Megs walkedbeside Mitch’s wheelchair as they left the hospital, the nurses who had cared for him so diligently these past three weeks standing near the exit and applauding for him. Did he understand why they were cheering?
Megs thanked each of them as she passed. “These nurses saved your life. They’re happy that you’ve recovered enough to leave the hospital.”
Mitch waved, a baseball cap covering his shaved head and scar, the cervical collar still around his neck. He had been excited to get out of that damned hospital gown and into real clothes and, apart from helping him with balance, he hadn’t needed her help getting dressed.
The LPN who pushed the wheelchair stopped outside the van. “Here’s your ride.”
Two paramedics greeted them and helped transfer Mitch into a new wheelchair, steadying him so he wouldn’t fall. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah.” Mitch nodded.
That was one of this week’s new additions to his vocabulary.
Megs knelt so he could see her face. “I’m going to get into my SUV and follow you to the new place. These guys are going to take care of you. I’ll be right behind you, and I’ll see you soon.”
“Yeah.”
She hurried to her car, which already held Mitch’s belongings and her bags from the hotel, and followed the transport toward I-25. Some part of her couldn’t believe they’d come this far, that they were leaving the hospital.
She drew a breath, allowed herself a moment to feel nothing but gratitude.
Damn, they’d gotten lucky.
It wasn’t a long drive—maybe forty minutes. Still, it felt strange to be away from Mitch for so long. She knew the medical staff in the van would take care of him, but, given his short-term memory problems, she wasn’t sure he understood what was happening. She didn’t want him to think she’d abandoned him or disappeared.
Megs turned the radio to her favorite classic rock station and started to relax as she sang along to the Doors, the Guess Who, and James Taylor. She might have said that today’s musicsuckedby comparison, but Lark, Rain’s older daughter, had recently said that hating modern music was a sign that someone was truly growing old.
So Megs wouldn’t say it. Oh,hell, no. She would just think it.
She was singing along to Boston’sMore than a Feelingwhen she reached the top of McCaslin Mesa on Highway 36. She stopped singing, her heart seeming to swell. The Rockies stretched out before her as far as the eye could see, first the foothills with their green pine forests and then the snow-capped high peaks. Scarlet Springs was tucked in at the base of those high peaks just up Boulder Canyon. They weren’t quite home, but at least they could see the mountains now.
She followed Mitch’s transport van into Boulder, turning into the facility’s parking lot. Immediately, she could see where some of that money went. The grounds were immaculately landscaped, the building artfully designed.
She climbed out, grabbed Mitch’s stuff, and walked over to the van where the paramedics were unloading Mitch. She kissed his cheek, pointed. “See the mountains? We’re closer to home.”
His gaze fixed on the high peaks, and he drew a deep breath, the sight as stirring for him as it was for her. “Mmmow…”
“Mountains. You almost got it.”
While staff settled Mitch in his room, Megs spent the next hour filling out paperwork, getting a permit for her vehicle, meeting the medical staff who would care for Mitch, and listening to the director go over the rules. Megs would have to sign in and out any time she entered or left the facility. The front door would be locked at 10 p.m., after which no one would be admitted. Mitch would have meals with the other residents in the cafeteria, and Megs was welcome to join him. His treatment schedule would be available online and would also be posted inside his room.
Megs did her best to absorb all of this and carried a folder full of documents to Mitch’s room on the second floor. The place was plain with a few generic-looking prints on the walls, a TV, a chest of drawers, a few chairs, a nightstand, and a double bed. The bathroom was accessible with grab bars and a shower with a bench.
Mitch sat in his wheelchair in the middle of the room, looking lost.
“What do you think of your new digs?” Megs sat on a chair beside him. “This is the acute rehabilitation hospital. Now, you can finally focus on getting better. They said I can be with you during treatment. I can also stay overnight.”
Mitch tapped in a message on his tablet. “When do we go home?”
He’d been playing with the voices, and this one had an English accent.
“I liked the Aussie accent better.” She took his hand. “I don’t know when we’ll go home. This must be overwhelming, but this place can give you the kind of treatment you need to recover. The faster you recover, the sooner we’ll get to go back to Scarlet. I know you can do this, and I’ll help in every way I can.”
There came a knock at the door, and a young Latino stepped into the room. “Hey, Mr. Ahearn. I’m Rodrigo Pérez, a member of your physical therapy team. Are you ready to get to work?”
Mitch seemed to steel himself, his jaw set. “Yeah.”
Megs rested a hand on his shoulder. “That’s my man.”
