She had painted herself into a corner, and had no one but herself to blame.
She’d played up the pain and confusion when Sela was around, and would for a while longer. Why abandon a dumb-ass strategy now? At least it was somewhat working; as she’d expected, Sela was handling her new responsibilities well, so well that even the Cove Mountain Hottie was now involved.
She should probably start calling Buns of Steel by his name, because she thought he might soon become, not just a customer, not just a neighbor who was helping out during a crisis, but family. Imagine that! She might be counting her chickens before they hatched, but she didn’t think so.
Carol had no idea what Ben Jernigan was thinking, but she’d bet her ass he was focused in and moving fast to secure what he wanted. He was no fool; he knew the treasure he’d be getting in Sela.
The evidence of his interest was obvious. Not only was he now involved with the community patrol, there were the solar lights, then he’d shown up here last night and eaten supper with them. And he’d brought bacon! That must be love.
They were both definitely interested, but would either of them actually do anything about it? What could she do to help things along?
Nothing. This was no time to play matchmaker, not that she knew how or likely even needed to. Nature would take its course. It always did.
She heard the front door open and close, and immediately dropped her head back and half closed her eyes. Best to look as feeble as possible, in case that was Sela, who stopped by several times a day, as if she didn’t have anything better to do. But a moment later Carol heard Barb’s voice, followed by one she didn’t recognize.
Bored, after days in bed, Carol was tempted to make the effort to stand and take a quick peek around the corner. She could get out of the bed, and had done so several times to make short trips to the portable toilet just a few feet away. There were crutches in reach, in case she needed them—which she did, since she wasn’t supposed to put any weight on her bad leg. She didn’t make a move. One thing she wasn’t, and wouldn’t be for quite a while, was quick.
Barb stuck her head in the bedroom door and called out softly, “Carol? Are you up for a visitor?”
Not knowing who the visitor was, Carol managed a low groan. She’d stopped taking Barb’s pain pills yesterday, because even though there was pain that came and went, those pills needed to be saved for a potential emergency down the road. That didn’t mean she couldn’t still pretend to be out of it. “Visitor? For me? How sweet . . .” She broke off, seeing a strange woman standing behind Barb. Well, crap. Who was this? The face was kind of familiar, but—
Barb stepped to the side of the bed; the strange woman followed close behind. She was in her mid-fifties, Carol guessed. Attractive, in an average way, taller than Barb but not by much. Her light brown hair, shot with just a bit of gray, was pulled back into a neat bun. The bun and ponytail had become the go-to hairstyles of the apocalypse.
“Carol, this is Meredith Parsons.”
Parsons? As in Teddy? Heaven save us. That’s where she’d seen the woman before, at the community barbecue—not that Teddy had bothered to actually introduce his wife to the woman who had swooped in and taken the job he considered himself perfect for. Ha.
“She used to be a physical therapist, and—”
“PTA,” Meredith corrected, smiling at them both. “The A is for assistant. I never got the extra training to be a PT, but maybe I’m better than nothing.”
Carol’s eyes widened. Had Ted sent his wife to incapacitate her? Well, incapacitate her more than she already was.
“I’m fine,” Carol said. “Barb and Olivia have been taking good care of me.”
“I’m sure they have,” Meredith said in a gentle voice, “but it won’t hurt to let me have a look.”
Wouldn’t it? Did that sweet voice and those kind blue eyes disguise ill intentions?
Meredith pulled the coverlet down to expose Carol’s leg. For comfort and ease, Carol wore loose, knee-length pajama bottoms. She’d chosen these pajamas for the softness of the material, not for the bright yellow ducks. The ducks were a little embarrassing, but were the least of her problems at the moment.
Both legs, the good one and the bad, were exposed. The splint, such as it was, consisted of two narrow and smooth planks of wood tied to the leg with long strips of what had once been Olivia’s too-small T-shirts. The setup was crude, maybe, but it had done the trick.
“Barb told me it was a clean break, and I have to say, it looks pretty good. No redness, not much swelling. It looks as though you’re doing well, though before I leave we’ll want to elevate the leg just a bit more.” Meredith looked at Barb. “Do you have any free weights? No more than five pounds. We’ll want to start upper body strength exercises right away.”
“The problem is my leg, not my flabby arms,” Carol said sullenly. She wasn’t in the mood to be polite.
Meredith wasn’t insulted; she didn’t seem to care at all that her patient was being obstinate. “We want to keep your arms and shoulders as fit as possible, even work on your core, when we can. It’s too easy to lose muscle tone when you’re forced to stay in bed for days at a time. When you move to the crutches, you’ll need your strength.”
Damn it, the woman had a point. “My hand weights are in the garage,” Carol said, shooting Barb a look that she hoped said help me. “Behind the dusty treadmill.” That treadmill had been dusty long before the CME had hit. So had the weights.
Barb nodded, grinned as if she was enjoying herself—which she probably was—and left the room, leaving Carol alone with the enemy.
Carol steeled herself for whatever pain might come, now that there were no witnesses. Instead Meredith remained pleasant and easygoing, as she moved to the foot of the bed and showed Carol how to do what she called ankle pumps. Up and down, up and down, with her feet.
Barb returned with the hand weights, five pounders, then said goodbye and slipped out of the room, closing the bedroom door behind her.
Now the real torture would begin . . .
But there was no torture. Meredith was all business, walking Carol through more ankle exercises, as well as simple moves with the weights. She worked with Carol on getting out of bed without putting any weight on the broken leg, and walking properly with the borrowed crutches, though until Carol’s sore ribs were better, using the crutches was limited. She was pleased to see the portable toilet, though goodness knows Carol was not pleased at all that she needed the damn thing.
By the time Carol returned to bed, she was exhausted. Whoever thought rehab was easy work had never been through it. After placing more pillows under the bad leg, Meredith pulled a chair to the side of the bed and sat.
“You’re very lucky the break is no worse than it is.”
“Don’t I know it,” Carol mumbled. She was a little breathless, and that in itself was alarming. Here she’d been playing up the injury so Sela would take over, and it appeared she didn’t need to fake anything at all.
“It’s scary, isn’t it? How what would’ve been a minor incident a couple of months ago can now be life-threatening. Scary, too, how people change, when things go bad.” There remained a kind of sweetness, a patience, in Meredith’s eyes, which was surprising given who she was married to.