Raspberry Danish Murder (Hannah Swensen #22)(109)

“The X-rays show no spinal damage, Marian.” Dr. Hinkley was sitting in the chair by the bed, and Marian nodded alertly. “In Dan’s case, the paralysis is definitely a form of hysterical neurosis. Only his lower extremities are affected. That means he can use a wheelchair, Marian. And he can go home tomorrow, if you think you’re up to it.”

“Yes . . . of course I am.” Marian drew a deep breath. “But when will he recover? You said it wasn’t physical. When will Dan be able to walk again?”

“No one knows, Marian.” Dr. Hinkley reached out to pat her hand. “Dan’s body is punishing him for the accident. He blames himself for Laura’s death. In some cases of Dan’s type, spontaneous remission has occurred almost overnight. But, Marian . . . Dan may remain paralyzed for the rest of his life.”

“I have to help him.” Marian straightened her shoulders. “What can I do, Dr. Hinkley?”

“Good girl!” Dr. Hinkley nodded. ‘’You’re a fighter, Marian, and that’s precisely what Dan needs. Take him home with you tomorrow. There’s no reason why he can’t go back to work in a week or so. He has a commitment to that hockey team of his, and that might just pull him out of this. I talked to Jim Sorensen at the Conoco station, and he says he can rig your van for a wheelchair. You drive it down there this afternoon, if you feel up to it, and Jim’ll work on it tonight. And don’t stay alone in that house of yours. I’ve had calls from half the women in town, offering to stay with you until Dan gets home. You take somebody up on that, Marian. Or I can move an extra bed into Dan’s room, if you’d rather stay here.”

“I’ll stay here with Dan.” Marian’s voice was strong. “He’ll need me if he wakes up. And thank you, Dr. Hinkley. Thank you for being so kind.”

*

She sat in the chair by the window, looking out at the gathering darkness and hearing the deep, even sound of Dan’s breathing. He had opened his eyes once and had seen her sitting there. It seemed to satisfy him, for he had gone straight back to sleep without a word. Marian turned to study her husband’s sleeping face. He was a handsome man, rugged and muscular. They’d called him “the Viking” when he’d played hockey in college. But Dan had never wanted to be a professional hockey player. He’d wanted to teach history and coach hockey on the side. He took the job in Nisswa because of Harvey Woodruff’s persuasion.

Harvey was a principal in danger of losing his school. There was talk of dissolving the Nisswa district and busing the students to Brainerd or Pequot Lakes. Dan’s job was to add prestige to the school and make the community proud to have a winning hockey team. There was no way Harvey wanted the local kids bused away. The Nisswa School was his life. He’d built it into a fine academic institution, and Dan could help him save it.

Dan had been coaching for two years when Marian joined the Nisswa staff. The hockey team was winning, and Dan was the town hero. There was no more talk of busing. Nisswa was proud of its school and even prouder of Dan. It had been exciting to date the most eligible bachelor on the faculty.

Marian hadn’t dated much in college. Her particular combination of femininity and brains had served to scare off most of the college men. And she had to admit that she wasn’t all that interested in beer parties in student apartments. Marian was convinced she was destined for something more worthwhile than becoming a simple wife and mother. She had dreams of an academic career, perhaps a place on a college faculty, the respect of her colleagues, the publication of her innovative teaching methods.

Then he’d asked her for a date, Marian Walters, newly graduated, her head filled with theories of education, her heart dedicated to bringing enlightenment to the children of America. And Marian realized what she had been missing by pouring every waking hour into her lesson plans and her research. Dan Larsen was fun!

She remembered telling Dan her dreams, how disappointed she was in not landing a job in a warmer climate, how she longed for a break from the endless snows of Minnesota winters. But jobs in better climates were at a premium, and elementary school teachers were a dime a dozen. She was lucky to get the position in Nisswa. After two years she thought she would try to move on, perhaps to California, where the days were sunny and warm, even in the winter, but there was Dan, and then there was love and marriage . . . and Laura. Painful tears squeezed out behind Marian’s swollen eyelids. Her baby was dead, and Dan was paralyzed. It was too much.

“Would you like some coffee, Mrs. Larsen?” A white-uniformed nurse came into the room on silent feet. “I’ll sit with Mr. Larsen if you want a little break.”

“Thank you, yes.” Marian rose to her feet stiffly. She had been sitting in the chair for hours now, just thinking.

“There’s coffee at the nurses’ station at the end of the hall, and there’s a sandwich machine there, too. I’m Joyce Meiers, Mrs. Larsen. I had Mr. Larsen for history when I was a senior.”

“Thank you, Joyce.” Marian forced a pleasant smile. She remembered Joyce now. Dan would be pleased to see her if he woke up, she thought as she began to walk down the hall.

*

In a way, he was glad she was gone. He loved her so much, and he didn’t know what to say. He had opened his eyes in the early evening to see her sitting there, head bowed slightly, eyes vacant and weary. Somehow it was wrong to interrupt her solitude. They had always been so close, but now what could he say?