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“Which appointment is first?”
“The … I don’t remember … Oh, Leighton! I’ve missed you so!”
Together again. Nothing else mattered.
As we pulled up to her destination she said, “Wait for me here?”
I’d planned on going in but I wasn’t about to rock the boat.
So I sang, “Right here waiting for you”like the song.
She moaned but with a little smile.
She’d listened to it! Whoo-Hoo!
My beautiful lady insisted, “Really, baby.Waitfor me, okay?”
I stayed back while the driver helped her out and into the building, then came back to the car. We sat and sat.
The driver saw her inside the glass doors. Went to get her. Settled her again next to me.
She had the hardshell cast off her arm and a soft fabric sling instead. The leg cast, though, was the same as before.
Samantha settled, then filled me in. No walking on the broken leg yet. Not for at least two more weeks. She could move her arm, though, in the sling, as much as felt good.
Orders for the arm were, “Don’t go crazy and no lifting anything.”
She summed up, repeating herself with obvious relief, “Clean MRI. The bones are healing but my leg has a long way to go. I’m still pretty restricted as far as moving—still stuck in the wheelchair. No lifting allowed. But my ribs have healed and opened up a little more. I’ve noticed it in my breathing. Next appointment in two more weeks.”
As she sucked in a breath after that long, relieved report, I thought she might just be able to use my gift.
“Can I come in, once the driver gets you up there and inside?”
She nodded. Another surge of relief! The theme of the day, and thank goodness, too!
“But …”
“Darlin’?Anything. Ask.”
“Promise you’ll sing to me. Sing to me, my baby!”
The driver was a miracle worker. Samantha felt safe with him helping. I followed her in.
I had my box under my arm.
“Baby? What have you got there?”
“Present! Something to help you get around the house better. Recommended by Iron Man himself,” and I wiggled my brows at her.
“Ah-Hah! You’ve been inventing?”
“Nope. Searching the internet. It’s one of those kits with assembly required. But,” I flexed my muscles, “Here is your mad assembly robot, on the job!”
I pushed a coffee table out of the way and let Samantha watch. She saw it come together but still didn’t get it.
“Leighton, baby?? A … littlescooter?”
I nodded, “Yes, an indoor scooter. For gimpy people just like you. You don’t sit on it. You kneel with your injured leg on the seat. See how I’ve positioned it knee-high for you? Your calf is supported by the seat, and …” I showed her.
