That's All That Matters

Over the next weeks Lucy and Clay spent time together every day. She visited with other patients, never neglecting her volunteer duties, but still made time for Clay. Several times, she brought cookies, pastries, or tea. Clay teased her about sneaking them in until she threatened to stop bringing more goodies. Lucy watched as each day Clay looked healthier. Staff commented on the change in Clay since he met Lucy.

Neither mentioned what would happen when Clay left the hospital. Yet they knew that day was approaching as Clay continued to improve. A therapist worked with him to gain strength in his arms for when he finally could use either a wheelchair or crutches.

One day Lucy arrived to find Clay's bed empty. Her smile turned to a frown as she felt the panic rush through her body. Just as she began to turn she heard Clay's voice in the corner. Lucy had tears at the sight of Clay sitting in a wheelchair. It was the first time he had been out of bed since she met him.

Having a bit of freedom was a huge step for Clay. Some days the two would sit in the lounge near his room to talk. A few times, they went to the cafeteria, drinking tea or lemonade. Clay turned the conversation to Lucy as much as he could. He loved hearing about her life and learning more about her.

At night, before Clay finally slept, he would picture her there, with him. Everything he discovered about her affirmed his initial feeling that she was special. He admitted to himself that he wanted more with her than visits in the hospital. Would they get along as well in another setting he wondered? So many questions ran through his mind when he was alone.

Clay met often with his doctors to go over x-rays, tests, medications and therapy. When he developed an infection, they kept him in bed, cut back on therapy, and limited his visits with Lucy. Being alone again, with only his thoughts, Clay tried to imagine the future. He pictured himself healthy, able to walk, with Lucy at his side. Lucy brought up the subject one evening inadvertently.

"Do you think your injuries will stop you from doing any of the activities you did before?" Lucy asked.

"I don't know yet, Lucy. It's too soon to tell how limited I'll be," he replied.

"It must be difficult for you, stuck here, not knowing," she went on.

"Lucy, I've been to a lot of places in my life but I'm tired of the business trips. Traveling sounds great until you realize you don't remember where things are in your own home. It's time for me to settle down," Clay explained.

"I hope everything turns out well for you, Clay," Lucy said.

"Thank you. I have a ways to go here before I can even think about going home," he admitted.

"Have you ever thought about getting married again, Clay?"

"Do you think anyone could put up with me?" he teased.

"You forget how much I've learned about you. I know your moods from all the time we've spent together. You just need the right woman next to you," Lucy smiled as she spoke.

Lucy decided to leave when the nurse came in with Clay's medications right then. With the promise of a visit the next day, she grabbed her things, waved and left. Not long afterward Clay was sound asleep. The following morning the doctor came in with good news. The casts could come off and if things went well he would release Clay in about a week. It was the day he had been waiting for and he should be happy. Yet leaving England, and Lucy, depressed him. Since they were coming off the next day, it gave him time to think, and talk to Lucy. She walked in a couple hours later to find him napping.

Lucy sat in the chair and watched him sleep. Each day she was aware of how important he had become to her. Finding someone else after the death of her husband had never entered her mind. She knew her friends all wanted her to begin dating. Until Clay, she had no desire, no intention of becoming part of a couple again.

"What are you thinking about?" Clay's voice was quiet as he posed his question.

"You're awake," Lucy replied.

"That's not an answer," he laughed.

"I was daydreaming a bit. How was your day?" she asked.

"Do you want to hear some good news, Lucy?"

"Of course I do, Clay," she replied.

He went on to share the news the doctor had given him that morning. Lucy listened as he talked about having his legs free from the casts. When he talked about therapy, and walking, she saw the determination in him.

"When will you be discharged?" Lucy wondered.

"If things go as he hopes, the doctor mentioned a week, or thereabouts. I've been in the hospital for so long I can't wait to smell the fresh air again. Just being able to leave will be amazing," he explained.

Lucy tried not to show her disappointment. It was great news for Clay, she knew that, but it just meant he would be leaving soon. She wasn't ready for that. He talked about all the things he wanted to do once the healing was complete. Lucy listened and smiled while she fell apart inside. Soon she pleaded a headache and left.

Clay was too excited to sleep much that night. The staff chuckled at the way he talked almost non-stop. When the casts were off, his skin cleaned and lotion applied, he just looked at his legs. It was very emotional for him and he wished Lucy could have been there. As the day went on, he waited for her to show up, until he ran out of energy and slept. He woke up just as one of the staff walked in with his dinner tray.

At nine that evening he had to admit Lucy wasn't coming. Thinking it over, he realized she hadn't said she would be back that day, either. Clay went over the previous day in his mind. He kept asking himself what could be wrong. The doctor and therapist both stopped in to talk to Clay. He listened but he kept watching the doorway for Lucy. His mood plummeted by mid-afternoon. Shelby was his nurse again for the day. She saw the change in him right away. Where he had been animated and smiling, today he was cross, moody and almost complacent.

"Clay, are you alright? Are you having more pain without the casts?" Shelby questioned.

"I'm okay," he grunted.

"Is there something I can do..." she began.

"You can leave," Clay said as he turned his head to the wall.

His abrupt answer surprised Shelby. She left the room without another word. Later she mentioned his behavior to her supervisor. Between the two, she hoped to uncover a reason for his mood change. They discussed the medical aspect of his condition and the removal of the casts. Lucy's name came up and Shelby snapped her fingers.

"That's it. Lucy called yesterday and said she couldn't volunteer for about a week. She mentioned something about a personal issue. You know she visited Clay every day," Shelby explained.

"Do you think they had words?" her supervisor asked.

"No, they were getting pretty close. Several of the staff noticed it," Shelby replied.

They talked about the impact Lucy had on Clay. Shelby tried to imagine being in their place during this transitional time. She guessed that was at the root of his mood change. She continued her other duties without any resolution to Clay's behavior. By the end of her shift, after trying to get Clay to talk once more, she was convinced it had something to do with Lucy.

The dinner tray came and Clay ignored it. He had no appetite and wanted only one thing. Lucy didn't show up by eight that evening so Clay decided to call her. When he realized he didn't have her number, he buzzed for a nurse, sure they would have it on record. The young girl that entered his room listened to his request and left to ask the head nurse. Half an hour later, she returned to say it was against policy to give out personal information, apologized and left the room.

That night the dreams began. He heard Lucy talking, her voice soft, hypnotizing and full of promise.

"When the night is cold and you think you're all alone, close your eyes and feel my breath against your neck."

He saw himself in the dream, one lone tear glistening in the corner of his eye, his hand reaching out to Lucy. The gasp escaped his throat before he could hold it back. Clay woke with his heart racing. He swore when he tried to remember the entire dream and recalled only a tiny portion. Every time he fell asleep that day, she was there in his dreams, calling to him.

"If your body is tired and you think you can't go on, feel my fingers trailing over your muscles."

Time ran together and soon it had been four days since Lucy walked out of his room. Clay thought back to some of their more personal conversations. He knew her marriage had been in trouble before her husband passed away. Yet never had she indicated that she was opposed to another relationship. It made no sense to him, no matter how he analyzed it, or how often he tried to figure it out.

One of the social workers came in on Wednesday to discuss what Clay's intentions were after release. She was an older woman, friendly and willing to help him. The idea of leaving held no appeal to Clay now. He ignored most of the information she shared with him. Not getting anywhere with him, she told Clay it was time for her to go home, but would be back the next day. Clay sat up straighter and stared.

"That's it! It's the perfect solution. I'm not going back home. All I have to do is move into the quarters the company has here in town," he said.

"Excuse me? I'm not sure I understand," the confused woman said.

"It's alright," he replied. "The address is in my file where I'll be staying when I leave here."

Clay was determined to find Lucy. If he stayed in England, did some of his therapy in the hospital, he would run into Lucy right here. His discharge was set for that Friday. Once he decided to stay in England things moved right along. The social worker took care of transportation and set up a schedule for his PT.

When she suggested a volunteer to buy groceries for him, Clay readily agreed, wondering if it would be Lucy. He slept little that night and woke with a headache. The morning was busy with last minute discharge instructions. A staff member came to his room with a wheelchair and cart for his things. The taxi was waiting to take him to his temporary home.

The nurses gathered round Clay as the orderly wheeled him into the hallway. They all wished him well in the future. Many of them had taken care of Clay from the beginning. Soon he was in the taxi and heading to the apartment. The chaos of the morning left Clay tired. He showered and put on some lounging pants with a t-shirt and took a nap. The dream started right after he closed his eyes.

"As you lay there, awake, aching, see my arms pulling you close."

Clay heard Lucy call out to him as he slept. Shadows ran through his mind as he awoke a short time later. He tried to pull the dream back but it was gone. As he fixed a light meal, he thought about the upcoming week, and decided he needed a bit of a plan. Clay left the few dishes and relaxed on the sofa.

Monday morning he would be back at the hospital for his outpatient therapy. What were the odds he would see Lucy there he wondered. If he did run into her, what should he say, he asked himself. It had been a week since he last saw her. That had given him plenty time to admit he was falling in love with her.

Before he knew it, the weekend was over, and it was time to leave for PT. Strengthening his legs was hard work. At the end of his session, Clay was drenched in sweat, tired, and sore. He wanted a shower and a nap. Making his way to the exit was a slow process. Several of the staff saw him and waved or chatted.

Shelby heard Clay would be in the hospital that morning and went looking for him. She caught up to him as he waited for the taxi to pick him up.

"Clay, how did it go over the weekend?" Shelby asked.

"Hey, Shelby. You have no idea how good it was not to be here," Clay told her.

Shelby smiled at the look on his face. "Clay, I wanted to talk to you about Lucy."

"Have you seen her? Is she here? It's been over a week, Shelby," Clay asked.

"I didn't see her but..." Shelby hesitated.

"What, Shelby?" Clay urged.

"You know I could lose my job over this," Shelby said.

She looked to be sure no one was looking their way. As she shook Clay's hand, he felt her press something into his palm, and squeeze his hand.

"Take care, Clay. I have a few days off but I'll look for you when I get back," Shelby added.

Clay felt the paper in his hand but didn't dare check it right there. If Shelby had gotten information on Lucy, he didn't want to get her into trouble by opening it, or having someone see it. He put his hand in his coat pocket and leaned back on the wall. Anyone looking could see he was waiting for a ride. When the taxi pulled up, he was ready to leave.

During the short ride, he took the paper out and opened it, his heart pounding when he saw what was on it. Shelby had given him Lucy's address and telephone number. He wanted to instruct the driver to take him there but instinct told him he had better not just show up at her door. Clay showered when he got to his place and then took a short nap. As he had other nights, he heard Lucy calling to him, touching him, in his dream. Once awake he knew what he had to do. Taking the paper from Shelby, he dialed the number on it, and waited.

"Hello," he heard through the telephone.

"Please don't hang up, Lucy," Clay implored. "It's Clay."

He heard Lucy gasp but she didn't hang up. "I miss you," he said.

"How are you, Clay?" Lucy asked as she ignored his declaration.

"I'm not doing so well, Lucy," he began. "There's a problem..."

"What is it? Did you get hurt? Are you back in the hospital?" she fired at him.

"Yes, I'm hurt," he responded.

"I was so afraid something would happen. You shouldn't be alone, Clay," Lucy told him.

"You're right. I shouldn't be alone."

Clay knew without a doubt that he wanted Lucy in his life. He just needed to convince her. If he could make her feel bad for him, maybe she would come over, offer to help.

"After all that time in the hospital, why would anyone think you could live alone, without help? Tell me you at least have someone coming in to clean for you," Lucy demanded.

"The social worker set that up with a service. The lady will be here every couple weeks," he stated.

"What about food? How are you getting that? I swear, Clay, I'm coming right over there—"

"I wouldn't want to impose, Lucy," Clay said.

"It isn't imposing when you help a friend," Lucy clarified.

"I have a bunch of those frozen dinners I'm heating up."

Clay made sure his voice sounded weak. Lucy had presented him with the perfect opportunity by offering to help and he jumped on it. He told himself he would apologize when he saw her.

"You need nourishing meals, Clay, not empty calories," Lucy stated. "Give me your address and I'll bring over a casserole and fresh fruits."

"You're busy, Lucy. Don't worry about me," Clay responded.

"The address, Clay, now," she demanded.

Clay grinned to himself as he gave Lucy the address. After a brief discussion about his food likes and dislikes, with a promise from Lucy she would be there in two hours, they hung up. Clay gave a whoop of excitement about seeing Lucy again. He admitted he was nervous though, too. Ever since the dreams began, he had done some serious thinking, both about Lucy and himself. It made him hopeful for a future of some sort with Lucy.

The doorbell rang right on time. Clay opened the door to see Lucy standing there with a basket in her hands and a bag over her arm.

"Lucy," he whispered as he drank in the sight of her there.

"Hello, Clay," she said. "Where should I put these?"

"Um, oh, yes, the food. The kitchen would be great. I'd help, but, well, the crutches and all..." Clay stammered.

"Just point the way for me and I'll be fine," Lucy replied.

Clay nodded in the direction of the kitchen and stepped back to let her in the apartment. He watched her graceful walk and fluid movements and felt a stirring in his groin. Shaking his head to clear it, he slowly hobbled to the kitchen, and saw Lucy unloading the basket.

"You look fantastic, Lucy," Clay remarked.

Lucy stopped and stared at Clay. Though they had talked for hours in the hospital, they were never truly alone, without anyone to interrupt them. She gazed at Clay as he relaxed on his crutches and gave him a soft smile.

"Thank you. Do you know this is the first time I've seen you without your casts?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's right," Clay answered.

"Are you still having a lot of pain?" Lucy inquired.

"I do," he told her.

"I wish there was something I could do to help with that," Lucy murmured.

"There is, Lucy."

He fixed his gaze on Lucy's face as he spoke. Seconds passed before either moved. Lucy took a step towards Clay just as he hobbled closer to her.

"Why did you leave?" he frowned.

"You were so excited about your discharge. I could see it in your eyes when you talked about going home," Lucy said. "I was afraid of getting hurt, so I left."

"So you left without any explanations," Clay concluded.

"It wasn't how I should have handled it, but I was scared, Clay," she reasoned.

"You were scared of me?" Clay asked. "Or were you afraid of what was happening?"

"I was married for several years, Clay, you know that. You asked about my age before and I eluded the question," she tried to explain.

"So what if you were married? I was, too. What does that have to do with anything?"

They stood just a few feet apart. Clay was still confused why she left his hospital room without any indication of why. He shifted on his crutches and grimaced as his foot bumped the leg of the barstool.

"Can we go into the other room? You should be resting, Clay," Lucy stated.

"Alright. I could stand to put my legs up for a while," he confessed.

Clay went to the sofa and carefully lifted his legs onto the pillows he left there earlier. He closed his eyes and sighed as he stretched them out.

"I'll go slip your dinner into the oven so it can warm up," Lucy told him.

While she was gone, he tried to make sense of what she had said in the kitchen, of her reasoning for not returning to see him in the hospital. Nothing quite fit together, though. It just made more questions.

"Your dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes. I set a plate out and—"

"Why didn't you come back, Lucy?" Clay interrupted. "Tell me why."

"I told you my husband died. What I didn't say was that he was my second husband. I was divorced when I met Buddy. He swept me off my feet before I could see through his charm," Lucy began.

"So what?" Clay asked.

"I'm forty-two, Clay," she stated.

"You look fantastic, Lucy. I don't care at all about your age," Clay responded.

"When we talked in the hospital, you never mentioned children, but I sensed you always wanted some," Lucy went on.

"It wasn't in the cards for me. I enjoy children, yes, but I have nieces and nephews I spend time with and spoil. What does this all have to do with you?"

"Clay, I can't have children. That's why my first husband left me," Lucy admitted.

Clay looked at the beautiful woman in front of him and felt her pain. He held his hand out to her and motioned for her to come closer. All he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and comfort her. Lucy touched Clay's fingers as she stared into his eyes. She felt the tears fall just as he pulled her down onto his lap.

"Shh, it's okay, honey," Clay said as he caressed her back.

Lucy tried to stop the tears. She should be embarrassed to fall apart in front of him she thought. Yet it felt right to be in his arms this way. As the tears slowed, she snuggled closer, inhaling the woodsy cologne he wore.

"I'm sorry, Clay," she apologized.

"Never be sorry with me, honey," Clay replied.