Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(25)

“And if he doesn’t? What if he won’t see me?” she asked, and as she spoke, her eyes filled up with tears again.

“Like I said, we’ll get through the influence of anesthesia and pain drugs before we revisit the issue. We can’t really judge his feelings while he’s on that morphine planet. But he’ll get used to the morphine pretty quick and it won’t make him insane anymore. Then he’ll see you. He will. The nurse said this sort of thing happens a lot, but usually later on. Some patients get real clingy, need a lot of reassurance that they’re still lovable, some actually have such an inferiority complex about their body image, they push loved ones away. Like they don’t deserve love even when it’s offered.”

“Why couldn’t he be a clingy one?” she said softly.

Jack actually laughed. “Rick? We both know why. Because he’s too damn proud for his own good, that’s why. Liz, honey, there’s no reason Rick can’t have a completely full, productive life. There’s almost nothing a guy with a prosthetic limb can’t do. I’ve seen news stories on guys with fake legs running marathons. And Rick will learn, he will. He’ll do whatever he wants…eventually. But if I know my boy, he’s going to be a giant pain in the ass getting there.”

She laughed through some tears.

“Mel told me this story. She said it was too soon to tell Rick, and she didn’t know the half of that. She said she worked with a doctor in the emergency room back in L.A. for a year before she realized he had a prosthetic leg. She never did say how she found out. I don’t know what you know about big-city trauma centers, but those docs have to be fast and strong and steady. And I don’t know how well you know Mel, but she’s demanding as all hell. If she worked with a doc who didn’t pull his weight in any way, she’d be all over him.” He took a drink of his beer. “Yeah, she didn’t know about the guy’s leg for a year. What does that tell you?”

“There’s hope?”

“You bet. But, Liz, it isn’t going to be easy on Rick. He’s dealing with way more than just the leg—he’s been to war. And if it’s not easy on Rick, it’s not going to be easy on us. What do you think of my idea? We give him a little time to settle down? Get through the drug haze before we push on him? We don’t need another crazy outburst.”

“I guess that’s okay,” she said. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m so disappointed.”

“Aw, honey, I know. Believe me, I never saw that coming.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help by being here. I thought he’d be glad to know how much I love him.”

“I bet when we’re through the worst of this, he will be.”

She was shaking her head. “I don’t know.”

“My idea?” Jack pushed. “You’ll have some time on your hands. I don’t think you should try to see him until the timing is better. Not just for him, honey. For you, too.”

“But I want to go with you. I won’t go in his room until he says it’s okay, but I want to be there. In case.”

“You sure the temptation won’t be too strong?” he asked her. “Because I think until we get a little stability here, you shouldn’t even peek in the room.”

“I’ll stay in the waiting room downstairs. I brought my backpack with school stuff. And they have a TV— I saw an English news program on it. I’ll try to be patient. I promise.”

“Good for you. You done eating? We can share this reading material. And I want you to get some rest so you can deal with these ups and downs.”

“Okay,” she said with a small smile.

Two hours later, Jack stepped outside the hotel and used his cell phone to call Mel. It was nine hours earlier in California and she was at the clinic. When she answered, he just said, “Baby.”

“Jack! Did you see him?”

He took a breath. “Mel, he’s going to recover. But it was the worst experience of my life. I shouldn’t have brought Liz. He took her apart. Ripped her heart out.”

Over his thirty-five-year military career, Walt Booth had seen hundreds of injured soldiers. He’d made dozens and dozens of goodwill visits to hospitals; he’d attended many wheelchair-basketball games and races. He had nothing but respect and admiration for the men and women who turned their physical disabilities into productive lives.

But something about Rick Sudder’s injuries got to him. He didn’t even know Rick that well. It was probably all about the timing. Walt’s son was army now. Rick and Tom were only a year apart in age and had become friends. Sometimes when Walt thought about Rick coming home with one leg, he got confused in his mind and pictured Tom. He hated that. It cost him sleep. There was no logical reason for it. Tom was tucked away at West Point, working his butt off, studying day and night, not in a war zone.

He knew he was affected, that it showed on him. Vanni had asked him if he was all right and he admitted the truth—thinking about that strong and vital young man dealing with an injury like this was working on him, grieving him. Muriel had asked him what was wrong in one of their phone calls and he laid it out for her—Jack and Liz had gone to Germany to be there for Rick when he was waking up after surgery and he worried about all of them. “This war is a hellish business,” he had said. “And, Muriel, there’s always a war somewhere. That was my life’s work, staying on top of the wars. And Rick, he’s such a nice young man. So proud and dedicated. I hate to think of his suffering.”