Chapter 6
Two weeks later…
Heather petted Tinsel as he rested his head on her chest. Her eyes roamed her living room, staring at her windows framed by Seafoam curtains. Why did her mother talk her into those? Heather’s mouth twisted since she bought them thinking they added character.
She adjusted herself on the sofa, hearing her heating unit thump on. She could easily fall asleep in this position, but she itched more than normal. Was it the knee brace alone that was scratching at her skin? Tinsel didn’t budge as she moved her hand to reach for her trapped knee.
Settling her head back onto the pillow, Heather bit the inside of her cheek. How was she going to survive weeks in a knee brace? Her lips pressed tightly together. At least she was home and not trapped inside her mother’s home. While she loved her mother, Heather couldn’t stand being waited on hand and foot. She was too independent for that.
The doorbell rang and Tinsel barked reactively, jumping to the floor and running to the door. Heather swung her good leg to the floor taking her time with her sprained knee. Grabbing her crutch, she walked to the door. If it was a solicitor, she wouldn’t answer. Looking through the peephole, she saw her dog walker, Carmen. She opened the door.
“I’m glad you’re back home,” Carmen said.
Heather forced a smile. “Thank you. Me too.” She grabbed Tinsel’s leash from the nearby table. “He’s ready for you.”
“Do you want me to bring this inside?” Carmen pointed to the wicker basket on the porch.
Heather’s eyes bugged. “What’s that?”
Carmen picked up the basket and brought it inside for her placing it on the coffee table. “Looks like a care basket.” She whistled for Tinsel who came over to her. She fastened his leash to his collar. “You need anything?”
Heather shook her head. “No, I got it. Thank you.”
“See you later.” Carmen closed the door behind her as Tinsel barked at her side.
Heather returned to the couch and grabbed the card sticking out from the basket. Towels, slippers, DVDs, a stuffed animal, a dog bone for Tinsel, books, and her favorite granola bars she kept for snacks at the gym. Opening the note, she read the typed message.
We hope you get well soon. We’ll miss you and can’t wait for you to get back.
Your Pilates students
Heather touched her fingers to her lips. She missed her students as well and couldn’t wait to get back to teaching her class. She loved the physical transformations but seeing them empowered from the inside out mattered more. She emphasized strongly on looking their best and not what society said.
Healthy was healthy no matter what size a person was. Looking through the goodies inside her basket, she saw a few Hershey’s Kisses. She popped a couple in her mouth, loving the euphoria of chocolate.
What could she do now? She never got bored. Stuck in her own house, she sighed. Relaxing on the couch, she ate another chocolate kiss.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she elevated her knee to the coffee table. Her eyes widened at the discomfort so she made room for her leg on the couch. She didn’t take her injury seriously at first, but perhaps therapy was best.
***
“I can't take this anymore.” Heather sat with her leg propped up with her leg on her couch. She sipped the last of her peppermint tea and placed the empty cup on the coffee table. Time away from work was torture but relaxing proved sufficient. She reclined with Tinsel at her feet, hearing the cars drive by on her street outside. Heather stared at the picture frames on her mantle.
For the last couple of weeks, her mother had cooked her meals. Sonia made sure she took her inflammatory medicine on the clock, sending reminder texts from work. Heather appreciated her family’s concern, but she couldn't help wanting to do things herself, but she complied.
After her latest checkup, Dr. Boyer shared that her progress was impeccable. She could start therapy. At her mother's insistence, an in-house therapist would be at Heather's door any minute.
She could go to the therapy facility downtown but her mother said, “out of the question.” Not wanting to argue, she consented, at least for the first few sessions. She could walk around some, but she used her crutches. A feeling of heaviness overwhelmed her.
When the doorbell rang, Tinsel barked. Heather rolled her eyes but hobbled to the door and peeked through the peephole. Behind the door stood a man. She blinked. Why was a man at her door? Opening it, she faced the new man in town.
Heather said, “Allen?”
His lips parted as he checked something on his phone. “H. Shaw. Heather Shaw. I should have put those two together.”
“You’re my physical therapist?” He couldn’t be. A woman named Yvette Lyons was her therapist. She received confirmation after signing up for an appointment.
“Yvette is on maternity leave,” Allen said.
“Wow, she had her twins!”
He bobbed his head. “If you want the facility to assign someone else, I can put in your request.”
Heather blew out her cheeks. “No, come in. I’m sorry.” She hobbled back to her couch and took a seat. Standing too long drained her energy. She missed her Pilates workouts.
Allen sat a duffel bag on the nearby loveseat. He then pulled out a tablet. “So… it was a grade two knee sprain. Medial ligament?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“You’ve been icing the knee and keeping it propped up.”
“Yes.” She sat back on her sofa and folded her arms.
He grew still, as if to better observe her. “I take it you don’t want to do this.”
“You’d be right.”
“I’m here to help you get back on your feet. You cooperate with me, the faster this will go,” Allen said.
An overall tingling crept down her backside. Still, she released a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back. “I guess I have no choice.”
“Shall we start?” he asked.
“Why not? I have nothing better to do.” She straightened in her seat, just as Tinsel made his way over to Allen.
He reached out his hand. Tinsel sniffed his hand and then rubbed his head against it.
Heather did a double-take. “Tinsel's made a new friend. You have pets?”
Allen patted Tinsel’s head one final time and then stood upright. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t grow up with dogs but I always liked them. Shall we start now?”
“Go ahead.”
He took out a yoga mat. Then he extended his hands and helped her to her feet. Heather ignored his fresh manly scent, but it went through her entire body. She bit her bottom lip as Allen helped her to the floor. Flat on her back on the mat, she closed her eyes.
“Show me how far you can bend your knee so far,” he said.
Heather raised her leg, feeling a twinge of pain about less than halfway bent. She winced, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Okay, don’t go any further. Straighten it back out. Take your time.”
She repeated the reps five more times, only to feel the pressure build up.
“Okay,” Allen said. “We can stop with those.”
Heather pulled her lips tight into a grimace. She wanted him to leave. She didn’t need his help or anybody else’s. She’d been taking care of herself for years; she didn’t need any help now.
“That’s enough for today.” She turned carefully to her stomach. She could get up. “I don’t need therapy.” Then his hands touched her back. Why did the heat from his strong hands percolate into her skin? “Don’t.”
“You need help,” Allen said.
“Says who?” The tightness in her jaw increased. “I’d appreciate it if you left.”
“Is there a reason you don’t want help?”
Heather pressed herself up on the palms of her hands. “I don’t have to answer that. Who asked you anyway?”
Allen cleared his throat. “I apologize if this session didn’t go the way you wanted it to.”
Heather crawled to the couch and sat up. Her bottom lip trembled as she placed her face in her hands. “Please leave.”
“I’ll see myself out,” he said.
She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. Her tears burned the back of her eyes.
Then she felt Tinsel at her feet and she pulled him to her lap. Did she want to get better? Yes. Why was it so hard to accept help? Heather buried her face in Tinsel's soft coat.
***
Allen rubbed at his chin as he walked to his truck. What happened that quickly? She was in pain and he wasn’t the therapist she was expecting. She barely got through one workout before kicking him out. He could put in a request for her for another physical therapist, but the pain in her eyes triggered his protective nature again. Was there something else?
He had a taste of holding her in his arms when he carried her to the hospital. She wrapped her arms around him, close to nestling against the crook of his neck. She was light in his arms as the snowflakes that had dusted her coat. Her scent was light and floral, filling his lungs. He had sucked in several breaths.
Pulling back into the parking lot of Maple Meadow Physical Therapy, he dismissed his thoughts of Heather. No matter what his father or Desmond said, he wouldn’t travel down that road again. He had enough to deal with, getting used to his life without Crystal.
Once inside, he rubbed his hands with hand sanitizer and passed by the sign-in desk manned by Maggie, the administrator. His mouth quirked up into a smile as he heard the sounds of Motown coming from down the hall. He stifled his laugh at first but stopped in his tracks as he watched patients young and old dancing to the oldies. Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell’s “You’re All I Need to Get By” played and he hummed along.
How that song would play on his father’s record player as he would dance with Allen’s mother. As a little boy, he would often catch his parents dancing or laughing together. They made marriage look easy, but it wasn’t until Allen married that he realized the truth. It wasn’t.
How he envied the relationship his parents shared. Naturally, when his time came, he assumed he could live up to their example. He failed, big time, only leaving behind his scarred heart. Life hit him in the face like a prizefighter. Perhaps it only worked for people like his parents.
Allen would never experience that joy, and even if he did, it would be short-lived. Women weren’t the only ones that desired companionship. Allen couldn’t stand being alone but the longer he was, the more he got used to it. It was easier to be alone. No one to pressure him. No one to criticize or complain about his mistakes.
“Are you going to join the fun?” Maggie asked.
Allen listened as The Temptations, “The Way You Do the Things You Do,” blasted through the speakers. He didn’t dance in public. He hadn’t done that since his wedding day. “I think I’ll pass. Mr. Braxton is taking care of it.”
Mr. Braxton, who should have been relaxing because of his recent hip surgery was chair dancing with his cane. Allen chuckled at his efforts. Yet as he checked his patients’ files, he saw some were making progress while others would need more time to get back on their feet.
He sighed. This was his element and he could understand Heather’s fears. He saw them all the time. She wasn’t the first independent patient he had, but she needed to understand that getting better meant she needed help.
***
Heather laced her fingers in her lap as she listened to her mother’s lecture from her own kitchen. An unexpected visit from her mother only made things worse since she expected to meet her physical therapist. Once Heather answered that she didn’t need it, her mother’s face tightened. The couch groaned as she adjusted in her spot. She sat her teacup on her coffee table, grateful the chamomile tea relaxed her. Tinsel played with his chew toy on the area rug.
“Do you hear me, Heather Shaw?” her mother called out from the kitchen.
“I hear you.” Heather tapped her good foot on her hardwood floors. She then rubbed her brow to ward off her dull headache.
Then her mother came to stand in front of her. “You still haven’t told me why you kicked your therapist out.”
“I didn’t kick him out.”
“Well, then?” Her mother’s forehead wrinkled.
“I… I…” She couldn’t lie to her mother. Her mother knew her better than anyone. She could spot a lie a mile away. “I’m not used to letting others help me.”
“I know. I raised you to be independent, but this has to do with your health. You need—”
“Mom, I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now. I’m in health and fitness so I know what needs to be done. I can do this on my own.”
“So you don’t need anyone?” her mother asked with a shake of her head. “Okay. You don’t need anyone.”
“Mom, I didn’t mean that.”
“What did you mean, young lady?” Her mother’s eyebrows etched together. She then came and sat next to her daughter.
She knew she went too far. “I’m sorry.”
“I know. You’re more like me than you think.” Her mother opened her arms and Heather scooted over to let her mother hold her. “You weren’t planning on this but it happened. You’re strong and you’ll get through this, but you need therapy. Do you want to do more damage?”
“No.” Heather sighed.
Her mother patted her arm. “I’ve got to get to the high school.”
Heather perked up. “I have more snowflakes if you need them. I can still help. I promise I’ll bring my crutches and stay put.”
“You never give up.” Her mother raised an eyebrow.
Heather made a steeple with her fingers, pressing them against her chin. “I promise I’ll be careful.”
“Only… if you promise to give therapy another chance.”
Her hands dropped to her lap. “You’re stooping to bribery?”
“I’m a mother.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I suggest you call and set up another appointment.”
“Fine.” The doorbell rang. “Did you invite somebody over?”
“No,” her mother said as she grabbed her purse. “I’ll see who it is.”
Heather waited for her mother but recognized the deep voice. Terrance? What was he doing there? Heather sat up and combed her hair with her fingers.
“You have company,” her mother said as she led Terrance into the living room.
Terrance stood with red roses in hand. “How are you feeling?”
Heather’s mouth opened agape. “I’m getting there. You didn’t have to bring me flowers.”
Her mother held her hand out for the bouquet. “I’ll put these in water. I’ll be back to help you change.”
Heather’s mouth dropped open. She was still in her yoga pants. Was her hair still a mess? Terrance handed Heather’s mother the flowers and stuffed his hands inside his pockets. Heather gestured for him to sit, and he did.
He rubbed his hand down his pant leg. “How are you? I would have come by sooner, but I wanted to give you some space.”
She stifled a grin, appreciating his thoughtfulness. “I’m okay. Thank you. You really didn’t have to come over. I have enough ‘get well’ cards to last a lifetime.”
Terrance smiled. “That was your students. It’s all over town about your injury. If your mother didn’t tell them to let you rest, we could have lined them up at the door.”
Heather folded her arms across her chest. “So… how did you make it past my mother?”
“I have no idea.”
She giggled. “You must have some tricks up your sleeve.”
“None I promise. She said there were some leftovers for you in the kitchen.”
She pointed at him. Her eyes squinted. “Did she invite you to have dinner with me?”
Terrance raised his hands in a surrender gesture. “No, but I wouldn’t have said no if she did.”