Bring Me Home for Christmas (Virgin River #16)(17)

“Um, I don’t live here,” she said. “I live in San Diego. I rode up with my brother to do some hunting. Duck hunting.” She rolled her eyes. “Very dangerous sport. We’ll drive back next Sunday—in five days.”

The doctor got a kind of stunned look on his face. “Becca, do you have any friends here? Or family? Because you’re going to be just fine, but you shouldn’t travel. Not right away, anyway. And not that distance.”

“What?” she said, shocked. “What?”

“Just because your ankle is all put back together doesn’t mean the injury’s not serious,” the doctor said. “And San Diego isn’t exactly down the street—San Diego is a long, long drive. It would even be a very long flight! You’d risk dangerous swelling, maybe blood clots, other complications. You have to remain mostly immobile, leg elevated—you don’t want to swell under that splint. I don’t really advise dangling that leg for more than an hour at a time for the rest of the week. Oh, you can get around as necessary on crutches, but you can’t put any weight on this ankle and you can’t sit in a car or plane for hours.”

“But what if I traveled with the leg elevated?” she asked. “Like if I sat in the backseat of the cab with my leg on the console between the front bucket seats?”

“Hmm,” he said. “Well, if you could manage that, it would be better. But not for a week, and even then you shouldn’t travel more than three to four hours a day, and you should stop overnight. The best scenario is for you to stay close and see me in ten days to two weeks to take off the splint and remove the stitches before you head home. The ankle might bother you for a few days—you might need pain medication. I want you to really think about it.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t have anywhere to go. I have no family here….”

“And the young man who was here all night?”

“A…friend… I don’t know. I don’t think that would work out.”

“Think about your options over the next day or two.”

“Okay,” she said.

While she was measured for crutches, she thought hard. It might be best just to take her chances. Or maybe she could tell her mother the truth and have her come to get her. Her mother would want to come and get her—so she could carry on for days about how insane it was to come to Virgin River in search of a solution to the Denny/Doug dilemma.

Didn’t that make her feel nauseous….

By the time the tech wheeled her back to her hospital room, Denny had finally returned with a large paper cup filled with coffee.

“Hey,” he said, standing from his chair. “You’re looking pretty good!”

“Thanks,” she said somberly.

The tech put the brakes on the wheelchair. “Want me to send the nurse down to help you get into your clothes?” he asked, looking at her face and Denny’s.

“Please,” she said.

When he left the room, Denny sat again so he could be at her eye level. “You in pain, Becca?”

“Oh, just a little uncomfortable. Not as bad as you’d think it would be.”

“Are you so upset? It looks like you’ve been crying.”

“Denny, I’m afraid I’m stuck here for a week at least. The doctor said I shouldn’t travel, especially not a long trip. I have to elevate the leg, I can’t have it dangling during a long car ride or even a long flight. I could get blood clots or other bad things.”

“Then you’ll keep it elevated,” he said.

“Denny, it’s going to be real hard to get around, to get cleaned up and dressed and all that. And I appreciate all you’re doing, but no offense, the idea of sitting in that room above the garage without even a TV while you guys hunt and fish and play poker… It sounds awful.”

He let out a little huff of laughter. “Becca, I won’t do that to you. I’ll help you. I’ll make sure you have everything you need. I won’t leave you all alone. I promise. And when you can travel again, I’ll take you home. Why wouldn’t I do that for you?” He reached out and wiped a little tear off her cheek. “How long did the doctor say before you can travel safely?”

“Ten days or so. He wants to see me again before I go.”

“So I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, and then I’ll take you home.”

While the nurse was helping her into the clothes Denny brought her, Becca started to wonder about a few things—like who would help her bathe and dress once she left the hospital? She couldn’t undress in front of Denny. Not now. Not under these circumstances. What a stupid mess.

“Uh-oh,” the nurse said. “Okay, these jeans won’t work. However, I think I can open the right leg in the seam a little bit, so you can stitch it back up later, when the splint has been taken off. I have a seam-ripper at the nurses’ station for just this thing! Sit tight.”

This is going to be an interesting challenge, Becca thought. A broken ankle grounding her was about the furthest thing from her plans.

When the nurse came back, Becca said, “I bet I’m going to need one of those seam-ripper things. All I brought with me was jeans.”

“You can pick one up anywhere they sell sewing supplies,” she said. “And if you don’t want to sacrifice your jeans, have your boyfriend run by Target or Wal-Mart and grab a couple of loose-fitting sweat suits. After the doctor takes the splint off to remove the stitches, he’ll give you a soft, protective boot or shoe that you can take off for bathing and dressing. No need to rip up all your jeans. Borrow a pair of your boyfriend’s socks—pull one over your splint to cover your toes. It’s winter out there, girl!”