The Marriage Beat. Doreen Roberts
She shook her head at him. “No, really. Your instructions were fine. It was my fault. I forgot to stay down until you were all the way over and—”
“I’m the instructor. I’m supposed to be able to prevent you from hurting yourself.”
She sat back, knowing it was useless to argue. He was determined to take the blame. She felt miserable. She was tired, hungry, in pain and felt like a prize idiot. If she hadn’t been so distracted by Tyler Jackson’s great muscles, if she hadn’t been so conscious of his steely-blue eyes, she’d have paid more attention and this wouldn’t have happened.
It would have to be her right arm, she thought in disgust. This was not turning out to be her week. First she’d had her purse stolen, which so far hadn’t turned up, and now she’d wrecked her arm in her very first lesson in self-defense. What else could possibly go wrong?
“Megan Summers?”
She looked up to see a young nurse standing at the door, beckoning to her.
Tyler got to his feet.
Megan got up, too. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she told him.
“I’m going with you. Here, give me your purse. I’ll carry it for you.”
“I can carry it myself. I’ll be fine.”
“I want to be sure of that.”
She looked up at him, ready to argue. One look at his face told her she’d be wasting her breath. Still hanging on to her purse, she followed the nurse into the cubicle with Tyler hot on her heels.
The nurse made her sit on the bed and pulled the curtain around her. Tyler hovered in the small space, looking painfully uncomfortable. Megan wondered what he’d do if she had to disrobe. Getting out of a leotard with one arm would prove to be real challenging.
She tried to think of something to say that would release the tension, but all she could think of was that she wanted him to leave. She didn’t think that would help much.
Fortunately she wasn’t kept waiting too long before a man who looked too young to be a doctor whisked the curtain aside. “Well, what have we here?” he asked, giving Tyler a quick up and down scrutiny. “I’m Dr. Hartford. Are you the husband?”
“Friend,” Tyler said briefly.
The doctor glanced at Megan. “All right for him to stay?”
“As long as I don’t have to take anything off.” She avoided looking at Tyler, but she heard his slight cough.
“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary.” The doctor took hold of her arm in a firm grasp and gently raised it. “Does that hurt?”
She shook her head.
He probed all the way down her arm with strong fingers. “All right, grasp my hand as if you’re going to shake it.”
She slowly closed her fingers around his. The second she tried to grip his hand major pain tore through her arm all the way up to her shoulder. She let out a small yelp.
“Ah.” Dr. Hartford closed his fingers around her wrist and gave it a gentle twist. “Hurt?”
“Yes!”
She’d forced the word through gritted teeth, and she saw Tyler’s shoulders hunch.
Dr. Hartford pulled her arm straight out in front of her. “Press your hand back,” he ordered.
She tried, but nothing happened. Except for a whitehot heat slashing up her arm, that was. “I can’t,” she said, looking anxiously up at him. “Is it broken?”
The doctor shook his head. “No, but you’ve done some pretty good damage to your arm. Tom ligaments and, I suspect, a strained muscle. That will take a few days to heal.”
“Will I be able to use it?” She looked down at the useless hand in her lap. “Look, I can wiggle my fingers.”
“But it hurts to do that, right?”
She gave a miserable nod. “Right.”
“Then don’t do that.” Dr. Hartford winked at Tyler, who didn’t seem to get the joke.
Megan wasn’t particularly amused, either.
“It’s going to hurt for a while,” the doctor said, giving her an encouraging smile. “We’ll give you something to help with that. We’ll also wrap the arm and put it in a sling to make things a little more comfortable. Don’t try to use it under any circumstances. You’ll only aggravate the problem, and if you do, you could end up doing some permanent damage.” He handed her a business card. Make an appointment with my office to see me in a week. You should be feeling a lot better by then.”
He nodded at Tyler, who said gruffly, “Thanks, Doc.”
“Thank you,” Megan echoed, her mind already grappling with the major problems her injury was about to cause.
“See you next week,” Dr. Hartford said cheerfully. “The nurse will be back in a minute to wrap that arm. Take care.” He disappeared through the curtain, leaving Megan alone with Tyler.
For a long moment neither of them spoke, then Tyler said quietly, “I’m sorry. I really messed things up for you.”
She shook her head, her mind still on her problems. “I’ll manage.”
“What about your work?”
She shrugged. “I’ll take a couple of weeks off.”
“You’re going to need some help. What about your mother? Can she take care of you?”
She looked up at him. “Look, please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. It’s only one arm. I’ve got another one.”
“It’s your right arm. You’re right-handed, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“You haven’t begun to realize how awkward that’s going to be for you. You can’t drive, cut up your food, tie shoelaces, dress yourself, cook your meals or shop for groceries.”
She didn’t like the insinuation that she was entirely helpless. “Lots of people manage with one arm. What about all those people who lose an arm, or are born without one?”
“They’ve had years of therapy to learn how to get by. You’re facing a crash course...alone.”
He had a point. She tried to visualize herself fastening her bra with one arm. Taking the top off the toothpaste. Opening a can of soda. She let out a long sigh of frustration.
“So, what about your mother?” Tyler looked at his watch. “I could give her a call for you.”
“No.” Megan chewed on her lip. “My mother lives clear across town. She’s a real estate agent, and relies on her commission to support herself and my kid brother. I can’t take her away from her work for two weeks. She could lose customers that way.”
“Couldn’t you stay with her?”
“She lives in a two-bedroom apartment. Besides, she doesn’t have time to take care of me. She’s too busy with her own job.”
Tyler started to say something else, but just then the nurse arrived to wrap her arm.
“You can shower,” the nurse said, when she’d fitted the injured arm into a sling and tied it around Megan’s neck, “but you will have to rewrap it afterward. Make sure it’s good and tight for support.”
Megan nodded. “Can I go now?”
“Sure, you can.” The nurse handed her a piece of paper. “Get this filled in the pharmacy on the way out, and whatever you do, don’t try to use that arm.”
“I won’t.” Megan thanked