I jerked awake when Barbara slipped into my room the next morning with my breakfast tray.
"Good morning, Eden." Barbara opened a juice cup, but I spilled it. My fingers still weren't as nimble as they’d used to be though the swelling had gone down significantly. "Oops." She grinned, and mopped my gown with a napkin while the temperature probe she'd slipped under my tongue did its thing. "You're still feverish."
I shrugged. I'd already figured that. When Barbara smiled, I smiled too. I couldn't help it. Barbara was great. She wore her hair short and gelled into a spiky mess. She had a little stuffed animal clipped to the purple stethoscope she wore draped over her neck. She wheeled a blood pressure gizmo to my bedside and I gingerly rolled onto my stomach while she lowered the head of my bed. When I was flat, Barbara fastened the cuff to my thigh and inflated it. I jerked when she put the stethoscope behind my knee. It was cold.
"Oops, sorry, again."
Barbara finished her collection of my vitals. "Sorry, honey. Rest for you today. I'll talk to Dr. Nielsen about your meds, see what we can do to get this fever down and call Ranger, tell him no whirlpool today."
I was disappointed to hear that. Ranger was great. We really got along well. He never acted all goofy around me like guys usually did. I figured Ranger was maybe twenty-five or thirty. He was so careful with me. Respectful, even. He never made me feel embarrassed. And, thank God, he never bought the act that Maddie tried to sell – that I was some sort of celebutante who required all sorts of special attention and treatment – or worse, that I wanted it.
"Barbara, my friend Ashley promised to visit me. Will she be allowed?"
Barbara frowned at me for a second and then smiled. "I'll see what I can do. Oh. I almost forgot. You got another gift from "a fan" today. A box of chocolates. Sure you don’t want them?”
I shuddered. Definitely not. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Okay. Then, finish your breakfast."
I ate the fruit and drank my juice but the powdery eggs were awful. I glanced at the menu left on the tray and rolled my eyes. Maddie must have filled it out. They were feeding me from the Dietary Restrictions menu. Of course, Maddie would be concerned that I’d put on weight while I recuperated. I read the other choices and my stomach growled. French Toast, yogurt. Bagels. Well, it’s not like a few pounds were going to hurt me now. I grabbed a pen. It felt awkward in my gauze-covered hand but it didn't really hurt. I chose every item on the menu.
When I finished eating and had used the bathroom to brush my teeth and tie up my dirty hair, I had to walk around for a while. My legs were stiff and my body ached from doing nothing. I changed into a fresh gown, covered it with another gown worn backwards like a robe and pushed my IV pole down the corridor. Barbara was at the main desk, filling out charts. The corridor was filled with carts of various types. The smell of disinfectant hung heavy on the air. I could smell that but not the meals.
Maybe that was a blessing.
People in the corridors watched me shuffle by the meal cart, standing by to collect empty trays, the bin for dirty laundry, an empty gurney. A blood pressure cart. The crash cart. There was so much clutter in these corridors, it had to be a fire safety violation.
At the end of the hall, I turned and headed back the way I came. The staring didn't bother me. Not really. I was used to people watching me strut down a runway or pose in front of a camera. Okay, so now they'd be looking at scars. It was okay.
Really.
A crash caught my attention, followed by a loud curse. I searched for the source, found Ollie, Ranger's patient from yesterday, trying to push his own wheelchair through the door to what I supposed was his room, next to mine. He'd gotten tangled up in one of the various carts that lined the hall.
With my IV pole in tow, I hurried over to him, grabbed the handles on his chair, pulled him back and centered him so he could maneuver himself through the door. To my delight, my hands curled around the handles with little discomfort. I grinned.
"Explain what you find so goddamn amusing about a guy in a wheelchair."
My grin fled when I looked down into Ollie's rigid face. "No, not the guy in the wheelchair. Fingers that work. See?" I flexed them open and closed.
Ollie's jaw tightened, but he didn't reply.
I extended one of my gauze-wrapped hands. "I'm Eden."
Ollie pushed his chair into his room. "I don't care." And then he slammed the door in my face.
I stood, agape, for just a second or two when a furious gasp met my ears. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry. My brother's an ass sometimes."
I turned, saw a woman beside me. She had long dark hair and the same stubborn jaw as Ollie.
"Stay right here. Don't move. I'm gonna take care of this."
She pressed her lips together, shoved the door open and put her hands on her hips. "Adam Alexander Olinek, what the hell is wrong with you? That's no way to speak to a lady, especially one trying to help you and most especially, one who is also injured."
Ollie, still in his wheelchair, rolled his eyes. "Well, good morning, Amanda. How lovely to see you today."
"Shut up, you jerk."
Ollie's sister, Amanda, stalked into her brother's room and threw her purse to the bed and started straightening up the mess - Ollie's breakfast tray, wadded up napkins and tissues.
"You know, they have people who do that."
"I'm sure they do but I need to keep my hands busy so I don't strangle you. Apologize to this girl."
Ollie finally glanced at me, still standing paralyzed in his door. "Who, her? That's not a girl, that's a toy. I'm not in the mood for playtime and besides, she's broken anyway." He spared me a derisive glance and then looked away like I was nothing.
I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes and started walking, pushing the IV pole, one foot in front of the other. I kept walking, wishing I had somewhere I could go, someone I could talk to. I tried to give Ollie the benefit of the doubt. It wasn’t the first time someone assumed that because I was a model, I was too dumb to take offense to insulting comments.
Then again, he had no idea I was a model.
"Jesus, Adam!"
The door closed as I walked away and I was thankful I could no longer hear what they were saying.
Plastic chairs were bolted to the floor in the empty waiting area. I sank into one and let the tears flow. Maddie would have a coronary if she saw me sobbing like this. It causes wrinkles. But I didn't care. It felt good to let loose.
“Does it hurt a lot?”
The quiet voice startled me and I jerked around, saw a pair of huge blue eyes watching me from the back corner of the waiting area, where the toys had been set up. A little boy sat on the floor, quietly sliding beads along a wire frame painted in bold primary colors, his left arm swathed in thick layers of gauze. I shuddered and shifted closer to him.
“I’m not crying because of that.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because.” I sniffled, wiped my nose on my arm. “Because I’m tired of people thinking I’m pretty.”
The boy frowned. “That’s dumb.”
Despite my tears, I had to laugh at that. He was confused and it was pretty cute. “Yeah. I guess it is. What’s your name?”
“Sam. What’s yours?”
“Eden.”
“That’s a weird name.”
I shrugged. “I guess it is.”
Sam nodded. “So, how did you get hurt?”
I shifted. “Um. I saw a friend’s car crash and pulled her out of the wreck before it exploded.”
Sam’s eyes went round. “Whoa. That’s cool.”
“How about you?”
“Deep fryer.”
I hissed in a breath but managed not to over-react. That would make Sam’s a scald burn. Mine was a heat burn. Scalds were worse… a lot worse. “Ouch.”
Sam nodded solemnly.
“They know you’re out here alone?”
Sam pushed a bead along the blue wire track, watched it slide down and lifted the shoulder that wasn’t injured. I saw blood on his good hand. He must have torn out the IV. “I dunno.”
I interpreted that as a no. “Well, come on. I’ll walk you back to your room.”
“No! I don’t want the ranger to find me.” He pulled away from me, whimpered when the motion stretched his bandaged arm too far. His bright blue eyes popped with so much fear and pain, I had to stop myself from tugging him onto my lap.
I sat down again, waited for Sam to calm himself. I understood why he feared Ranger. My eyes slipped closed. “Sam, he’s not a real ranger. Ranger is just his name, like yours is Sam. And he’s really nice.”
“He’s gonna hurt me.” Sam whispered.
Lie, my subconscious told me. Slowly, I nodded. “Yeah, it hurts. I know it hurts. But you know why it has to be done, right?”
With his wide eyes pinned to mine, he shook his head slowly.
“Burns like ours? They kill part of our skin. Doctors and nurses like Ranger have to make sure all the dead stuff is gone so new skin can grow. If they don’t do that, we can get a really bad infection, an infection so bad, no medicine can fix it.”
Sam’s forehead creased. “So if medicine can’t fix it, what happens?”
Oh, God. I can’t tell him about amputation. “Um. Well. It’s uh… pretty bad.” I shuddered. “I think it’s better to suffer a little pain now instead of a whole lot of pain later.”
Sam lowered his dirty blonde head and swallowed. “They won’t let my mom and dad come with me.”
I nodded, hoped the little gasp I made didn’t sound like the sob it was. “That’s because it hurts them, too.”
Sam looked at me sideways. “That’s dumb. You can’t feel other people’s pain.”
“Yeah. You can.” A deep voice said from the hall.
Sam’s eyes swung to a point over my shoulder. I could feel him, sense him. The man Ranger called Ollie. My stomach flipped and I went still. Even confined to the chair, he was potent.
“Nuh uh.”
“Hand to God.” Ollie said.
Sam’s wide eyes grew round and bounced from Adam to me. “I don’t wanna go.”
I didn’t either. “Look at this, Sam.” I held up a bandaged hand and wiggled my fingers at him.
He wasn’t impressed.
“When I first got here last week, I couldn’t do that. Now I can move each finger by itself.”
Now he was impressed.
“I won’t lie and tell you it doesn’t hurt. It does. A lot. But Ranger is really cool and he makes it feel better as fast as he can.”
“I’m not going.” Sam scooted a foot away.
“You like Star Wars?” Ollie suddenly asked.
What the hell?
I scowled at Ollie but he ignored me. “You remember how the Jedi fought the Sith, right?”
Sam said nothing.
“You got an armful of Sith here. The Jedi can fight back, but they need help.”
“They help you?”
Ollie nodded. “Yep.”
“Then how come you can’t walk?”
“Because my leg is broken, too. It still hurts. I had an operation and now, I go see Ranger and he takes care of me. It feels better every day.”
“Oh, God, Sam! We’ve been looking all over for you.” A man rushed past us into the waiting area, crouched in front of the little boy, and ran a hand over his hair. “Come on now. Mommy’s worried.”
Sam glanced at me and I nodded once. He took his father’s hand, walked away. He got to the corridor and turned back, his eyes full of fear. “Can you come, too? To see the ranger?”
I exchanged a look with Ollie. Did Sam want me or him? But one look at the set of his mouth and I knew I was on my own. Slowly, I nodded. I didn’t care if it was against the rules or anything. “Absolutely. Come get me when you have to leave. My room’s right there, by the water fountain.” I pointed to my left.
“Bye.” Sam’s little voice was subdued. His father didn’t say anything. He probably couldn’t think of anything to say. It didn’t bother me. What did bother me was the man who called me a broken toy.
"Sugar, that was very brave, but I don’t think you know what you just got yourself into.”
I jerked around, found Ranger leaning against the nurse’s station outside the waiting room. I shrugged, a slight lift of my shoulders. “Oh, I know. Believe me.”
“Not the pain, Eden.” Ranger walked over. “I’m talking about the emotional beating. When it’s kids…” he swallowed hard. “When it’s kids, the pain is ten times worse.”
I tried to imagine feeling pain worse than what I’d already endured but the tension in Ranger’s jaw and hands made me gasp. “You mean for you, not him.”
His eyes met mine, turmoil swimming in them. He nodded once. “He has full thickness burns on his upper arm, sugar. Do you understand what that means?”
I nodded. “Third degree. All the way down to the muscle.”
Ranger’s eyes squeezed shut. “He’s gonna need grafts.”
I swallowed. “What about debridement, like mine?”
“He had surgical escharotomy last night but I need to manage the incisions. I will torture him. I have to, to save his arm. He’ll hate me. He’ll have nightmares about me. He’ll never be able to hear my name without remembering. He’ll hate you, too. For helping. This is why we don’t allow parents there.” He stood up. “I’ll make excuses for you, tell him it’s against the rules so you’re off the hook.”
“No.”
Ranger stopped and turned. “Eden-“
“Ranger, I promised.”
He stared at me for a long time, his expression waffling between disapproval and appreciation. Finally, he nodded. “Ollie. Try and talk her out of it.” He strode down the hall.
Ollie was still beside me in his wheelchair, watching with that restrained intensity that made me think he could kill me with a flick of his wrist.
“What.” I put my hands on my hips.
He wheeled closer. “Nobody’s watching now. You can cut the act.”
I blinked. “Okay. I’ll bite. What act?”
“The look-how-sweet-I-am act.” He said with a sneer. “You have no audience. You’re not really gonna help the kid, so give it up.”
My tender fingers clenched and I welcomed the pain. It helped me not murder the man sitting in front of me. According to Maddie, the best way to handle people like Ollie, angry people who weren’t happy unless they made everyone else unhappy, was to refuse to let myself get sucked into their game. And the best way to prevent suckage was to agree with them.
Even if it killed me.
So I smiled a wide pageant smile, blinked a few times, smoothed my hair down. “Oh!” I did a wide sweeping scan of the room. “You’re right. There is nobody here.”
And then I flounced out, perversely delighted in the way those dark intense eyes had widened by my response.
***
It was over.
Sam, freshly rebandaged and exhausted from his ordeal, slept on a gurney that Ranger wheeled back to his room while I pushed my IV pole next to him. Behind me, Ollie rolled his chair in silence and escaped immediately into his room.
“He’s got it bad, you know.”
A shiver ran up over my skin. “Who?” It was a whisper.
Ranger grinned. “Sam. This boy’s in love.”
Right. Sam. My face warmed. “Ranger, he’s like five.” My voice was raw.
“Sugar, you have fans of all ages.”
I said nothing. I knew Ranger was trying to make me laugh, take my mind of the horror I’d just seen. But it hurt to laugh… like laughing was a sin. I followed Ranger as he steered the gurney into Sam’s room. His parents jumped to their feet, worry etched into their faces. I stood back while Ranger gently transferred Sam to his bed, raised the sides, and then reassured his parents. I stole a glance at the sleeping child and left the room as quietly as I could manage, towing my IV pole along.
What was I thinking? What the hell was I thinking? I was crazy; it was the only explanation. I don’t understand how anyone could handle that. Seeing Sam's eyes fill with pain and resentment while we - Ollie, Ranger and me – worked on him from behind a drape to hide the sight from him – it was like watching some horror movie. Sam had clutched my still-swollen hands and begged us to stop. My hand still throbbed and stung from the pressure of Sam’s grip.
I pushed the pole past Ollie's room and heard him curse. I poked my head in without knocking, found him bent over a pillow, broad shoulders shaking.
"Hey. You okay?"
His spine snapped upright, his reddened face wet and tense. "Get out of here."
I shook my head. "Ollie, I-"
"GET THE FUCK OUT."
I took a step back, tripped over the IV pole, managed to make my way back to my own room and finally collapsed when the tears I’d been choking back burst free.
Twenty minutes later, Ranger’s quiet voice interrupted my sobbing.
"Oh, sugar, I can’t hug you. I'm afraid I'll hurt you. Give me your hand."
He scraped the ugly yellow plastic chair closer to my bed and sat down beside me. I clutched his hand while I cried, face down on my bed. It hurt. Oh, God, it hurt. Ranger patted my head. Tissues materialized out of thin air and were pressed into my hand. I blew my nose, wiped my eyes and finally, I dragged myself to a sitting position.
"How's Sam, Ranger?"
"Still asleep. But he's going to be fine, Eden. We're gonna save his arm."
"And Ollie?"
At Ranger's questioning look, I elaborated. "He was sobbing in his room."
Ranger's eyes bulged. "When I went in, he was watching TV, though it does explain the extra helping of hostility." He shook his head. "Stubborn kid." He scraped the chair closer. "Stop worrying about everyone else and tell me how you're doing."
I shook my head. "Not so good."
I braced for the I told you so, but he said nothing, just pressed a palm to my forehead. "You’re hot again. What was your last temp?"
I managed a weak shrug.
Ranger frowned and left my room, only to return several seconds later carrying the digital thermometer. He fit the probe into a fresh plastic cover and stuck it under my tongue.
When it beeped, he murmured a curse. “One oh one. It's going up. You're on antibiotics and it's going up." He stood up. "I never should have let you help with Sam. I’m paging Dr. Nielsen."
I wondered what the hurry was to fix me. I was a broken toy. One who could hardly even keep a promise made to a pre-schooler.
He ran his eyes over me for a moment. "Eden. You ready to talk to me?"
I shrugged. "Ranger. I… I should have listened to you."
To my astonishment, he shook his head. “No. I’m kinda glad you didn’t. You and Ollie were incredible with Sam, sugar. He trusts you guys and likes you. You were able to get him to relax for me. I know, believe me, I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it would have been a lot worse for him if you hadn’t been there. But you’re not all the way healed and I should have remembered that. I'm sorry.”
Ranger’s words bounced around a bit inside my mind. I wanted to believe him. But I think he was just letting me off the hook. “Ranger, how do you not get upset?”
He pressed his lips together, sat back in the chair. It squeaked. “It upsets me, Eden. It always upsets me. I hate making people scream but I just keep telling myself I’m better than the alternatives.” I felt the shudder that ran through him. “When they brought you in, I almost-“ Abruptly, he broke off.
“Tell me.”
“This is all shades of unethical but what the hell. I owe you one today. I’m… well, I’m a fan. I… God. I bought your calendar. When I found out you were injured, I came this close to begging off your case. I couldn’t imagine, couldn’t make myself think about your beautiful face scarred beyond recognition.”
I smiled tightly and stared at my hands. “Um.”
“Forget I said anything.” He waved his hand.
Awwwwk-waaaard.
“So… what made you change your mind?”
He ran his hands over his pony tail. Nervous movement. “Uh. This is gonna sound arrogant, but I knew I could help you the way no one else could.” Ranger stood up, turned his back on me and lifted up the hem of his scrubs.
Pink scars rode his back.
“Oh, my God!” I covered my mouth.
“It’s okay, Eden, I’m fine.”
“What happened?”
“Line of duty. I was burned on the job about ten years ago.” He laughed but the sound was humorless. “I wasn’t much older than you are now.”
“What duty?”
“Military. Right after September 11th, I enlisted. I got burned during my second tour. Treatment’s come a long way in the last few years. What I endured was… well, it was pretty fucking bad. I guess it’s no surprise that I would specialize in burn treatments.”
“That guy. Ollie. He says I’m a broken toy,” I blurted and then waited for the floor to swallow me whole.
Ranger's eyes widened. “Did he?” And then they went to slits. “Is that why you’re crying?”
My eyes dropped. "Forget it. It doesn't matter."
"If it made you cry like that, it matters."
My face crumbled again. "All I did was help him and he blasted me. He... he said I'm not a girl, I'm just a toy and a broken one at that." I closed my eyes. My tears resumed. “I had a career and money and fans and hated it, hated every minute of it,” I babbled with a wave at him. “Now, I have nothing. A little boy asked me to hold his hand and I- I can’t even do that. He’s right, Ranger. I am…nothing.”
Ranger's jaw clenched and it was a long time before he spoke. "Eden, I don't know what you’re thinking but you are not nothing. You said you tried to help Ollie. How?"
"He was stuck so I helped push his chair into his room."
With a wince, Ranger shook his head. “Well, helping a guy like him is the worst thing you can do. He's a soldier, Eden, like me. Soldiers are trained to serve no matter what the circumstances. Offering him help means you see him as damaged. Broken."
I shook my head. "Those are the things he called me."
"Exactly. It's easier to deflect than to accept."
I didn't understand.
Ranger took my hand again. "You saw him in a weak moment. A soldier cannot show any sign of weakness at any time. Knowing his leg is badly injured means you've seen him weak. Then, today, you rushed to his aid. To a guy like Ollie, you may as well have called him a wuss."
I gasped. "I should apologize."
Ranger shook his head. "No. He should apologize. You need to rest."
I nodded. I was shivering again and my whole body ached.
Ranger settled the pillows around me when I managed to scoot onto my stomach, and tucked me in. "Ranger, I think I want to go back with Sam for his next treatment."
He offered me a tight smile. "Sugar, that’s very sweet, but-”
“No. I have to.”
Ranger’s smile filled out a bit. “You don’t have to do anything. But if you want to, I won’t stop you. Unless you’re still running this fever.” He turned for the door. “I gotta get back to my lair. You gonna be okay?"
I smiled and nodded as he left my room, closing the door behind him. When it clicked into place, I let the smile fade and eventually, fell asleep.
***
"Come on, Eden! Some energy would be nice." The photographer, Claude, snaps.
It's after three PM. I'm so cold. The make-up artist has to keep blotting my nose because it drips in the damp cold weather. I am sick of pouting, strutting, and balancing the outrageous head-dress they'd all but glued to my head. I'm wearing next to nothing, but wrapped in a thick tiger skin blanket, the head-dress designed to look like the tiger's head. Draped in thousands of dollars in jewelry, I must crawl, lunge, and sway around Central Park in February. I'm pretty sure all that gold is fused to my body in the icy air.
"Okay, break!" The director shouts.
I beam. Done! Finally.
"Thirty minute meal break."
What? Break? No! We should be done by now. I have to get home. I have a party tonight.
"Get set up by the statue. I want the sun setting on her."
Sunset? Oh, no.
***
A thud and a whispered curse woke me and I come awake with a jolt, gasping from the pain that had become my first conscious thought since the accident. I blinked, focused on the source.
Adam Olinek sat beside my bed.