Jessica hoped Lance didn’t see her in the back of the crowd, but she’d been leaning against the wall in the hallway with her eyes closed, just enjoying the music. When the crowd had swelled to the point that Dani was forced to step in, Jessica had felt a little guilty but not by much. She’d do anything to help this guy heal, and it seemed like the way to his heart was through music. Although the antibiotics and the new medications and supplements might just do the trick too, the combination of that with the music may give him a whole new lease on life. It wasn’t always just the emotional or the mental setbacks but frequently also underlying physical reasons which caused somebody to not make the progress they thought they should.
When everybody had cleared out of the area, Dani stepped up, leaned against the hall beside Jessica, and asked, “So, was this impromptu performance your doing?”
“Am I fired if it was?” she said in a half-joking voice.
“No,” she said, “but you’ve brought up a really good point. Music hasn’t come up around here many times, but, when it has, it’s been pretty important to those involved. We have a piano around here somewhere, but it probably needs tuning.”
“He said he can play almost anything,” she said quietly. “I thought I might find a guitar, and, when I happened across it, at a really cheap price, it seemed like it was worth a try.”
“Definitely is,” Dani said. “We’ll have to set some hours and see if anybody complains.”
“And maybe he can take it outside too,” she said.
“As soon as he gets a little bit more strength in him, he will. It’ll be months before he leaves, and it’s obviously something that’s good for his soul. Who knows? Maybe the music will be good for some of the other patients too,” she said thoughtfully.
“The problem is,” Jessica said, “there will no doubt be at least one person who complains.”
Dani’s grin was swift and lethal. “There always is,” she said. “Anyway, good job.” And, with that, she pushed off the wall and headed back to her office.
Jessica stayed here for a long moment, wondering if she should go talk to him. When she looked up at his doorway, she saw him sitting there in his wheelchair with the guitar in his lap. He just stared at it. She gave him a lopsided grin. “I was kind of hoping for another concert.”
His grin flashed. “And I’d love to, but that would be pushing it,” he said, rotating his shoulders to ease the strain. “And thank you. It was sweet of you to bring it.”
She shrugged. “You’re welcome. I’d like to see it help you on your path to recovery.”
“It will,” he said. “I know it. I’d forgotten how much I’ve missed it,” he said, his fingers gently stroking the strings.
“We’ll just have to see how much pushback there may be from other patients,” she said. “Just because 98 percent of the place likes it, doesn’t mean everybody will.”
“I was thinking I should take it outside and to the pastures, where it won’t disturb anybody.”
“That’s quite possible too,” she said. “How does your afternoon look?”
“Sounds like I’m still on a reduced schedule until the new meds have a chance to work, but I am supposed to visit with my shrink this afternoon. And Shane for a short session this morning.” He looked at the clock and said, “Uh-oh, I better get going.” He quickly put the guitar gently against the wall inside the doorway and wheeled past her.
She called out, “Have a good one.”
“Is that possible?” he called back, laughing.
“Sure,” she said. “Why not?” She watched as he disappeared around the corner; then she headed back to the nurses’ station. As she settled in, one of the other nurses huffed.
“Well, thank God that noise calmed down.”
“You don’t like music?”
“If I go to a concert or I’m at home and turn on the music, sure,” she said. “But I don’t like music rocking down the hallways.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” she said, “because music is really good for him. It’s helping him to reconnect.”
“There are other ways to do that too,” she said.
“Such as?”
“Who knows? But everybody else has managed it without music, so I’m sure he can too. Maybe get him an iPod with earbuds.”
Jessica laughed at that. “Well, that’s another answer too,” she said. “I didn’t realize you were such a curmudgeon.”
“I’m not,” she said, “but I want music when I want it, not when it’s not a choice.”
“Good point,” she said. As she sat here, she wondered if she had done Lance a disservice, as it was obvious that they had already found one of the two percenters who weren’t happy with his playing.
“I guess I sound kind of cranky, don’t I?” she said.
“I don’t know about that,” Jessica replied. “I guess you have a right to how you’re feeling. It’s just kind of frustrating, since it was a promising step in Lance’s recovery.”
“Is he really that happy with it?”
Jessica looked at her. “You have no idea,” she said. “It’s seriously amazing to see the change on his face.”
“Great,” she said. “So I’ll have to listen to that for the next few months now.”
“Who in your life hated music?”
“Me,” she said, “and it’s because of everybody else who shoved it in my face all the time.”
“And who was that?” Jessica asked.
“My parents, my brother, my husband. Everybody,” she said. “It seemed like I was always surrounded by musicians.”
And that gave Jessica an inkling of what the problem was. “And you don’t have the same affinity, I presume?”
“No. God, no,” she said. “I don’t have the slightest bit of skill in that direction at all. It’s really very sad.”
“Maybe,” she said, “but that’s also life, isn’t it? And you have plenty of other gifts.”
“It doesn’t seem like it,” she said. “I spent a lifetime being the butt of jokes because I couldn’t sing or play an instrument. It made for a pretty rough childhood in some ways.”
“But you’re an adult now,” she said, looking at the woman who had to be in her late thirties. “Surely it doesn’t still bother you.”
Instead, Bridget looked over at her and groaned. “Even my kids play.”
“Of course they do. I’m so sorry,” Jessica said. “Obviously it’s a sore point with you.”
“Whatever,” she said and forcibly turned her head back to the screen.
Jessica watched her for a few moments and then returned to her own work. It was an odd thing in life that some people were so happy around music, and others were just cranky about it. She suspected that Bridget’s entire world being sucked into the whole music thing, yet feeling excluded herself, was the reason behind her bad reaction, but Jessica didn’t want that to affect Lance’s progress.
By the end of the day she stopped in to see him, but his door was closed, and he wasn’t answering.
She checked in on him twice the next day, and he looked tired.
“I’m fine,” he said, “really.”
She nodded slowly. “Maybe, but, hopefully by tomorrow, everything will be looking better.”
The next day he was perked up and looking much better again.
“You’re looking a bit better.”
“Maybe,” he said. “I’ll be doing my therapy work today, so we’ll see how that goes.”
“Just don’t overdo it,” she cautioned. Then she had to go because they had several patients leaving today and several new ones arriving, so she was rushed off her feet.
As it was, it was two days later before she had a chance to stop in and to really talk with him. “How are you doing?” she asked, bustling in, delighted to see some color on his face. “You look much better,” she said warmly.
“Then I must have looked like death warmed over before,” he said, but his smile was bright, his color healthy, and his gaze clear.
Even his disposition appeared a little more bouncy in her eyes. She checked his vitals and nodded with satisfaction. “Definitely an improvement all around.” She watched as he slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, shaky but absolutely upright. She stood back and admired. “Don’t you look fine,” she teased.
He flushed but gave her a brilliant smile back.
“How’s the music going?”
At that, the smile dimmed slightly. “Have to find a way to get outside because apparently, Dani has gotten some complaints.”
“Oh,” she said. “Isn’t that typical.”
“It is,” he said, “but you have to expect, when you’re in a place like this, that not everybody’ll have the same relaxed attitude to music.”
“Well, with any luck we can get you out at lunchtime.”
“I was thinking maybe after work,” he said, “like around four o’clock.” He looked at her hopefully. “Want to join me?
“Absolutely,” she said. “Where do you want to meet?”
“How about down by the pool?” he said.
“It’s a date.” And she skedaddled off. It just seemed like everything was so busy right now. But her heart was singing at the thought of meeting him this afternoon, even if the guitar was silent. And she barely had a chance to think about it again throughout the day until, all of a sudden, four o’clock came, and she dashed to the pool. When she got there, he was here with the guitar in his lap. Waiting. She smiled and said, “I’m here. I’m here.”
He looked over at her and said, “No rush,” he said. “I know you just finished work. I should have made it for fifteen minutes afterward to give you a break.”
“Not a problem,” she said. “I’m just grateful to be here,” she said. “Let’s go down and play some music to the animals.”
He laughed. “Not sure they’ll like that too much.”
“You never know,” she said. “I think all animals like a certain amount of music.” And she walked with him, checking out that he was strong enough to do the actual rolling, so she asked, “Do you want me to carry the guitar?”
“No,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“If you say so,” she said.
He just smiled and said, “It’s all good.”
“Great. So, whereabouts do you want to go?”
“Far enough away that I won’t be upsetting anybody.”
“I think the fact of life is that it’s a little hard to please everybody.”
“I just don’t want to piss off anybody.”
“Got it,” she said. She pointed out where Midnight, Dani’s horse, munched grass at the fence line. “How about down here?” she said.
He looked at the pathway and said, “How about we roll down a little farther away. I don’t want anybody disturbed.”
Surprised, she carried on walking with him, and, when he got to a spot he thought it was good enough, he stopped and said, “Dang, we should have brought coffee.”
“We should have,” she said with a laugh. “Next time we will.” And she sat down on the grass and waited for him to get settled in. As soon as he did, she lost herself to the music. He ran through a full litany of what was probably old favorites, she didn’t know, but she was stretched out in the green grass, her face to the sun, letting the breeze waft over her, as the music surrounded her and filled her heart with joy. When he finally fell silent, she said, “That sounds so lovely.” She looked up at him. “Does it tire you out?”
“No,” he said. “If anything, it’s just the opposite. I feel better than I have all day.” He shot his arms out. “The shoulder won’t take too much more though.”
“Are you still doing okay?”
“Yeah, I’m doing fine,” he said, “but working with Shane is exhausting sometimes.”
“It’s all the time, from what I hear,” she said. “You’re not the first to complain.”
“Well, you think that you know your own body, and then he shows you something that makes you wonder if you ever knew it at all,” he said. Then he strummed away again on the guitar.
She followed his lead and just let the music rise up around them. She noticed that all the horses were coming to the corners of their pastures to get closer. And, even as she turned to look, Helga, the big Newfoundlander on three legs, was walking toward them.
“Well, it seems you’ll have an audience, whether you like it or not,” she teased.
He looked startled for a moment, then stopped playing and glanced around and saw the animals. “Well, look at that,” he said with a big smile. “Who’d have thought they’d be so happy to see somebody out here playing music.”
“I’ve heard that about a lot of animals,” she said, “and I don’t think these guys get to hear very much of it.”
“No, there’s a piano in the back of the big rec room,” he said. “I saw it the other day. It’s the first I actually remembered seeing it, but now I’m looking for instruments all over the place.”
“Is there something else you want to get?”
“Well, I have several instruments in storage at my parents’ house,” he said, “if they’ve kept them. I’m not sure how they feel about being a storehouse for me.”
“I would think, if they were your musical instruments, they would probably hang on to everything, wouldn’t they?” She would at least. She couldn’t imagine being a parent and not.
“They had to downsize here not too long ago, so I don’t know,” he said. “The biggest things to start with were drums, and I had several guitars.”
“Well,” she said, “when you finally get through rehab, you can add music to your list of things you want to do.”
“I really would like to,” he said. “How do you feel about seeing a guy on stage in a wheelchair with a guitar?”
She sat up slowly, then looked at him and said, “On stage?”
He nodded and frowned at her. “Would the wheelchair detract from what the guy could do?”
“No,” she said. “I would think it would emphasize what he can do because he’s doing something,” she said slowly. “So you want to do live shows again?”
He gave her a boyish grin. “Yes,” he said, “I think I do. My favorites are the jazz and the blues clubs.”
“And why the wheelchair?”
“Just in case,” he said, then switched topic.
“So are you tired?” she asked. “We can head back if you are.”
“It feels so nice out here,” he said, “with the breeze in the air.” He lifted his hand and brushed the hair off the nape of his neck. “A haircut would be good.”
“We have a hairdresser who comes through once a month,” she said. “If you want to be put on the list, I can add you.”
“It’s probably not a bad idea,” he said. “I’m used to having my hair so short, and, ever since the accident, well—” He shook his head.
“Do you have any scars on your head that stop the hair from regrowing? Do you want to keep it long enough to cover those?”
He looked at her in surprise. “I’ve got a couple,” he said, “but I never really thought about that. I was just accepting that they were scars.”
“With good reason,” she said, laughing. “But a lot of guys are pretty touchy about it.”
“No point in being touchy,” he said. “My body is riddled with scars.”
They slowly headed back, and this time she carried the guitar on her back, realizing it had a shoulder strap for just this purpose. And, rather than offering to help him push, she just walked beside him, keeping an eye out.
“You’re very attentive,” he said humorously.
“Well, I could say it’s my job,” she said, “not to mention the fact that I like to keep an eye on you.”
He looked up at her, startled.
She shrugged. “Is that wrong?”
“No, not at all. I just wondered if you were like this with everybody.”
“No,” she said, “just a special few.”
He laughed at that. “So I have competition here, do I?”
“Nope, not really,” she said, laughing.
“Good,” he said. “I’m not sure how I’d fare in a competition.”
“Not an issue,” she said. And then she hesitated and finally curiosity overtook her. “So, what about you? Are you in a relationship?”
“No,” he said, “not at all. Haven’t had one since before my accident,” he said.
“And the accidents tend to break everything apart,” she said. “We’ve seen marriages dissolve, and new marriages happen over what our patients go through.”
“I can imagine,” he said. “Though I can’t imagine something like this splitting up a good marriage,” he said, “but I think it would finish a rocky one.”
“That’s what we often see,” she said. “A good marriage only gets stronger, as both partners pull together to survive it, and they end up doing very well,” she said. “But, in so many cases, the other partner figures it’s not what they signed up for, and they walk.”
“That’s got to be devastating,” he said. “I’m glad I was single prior to the accident,” he said. “I would feel like I was dead weight for somebody else to pack.”
“Right,” she said, “and I think that’s how a lot of guys feel. Whereas it’s actually the opposite,” she said. “You come from a unique perspective with a strength that most of us have never had to find out if we have. You have found out who you are and are still working toward improving, while the rest of us go through life blithely unaware of how we’d handle such devastating and painful situations,” she said. “Me? I don’t think I could handle this like you have, and I’ve certainly seen a lot of others who can’t. But, when I see the guys and gals here working so hard—and I see how they progress in their recovery and how they walk forward in whatever form they have to walk forward with—it just makes my heart smile. You guys are just so awesome.”
He chuckled. “That’s not exactly how most of us would view ourselves nowadays.”
“That’s sad. It is,” she said. As they approached the center, Stan whistled and called out, waving her over. She looked over at Lance and said, “Let me go talk to Stan for a few minutes.”
“Just pass me my guitar,” Lance said. “I’ll go up to my room for a little bit,” he said. “I’m a little more tired than I expected.”
She looked at him and frowned.
He waved her off. “I’m fine.”
“If you’re sure?”
“Go on,” he said.
Lance watched as Jessica dashed into the vet clinic, then made his way to the elevator. Once he was alone, he got inside and sank into his wheelchair. He’d pushed it too far and was paying for it, but he didn’t want to ask her for help. Pride was a strange thing, but he would survive. Upstairs on his floor, he slowly made his way to his room. He put the guitar down, closed the bedroom door, and slowly made his way onto the bed. As he collapsed onto the bed, he thought he heard somebody at the door. “I’m just lying down for a bit,” he called out.
Shane stuck his head around the door. “I saw you come down the hallway.” He came in, took one look, and said, “How’s the arm, that shoulder?”
He just glared at him. “What about them?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Playing the guitar will tax that shoulder,” he said. “It’s already stripped of some very important muscles.”
Slowly Lance sagged in bed. “I was really hoping it would be fine,” he said. “But every time I play—”
“I know,” Shane said, coming over and taking a look at the shoulder. “Stretch out on your stomach,” he said. “Let me work it over a bit and see if we can loosen up some of the tension there. I hadn’t realized music was a big part of your life.”
“And it could be a big part of my future,” Lance said, “but only if I can play without hurting myself.” They stretched the bed out totally flat, and, with Shane’s help, Lance flipped over onto his belly and tried to relax. He knew this arm was pretty ugly, but it was the one that he used to pick the guitar strings.
“Have you tried any other instrument?”
“Haven’t had access to anything,” he said. He waited while Shane put something on his hands, and then, slowly, working from the center of the scapula over the shoulder bone and down the elbow into the hand, he massaged each and every one of the muscles. “Some of the muscles back here are in rough shape,” Shane said. “It looks like we need to do some extra work on those.”
“Well, I wasn’t really thinking of music when we did our initial assessments,” he said. “At the time, I wasn’t even sure I could still play.”
“Yeah, but now that I know, we’ll put in some extra time and see if we can get this shoulder to work,” Shane said. “It’s just as important that we have our pursuits and the things that matter to us, as well as being fundamentally functional.”
“Well, it worked,” he said, “but it was awkward being in the wheelchair and having to hold everything differently. So I strained the shoulder.”
Shane didn’t say anything, so Lance kept quiet and just let him work. By the time he finished working on the arm, it still ached, but in a good way. It was much better than when he first came back from being outside. “Pushing the wheelchair back to the center wasn’t very helpful either,” he murmured.
“No, I heard the music and saw you out there,” Shane said. “I guess you were trying to get away from bothering others, huh?”
“Dani said there have been a few complaints,” he said.
Shane sighed. “As much as I like people, sometimes I don’t like people. But everybody is different, so not everybody may have appreciated the impromptu concert.”
“Exactly,” he said, “and I don’t have a soundproof room, and that’s way too expensive to do here. So, as long as I can find a place to go and do some playing every once in a while,” he said, “I figure at least I can stay in touch and try and build up the arm.”
“Not playing too much too quickly would also help,” Shane said. “Remember. We’ve got to do things in stages.”
“I guess I’m impatient. I saw the guitar, picked it up, and I played, never thinking it would be stopped the next day.”
“So today is what? Three days since the last time?”
“Yes,” he said. “I thought it would be fine.”
“And you thought that, if you were far enough away, it wouldn’t matter if you made a mistake, since nobody would really be listening, right?”
That prompted a surprised laugh from Lance. “I guess you could say that. I didn’t think Jessica would really mind.”
“She looked totally happy to me,” Shane said.
“Yeah, but sometimes I think she’s there as a nurse, an overcompensating nurse in some ways,” he said. “I can’t really explain it.”
“Listen, Lance. We all have a challenge,” Shane said, “of separating our personal feelings from our professional feelings. What I can tell you is that this is the first time I’ve ever seen her get so involved with a patient.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Shane said. “Now let’s do some work on the other side,” he said. “We can’t have you lopsided.” He quickly worked the other shoulder and scapula, then all the way down to the fingers. When he was done, he tucked that shoulder back under the sheet. “Now, if you can power nap for a few minutes, do so,” he said. “Otherwise, when you get up, have a hot shower to keep those joints rotating,” he said, “and we’ll be adding that to our work list.”
“Sounds good,” he murmured.
And Shane just chuckled. “You’re almost asleep as it is,” he said.
“I am. I didn’t expect it, but I am.”