Dawn of a New Day

He chuckled. "I feel like I'm carrying the barefoot contessa."

I'd shed the single shoe in the family room.

"The slightly damaged contessa. Take her to that bedroom," I said, gesturing. "You need to sleep here. No one has slept in here since I don't know when." He sat me on the bed and swung me around so my ankle was supported.

"Wow, this is very nice." He looked at me. "Thank you so much."

"Jeff, thank you. This has totally disrupted your life, and you've gone way beyond what could be expected."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I've enjoyed my time with you and still am enjoying it."

What was the wrong way? Was he talking about a doctor-patient relationship or, God forbid, more than that. I suspected I'd have at least one more day to find out.

"Um, all of my ex's clothing is long gone, but I do have one pair of sweatpants and a couple of big T-shirts I wear sometimes.

Jeff smiled but didn't reply, I think curious about the "ex" I'd mentioned. But he didn't say anything. Then he sighed.

"I guess I need to adapt. Okay."

I was transported once more and deposited on my own bed. I directed him to the sweatpants, then realized the shirts were tucked under my bras. He was discrete, and a touch embarrassed himself if that was what the pinkness in his cheeks was indicating.

May I bring you your night clothes, so you don't have to leave the bed?"

"So you don't have to carry me again," I teased.

"Touche," he said.

Laughing, he gathered my nightwear from the closet and brought it to me.

"When you're changed and are under the covers, give me a yell. I want to check your ankle."

It was a struggle, but I squirmed my way out of the gown and into the night clothes, which, thank goodness, were flannel-type pajamas.

"Ready," I called.

Jeff came into the room, and I could barely stifle a laugh.

"You have to promise not to share this moment with anyone."

The sweatpants were far too short and too tight, as was the shirt. He looked very chagrined.

"Would you hand me my phone, please?" I said with a giggle.

"I'm keeping your phone until I'm dressed in my clothes again. A photo of me looking like this would create a loss of confidence in me as a doctor."

This time I laughed loudly..

"Have your fun," he said as he rounded the bed. He lifted the covers, searching for my foot. He held it gently and pressed here and there, watching my face for reactions.

"Ouch!"

"Hmm."

"Ouch!"

"Yeah. Do you have crutches?"

I tried to remember. "I think there may be a pair in the basement," I said hopefully.

"We'll check that tomorrow. Now I'm going to prop your foot up with your second pillow," which he did, then replaced the covers. "How's that?"

"Feels fine."

"Best if you can keep the foot like that. Don't roll over."

"I'll do my best. Thank you again, Jeff. Dr. Jeff."

"And thank you, Dawn. I hope you sleep well."

"You too."

"Light off?"

"Please."

Darkness enveloped me as the door closed. I lay there reliving my day, event by event. It was a day like no other, and the doctor had taken such good care of me. Only one thing had been forgotten, and it had reared its ugly head. All that wine and...I hadn't been to the restroom in hours.

I could call for Jeff's help. Bad ankle or not, I was too independent to do that. The ensuite was just feet away. It had been a while since I'd crawled, but I'd do it now.

I turned the covers back, rolled onto my stomach, and backed off the bed onto my knees. Crawling wasn't practical, so I scooted on my butt, which was much less painful. Nothing was easy, but I made it back to bed, foot properly on the pillow.

Sleep came easily after that.

◇-◇-◇-◇

I opened my eyes to a light tapping on my bedroom door.

"Good morning," I called.

"May I come in?"

"Please," I said, not sure why I'd used that word.

Jeff came into the room and brought with him a wonderful aroma...and a plate of food.

"You're a saint," I gushed, struggling to sit up, confident my flannel pajamas would protect my modesty. But I couldn't hide the winch when my ankle rebelled at being moved.

"Dawn, let me help you." Jeff sat the tray on a chair and came around the bed. He lifted the covers and gently lifted my ankle. "Now sit up."

"Your bedside manner is a little stern," I teased.

"Sometimes my patient needs that."

"Right now, your patient needs the eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee on that tray."

I received the tray and attempted to eat daintily, not used to such a scrumptious repast.

"How did your night go?"

"Good." I was too busy eating to use many words. But when I glanced at Jeff, I could tell he had another question. "Go ahead," I encouraged.

It was Jeff's turn to grimace. "This is a little delicate, but you are a little limited in movement and—"

"—l backed out of bed," I interrupted, "then scooted on my butt to the bathroom."

"Oh, good. I debated about offering to help but decided you'd yell if you needed me."

We'd taken care of that delicate subject with no problem.

"What's going on outside?" I asked, suddenly remembering.

"Still snowing, but not as hard."

"How much is there?"

"I'm guessing thirty inches, which brings up another subject. Since I'm not anxious to look this ridiculous forever, may I do a little laundry."

"Of course. Thirty inches, huh? They'll be forever getting to this cul-de-sac with a plow and tow truck."

"I guess I'm stuck here with a beautiful but injured woman," he said, a big smile on his face, "for who knows how long."

I hoped he didn't think...

"Don't take that the wrong way," he cautioned...but I still wasn't sure. But I couldn't help myself.

"I think there are snowshoes in the basement. You can mush your way out."

He was back in just a few minutes.

"I found the crutches, but I must have missed the snow shoes." He chuckled.

"You should know my house pretty well with all you've done."

"It's a beautiful house. Big for a single lady." A sly smile accompanied the last remark.

I sighed. I couldn't transfer my feelings to Jeff—he had his own. Shana had adorned me to attract a man...and I'd let her do it despite my reservations. I was afraid that, despite my aversion to anything like that happening, it was happening—a very one-sided happening. He had gone above and beyond, his beautiful Mercedes hanging off the edge of my driveway. I suppose I should be thankful for his attention to my injury...and to my femininity, ugh.

"I suppose, but it was part of the settlement, so I've kept it."

"No bad memories?"

"We'd only lived here a little over a year. Shana wanted to stay here, but I knew she'd always dreamed of living on-campus, and since we can afford it, I insisted." I saw Jeff's eyebrows raise when I said that.

"Interesting," he replied, which I knew was an invitation to continue. But there was no reason to continue. A day or two, and Jeff would be back in the ER, and I'd be...

"Let me get the crutches, and we'll see how you do."

Thank heaven he'd changed the subject. I'd hoped to be dressed before my crutch lesson, but it would have been difficult. After I was mobile...much simpler.

Jeff reappeared with the crutches.

"First, I need to wrap your ankle."

I received a questioning look.

"I have a couple of Ace bandages...somewhere. Try the hall bathroom."

Jeff was back in a couple of minutes with an Ace bandage. I extended my leg off the edge of the bed—damn, it was sore. His gentle hands positioned my leg, and he deftly wound the bandage up and over, around and around. Two clips held it in place.

I was more adept than I'd expected and was soon moving easily on the crutches. I hoped my breasts weren't bouncing excessively, and I found myself checking Jeff's, i.e., my sweatpants, for any sign of what I didn't want to see. So far, he was being good.

He left, and I dressed. I helped him wash his shirt and underwear.

We watched the TV, which wasn't hopeful. Two or three more days to get everything plowed, or at least minimally cleared. We were going to be housemates for some time yet.

My phone rang as Jeff headed for the bathroom.

"Hey, Mom, how's it going?"

"Well, we're stuck here for a while, I guess."

"We, yes. Is he good-looking?"

"Not spectacular, but okay."

"Knowing you, that means he's a handsome dude."

"Shana, please."

"Have you slept with him yet?"

"I can barely sleep by myself; my ankle is so painful."

"I'm sure he can make you forget about your ankle."

"If you're going to keep this up, I'm going to hang up."

"Okay, okay. But you're there alone in the house with a man. And I think he's available and eligible. You just need to let it happen."

"It's not going to happen, Shana. He's a pleasant, polite man and a doctor. He's tending to my ankle. It won't be anything more than that."

"God, Mother, I hate it when you're so stubborn. I think you'd be happier with someone in that big house that, well, cares for you and wants to be with you."

"We don't see eye to eye on that, Shana. So, let it rest."

"Hopefully, another couple of days will change your mind."

"Don't count on it. He's really nice, but..."

"But?"

"The big but, Shana. I...I'm just not ready."

A moment's pause, and then a loud sigh."

"Okay. Hang in there, and good luck."

"Love you."

"Love you too, Mom."

I laid the phone on the table as Jeff reappeared.

"You wearing that red dress again today?"

"Guh. You've got to be kidding."

"I am," he laughed. "It's just my feeble way of complimenting your look last night."

"Well, thank you. That was my daughter's handiwork."

"Maybe, but it was you inside that handiwork.

I was blushing again...and becoming wary of Jeff's intentions. I mean, he hadn't done anything untoward...hadn't touched me inappropriately despite having several chances, and hadn't said anything inappropriate. If I looked at him objectively, he was about as good as it gets. But, in the area of romance, objectivity had abandoned my life.

I watched him watching me, and he took a deep breath.

"What's in store for today?"

I was relieved he'd changed subjects.

I managed a laugh. "TV, the internet. Any other ideas?" After I'd asked that, I wondered if it'd been a good idea.

"Well, if you have a snow shovel, I might get started out there."

"That seems like an exercise in futility, the exercise being very literal."

"I have a couple of days to work, I'm sure. Maybe more," he added very slowly.

"The snow shovel's in the garage, I guess. I haven't used it...ever," I added with a giggle.

"If you have plastic bags, I'll put them over my shoes and pants—it may help some."

"Oh my gosh, I forgot that you don't have anything to wear but that beautiful suit."

"I thought I'd wear the sweatpants, and do you have a couple of oversized sweatshirts?"

"I lied before when I said all of my ex's clothing was gone. I have two of his sweatshirts that I used to wear, and when he moved out, they were left behind in my closet. Let me find them."

"Tell me where they are, and I'll get them."

"I need to get used to these crutches. You won't be here forever, and I think this ankle may not be totally healed by tomorrow." I hopped away toward the bedroom and, fortunately, found the sweatshirts and managed to get back to Jeff.

We found some plastic garbage bags and a roll of Duck tape, and, in fifteen minutes, Jeff was out the front door and working on the porch. At least the white-out was over, and it looked very peaceful out there.

As I watched him working, my mind was imagining three days alone here with Dr. Jeff. For many, it would be a dream come true. What was wrong with me? An unattached doctor who clearly was interested in me. I knew I didn't need a man. I'd been doing fine for the last year and was anticipating what lay ahead for me.

Two words kept rattling around in my head as I watched Jeff attacking what seemed to me to be an insurmountable task. Need and want were the two words.

Did I need a man? It had been horrible for the first six months after the divorce. I felt rejected, abandoned, unneeded...and unworthy as well. I'd seen a counselor a few times, and Shana had helped too. Suddenly I realized I was doing fine. I was independent and could do what I wanted when I wanted, and I didn't have to contend with anyone else's needs or desires. It was a feeling I hadn't experienced for twenty years, and I was enjoying it. So, the answer to the question seemed to be, no, I didn't need a man.

Did I want a man. That one seemed much simpler. If I was doing fine the way I was, why would I want a man if that would only complicate things? If I were looking for someone, Dr. Jeff would be an ideal candidate. Plus, I'd have to be a totally insensitive woman to miss the fact that he was apparently willing to take a chance with me. He'd never been married, and, at this point in his life, to take a chance on changing everything with a woman he'd just met would be a major step.

Difficult as it was for me to imagine it, he might just be after a quick romp in the hay. He seemed to find me attractive, but what kind of attraction was he after? Did I have the fortitude to give it a try? Looking at the snow told me I'd have a day or two to figure it out.

I watched Jeff take a deep breath and jam the snow shovel into a deep drift. Working to keep his balance, he headed for the front door, which I opened for him.

"You look exhausted."

"It's better than it could be. It's cold enough that the snow is light and fluffy. I'd have been in a while ago if it were wet and heavy."

"What can I get you? Some coffee...why are you laughing?"

"You're the one on crutches, and not very good yet at operating them. I'll get something for myself and for you as well. I just need directions."

"Are you making fun of me and my crutches?"

"Not at all. You're just, well, awkward might be a good description."

"You head to the kitchen, and I'll follow you since I obviously need the practice."

"You don't have to do that. I can follow directions."

"I believe that, although I'm sure you're more used to giving directions."

"That's at work. Domestically, I can follow directions."

An interesting word he had chosen there. Domestically. Probably not a word someone who was just after a roll in the hay would use. I hadn't really considered that as a serious possibility, but now that my mind had swept it off the table, my possibilities were more clearly defined.

Resigned to my stubbornness, I think, Jeff headed to the kitchen, me close behind, working hard to navigate the crutches. They required muscles I didn't often use, so it was tiring and left me a bit sore.

"If I hear a crash behind me, we're confining you to a chair or the couch," Jeff said over his shoulder, unable to restrain a laugh.

"Don't worry, if I fall, I'll fall very quietly, and you won't hear a thing."

He turned toward me. "Okay, what can I fix for you?"

"You're the one who is half-frozen. What do you want?"

"I'm...I'm not used to that," he said, a serious look on his face.

"What, getting cold?"

"You know what I mean. I'm not used to having a woman ask me what I want."

"I suspect you're not used to shoveling snow like that either, so everything is a little different."

The looks I was getting now weren't hard to define. When I was younger, I'd gotten some of those. And, at the dance, I'd gotten several. The backless dress and me obviously braless were responsible, but Jeff had seen that too...and danced with me more than once...and put his hand on my bare back. Guh. Why had I let Shana talk me into all this?

"Yes," he said very softly. "Everything is certainly a little different."

Why did he have to be so...well, appealing? I mean, why wasn't he an eighty-year-old doctor or a twenty-year-old doctor. I guess that the latter wasn't really possible, but I wished he wasn't, as Shana would say, perfect for me. I wanted an easy decision, not something I'd have to ponder so carefully.

When I didn't respond, he continued. "Now, Dawn, what can I fix for you?"

"It's not going to work," I answered. "You're the one who's cold, and you're the one who has to decide. I have coffee, hot chocolate, and probably the makings for a hot toddy if you're so inclined." I was balancing precariously on the crutches, not willing to grab onto anything for support. Sometimes I could be dangerously headstrong.

"So, are you trying to get me drunk," Jeff answered with a chuckle.

"How many hot toddies you have is totally up to you...within the limits of what I have on hand, of course."

"I like you," he said. "You're fun to be around. And yes, I'll be happy to conjure up two of those hot toddies at your direction, naturally, although I reserve the right to modify the recipe slightly."

"We haven't had a fist fight yet, so that's good" It was a feeble response to what he'd said, but I wasn't ready to encourage him yet. "And it's been years since I've made anything like that, so if you have a recipe, have at it."

I told him where the alcohol was and also the spices. My idea of a hot toddy was pretty simple, but he already had four containers of spices sitting on the counter.

"Is there honey somewhere?"

"That cabinet," I answered, pointing.

"How about a lemon?"

"No lemons, but I have one of those squeeze containers of lemon juice."

"That'll do just fine."

Water was heating on the stove, and a bottle of bourbon stood by itself on the countertop.

I finally gave up and leaned against the kitchen island, and my left leg was getting tired of bearing all my weight. Jeff looked at me a couple of times and smiled. I wasn't sure if he was mocking my stubbornness or admiring it. I wondered if it should matter and realized since I was thinking about it that it apparently mattered. I might be a babbling idiot after another day or two of dealing with myself.

Jeff added the hot water to two glasses, then some fourbon, quite a bit, I thought, then some honey and several spices, including a cinnamon stick, and finally, a small squirt of lemon juice. He handed me my glass.

"Now it's my turn. Are you trying to get me drunk?

He chuckled. "Some interesting possibilities there," he said, and I was wishing I hadn't asked that question. "Take a quick sip, and we'll go to the living room where you can let loose of your, well, whatever you call it, and can sit down in a chair and rest that left leg.

I handed him the glass and hoped the left leg would last for the twenty or thirty feet to the living room. I made it and took a long swig from the glass he handed me. Jeff joined me on the couch and turned on the TV, finally finding a station with weather.

The weather lady said that plowing was going slowly since there was so much snow, and it would be at least two days until they would be able to get to the side streets. She joked that she was anxious for that to happen since she was sleeping on a couch at the studio. She also warned that when side streets were plowed, it would create huge banks of snow in front of driveways, so there'd be a good bit of shoveling before anyone could go anywhere.

"Want another?" Jeff asked.

"I'm nice and warm now," I said with a giggle, trying to remember just how much bourbon he'd put in my glass.

"I'm getting there," he said. "Mind if I have another?"

"You know where everything is. Help yourself."

He was back in five minutes, and his glass looked about like the first one. I guess he wasn't trying to get totally tanked...at least not yet.

"Speaking of dresses."

"What?" I responded, laughing.

"I'm terrible at starting a new subject, and I think I said this before, but that dress you were wearing last night was, well, subtly spectacular."