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"Because soon you'll learn to communicate with a limb that isn't a natural part of yourself, and the better you are at that communication, the more natural your movements will be. So, back to yoga. One of the more challenging poses is the Lord of the dance pose. Have you ever seen it?"
"No, I don't think so."
"That's okay, in time I'll teach you, but for now I'll demonstrate. You begin in mountain pose, both feet firm on the ground, toes pointed forward." As she talked, she assumed the position.
"With your first inhale, you shift your weight onto one foot, in this case my left, and lift the right heel toward your left buttock as you bend your knee. Then you press the head of your right thigh bone back, deep into the hip joint, and pull the kneecap up to keep the standing leg straight and strong."
Riggs lost track of what she was saying, he was so focused on her movements. With fluid grace, she reached back and took hold of her right foot. She began leaning forward, at the same time pulling her right foot up higher. Her back arched and her foot came increasingly closer to her head. For a moment, her position reminded him of a ballerina, one arm stretched out in front of her, her leg raised and body bowed.
When her raised foot touched the back of her head, he almost clapped. Her balance was flawless, and it wasn't until he realized he was admiring the execution of the move that he remembered. She had a prosthetic limb. But which was it?
He couldn't tell and was captured by her skill and the sensual way she moved. Even with the opiates churning through his veins, he felt stirrings of excitement. Georgie was gorgeous, and watching her move was a turn-on. Not that he'd ever admit it.
Georgie exited the pose with the same amount of grace with which she assumed it and smiled at him. "So, which leg is real?" she asked. "Can you tell?"
"You must have been reading my mind. I can't tell. Which is it?"
She bent over and pulled up the leg of the loose scrub pants she wore, pulled down the long sock and revealed her right leg. "Mine starts just below my knee."
Riggs looked at the prosthesis for a long moment, longer than he needed, but he wasn't ready to face her for fear his feelings might show. A few moments ago, all he saw was a gorgeous, sensual woman. Now all he could see was her prosthetic limb. What kind of superficial jerk did that make him?
Some kind, he imagined, because the desire he'd felt for her was now gone and all because of her leg. He finally got hold of himself and turned his gaze to her face. "How long did it take you to achieve that level of balance?"
"Honestly? A few years. But when I received my first prostheses, there were no smart limbs. It's only because of Naomie that I got an upgrade." She looked back to see Naomie, standing with Russell, watching.
"You say it like you're talking about getting a cavity filled, or a new pair of shoes." Riggs regretted the pithy tone as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to make light of it, but I also refuse to be ashamed or resentful of it. I'll gladly act as a test subject when there are advances, because each time I do, I end up like that old sci-fi show about the bionic couple – stronger, faster and better. Isn't that what you want, too?"
What he wanted was to turn back the clock, not be in this hospital talking about someone cutting his leg off. What he wanted was for this not to be real. But he couldn’t say that aloud for fear of sounding weak or petulant.
"Riggs?"
He snapped to and said the first thing that came to mind. "You believe you're stronger and faster than you'd be with two natural legs?"
"Maybe, I don't know. I never tried to run a marathon with two natural legs, climb a mountain, or swim with sharks. I only know I can do it with this leg, and that's enough for me. I hope it will end up being enough for you."
Riggs looked at her, and then at his father and Naomie. He saw the hope on their faces and didn't have the heart to tell the truth. That he was pretty damn sure it would never be enough. But rather than say it, he forced a smile. "I hope so, too."
The look Naomie gave him spelled all too clear. She knew he was being dishonest, so he turned away. He didn't have the energy to deal with her disappointment, or his father's hopes. He barely had enough control to hold it together, and didn't know how long that would last.
"Would you all mind if I had a little time to myself? I need to wrap my head around this."
"Of course," Georgie agreed, then added. "However, I need to impress you with expediency. You can't go on with your leg in the condition it's in now. The surgery needs to be performed within the next thirty-six hours."
"Thanks for impressing that on me," Riggs heard the ire in his voice, but couldn't find the desire to apologize for it. "Now, if you all will please go?"
Russell looked at Naomie, and she shrugged. "Fine. Ask the nurse to text or call if you want us to come back. We've checked into a hotel nearby."
"I will."
"Fine."
She took Russell's arm, and they turned to leave. Just as they reached the door, Russell looked back. "I'm only a call away son, whatever you need."
Riggs heard the love in his father's voice, and it nearly stripped him of the tenuous hold he had on himself. "Thanks, Dad. I love you. I'll call after a while."
Russell nodded and escorted Naomie and Georgie from the room. Riggs lay his head back, closed his eyes, and for the first in a very long time, sent out a prayer.Please, help me. I don't know if I can do this. Give a sign. Something. Help me know what to do.
