in surrender, his grin relaying both defeat and exasperation. “Message received. I’ll back off. You’re a big girl. You know what you can handle. Just—just call me, would you? Call anytime if you change your mind about the support group.”
“Yes, Mother doctor.”
“Okay. That’s it.” He scowled with mock seriousness and stood. “Take your smart mouth and your stubborn blue-blooded pride and do not darken these hospital doors again until I tell you you’re ready for cosmetic surgery.”
“Don’t worry. As kind as everyone has been, I still can’t get out of here fast enough.”
“The timing is good then because I believe your transport is waiting.”
“Gregory and Anna are here?” While Helena did not relish imposing on Princess Anna von Oberland and her husband, Gregory Hunt, she was nonetheless relieved at their offer to recuperate at their ranch, Casa Royale.
“The press got wind that you might be released today and have been camping out on the front steps. Greg and Anna are running a little interference, hoping to take some of the heat off you.”
They were very gracious, the princess and her handsome husband—especially in light of the recent unpleasantness between Asterland and Princess Anna’s homeland of Obersbourg. As unpleasant as it was, however, it was still more appealing to dwell on that horrible business than on the horde of reporters waiting for their first glimpse of her since the crash.
Waiting to be shocked by what they saw.
Waiting to look at her with pity in their eyes. To feed on her weakness and expose her for what she no longer was.
That, she promised herself, would never happen. They would see only what she wanted them to see. And they would not see a victim.
“Helena? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Fine,” she insisted quickly and attempted to mask the shakiness in her voice by sitting up. “Now unless you want to see my bare backside, I’d suggest you leave me so I can get dressed.” To prove she meant business, she tossed back the sheet and carefully swung her legs to the side of the bed.
“All right. I’m gone.” He laughed and turned to leave.
“Justin.”
Her soft voice stopped him, one hand on the door.
“Thank you. Thank you for being my friend. I’m glad it was you on call that night.”
His smile was achingly endearing. “Just doing my job, ma’am.”
“And I’m just doing mine, so don’t forget about that donation,” she reminded him, with another of those practiced smiles that she knew could charm him out of a generous contribution.
“The check’s in the mail,” he promised with a shake of his head, then chuckled when her playfully muttered, “Oh, I’ve heard that one before,” chased him out the door.
Helena watched the door close slowly behind him. Alone, she let down her guard, dropped all pretense of bravery and hung her head like the coward she feared she’d become.
She’d said all the right things, made all the right noises. While Justin wasn’t altogether convinced that she was all right, she felt she had convinced him that after spending most of January and all of February in the burn unit, she was bursting to get out of here.
The truth was that the thought of leaving terrified her. Yes, the isolation had been, in some ways, like a prison—but it had also been a refuge. As long as she was here, she didn’t have to face the public. She didn’t have to face the press.
As long as she was here, she didn’t have to face the fact that she had left the world a whole, perfect person—and that she would be returning to it profoundly diminished.
A few minutes later, a light rap on the door brought Helena’s head up from the simple task of buttoning her blouse. At any rate it used to be simple. Now, getting any assistance from her left hand was an exercise in pain and frustration.
Squeezing her eyes tightly, she composed herself. These resurgent and pathetic bouts of self-pity simply had to stop.
“Please come in,” she called cheerily. “I’m decent. At least I’m getting there. Although you might find the air in here a bit blue.”
When Anna von Oberland-Hunt walked into the room, Helena manufactured a sheepish grin for the elegant princess.
“You know, Anna, when I was a little girl, my mother was always threatening to ship me off to Australia to some obscure penal colony for foul-mouthed little hellions.” She gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I’m thinking, in retrospect, it might not have been a bad plan. No doubt, if she’d been here just before you arrived, she’d have thought she should have followed through and sent me packing.”
“If she were here,” Anna said gently, “she would have offered to help. I’m a poor substitute, but if there’s anything I can do, just say the word.”
Helena shook her head to combat the renewed threat of tears that Anna’s kindness fostered. “It’s these cursed buttons.” She sighed in exasperation. “It’s rather like starting from scratch, isn’t it? One two, buckle my shoe…three four, what’d they invent these blasted buttons for?”
“I’m so sorry, Helena. I should have thought of that when I selected your clothes.”
“Oh, please. I already feel that I’ve taken horrible advantage of you. Don’t make me feel worse by apologizing for your kindness.”
A look that passed between them underscored Helena’s gratitude for all that Anna and Greg had done—right down to retrieving her luggage from the authorities and selecting lingerie in the form of camisoles and teddies so she wouldn’t have to deal with the impossible task of wrestling with a bra. Hooks, and now it seemed buttons, were currently beyond her.
Yes, she owed Anna and Gregory Hunt. The invitation they’d extended for her to stay with them was one she appreciated for both its kindness and its diplomacy. Given the strained relations between Anna’s homeland of Obersbourg and Helena’s of Asterland—a result of Helena’s late cousin Ivan Striksky’s disgraceful and failed plot to force the princess to marry him—their offer was generous beyond measure.
“It looks like you could use a little help right now,” Anna offered kindly.
“A lot is more like it,” Helena admitted. “And I’m past being too proud to accept it until I can manage better on my own.”
If she could ever manage better. Tears welled up again. She blinked them back. Damn and blast it. She’d begun to think that someone had surgically removed her spine when she was under anesthetic. Worse even than dealing with her new limitations was fighting this crippling depression. She would not give in to it.
She met the princess’s eyes as Anna made quick work of the pearl buttons on the dove-gray silk blouse that matched Helena’s slacks. Not for the first time, she admired Anna’s beauty and grace. She thought of the times that their paths had crossed. Theirs had been a passing acquaintance even though she’d often thought they would make fine friends. Now she was sure of it.
“I
