Before he would release his patient, David wanted to make sure Clay and Callan could handle all the additional challenges of Clay living at home. Once Clay had the strength to move without help and Callan felt confident she could provide the necessary care, he would sign Clay’s walking papers.
He glanced out his office window and spied Clay and Callan on the garden pathway.
Callan must have said something to tease Clay because he looked determined to overtake her in his wheelchair. David laughed aloud when Callan planted her feet and refused to let Clay tug her into his lap. She was extra careful not to do anything that could possibly injure Clay. It drove his poor patient daft.
David knew Clay was chomping at the bit to be well, to be released, to resume life as it was before his accident.
Fortunately, for Clay, he healed quickly and life would most likely return to normal for him. The first few weeks, he was afraid to hope that Clay’s leg would heal at all. Now he had a degree of certainty that Clay would be able to walk normally if he stuck to his therapy and followed orders.
He would always have a little trouble at airport security with the plates and pins in his leg, but other than that, he didn’t think the man would have any problems.
He gazed at the couple out the window and saw Clay follow Callan like a puppy on a leash. David thought they were probably as ready as they were going to get for Clay to be released.
The next morning he announced that Clay could go home. Callan and Clay were nearly beside themselves at the prospect of finally being home together.
As Callan pulled the car into the driveway the following afternoon, Clay looked around seeing their home through fresh eyes.
Everything looked neat, tidy, and so welcoming from the green oasis of lawn to the profusion of bright flowers blooming seemingly everywhere.
The sound of Cully barking from the backyard greeted him as he opened the car door. He drew a deep breath, inhaling the fresh, clean scent of the air. It smelled of home.
Although he’d never smelled it before, but he would always remember the scent of the fresh cut lawn, the spicy bouquet of the blooming flowers, the loamy aroma of good earth, and the fruity tartness of ripening summer apples that filled the air.
After filling his lungs, he waited for Callan to get his crutches out of the trunk and bring them around. With her help, he got out of the car and balanced on the crutches. As he made his way down the sidewalk, he suddenly had a new appreciation for their ranch style home that had no stairs or steps to maneuver.
Callan opened the front door then held the screen door open for him. Slowly going inside, he acknowledged the sense of warmth and welcome provided by their living room.
When he made his way to the kitchen, the house burst into a buzz of noise and activity as people poured out of the family room yelling, “Surprise! Welcome home!”
Amazed and surprised, he smiled at all the friends and family milling around, wishing him well.
“This is quite a surprise. Thanks everyone,” he said, taken aback by the number of people gathered in their home. They all parked next door at the neighbor’s to keep Clay from being suspicious.
“Why don’t we get you situated in the family room and then everyone can take turns visiting with you,” Callan said, walking with him toward his recliner. With a little help from Josh and Jake, he collapsed into his favorite chair. As he settled into the recliner, Clay decided it was the most comfortable he’d been for weeks.
It amazed him that so many people cared enough to welcome him home. He gazed around at the faces filling their home, pleased to see his parents, Big Jim, Aunt Julie and Uncle Ralph, Jake and his folks, Josh and Jenna, Laken and Tyler and their kids, Audrey and Emma, friends of Callan’s from work, his friends from the college, friends from their church, and many neighbors.
Almost magically, a plate full of delicious treats rested on his lap and a glass of icy cold sweet tea appeared on the table next to his chair.
Mindful of Clay tiring quickly, the guests didn’t stay long. Laken and Jenna helped Callan clean up the mess before herding their husbands and Laken’s kids outside and into their cars. Like a whirlwind that had blown by, Clay and Callan were soon alone in the quiet house.
Cully slept in his bed by the patio door. Audrey and Emma, along with Laken’s kids, had worn him out playing in the backyard.
“He’s sure grown a lot.” Clay stared at the puppy that was all feet, ears, and tail instead of the cute little ball of fur he’d last seen. He studied the part of the backyard he could see through the family room window. Everything looked fresh, green, and well tended. “You’ve worked really hard on the yard this summer. It looks great.”
“I can’t take much credit,” Callan said, looking outside at the neatly trimmed shrubs and immaculate flowerbeds. “Your mom, Aunt Maggie, and Jake spent a lot of time helping in the yard in the evenings when I was home and some evenings when I wasn’t. I think they wanted to take good care of it for you.”
“Maybe we should retain their help for next year. I’ve never seen the lawn look so good. I honestly wouldn’t mind turning over my duties as official mower of the grass.” Clay grinned at Callan. They both knew how much he hated mowing the lawn.
Callan laughed. It was so good to be home, to have Clay home. There were times she wondered if this day would ever come. Now that it had, she didn’t quite know what to do. It was obvious Clay bordered on exhaustion, but he seemed to want to stay awake.
Under the assumption that he’d like some time to himself to relax, she handed him the remote and gave him a warm smile. Before she left the room, he stopped her. “Where are you going?”
“I thought you might like a little time to yourself,” she said, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “I’ll unpack your bag and do a few little things around the house before we turn in. You can yell if you need anything.” Callan walked back to his chair, kissed his cheek, then went off in the direction of the laundry room.
Clay enjoyed the quiet, enjoyed being in his comfortable recliner, and even enjoyed listening to Cully make funny little puppy sounds in his sleep.
After tuning in to one of his favorite hunting shows, Clay settled back and relaxed. He caught himself nodding off in the chair and decided it was time to go to bed. He called for Callan and listened to her footsteps approach from the bedroom.
“Are you ready for bed?” she asked, holding his crutches and helping him up out of the chair.
“Yep. I can’t keep my eyes open.” Clay carefully maneuvered his way to the bedroom. Nearly too tired to make it the short distance to bed on his crutches, he would sure be glad when the cumbersome cast came off.
He noticed Callan had moved out the dresser and chair that used to sit on his side of the bed, making ample room for him and his crutches. Just a small nightstand next to the bed remained.
When he looked into the bathroom, he could see all sorts of hospital-like equipment. It had all followed him home. He hoped to get back to normal as soon as possible now that he was home. Instead, their bedroom and bathroom looked more like a suite in the hospital.
At least it smelled nice. Like Callan.
She pulled the comforter off the bed and stored it in the closet then turned down the sheet over a light blanket. After fluffing his pillow, she added a pile of pillows for him to cushion his injured leg.
“Well, that was a workout, wasn’t it?” Callan teased when Clay made it to the bathroom.
He slid inside the bathroom and closed the door. Freedom! He was upright and by himself. While he brushed his teeth, he took time to study himself in the mirror, inspecting his scars. The one on his cheek stood out more than the one on his chin. The scar on his head still glared like a spotlight, but as the hair grew in it would be less noticeable.
Convinced his hair wasn’t ever going to look right in that area, he contemplated different ways to comb it. He’d heard stories about people who had their hair shaved off and it came ba
ck in straight when it was curly. If his hair came in straight in that spot, it would really look strange.
Determined to worry about it another day, he had bigger problems than his hairstyle right now. One of the biggest was healing as fast as possible and getting his life back to normal.
When he limped out of the bathroom, Callan sat on the edge of the bed in a plain pink cotton gown. She was so beautiful. He’d missed seeing her like that so much, missed being with her. There were many days he wondered if he’d ever again see the inside of their home, much less be alone with her.
Hurriedly standing, she helped Clay settle into the bed. She made sure his leg was as comfortable as they could make it on the pile of pillows, pulled up the sheet, and kissed his forehead. Aggravated, he felt like a child she’d just tucked in for the night.
Callan smiled at him and brushed her fingers across his jaw. “So, Clay, I didn’t know if it would be easier on you to have the bed to yourself or if you’d feel better if I was in here to help you get up if you need it. Your choice.”
Gently taking her hand in his, he rubbed his thumb along her palm and gave her a pleading look. “Stay here, please.”
She stared at him, not convinced it was a good idea.
Aware of her uncertainty, he grinned. “I’ll behave. I’m too tired to move anyway.”
Relieved, she squeezed his hand, kissed his cheek, and turned off the light. He felt her weight settle on the other side of the bed, miles away from where he rested in his pillow nest. She stretched out her hand and settled it on his arm.
He released a contented sigh. It was so good to be home.