just about every day. The dress is an odd green color, so I pick out a pair of black ones and pull them on. They only come about halfway down my calf, but that's okay. There's no way she has shoes to fit me. Her foot is tiny, and I wear a nine. Maybe whoever takes me to the hospital can run me by the discount store and I can get a pair of flats.

"Do I look okay?" I ask as I step out of the bedroom into the living area. The baby is sucking like a maniac, and he's so adorable with his little fists clenched.

"Ya look fine. Somebody'll have a jacket you can wear. It's a lil' nippy out."

"Yeah. Fall's coming on like gangbusters," I answer.

"Ya want some jewelry? God knows I got plenty."

I shake my head. "Nah. That's okay."

"Suit yaself."

"Where'd Bulldog go?"

Tinsley makes a face. "Okay, I'm just gonna lay it all out here. Most-a the guys ain't real fond of ya."

No surprise there. "Why? Because I'm a strong woman who won't take their shit?"

"No. Because you're a strong woman who's pushed Bear back and forth like a bossy lumberjack with a two-man crosscut. They ain't happy 'bout it."

At least she's honest with me. I'd rather have that than somebody who tells me they just don't like the way I chew my food or something. "Thanks for laying that out."

"Yore welcome. Honesty is the best policy."

Now I don't know what to do. Do I go over to the kitchen and see if anybody can take me? Wait for Tinsley to finish with the baby? There's a knock at the door. "Mind gettin' that? Kinda busy here," she says.

The door opens and I find Patch standing there. "Sure wasn't expecting to see you," he says.

"Oh. No hi or how ya doin'?"

"Hi. How ya doin? There. That's outta the way. And you're doing what here?"

"Trying to find a ride to the hospital."

"Why? You hurt?" I give him my best "fuck you" look. "I think that was a fair question, considering."

"Yeah, okay. Fine. I get it. Can somebody take me or not? Because I can call an Uber… No. I can't call an Uber. This is bumfucking Egypt for all intents and purposes. So can I get a ride? I'm not going to beg, so―"

"Oh, I was so looking forward to that," he says with a smirk.

"Nope. Not happenin'. Taking me or not?"

"I know he would want me to, so yes. I'm taking you." Without another word, he turns and starts away.

"Guess I'm going. Thanks, Tinsley."

"Yore welcome, hon. I ain't been able to go to the hospital like I'd like, so please give him a kiss on the cheek for me."

"Yeah, okay. Bye."

Now I have to catch up with Patch, and he's walking pretty fast. Probably intentional. No, he doesn't look back to see where I am, so I know it's intentional. When I do catch up, I'm huffing and puffing. "Good to see you're on your feet, but it sounds like you should've done a little more PT to get some physical conditioning."

"I'm still in better shape than you," I counter, my breathing even more labored.

"You do not want to get into that pissing contest. Audrey said she's got a jacket in there that you can wear. It's hanging behind the door. Grab it and let's go."

I jet inside, grab the jacket, and slip it on as I close the door behind me. Patch is still standing there. "You look like you dressed out of a Goodwill donation bag." Unfortunately, I pick that moment to look down at my feet, and he does too. "Those the only shoes you have?"

"Unless you've still got some of my things over in the lodge."

He stops, cocks his head a little, and squints. "You know, we might have. I don't know if they cleaned everything out or not. You can look when you get back. Right now, we need to get going. Taking you to the hospital was not on my to-do list for today, so we're burning daylight." Well, tell me I'm inconveniencing you without telling me I'm inconveniencing you, why don'tcha?

As soon as I slip into the passenger seat of the big SUV, Patch turns to me. "Let's get something straight right now while it's just you and me. You hurt him and I will personally beat the holy hell out of you, and I've never hit a woman in my life, but I can promise you that."

"I can't hurt him. He's unconscious."

"They say patients can often hear what's going on around them. If he can, you'd better be decent or I swear to god, I'll drag you out of that hospital room and body slam you up against a brick wall so fast your head will explode. I'm not kidding."

"Aye-aye, captain," I say and give him a two-fingered salute.

"Don't be a smart-ass."

"I'm not! Shit. Guess I can't say anything right around any of you."

"Most likely not." He's already backed out and pulling out of the drive onto the road.

As we drive along, I remember something. "Hey, isn't there a DollarGentral up here somewhere?" I ask, mimicking Tinsley's name for it.

"Yeah."

"I could get some shoes there."

"They don't have much to choose from."

I take off one of my slippers and hold it up. "Anything they've got is better than this."

His nose wrinkles upward. "Put that damn thing back on. At least when it's on your foot I can't smell it."

A sniff tells me it doesn't smell. "Yeah, whatever." That earns me an eye roll. "So, what's going on at the farm these days?"

"Bear's been coming to see you every evening, but you… Oh, yeah. You told him you didn't give a shit what's going on out there, so you have no idea. I'm right, right? Am I right?"

"Yes! Okay! You're right! Now, are you going to answer my question or not?"

"Fine. So Priest is with Aggie―"

"What's an aggie?"

"Not what. Who. She's a teacher over at the middle school. Nice lady. You'd try to rip her to shreds and she'd put your ass in place in about two seconds. Got herself shot too and still kickin'."

"Nice."

"And Reboot found out he has a kid who's now at the farm with us."

Well, there's a shocker. "Mr.Congeniality had a kid he didn't know about?"

"Yeah, a twelve-year-old boy."

"Holy shit! Well, hello, Daddy."

"Exactly. Lisa showed up a few weeks ago and dumped Tegan and Borden on Paddy, so he and Natalie have them now."

"What happened there?"

"Seems she'd been pressuring him about seeing the boys all these years so he'd take them when he got out. No one knew she and Luke had been having problems all along, and she just took off."

"Nat's gotta be losing her shit over that."

He shakes his head. "Nope. She's a natural. And she loves those kids."

"Wow. Lots of kids showing up. Hey, did they ever get that ratty-ass boat running?"

"It's beautiful, and yeah. Took it out for a maiden voyage a few weeks ago. Reboot's in heaven with that thing. Oh, and he and Mavis got married."

"Yeah? That's cool."

"Yeah, and Bulldog gave Tinsley a ring." Knowing that makes me hurt somehow. I just spent at least an hour with her and she never mentioned it or showed it to me. That's the moment when I realize something important.

Everybody at the farm hates me. I get that now. I was damn near killed trying to protect Natalie, but that doesn't count. "That doesn't count," I mutter under my breath.

"What?" Patch asks.

"What?"

"Did you say something?"

Fuck. "Uh, I don't think so."

"It sounded like you said, ‘That doesn't count.' Is that what you said?"

Frustration. That's what I've been feeling the most of for the past three months, and now it's really hitting me. "Yes! That's what I said! I damn near died trying to protect Natalie, but that doesn't count for anything. Everybody at that farm hates me anyway."

"We don't hate you. Nobody hates you, Sela. We just hate the way you act, especially toward Bear. Look, we keep our mouths shut around him because we know he doesn't want to explain and doesn't want to admit he feels anything for you, because it's humiliating to him that he could care about somebody who treats him so badly. He's been afraid that if he told us how he feels about you, we'd all make fun and ask him why he cares anything about a raving bitch who's obviously using him."

"Using him? What about me? Don't you think he was using me?" I snap.

Patch's face is a blank slate when he answers, "No, Sela. I do not."

God damn it! Are they all trying to make me feel like shit? Because everything every one of them says to me does that very thing. I see the giant yellow and black sign up the highway. "Please, just let me go in there and get some shoes."

"Sure." He whips into the parking lot and throws the SUV out of gear. "Here. You'll need this. PIN is four three four five," he says and hands me his debit card. Good thinking. I have no money.

I run in to look around, and I find these canvas shoes that are knockoffs of Converse All Stars, so I grab a pair in my size, run to the register, and pay. Once I get in the truck, I hand back his card and start putting them on. They're not really comfortable, but at least they're clean and new. I've gotten them tied and I'm taking a good look at them when Patch says, "You're welcome."

"Oh. Sorry. Thank you."

We ride the rest of the way in silence. Talking to anyone exhausts me, especially since virtually everything I have to say has to be an attempt to defend myself in some way. The only person I routinely talk to is Bear, and we don't really talk, just sling barbs at each other or kinda grunt. When we pull into the hospital parking lot, I rest my hand on the door handle. "I won't be long."

Patch is already getting out. "Oh, no. You're not going into his room by yourself. I'm not having that."

"What? What's your point?"

"My point is that I don't want you saying anything to him that would upset him if he can hear you."

"What the hell do you think I might say to him?"

The veins on his neck are pulsing and I can see that he's losing patience with me. "Sela, we never know what's going to come out of your mouth, but we can usually bet on it being demeaning, degrading, negative, or hateful. I'm not having you talk to him like that. Nope."

That's a bit shocking. "You don't think I'd really do that."

"Honestly, I wouldn't put anything past you." He's out and slamming the truck door, so I open mine and slide out. Wow. Their opinion of me really is awful. If I'm honest with myself, I deserve it, but I'd rather lie to myself and tell myself that they're completely unjustified in their opinion.

The hospital is quiet for a Sunday afternoon, and we walk on past the main desk and to the elevator. This is a tiny hospital without a lot of amenities, but I guess if you're lying there in a coma, you're not using much in the way of resources. It has four floors, and apparently he's on the second, so it's a short ride up. When we step off, I follow Patch as he heads to the left, and we make our way down the quiet corridors, Patch occasionally nodding to a nurse or orderly as we pass.

He stops outside a door and says, "Mind yourself, Sela. I don't want to remove you from this room, but I will if I see the need." It's obvious from his tone that he means it, so I make the decision that if I have to fight him, a hospital room isn't the place. I'll do my best to behave until I can meet him on a better battleground.

Patch pushes the door open and I step inside. Why do people always look so small in hospital beds? He looks tiny. I step up beside the bed and I'm surprised. Bear's always worn a little scruff, but it's grown a good bit in the last few days, and it actually looks good on him. What am I supposed to do? His hands are lying by his sides, so I pick up the one near me and hold it. It feels cool until our palms meet, and his palm is warm, so I grip his hand and look down into his face.

"Surprise! Bet you never expected to hear from me," I whisper, but he doesn't move. "I would've been here sooner, but I didn't know. Nobody told me. So I'm sorry I haven't been here, but I'm here now. I thought I'd finally run you off! Wish I'd called. Or something." My free hand rises and I stroke down his cheek. "There wasn't anybody for me to torment, so I'm glad to find you. Please wake up. Please? It's okay. If you don't wake up, I'll be here anyway. But I want you to wake up. Wake up, damn it! Bear, please? Wake up!"

A voice from across the room says, "Sela…"

"No! He has to wake up! I have to talk to him. Please, Bear? Please?" I've never felt so helpless in my life.

"Sela, calm down." From behind me, Patch presses his hands to my upper arms and grips them tightly. "Calm down. Look, take this chair and pull it up to the bed. Just sit with him. That's what he needs now." When his hands disappear, I hear the scraping sound of the chair being moved, and I look up to see him pointing. "I put it over there so if they need to come in and do something for him, you're not in the way. You can just sit over there and hold his hand. He'd like that."

My legs feel wooden as I stumble around the foot of the bed, and I find the chair and plop down in it. Once I'm settled, I take his hand again. "You want something to drink?" Patch asks.

"Yeah. I'd like a diet lemon-lime if there is any."

"I'm sure I can find one. I'll be right back."

Once I hear him walk away, I stand again and lean down over the man in the bed. "Look, you big wooly mammoth, I… I'll miss you if you don't wake up, you understand? You need to wake up so I can actually tell you that. I know men never listen, but this is taking it to the extreme just a bit, don't you think? I'd really like to―"

His eyes fly open, and then they rotate toward me.

"Holy shit! HOLY SHIT! He's awake! Hey, somebody!" I'm looking for that call button thing, but I don't see it anywhere. It's probably under him. One of his hands rises and reaches for the ventilator tube. "No. Don't touch that. They'll get it. Nurse! NURSE! I need somebody right―"

"What's going on?" a woman in blue scrubs covered with cartoons of cats asks.

"He's awake!"

"Oh! Let me get the doctor. Mr.McMillan, we'll take out the ventilator tube, but the doctor has to be here. Let me get somebody, okay? Just hang on. It'll be all right. We'll get it out in a jiffy." And she hustles away.

His eyes are wild, and I know he's bound to be confused. "Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm right here." When I grab his hand, he locks mine in a death grip. "It's gonna be okay. They're coming back to take it out."

"They didn't have any lemon-lime in diet, so I… What the fuck have you done, Sela?" Patch screams at me.

"Nothing! He's awake! Look!"

Patch sets the drink on the credenza and crosses the room to look down into Bear's face. The big man's eyes are like saucers. "Hey, buddy. I'm here too. It's okay." He glances up at me. "Did you call somebody?"

"Yeah. The nurse said a doctor has to be here for them to take that tube out, so she's gone to find somebody. She'll be back in a minute." As I talk to him, my eyes never leave Bear. His grip on my hand conveys all the panic I know he feels. It's bound to be confusing. "Hey, it's gonna be okay. I promise. Just wait."

There's a rustling sound and a voice says, "Hi! I'm Dr.Lindell. Mr.McMillan, is it? Let's see what's going on. Ella, vitals?"

"BP's one ten over seventy, pulse is seventy-five."

"Your vitals are good. Let's get this tube out and see how you fare." The doctor turns and looks at Patch and me. "Could you guys please step out into the hallway?"

Patch gives her a nod. "Sure." But my feet feel like they're glued to the floor. "Sela, come on." For the first time I can recall, I let somebody take my arm and lead me out of a room.

When I get to the hallway, I can't breathe. It's like the walls are collapsing in on me and smothering me. Patch's familiar voice says, "Sela, breathe. Just take a deep breath, hold it, count to three, and let it out. It's gonna be okay. He's gonna be okay. Close your eyes and breathe, honey." Even though he's not touching me, I can feel him right beside me, and my heartbeat slows a little. "Thatta girl. There ya go." From somewhere inside the room there's a monstrous amount of coughing. "Aha. They got the tube out."

I can hear them chatting and a few seconds later, the doctor appears in the doorway. "You can go back in now. He's going to be fine. He'll have a sore throat for a few days, and probably cough a bit, but otherwise, it's okay."

"Can he go home?" Patch asks.

"Not for a couple of days. We're going to need to do a few scans, see if we find anything still going on, but this is Sunday, so I'm going to say he'll probably get to go home… Wednesday? Yeah. Let's just say that and we'll see. But go on in. I'm sure he's glad to see you."

"Thank you, doctor," Patch answers, but I just dart past and head straight for the bed.

As soon as I reach it, I take his hand, and his head rotates toward me. "Hey. How ya feelin'?"

After a couple of attempts during which nothing comes out, he finally manages to whisper, "What happened?"

"Wreck. You totaled Patch's truck."

"Hey, buddy," Patch says as he steps back up to the bedside. "You okay?"

"Throat hurts," he forces out.

"I'm sure it does."

"What day is it?"

"It's Sunday," Patch answers.

"I'm … what? Sunday?"

"You dropped me off Tuesday and it happened on your way home," I explain.

It's like he's thinking about it, and then he says, "The drive-in. No ice cream."

"Exactly. You remember." Without even thinking about it, I reach up and smooth his hair from his face.

"The truck…" Bless his heart, he seems totally bewildered.

"They said you were driving down a straightaway and some guy coming toward you tried to pass the car in front of him. He was coming straight at you, and you took the ditch," Patch tells him.

"They said?"

Patch nods. "Yeah. The emergency workers. Took them a while to get you out of the truck."

"Truck? How's truck?"

"Gone. There's nothing left, but don't worry about that. I can get another truck, but there's only one you. And you were lucky you weren't hurt worse. But it doesn't seem like you broke anything. Just a pretty serious concussion that left you unconscious for all this time. We've been worried."

He lies there staring at the ceiling, almost like he can't believe what's being said to him, and I feel horrible for him. Having gaps in your memory isn't fun, and I should know. I still don't know what was going on with me for the first two weeks after the fall. I just remember bits and pieces. It's weird, knowing you were alive but having no recollection of anything that happened. He interrupts my thoughts with, "You? Out?"

"Tinsley signed me out. Had to get rugged with the woman at the desk, but she did it. These are her clothes. I didn't have anything to wear." That's the understatement of the century. Everything I own is in my apartment in Atlanta, and I've been paying rent and utilities all this time for a place I can't even go to. I've got to remember to check at the lodge to see if the things I'd brought are still there, since Patch didn't know. Speaking of… I turn to look at him. "Could I talk to him alone for a minute?"

"Remember what I said," he cautions.

"I haven't forgotten. It'll be fine. I'll behave." That earns me another eye roll, but he steps outside the door and closes it, so I turn to Bear. "Do you want me to come and stay at the farm?"

"Told you before," he manages.

"Then I will if you still want me to. Somebody will have to get me out of the hellhole, but I'll come and stay there to be with you if that's still what you want." He nods. "Okay. I'll talk to Patch about it on the way back."

To my surprise, he reaches for my hand and clutches it tightly. "No. Don't go."

"I have to. They'll be looking for me at the torture chamber. But I'll talk to Patch and see what we can do. Maybe by the time you get out of here, I can be at the farm. And I'll be back. I promise. I don't have a car, but I'll figure something out."

"Guys'll bring you."

"Yeah. Somebody will, I hope. I should probably let Patch in before he has a stroke. He's just sure that I'm talking trash to you in here."

I head for the door, but just as I reach it, he calls out softly, "Sela?"

"Yeah?" I say, spinning to face him.

"I love you too."

Fuck. He heard me. Is that why he woke up? There's no point in arguing about it. He heard me, and he cut through all the clutter to hear what I was really saying. I just smile and open the door.

I'm so screwed.