LITMIR.BIZ

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smiled. ‘Crosswords don’t do much for me either.’

      ‘What does?’

      ‘Cycling,’ Ross said wryly. ‘And tramping and rock-climbing.’ His snort of laughter lacked any trace of amusement. ‘Maybe I ought to revisit crosswords after all.’

      ‘Bit early for that,’ Megan said firmly. ‘According to your notes you’re doing really well. You had four spinal fractures, didn’t you?’

      ‘Yep—C7, T8, T10 and L5.’

      ‘But the only unstable ones were T8 and T10?’

      ‘Yeah. I’ve got a bit of hardware taking care of them now. I’ll set off the metal detectors in the airport from now on.’

      ‘A Harrington rod.’ Megan nodded. ‘So they’ll be looking at fitting you with a brace and mobilising you into a wheelchair pretty soon, then.’

      ‘I guess.’ Ross was not prepared to look forward to the prospect of a wheelchair.

      ‘But that’s great,’ Megan encouraged. ‘You’ll be amazed how much better you’ll feel, getting mobile.’

      Maybe having company hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Ross wasn’t in the mood to be encouraged. He knew he was lucky compared to many people these nurses cared for. He knew he should be thankful for what he still had in the way of movement. And he knew that the jury was still out as far as a final outcome—but he had to come to terms with the worst prognosis. That way he could accept any improvement as a bonus, and the agony of grieving for what was lost would not be too prolonged.

      Megan clearly sensed that the topic was not welcome. ‘You’re from the Coast, aren’t you? I had an uncle I used to visit over there—in Hokitika.’

      ‘I grew up in Hoki.’ Ross was happy to accept the change of subject. ‘But I live just outside Charleston now. I built my own house out in the bush.’

      ‘Really?’

      ‘Well, not exactly. But I had a lot of input into its design and I cleared the site. A patient of mine was a builder in Greymouth and he helped me with the building in his spare time. It took five years to complete and I feel like I built it myself.’

      ‘Sounds special.’ Megan rested an elbow on the side of the bed and propped her chin on her hand. ‘My fiancé and I are saving for a section at the moment. I’ve got a few ideas for a house design I’d love to try out.’

      ‘I tried to make mine blend in with its setting. It’s made of logs with a cedar shingle roof. I use solar panels as the main form of heating and there’s slate floors and lots of internal brickwork to soak up the heat and then release it slowly.’ Ross was unaware of the note of longing in his voice as he described his home. ‘For winter, I’ve got an open fireplace you could roast an ox in.’

      ‘You must be missing it,’ Megan said gently. ‘I’ll bet you can’t wait for a visit home.’

      ‘Not much point visiting. It’s not as though I’ll be able to live there again.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘It’s isolated,’ Ross said flatly. ‘And the grounds aren’t exactly manicured. I’ve put paths in to make sure I didn’t fall down any undiscovered gold-mining shafts but they wouldn’t be wheelchair-friendly. And the house is two-storeyed. The bedrooms and main bathroom are upstairs. There’s only a small shower and loo downstairs unless you count the outside bath, and that’s miles away on the edge of the bush.’

      ‘You’ve got a bath in the bush?’

      ‘Yeah.’ Ross smiled at Megan’s expression. ‘An old claw-foot, cast-iron model. It’s got a water supply from the creek and it gets heated by a gas burner. You can sit and have a soak under the stars with just a few ancient rimu trees and the occasional morepork for company.’

      ‘Sounds romantic.’

      ‘Yeah.’ Ross let his eyelids drift shut for a few seconds. It hadn’t been intended as a romantic setting but that had been before Wendy had been introduced to the property’s unusual outdoor feature. She had loved it as much as she had loved his house. She had also revelled in the exciting hint of danger from uncovered mining shafts and had been enchanted by the limestone cave in the base of the hill behind the house. It had been in that cave, sheltering from some of the rainfall that made the West Coast famous, that Ross had declared his love.

      Wendy must have understood how difficult it had been to describe emotions he was experiencing for the first time in his life. She had listened, holding both his hands in her own, and she had looked more solemn than he would have believed she was capable of looking. Then she had simply nodded.

      ‘We’re soul mates, Ross. I love you, too. I always will.’

      Megan misinterpreted the silence. ‘There’s lots of help available to get past things that can seem like big problems, you know. Even with a complete lesion around T10 people often only need a wheelchair for part of the day. Walking can be fully functional.’

      ‘Yeah.’ The agreement was bitter. ‘With callipers and crutches. And incomplete lesions like mine can leave people severely disabled, despite neurological recovery.’

      ‘Do you have any family in Hokitika?’

      ‘No.’ His response was curt.

      The arrival of the extra staff on turning duties for the night seemed well timed. Megan was needed to do the rounds of the other patients due for a change of position and Ross was grateful that any further discussion had to be abandoned. He was in enough emotional turmoil without dredging up memories of his childhood and family. Maybe that was what was making the whole business with Wendy such agony. Nobody had ever offered him such unconditional love before. Or matched him so perfectly in his outlook on life. And now he had to take that precious gift and return it virtually unopened.

      The grief of losing what he and Wendy had found together was going to be greater than losing the use of his legs, but he had no choice. His recovery, to whatever extent he could make it, was going to require total focus. It would be the biggest physical challenge Ross had ever faced. It would need all the strength he could muster and it was something he had to do alone.

      Pride would not allow Ross to offer Wendy an empty shell of the man she had fallen in love with so convincingly. Their shared love of physical pursuits had brought them together and Ross could even pinpoint the moment he had known he was in love with her. Wendy had been below him on a rock-face, laughing at the sheer exhilaration of the difficulty and danger she had been faced with. He had been holding the rope, making sure that if she slipped she would still be safe. He would only hold her back now. His physical disability would be another rope—preventing her from doing what she loved to do so much. And Ross could understand better than anyone how essential doing such things could be for nurturing one’s soul.

      He wouldn’t even be able to make love to her again, and the pain of losing something he’d never dreamed could be so fulfilling was unbearable. He hated Wendy touching him now because it was such an instant and searing reminder of that loss.

      The timing was just so incredibly bad. If they’d already been together for years, maybe they could have faced and overcome this obstacle together. The emotional bank account of shared and equal support would have been healthy. The memories of countless nights of passion would be enough to draw on in the lean times. But it had been only weeks, not years, and their love was a fledgling that needed nurturing and time to test its wings and gather strength. It couldn’t survive the kind of stress the aftermath of this accident would present, and it would destroy Ross to watch it wither and die slowly.

      The pain of that emotional destruction would remove any chance Ross had to fight and win the battle he was now facing. The temptation to draw on the strength Wendy was offering so willingly was overpowering, but the sheer force of that temptation was enough to sound an alarm he couldn’t ignore. He had wanted support like that in the past—had trusted that it would

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