June 1988
Amanda clearly remembered how long it had taken Lee to go through his apartment when they were getting ready to combine households. For someone who’d spent a life moving around constantly, he sure had accumulated a lot of things. And every one of them had had a story or a memory attached.
So she was completely flabbergasted when he and Carrie came back from the store with six large trunks, arguing and laughing in French.
Carrie dropped back into English after she and Jamie finished bringing them in. “There are two more in the car,” she explained. “One for Joe and one for me.”
Standing awkwardly between the living room and kitchen, Amanda stared, first at them and then at the trunks. Then she stared at them again. “Did you run out of room in the car?”
The two of them exchanged a glance. “No,” said Lee. “That’s more than we need. I got us some extras. Got a good deal for buying ’em together in bulk, too.”
“You only got us six trunks, and you think that’s too many?” They’d been told they could ship up to a half-truckload if they wanted.
He collapsed down onto the couch in their living room. “We can get more. But I’m probably not even going to fill two of them.” Seeing her face, he laughed and pulled her down next to him. “Amanda, we don’t have to take everything. It’s best to start light and save some of the shipping allowance for later, once we’ve picked a place out.”
“Don’t forget,” Carrie added. “The storage unit is fairly large.” One extra-large unit had proven to be about two-thirds the cost of two medium- to large-sized units. After some discussion, the two families had agreed to store their things together, except for Lee’s Corvette. He’d spent the last week alternating between being excited about trip planning and worrying out loud that Francine and Douglas wouldn’t take proper care of it.
“I just…” Amanda trailed off.
“Hey,” he began. “It’s an old military brat trick. There’s no way to predict what you actually need until you get there. So concentrate on personal items and a few creature comforts. Come back later for the rest of it.”
“If you say so,” she replied uncertainly. They definitely were going to discuss this later, without everyone else around.
“We’ll have our suitcases too,” Jamie pointed out. “That’s extra room.”
“Suitcases,” said Lee, “are for clothes. Everything else goes in here.”
“But what if all my clothes don’t fit in my two suitcases?”
“You’re not going to need all that, Sport. I told you, you’ll mostly be wearing school uniforms. Plus, the weather there doesn’t change as much as it does here. No more winter and summer closets.” He looked over toward Amanda, a plea evident in his expression. She tilted her head slightly. He responded with an equally small motion that indicated her son.
Oh.
She joined the conversation. “Jamie, you’ll probably grow out of a lot of your old clothes anyway. Remember, you just need the ones that fit.”
“Two suitcases for all my clothes?” He still seemed skeptical, and Amanda was sharply reminded that this townhouse was only the second place Jamie had lived during his entire life. “And then only two trunks for everything else?”
Now was definitely not the time to admit she’d been thinking the same thing. “I’ll tell you what, Sweetheart. Go on upstairs and —” she had to keep herself from shuddering. They weren’t due to leave for another two weeks, and she really didn’t want to live their final days here in chaos. “Why don’t you start trying to separate your clothes into ‘gotta have’ and ‘sure would be nice’?”
He shot them a look only a teenager could manage, but did what he was told.
Carrie’s gaze followed him, though she waited a few minutes before speaking again. “If he can’t fit it all, perhaps let him take some things over to our townhouse. I can work with him to pare it down before the final trip.” They’d decided that Jamie would actually leave with Joe and Carrie, three weeks after Lee and Amanda. The three of them would fly to London, and then Joe and Carrie would spend the night before continuing to Algiers the next day.
Now that Jamie wasn’t around, Amanda could let some of her worry show. “I don’t know. I still don’t think he realizes just how much of a change this is going to be.” That was part of the reason they’d decided his transition would happen in phases.
Lee’s hand closed around hers. “It’s going to be fine, Amanda. I did this all the time when I was growing up.”
“Yes, but Jamie hasn’t.”
“We can all work with him,” suggested Carrie. “I should go. Joe and I will be able to get our trunks in.”
They both stood to walk her out, and as they did so, there was a soft clatter as something hit the floor. Lee looked down before holding his crutches to the side and bending over. “Stupid thing keeps falling out of my pocket.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “Actually, Carrie, I’d been meaning to ask you about it.” He offered the string of beads. “It looks like it might be some sort of rosary.”
Joe’s wife took the beads, turned them over once, and then put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, of all the things. It’s a St. Anthony.”
“What?” asked Lee and Amanda together.
“The thirteen beads,” she explained. “The medal of a monk holding the Christ child. Lilies. And a Tau cross. T-shaped, I mean. This is a St. Anthony chaplet. I…” she paused. “I’ve wanted to get you one as a going-away present, but I’ve had trouble finding one.”
“Why?” Lee asked.
“I’ve been…” she sighed. “Some of our talks, Lee. I’d thought of finding a patron saint for you. St. Anthony of Padua kept coming up. I recognized this because I’d been researching that.” She gave the two of them a meaningful look. “Most Catholics invoke him as patron of lost things. But that’s only part of it. He’s also one of the patrons for…” she trailed off. “For amputees.”
“Amputees,” echoed Amanda softly. “Where did you find this?”
Lee took a breath. “Remember the first physical therapy appointment? When I stormed out and ended up in that chapel-or-whatever? It was on one of the chairs.” He turned to Carrie. “But we’re not Catholic.”
“You don’t have to be,” said Carrie, and her voice trembled. “To have a patron saint. In your case I just thought…I thought having a physical symbol might help ground you.” She gave the chaplet back to Lee. “I know where to purchase a biography of St. Anthony. I’ll do that if you’d like to learn more about him. But this…”
“I was supposed to find this.” He closed his hand around the beads, handling them more gently than he had before. “And I’m supposed to keep it.” He looked at Amanda. “Aren’t I?”
“Well,” said Monica Brown as they began his final session. “Here you are. By yourself, I should add.”
“Amanda’s at Jamie’s school awards day. And I’ve got the hand controls down pat now.” He laughed ruefully. “Even in D.C. traffic. Which took me long enough.”
She answered the way she always did. “Remember what I always tell you.”
“I know,” he said. “I know. Everyone’s recovery is different.” He leaned down to unbuckle the orthopedic boot he’d been wearing the past few weeks, ever since he’d switched to the stump shrinker sock. “And there’s no way to tell in advance.”
“Just wanted to make sure you were listening.”
He took off the boot and the sock. “I always listen to you.”
Monica gave him a look.
He winked back at her. “Come on, admit it. You’re going to miss me.”
She sighed dramatically, but her eyes were bright as she guided his leg up onto a low table. “About like I’m going to miss a hole in the head. Let’s see how you’re looking. How have the exercises been going?”
“Better and better,” he told her. “My Achilles tendon doesn’t hurt as much as it had started to. And you were right about trying cycling. That’s a good one. I’m going to look into getting a bike once we’re across the pond.”
Monica hmmed softly, her attention focused on his foot as she began poking at various places. Lee closed his eyes and tried not to shudder. Even though he knew everything was all right, his foot just plain felt strange. It was going to take him a long time to adjust to the tingles, aches, and odd sensations that came from all the nerve damage.
“The swelling’s almost gone,” she announced. “And the shaping’s nice and firm. Good job, Mr. Stetson.”
“One of these days,” he quipped over another shiver, “I’ll get you to call me by my name.”
Her eyes flicked up. “I thought this was your last session with me.”
“It is. But that’s not to say I’m not going to come back and visit whenever I’m in town, just to hassle you.”
“Coming on a little bit strong today, are we?”
Lee inhaled, counted three, and exhaled. “I’ve had some more of those phantom feelings. Not pain. Just…it’s hard to describe.”
“Tingling? Like the foot’s asleep?”
“Sort of.”
“They’re going to do that for a while yet,” she told him. “Your nerves are still rearranging themselves. That can take up to a year or two.”
“Anything I should worry about?”
“If you start actually feeling pain again, or that incision gets inflamed, get to your doctor right away. Your orthopedic specialist, not a generalist. You said your employer had already helped you source some possibilities in London?”
Lee nodded. “Anyone else I should look for? And do you have the records I asked for, so I can take them with me?”
“Yes,” she told him. “And yes. We’ll start with the first question. You also need to look for a prosthetist.”
“A what now?”
Monica actually gave him a full smile. “A prosthetist designs, makes and maintains prosthetics. You’re ready to start the next phase.”
“Next phase?”
“Like I said, your stump’s compressed down nicely.” At his look, she continued. “The foot has a nice solid shape, and it’s bearing up under your weight without changing that shape.” She paused. “It’s time to start preparing for your new forefoot. The one you’ll actually learn to walk normally on.”
“The one I’ll —” he cut himself off. “It’s actually happening? With — with a time frame?”
She nodded. “It’s actually happening. Which means you’ll want to find another physical therapist too. I think they say physiotherapist in England.”
He was still processing the former bit of information. “I’m…I’m going to walk again…soon.” Lee looked up. “How soon? I know you can’t say exactly, but what are we talking about here? Days, weeks, months?”
“Weeks, probably. Maybe six or so. It’ll take a little while after that before you’re completely off the crutches.”
“But then I’ll be done. No more rehab.”
“There will be a last few things, and a maintenance period. But you’ll do fine,” she told him. “And you will get to where you don’t need anything but the prosthetic. You told me yourself you were going to walk again, the very first time you came in here. Most people with this type of injury do.”
“Yeah, but…” he trailed off. “I’d been trying not to think too much about it.” He hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up about timing.
“Well,” she told him, “it’s time to think about it. And it’s good that you’re already used to using the Lofstrands,” she continued, referring to the forearm crutches he was using. “They’ll make the transition easier.” Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a thick file. “Here are the medical records. I know you’re going to read them. Try not to get too upset. All recoveries hit rough spots, and I had to document them. It’s important your new providers know about them too.”
The skin around his eyes tightened.
“You’ll get over whatever you don’t like,” she told him, with just a trace of an acerbic tone, but now he could hear the warmth underneath it. “Get that boot back on and get yourself over to the bars. Now that your Achilles tendon’s released, I want to see how many steps you can already take alone these days.”
With a grin, he complied.
Lee had been home for several hours, but the grin hadn’t been far from his face the whole time. He’d been upbeat all through dinner, congratulating Jamie on winning two academic awards, happily chattering about plans and ideas for things to do once they got to London. It hadn’t been too difficult for Amanda to guess what had happened at his physical therapy appointment.
“Will you be able to start wearing regular shoes again?” she’d asked.
“I can, but they might fall off,” he’d answered. “Probably not the best idea. I’ll be able to wear them once I have the prosthetic, though. For now I’m sticking with the walking boot. Even though I can’t walk very far.”
She didn’t remind him that, shortly after he’d been released from the hospital, he’d spent an entire afternoon ranting about his mismatched footwear. Now, he seemed to be taking it in stride.
Dinner had been simple tonight since the kitchen had already been halfway packed. They’d spent the evening afterward finishing the job. Now, Amanda could hear Lee singing — or at least, making that odd noise he’d always claimed was singing — as he clattered around in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. She had taken a few minutes to begin sorting her dresser drawers so that they’d be easier to pack later. He might be comfortable living half-in and half-out of boxes, but she would be glad when it was all over.
“Hey,” said Lee from the bathroom doorway. “What are you thinking about?”
“Just…” she trailed off. “Plans. Packing.” She paused. “How nice it is to see you so happy.”
He made his way over to stand beside her, pulling one arm partway out of its crutch so he could touch her cheek. “How much longer will you need?”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“Not long. Why, was there something you wanted?”
“Yeah,” he repeated. “It’s something I’ve been needing to do for a while.”
Amanda laid clothes back into the drawer and closed it. “What?”
“Say thank you.”
“Lee,” she began as warmth began to spread through her middle. “You’re welcome. But for what?”
Sliding back into the crutches, he made his way over to the bed and sat down. “You’ve really come through for all this. The Aegis case, getting reassigned to London.” He shrugged. “Me being so hard to deal with.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” She joined him on the bed. “I just did what you needed me to do.”
“Without complaint,” he amended. “And even though you’re still missing your mother and Phillip so much. You’ve been so steady lately. Letting me lean so hard on you. Staying strong and never taking a break.” He paused. “Even when you probably should have.”
The warmth spread to her face. “For better or for worse.”
He gave her a brief kiss. “I wanted to make sure you knew I’ve seen that, and I know it, and…” he trailed off. “You don’t have to do all that by yourself anymore. We’re going to find our way through all these changes. Together.”
Now she was the one who leaned over to kiss him briefly. “It sure seems like it’ll be different.”
“But we won’t be.” His eyes sparkled. “I promise. Even if we aren’t working together every day anymore.”
She laughed softly, but behind the sparkle in his eyes there was that softness he often showed only to her. “We’ll figure out a rhythm. We’ll work together on that list of family contacts Douglas gave you. And we’re still partners at the Agency. Just…less obviously.”
“Yeah.” He kissed her again. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Reaching up, she ran her hand through his hair before standing and walking back to the dresser. “I’ll just be a few more minutes.”
“Take all the time you need.”
Re-opening the drawer, she pushed a stack of underwear over to the side, causing the pill container underneath to rattle. She’d long since discovered that keeping these particular pills next to her underwear, as opposed to in the medicine chest, helped remind her to take them at the same time every day. She was halfway through this container, with one more underneath it. After that, she’d need to find a doctor in London.
A doctor.
“You know,” she said quietly, “with both of us going into desk jobs, we’re going to have more regular hours.”
“Yeah,” he answered. “We will.”
She turned so he could see what she was holding, with its circle of bubbles for the pills. “More stable.”
“Yeah.” His eyes flicked up to meet hers. “More…” He didn’t finish the thought.
“Yeah,” she answered anyway. “As long as we’re setting everything up from the beginning. Looking…” her voice caught briefly. “Looking for family. Maybe…maybe we should think about changing which doctors we see, too.”
His smile was softer now. Gentler and more open. But no less amazing to see. “Maybe we should.”
Wrapping her hand around the container, she crossed over to the bed to sit down facing him. Then she reached for his hand.
END
Afterword
- The Chaplet of St. Anthony usually has 39 beads, but pocket versions sometimes reduce that to 13.