Dr. Rainer also informed us that the hospital had a garden named The Garden of Angels. She explained that we could have our baby cremated and that we could sprinkle the ashes in the garden if we wanted. I remembered the counsellor having mentioned this the day after my surgery, but at that time I could not even consider the notion. Now, I kind of liked the idea. It seemed sort of nice— a place where other baby angels were, a place where our baby could rest in peace.
***
Mum and Jen visited again before heading home. When Bryce had stepped out to take an important phone call, Mum explained that he had arranged for Chelsea to fly to Shepparton to pick both her and Jen up not long after the accident occurred. She also said that Chelsea was flying them back later that afternoon—I didn’t know what to think of that.
The kids were still with Dad at the farm, and both Nate and Charli were none the wiser about my fall. I wanted it to remain that way, at least for the time being. I had no idea how I was going to explain to my children that the baby we had just told them about—the baby they were excited about, the baby that we had all grown to love—was now gone. How was I going to explain that?
I spoke to them briefly on the phone, telling them I missed them and loved them and could not wait to see them both. I told them I was bored but also busily working. I hated lying to my children, but I’d had to. I’d had to pretend I was good and not in any case hospitalised—Nate would have panicked.
***
My orthopaedic surgeon also paid me a visit that day, explaining that he had fixed two screws and a plate to my fibula and that the cast which reached to me knee would more than likely be on for a couple of weeks then eventually replaced with a moon boot cast. After that, I would be required to undergo physiotherapy rehabilitation and walk around on crutches for another five to seven weeks. Just the thought of it had me depressed and worried. So much had happened to me and it was all just a bit overwhelming.
***
Day 4, after surgery
By the fourth day, my brain and physical self were once again starting to work in unison with each other. I was finally able to get out of bed to have a shower, which I was relieved about but also silently dreading. Bryce, being Bryce, helped me every step of the way.
“Here, take a seat.” He guided me to the plastic chair where I sat down. I watched him strip down, and like always, I admired the view. I was, however, in no mood for anything intimate, nor would I be for some time—I still admired the view though.
“Now, the nurse gave me this cast protector to put over your leg so that you don’t get it wet.”
He held out the big plastic cover, bent down and started to put it over my leg. He was so cautious and gentle, it really was adorable. I stood up with his help, balancing on one leg.
“You okay?” he asked as steadied me carefully.
“Yeah, I’ve had worse pain.”
He brought my hand to his lips. “I’m sure you have, but if you are in pain, you need to say so. They can give you more medication for it.”
He reached behind me and untied my backless hospital robe then gently pulled it away.
“I know, but really, I’m fine. The pain is sort of a welcome reminder.”
He placed his hands on my shoulders and gazed into my eyes with a look of worry, possibly searching for that slight bit of crazy my last response kind of warranted. He must not have found it, because he surrendered his search and turned to get the shower ready.
As I stood there on one leg, braced against the wall while he adjusted the water temperature, I looked down at my leg and snickered.
“Are you laughing?” he asked, astonished.
I giggled this time. “Yeah, I think I am.”
He stepped up to me and wrapped one arm around my waist, pressing me to his bare skin and lifting me only slightly with ease. Regardless of the trauma I had just recently experienced, my body reacted to his just like it always had. My nipples hardened and that electric tingle he charged me with was also present.
He slowly stepped backward with me still attached to his front, stepping us over to the water and holding me tightly as it cascaded around us.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked softly.
“I have a rather large leg condom on,” I replied.
He looked down to inspect my cast cover then looked back up at me, a smirk on his face. The smirk quickly turned into an outburst. “Yes, you do. But fuck, you look hot in a leg condom.”
I laughed back at him and it felt good. Good to be naked in his supporting arms and laughing with him again. It gave me hope.
I dropped my head to his chest and subdued my laugh to a soft giggle. He kissed the top of my head. “We will get through this, you know. And if you want to—and there is no pressure—we can try again.”