Heart of Clay (28 page)

The weight of his eyelids kept him from
opening his eyes. His throat was raw and swallowing was agony. He
had no idea where he was, just that something wasn’t right. Working
hard at forming a word and spitting it out, he managed to croak,
“Laney.”

Where before there had been sounds of
motion, whispers, everything grew unnaturally quiet. He tried
speaking again. “Laney.”

David happened to be standing by the bed
checking Clay’s vitals when he heard him try to say something. He
leaned closer and barely heard the man whisper, “Laney.”

Odd. He wondered who Laney was and why Clay
would ask for her when Callan was clearly devoted to him.

He turned to a nurse and asked her to run
out to find Bobbi, who had gone for a quick walk.

“Ask her if she knows someone named Laney or
if the name has some significance for Clay.”

The nurse was gone only a few moments when
she returned with a crying Bobbi and a smile on her face.

“Mrs. Matthews said that’s his pet name for
his wife,” the nurse beamed. “Isn’t that the sweetest thing?”

David couldn’t help but smile as well. He
stepped out to the nurse’s station and called Callan. It looked
like a miracle was about to take place as Clay came out of his
coma. When he hung up the phone, he went back into the room and
assured Clay that Callan would be with him very soon.

Callan ran across the parking lot, barely
slowing down as she went through the hospital’s sliding doors, up
the elevator, and down the hall to Clay’s room.

Bobbi was there, crying a stream of tears
and smiling. Callan gave her a hug before going to stand by Clay’s
head. Leaning over him, she softly brushed at the short curls near
his temple, trying not to notice where his head had been shaved on
the other side and stitches glared against the pale skin. She bent
close to his ear and whispered, “I love you, Clay. I’m waiting for
you. Come back to me.” She softly kissed his lips before standing
back up.

Clay dreamed of a feathery-soft touch
brushing at his temple. He thought he could smell something
familiar, light and flowery. Then he heard Callan’s voice in his
ear.

Come back to
me
.

There it was again. He had no idea where he
was and why she kept asking him to come back. He struggled to fight
his way to consciousness, to say her name again, but couldn’t quite
force himself to do it.

When she picked up his hand and began to rub
it with her soft, smooth fingers, he squeezed her hand. He hoped
she would know he tried to get back to her from the place that was
so foreign to him.

Callan gasped when he squeezed her hand. She
motioned to Dr. Fisher to watch her hand in Clay’s, and leaned
close to his ear. “I miss you, Brick. Squeeze my hand again if you
can hear me.”

The room was perfectly silent as they
waited.

Clay squeezed her hand again.

Callan beamed, shooting David a look of hope
and joy.

He felt like cheering and grinned broadly.
“Excellent,” he said. “That is excellent.”

Clay came fully awake in stages.

Callan and Bobbi were afraid to leave the
room and not be there when he finally came to, so they huddled
around his bed the rest of the afternoon. Steve arrived early in
the evening and took over waiting while Bobbi and Callan went to
get a bite to eat.

They returned to the room talking about how
surprisingly tasty the hospital food was that evening.

“Do you think these sweet ladies in the
cafeteria would share the recipe for their rolls?” Bobbi asked as
stood next to Steve’s chair.

Callan smiled. “I don’t know, but I’d love
to know their secret for getting the rolls so light and fluffy.” A
motion out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she
turned to the hospital bed.

Clay moved his hands and his right leg, as
if he was trying to stretch. A grimace of pain raced across his
face. Callan heard him moan before he again grew still. She ran out
of the room to the nurses’ station and let them know Clay had
moved. Mary paged Dr. Fisher before she hurried into the room,
right behind Callan.

By the time David arrived, Clay seemed to be
growing agitated as he fidgeted on the bed. One eye popped open
followed by the other. His eyes looked glazed, unseeing, before he
squeezed them shut and grew still again.

Clay heard voices around him. His mom and
Callan talked about the delicious rolls they’d eaten for dinner. As
he tried to recall the last time he’d eaten, he thought he might be
hungry.

He remembered lunch the day they worked the
cattle. There was a table loaded with a wide variety of
taste-tempting treats. Fuzzy memories floated through his thoughts
as he focused on what happened after lunch. He didn’t remember much
except Josh yelling at him to get out of the pen.

In an effort to determine where he was and
why everything hurt, Clay attempted to move his arms and legs. Only
one leg would move. The slightest movement of the other caused
intense pain.

He stilled and listened to the conversation
around him. His dad offered random comments to the women’s chatter.
Something soft, like a blanket, was beneath his hand. His mouth was
dry and tasted terrible while his head throbbed on one side.
Machines beeped annoyingly loud near his head.

Suddenly, the voices stopped. Footsteps
moved quickly out of the room then more footsteps soon returned.
Someone sobbed - he thought it was his mother.

The heat of bodies close to him warmed his
side. He could smell something familiar and flowery.

Wait a
minute
.
Smell?

He hadn’t been able to smell anything since
he was a kid, but Clay could smell and the scent he inhaled was
wonderful. He immediately associated the fragrance with Callan.
Maybe he was dreaming again. He had dreamed of that scent often,
knew it well.

Something soft and light cradled his hand.
Callan’s hand. He’d know it anywhere.

Slowly opening his eyes, he looked into
Callan’s huge green ones and tried to smile. She was waiting for
him to come back, just like she said she would be. Tears pooled in
her eyes, yet she smiled and looked unbelievably happy.

“Hi,” Clay rasped.

“Hi there.” Callan wiped her tears with the
hand not holding his. “Welcome back. I missed you so much.”

“Missed you,” Clay said, trying to focus on
more than just her beloved face. “Thirsty.”

It seemed like mere seconds until a straw
touched his lips and cool water trickled down his parched
throat.

He looked over and saw a doctor standing on
the other side of the bed. He also smiled widely.

“Clay, I’m Dr. David Fisher,” David
introduced himself. He knew Clay probably wouldn’t stay awake for
long or remember much of what was said, but wanted to put him and
his family as much at ease as possible. “You had an accident two
weeks ago and have been here at the university hospital. We’re so
glad you finally decided to wake up. Your wife was getting lonesome
without you. You’re going to be here for a while until your body
heals, but we promise to take good care of you.”

Clay felt exhausted by this little effort.
He tried to nod his head but couldn’t quite manage it. Instead, he
squeezed Callan’s hand again and closed his eyes, drifting back to
sleep.

Callan looked at David, still crying and
smiling. “He’s back!”

It took a few more days before Clay was able
to stay awake for any period of time and show signs of being alert.
Between Callan, his parents, her dad, Jake, Josh and Jenna, there
was most always someone with him when he was awake to answer
questions and get him a cool drink.

David stopped by one afternoon when Clay was
wide-awake and went over the category of his injuries, the progress
he’d made, and what to expect in the next weeks and months.

The doctor attempted to stress how fortunate
Clay was to be healing so well, but also to be mentally at one
hundred percent. After the extent of the injury to his head, David
hadn’t dared hope for such a miracle.

David explained that once he was stable
enough to move around on his own, he could go home. He assured Clay
they would soon get him out of bed and begin physical therapy.

Clay asked him about his returned sense of
smell. David didn’t have a medical explanation for it, but
encouraged Clay to look at it as a very special gift. As the scent
of Callan and her perfume teased his nose, he thought the whole
thing might have been worth it just to be able to savor her
fragrance. Almost.

The next morning, Callan worked on her
laptop while Clay watched television. It had been unusually quiet
without nurses or doctors poking their heads inside the room as
they usually did every hour or so.

When they did, Callan usually took a break
to stretch her legs or make a business call. Clay took those
opportunities to take care of basic necessities. The last thing he
wanted was his wife caring for him like he was a baby or an
invalid. There were certain circumstances when a man had to draw a
line.

Clay hoped one of the nurses would poke her
head in the door soon, so Callan would leave, but he had no such
luck. Anxious, he looked to see if he could reach the nurse call
button.

Callan noticed his distress. “What is it
Clay?” she asked sweetly, setting aside her computer and rising
from the chair. “Can I get you something? You look uncomfortable.
Can I fix your pillow or adjust the bed?”

“No.”

“Well, what’s the… Oh.” Realization dawned
on her. She bent to grab the bedpan when Clay grasped her wrist
with an amazing amount of strength, pulling her startled gaze up to
meet the cold look in his normally warm blue eyes.

“No, Callan. Get out. Go find a nurse and
get out.” Clay was on the verge of losing his composure, especially
when Callan laughed at him.

“For Pete’s sake, Clay, it isn’t a big
deal,” she said, trying to pry his fingers off her wrist.

“I mean it, Callan. Get out. Now! Get out!”
Clay hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but he didn’t back down when
a wounded look settled in her eyes.

Without saying a word, she turned and walked
out of the room. A nurse soon appeared and gave him a look of
disgust. “I hear we’ve got a grumpy bear in here this morning,” she
said as she neared the bed.

Clay’s only answer was to shoot her a frosty
glare.

Callan was noticeably absent from the room
for more than an hour. When she did return, she picked up her
laptop and returned to work. Finally, she looked at him and sighed.
“I know this is hard for you, but I’m your wife. I’m willing to
help you with anything you need. Okay?”

“No, Callan, it isn’t okay. Nothing is okay.
I’m not okay. Being here isn’t okay. You taking care of me like I’m
a baby isn’t okay. Don’t offer again. Ever.” Clay pinned Callan to
her seat with a seething glare.

She raised a brow and gave him a look that
said he acted like a cranky child.

Clay didn’t care. “I’m your husband, Callan.
Some things aren’t up for discussion. If I was the one sitting
there and you were lying here, in this insufferable bed, would you
let me take care of your personal needs?”

A look of horror flew across Callan’s face.
“Absolutely not! That would be… well…” Callan sighed, closed her
laptop, and stood next to the bed. “You win.” She picked up his
hand and placed a kiss on the back of it.

Clay decided if he’d won this skirmish
without much fight, he would press his advantage. The more awake
and aware he was, the more he hated for Callan to see him so broken
and helpless. If he thought anyone would listen to him, he’d send
her away and not let her come back until he was released and ready
to go home.

“Callan, I don’t want you here all the time.
You need to rest. You need to go back to work. You need to resume
having a life.” When she started to argue, he hurried on. “I mean
it. I need some space and time by myself. I don’t need you hovering
over me. Your work is piling up at the office. Go home, Callan.
Please, just go home.”

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her
hurt feelings and emotional turmoil in check. “We’ll see what David
has to say when he next stops by.” She picked up a cup of cold
water and set it on his bed tray, where he could reach it.

“What David has to say about what?” the
doctor asked as he breezed into the room. “I’ve heard you’re not
being a good patient today, Clay. What has you out of sorts? Are
you in a lot of pain?”

Callan tried to hide a smile when Clay
glared at her. “Clay has decided that he needs some space and
thinks I should go away and leave him alone. What do you think,
David?”

“Well, I think it would be a good idea for
you to start returning to a normal routine. That way, when this big
guy does go home, you’ll be ready for him. I know you’re already
working from here, but I think you could start getting back into at
least a part-time schedule.”