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It was still hard to believe that we’d walked into the diner thirty minutes after announcing the event and we already had so many wonderful people ready to help us at a moment’s notice. Having lived in a big city all my life, I wasn’t used to that kind of camaraderie. I had been more comfortable and at ease with the fighting and debating that had gone on during the council meeting than I was with how they worked together once Shep got involved. I don’t know what that said about me, but I was hoping it was something this little town could change.
On the way home, Irving questioned if Shep had stepped in, and the council finally agreed, out of embarrassment since he was sitting there. Did they feel like they had no choice but to approve the ramp after a verbal chastising? I didn’t think that was the case, and I told him so. Shep played thewhat-if gamewith the council members, which was something we couldn’t do without it coming off as disingenuous since we don’t know people the way he does. I was grateful that Shep spoke up and that the ramp got approved. I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Irving assured me he wasn’t either, but I could tell he was a bit embarrassed, thinking they were guilt-tripped into something they didn’t want to do.
If the sleep-out event works a little magic and helps us get New Beginnings over the final hurdles, this will be a perfect holiday season. While there is no ADA requirement for the number of accessible units required in a building, our plans for New Beginnings did require that we have the ability to house people with disabilities. When they built The Bells Pass Bungalows as small family units, it was agreed they would be accessible as required by new construction laws only—meaning Irving could get in and out of the building and into the apartments, but there would be no other accessibility features. New Beginnings was a better facility for those in need of those living situations, and they thought they’d hit a homerun when the bungalows opened and they were nearing the end of construction at New Beginnings.
Now, a year after the bungalows opened, New Beginnings remains empty. If the council would allow it, we could move single people or couples into the apartments that are finished, but the council fought us on that too until we gave up. With winter closing in, I wanted to push them, but Irving and I agreed to wait until the other rooms were done. I didn’t want our tenants with disabilities to feel like they were an afterthought when the truth was just the opposite. The entire time we’ve been fighting for them.
This was getting me nowhere but upset. I had to focus my energy on making a change, and this event was the best chance we had to do it. I tipped my head. Was that scratching on my door. Before I could stand, there came a bark.
Did Irving change his mind and decide to do more work tonight? I hoped not. He was trashed by the time we got home and I figured he was already asleep.
“Irving, you should be in bed—,” I paused when Star sat outside the door alone. “Star? Did you come for a good night hug?” I put my arms around his furry neck and he barked once in my ear until I sat back. The dog was trying to tell me something. “Star, does Irving need help?”
He barked again and headed down the hall to their apartment. I quickly turned the lights off and locked my door. Star was pacing by the bathroom by the time I caught up.
I noticed the bathroom door was open. “Irving?” I called, not wanting to walk in on him. “Do you need help?”
“You could say that,” came his voice from the bathroom.
“Is it safe for me to come in?”
“I have a towel on me if that’s what you mean.”
That was good enough for me so I hurried into the bathroom, surprised by the sight. “Irving,” I greeted him as I jumped into action. He was balanced precariously between his wheelchair and the shower bench. I immediately hooked my arms under his armpits so he didn’t fall. “Count of three, I’m sliding you over, okay?” He nodded once and I counted to three and then slid him over into the chair with little difficulty.
He leaned back and let out a breath. “Thanks, Hazel.”
I walked around to the front of the chair to face him. “Where’s the transfer board?”
He pointed to the corner with an eye roll. “I thought it would be more work to use it since the chair is literally right next to the bench, but I didn’t take my fatigue into account. Also, I think the hand got tugged.” He held up his left hand that was encased in a vinyl glove and taped at the wrist.
“You used my idea,” I said, pulling the tape off gently from his wrist and very carefully tugging the glove off.
“It was that or hire a shower attendant,” he said with a chuckle.
“Let’s look at it and if need be, I can take you to the ER.” His sigh told me how he felt about that, but I would drag him there tonight rather than risk an infection in the hand. Once I got the bandage off his palm, I could see there would be no need. “It’s oozing again, but the stitches are all in place and none have pulled out.” I rested it on his lap on the towel and turned to get some peroxide and another bandage from the bag the clinic sent home. When I turned back, Irving was studying me.
“Thanks for saving my bacon, Hazel, but you don’t have to be a nurse too.”
“I know,” I said, dabbing the hydrogen peroxide on the palm much to his dislike. He hissed, which made me frown. I didn’t like being the one to cause him pain. I waved my hand over it to kill the burn. “I’m sorry. I knew that would sting but we want to keep it clean.” Once I had the wound washed, patted dry, and rebandaged, I cleaned up the mess and then grabbed his t-shirt from the pile of clothes on the chair. “Let’s get you dressed and into bed before more calamities befall you.”
He slipped the t-shirt over his head and across his broad, muscular chest. His chest was so much more defined than his suits and ties led you to believe. He had a weight set in the apartment and he used it, there was no doubt. To take my mind off his undeniable sexiness, I handed him the lounge pants. He fumbled with them until I opened them up and handed them to him, ready to put on.
“I’ll turn my back,” I said, but he grasped my arm with his right hand.
“As much as I don’t want you to see my legs, I have to worry less about what you think and more about being safe. I’m tired tonight, and if I bend over too long, I’ll fall out of the chair. Would you get them over my feet for me?”
“Irving, you don’t have to worry about what I’ll think about your legs. No judgment from me, okay?” He nodded, but I could tell he didn’t believe it. “I’ll get them up to your knees and then turn so you can finish. Are you okay with that?”
“Yes,” he said with a tight smile. “I should be able to handle that.”
I lifted his left calf and slipped his foot into the pants, and pulled them up before putting his foot back on the footplate. I glanced up at him and met his gaze. “Want me to put your socks on?”
“I do that in bed,” he answered, his teeth clenched, so I nodded and continued with the pants. His right leg was as thin as his left, but the ankle was bulbous, and his foot twisted inward. “Irving, what happened? Does it hurt?”
As promised, I brought the pants up to his knees and then turned my back so he could finish the job.
“I broke my ankle when I was fifteen,” he said, and I could hear in his words that he was struggling to get the pants up. Everything in me wanted to help, but I did as I promised and stayed turned away. He’d ask if he needed help. “It never healed right, and that’s the result. It’s not the only bone I’ve broken in my legs. Both of my femurs have compression plates in them.”
