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“Is that why you don’t take anything for your pain? You won’t take drugs?” Her breath caught in her throat and her heart thudded hard. She fought against the admission, but it was useless. So she nodded her head wordlessly. “I see,” he said after another long moment. “Thank you for telling me.” She didn’t want him to dig any further into that and was immensely relieved when he went back to painting. After long moments passed, he put down his brush and stood up. “I need a walk.” He held his hand out to her. “Come with me. We’ll go to the beach.”
Georgie gave him a small smile. She hadn’t been to the beach yet because she couldn’t handle the sand with her lame leg. She put her hand in his and he helped her to her feet, pulling her arm through his so she wouldn’t need her cane. At the beach, they took their shoes off and left them in the car. Stepping onto the sand, Georgie wriggled her toes, delighting in the feel of the sun baked ground underfoot. She held on tight to Ryan as they walked so she wouldn’t fall.
“Do you want to dip your feet in the water?”
“Yes.” He took her to the shoreline and she sighed when the waves tickled her toes. The warm autumn sun, the cool waves, the gulls flying overhead, dogs running, children playing. It was pure pleasure. She could almost imagine that she was normal again. That there wasn’t that ever present, dull, throbbing ache. That she wasn’t maimed. The old Georgie would have run along this beach. Would have run the whole length of it and back again. Done cartwheels if she felt like it. But that Georgie was long gone. Never to return. “I think I’ve had enough.”
He took her back to the car without a word.
* * *
The next few mornings passed the same way. Ryan would paint for a bit, Georgie would come out and sit with him. He’d feed her something, they’d chat. Then he’d take her to the beach for a walk. It wasn’t lost on him that she could barely handle the soft sand and if he didn’t keep a tight hold on her, she’d fall over. He hadn’t brought up her condition again, knowing that she wasn’t open to discussing it any further than she already had. But his heart hurt for her. Everything she’d told him. The stark, wordless admission about her not taking anything for her pain. Jesus Christ.
It was a cloudy, dull morning when Ryan set up his easel, anticipating the moment when he heard the sliding door to Georgie’s cabin open and he could turn around and smile at her. He knew she’d smile back. Just a soft curve of her lips. Always a little hesitant, like smiling surprised her.
He waited a beat as he heard the door open. He needed to get himself together. Then he turned and there she was. He smiled. She smiled back. His breath caught. He had this reaction every time he saw her. He walked over to her, not making eye contact as he picked up the recliner. He had to use every ounce of strength he had not to drag her into his arms and hold her tight. Looking at her made that so much harder. Once he’d laid the recliner down next to his easel, he turned back, expecting to see her hobbling across the grass. But she was still standing on the veranda. He frowned as he looked at her more closely. The shadow of pain that never left her eyes was stronger today. “You hurt?”
She nodded. He went and helped her down from the veranda, across the grass and into the recliner. There was a cold breeze blowing in off the ocean. Without a word, Ryan went into Georgie’s cabin and pulled the soft throw rug off the bed, came back and tucked it around her. He wasn’t sure what else he could do for her, besides prescribe strong pain meds. But since he couldn’t give her that, he sat down and picked up his brush.
“You’re starting a new one?” Georgie asked when she saw the blank canvas. “I thought you hadn’t finished the other one.”
“I haven’t. But I’m not in the mood for bright today.” He mixed some black and white on his palette until he got just the right shade of gray.
“Me either.” Ryan found that Georgie talked more when he wasn’t looking at her, so he turned away, looking out over the dismal ocean for a long moment, trying to decide where to start with the painting. “Sometimes I have dreams,” she said, after the silence had spun out for a while.
“Do you?” He started at the base with a dark, somber gray.
“Of the accident.”
He went still for a moment, then forced himself to continue the brush strokes on the canvas.
“It wasn’t really an accident, you know.”
Ryan gritted his teeth. “No?”
She cleared her throat. “No. It was a building collapse. Dodgy builder. Leah’s ex-husband, actually.”
“I see. And where is he now?”
“Jail. He bribed a city planner to get it approved. Leah knew about it, but he was abusive so she couldn’t tell anyone. Then when we reconnected, after they’d split, she told me.”
“That’s something, at least.”
“Yeah, it sure felt good. But…” She was silent for a long moment. “I can hear the screaming in my dreams. Taste the dust. But I can’t see anything. It’s always pitch black.”
“Christ, Georgie.” He looked at her then, lying back on the recliner with the rug tucked around her shoulders. She looked small. Childlike and exquisitely vulnerable. Ryan felt an overwhelming urge to protect her. It was coupled with an almost equally overwhelming frustration that she wouldn’t let him help her. “So you were pretty banged up.”
“Yeah. Ruptured spleen. Collapsed lung. Bruised kidney. Shattered hip. Broken leg. Broken scapula. Fractured skull. I was in a coma for a week.”
He didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.
“Anyway, there’s no point going on about it, is there? What’s done is done.”
“Some of it can be undone, Georgie.” He couldn’t help himself.
“Don’t tell me that. Don’t lie to me like that.”
He blew out a breath. If he pushed her now, she’d fall to pieces. So he didn’t say anything further, just turned back to the painting. A long while later, Ryan flicked a glance at Georgie. She was asleep. He gazed at her for the longest time. Even in sleep, she was dogged by the pain that never left her alone. Her fingers gripped the blanket tightly and there was a frown between her brows. She may have been gritting her teeth. He was flooded with heartbreaking tenderness for her. She was like a beautiful, rare butterfly. Just fluttering around him all the time. He was desperate to grab her and hold her. But he knew that if he did that, he’d crush her. Just like a butterfly.
