AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Internally, I sighed. I didn’t want to go there while she was still so weak and in such pain.
She tapped on my hand with her finger, “Please.”
I filled her in. The greased floors and equipment. The cops' investigation.
I decidedly did not, however, tell her about Davie learning that her stalker had been released days before. Nor the most recent news: The security feed proved that, once again, her stalker was the perpetrator.
I didn’t believe it would lighten her mood to tell her about Jerry’s “Let’s stalk the stalker” idea. I still thought she would boycott the whole idea if she knew. I omitted those details, too.
She lifted a brow again. Blew me a kiss.
Then I set about recounting Amy’s resolve to learn to shoot and go after … whoever it was.
She managed a small smile this time. But her beautiful eyes didn’t twinkle.
"Thank you," she whispered, her fingers giving mine a weak squeeze.
She closed her eyes. Asleep again right away.
Samantha was heartened later that afternoon when the nurse came in with a therapist who’d be demonstrating how to move safely with just a left leg and her left arm for balance and support. The main first practice session was in bed, from lying down to sitting with comfort. The next session was the next morning. She was shown and practiced how to go from sitting to swiveling slowly and securely into the wheelchair.
That exhausted her.
My sisters kept the rest of us fed and watered. Jerry had spoken with their health insurance people and seemed satisfied with the coverage.
Davie, Jerry, and I continued taking turns staying with her in her room and across the hall. None of us said what we were doing: Guarding Samantha. The stalker was on the loose, P.I. or not.
Then Jerry and Genevieve had a new idea. We talked it over—Jerry, Genevieve, Roberta, Davie, me—outside the hospital. Then Genevieve and Davie first called the other attorney. Afterward, they went to the P.I. firm.
The crux of it was to double and triple down on stalking the stalker. He’d make a mistake. He’d be back in prison when he did.
Samantha didn’t really think about what was in store for her, recovery-wise, until after her release from the hospital.
We talked after we got her settled in her bedroom at home.
She was overwhelmed with the after-care she’d need and how many appointments would be involved. They’d booked Zoom calls for physical therapy for her twice a week. She wouldn’t have to fight transportation and maneuvering the wheelchair right away. She’d get stronger first.
For her follow-up appointments, ex-rays, a final MRI after the concussion, there was no way around it—she would need to be driven. But that was at least two weeks away.
I’d already discussed it with her family and told her, “Darling, I’m providing an on-call car for you to get where you need to go. The drivers will be aware you’ll need some in-and-out assistance at first.Let them help you. Please?”
She kissed me. I took that as a Yes.
I put a couple of business cards on her bed stand, “Keep this in your bag and at home. Call with thirty minutes’ notice before you need to leave here. When you get to the doctor’s or wherever, they’ll wait for you right there.”
"We'll get through this," I said, squeezing her hand gently. "Together. Davie and Jerry and me—with you."
“Together," she echoed.
Samantha
Even after I got home, it was nearly a week before I could think clearly. Before I could sift through everything that had happened. Before I was anywhere close to coming up with a strategy on how to move forward with my life. With my business.
Control what I can. Control what I can.
Even with my usual mantra, it took me more than a week to write out what I needed to know. What I thought I needed to do next.
Leighton came over every early afternoon. He brought lunch for the two of us, but always doubled up on it so the guys would have dinner waiting for them when they came home.
