in college, she’d been as ravenous as he was. Sometimes, she’d been embarrassed about her earthy murmurs and sighs, her automatic reactions and responses to their lovemaking. He used to love to kiss her embarrassment away, to make her forget the inhibitions instilled in her by that prissy family of hers, to take her to the brink of completion, then watch her soar. He never would have imagined that a healthy, vibrant, sexy woman like Krista would swear off men. Not in a million years. But then, he never would have imagined nearly dying in a car accident three months ago, either, or perhaps never being able to walk again.
Eyeing the wheelchair, he said, “I spent the worst two months of my life trying to get out of one of those contraptions and now you want me to get back in?”
She shrugged in an offhand way and said, “I thought you were here to learn to walk again, but if you want to take the time to get into your leg braces so that you don’t have to ride in a wheelchair, suit yourself.”
He stared at her for a silence-filled moment, then grasped the chair’s armrest. “I hate it when you’re right.”
“I know,” she said as she leaned down to set the brake.
Her breast brushed against his forearm, the hair on his arm standing up at the brief contact. Slowly, his eyes moved upward, coming to rest on her face. Since Krista wasn’t very tall, it wasn’t a far climb, but it sure was a pleasant one. Will sucked in a quick breath as the intensity of her gaze hit him between the eyes. He’d reacted to her this way before, lots of times. He hadn’t seen or talked to her in eight years, but he hadn’t forgotten her. He was honest enough to know that he’d experienced some of the best sex of his life when Krista had been in his arms. Fleetingly, he wondered how he’d ever managed to leave her all those years ago.
Thoughts crystallized in his mind as he recalled a comment she’d made when he’d first seen her yesterday. I don’t remember receiving any letters from you eight years ago.
She’d only been twenty-one years old back then, but she’d loved him the way a woman loves a man. He’d loved her, too, he supposed. But he’d been a young twenty-two, his sights set on the major leagues, not on the woman with an unfailing spirit and unfathomable brown eyes.
Will grasped the other armrest and levered himself into the wheelchair. She bent to release the brake, her clean scent filling his nostrils. Before she straightened, he asked, “Did you swear off men because of me, Krista?”
The chair’s brake let go just as her breath pierced the silence in the room. For a moment she remained at eye level. Her eyebrows were arched and her voice was clipped as she said, “Don’t flatter yourself, Will.”
She straightened, pulling the chair back with more force than might have been necessary. Will let out a loud whoop as she pushed him through the wide doorway. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she’d said. Krista never had been one for trite lines or inane white lies. Her honesty was refreshing, but then she’d always been refreshing.
He used to tell her so. Will smiled to himself as he remembered what she’d told him in return. “I’m refreshing, and you’re fresh. Quite a combination, don’t you think?”
Krista called hello to other patients as they passed. Will barely noticed. His thoughts were elsewhere, deep in the fresh zone, where images danced through him mind, images of him and Krista in his dorm room, and later, in her tiny apartment just off campus.
“Mommy! Mommy!”
He turned his head slowly as a young boy with dark hair and huge brown eyes ran toward him from the opposite end of the hall. Will glanced around, searching for the object of the child’s gaze.
“Mommy, guess what?”
It took Will a moment to realize that the kid was talking to Krista. Mommy? Krista was somebody’s mother?
“Tommy,” Krista called. “Where’s Mrs. Hall?”
“She’s coming,” the child replied. “See? Back there.”
Will didn’t know why he glanced down the hall, but sure enough, a heavyset woman with frizzy brown hair was hurrying toward them.
“You’re Billy the Kid!” the boy exclaimed, staring at Will.
“Tommy,” Krista admonished, “where are your manners? This is Mr. Sutherland. Mr. Sutherland, my son, Tommy.”
Will heard the pride and affection in Krista’s voice as she spoke to her son. The little urchin extended his right hand, and in his befuddled state, Will enfolded the boy’s fingers in his own large hand. “Hi, Tommy. How ya doing?”
“Cool,” the child said in awe. “Wait until I tell Stephanie that I shook hands with Billy the Kid. She’s my friend. She doesn’t care much about baseball, so she doesn’t know you stole forty-two bases last season, but she’s still pretty smart.”
By the time the boy had finished talking, Mrs. Hall had joined him and Krista in the middle of the corridor. Krista spoke to the older woman, and Tommy rattled on about home runs and batting averages. Within minutes, Mrs. Hall was leading Tommy away. This time the child’s hand was tucked firmly in hers.
Will sat statue still, barely conscious of the lady with the walker who was steadily drawing closer. “How old is your son?” he asked.
“Tommy’s six going on thirty,” Krista replied. “He’s gifted.”
Will digested that statement easily enough. Since she had a six-year-old son, obviously she hadn’t sworn off men immediately after he’d left eight years ago. Yesterday, he’d assumed that Krista wasn’t married. The subject hadn’t crossed his mind today, especially not while he’d been kissing her. She said she’d sworn off men. Exactly what had she meant by that?
“Uh, Krista?” he asked, waving at the little boy at the end of the hall.
“Mm?” she asked, waving, too.
“Are you married?”
Two
A re you married?
The question hung in her mind as the faint swish, thud, swish, thud of a walker steadily drew near. She’d assumed Will knew her marital status. After all, he’d shown up at the Fourth Street Rehab Center in Allentown so sure she’d agree to be his physical therapist that he’d signed his outpatient admittance forms before talking to her.
She’d been fighting her reaction to seeing him again since the first moment she’d looked into his eyes yesterday. It was so easy to get emotionally involved with her patients, to share in their grief and in their achievements. The fact that she’d known Will intimately eight years ago made her even more susceptible to emotional involvement. Somehow she had to find a way to help him regain the use of his legs and retain her own equilibrium at the same time. That wasn’t going to be easy.
Oh, no, she thought to herself. That wasn’t going to be easy at all. She hadn’t been on an even keel since yesterday, but she hadn’t realized just how much Will had affected her until she’d seen Tommy running toward her a few minutes ago. She’d known he had the day off from school, and she’d known he and Mrs. Hall were going to stop by later this morning. But while she’d been working with
