Chapter 3: The Accident

Trisha felt like such an idiot as they were wheeling her back to the exam room from x-ray. She knew that the parking lot was going to be slippery after last night's rain and this morning's low temperature. If she had only gone the two seconds slower she was always talking to her sons about. Now, she would be laid up for the weekend. The only saving grace, she thought, was that her boys would be at their dad's so she could laze around and recuperate. The boys at their dad's — Trisha had forgotten that she was supposed to work this weekend! It was her last weekend to work the Call Center; she had given her notice when she began to gain more responsibilities on her day job. Feeling remorseful, Trisha made a mental note to leave a message for Scott, the new shift supervisor, letting him know she would probably not be in this weekend for her shifts.

Almost as if on cue, Trisha saw the attending physician enter her room as she heard Mark's booming voice down the hall asking for her room number. Trisha felt a wave of relief wash over her when she knew that he would soon be with her.

"I see no broken bones in the foot," the doctor began to drone, as Mark and John entered the room. "However, you do have a severe sprain. You'll need to keep it elevated as much as possible this weekend. Ice should be applied for the first 24 hours to help keep the swelling down. Take aspirin as needed for pain. You will need to keep it wrapped for, at least, ten days. Follow up with your physician in two weeks, or earlier if the pain and swelling persist."

Before Trisha could say a word, Mark interjected, "Can we take her home, now, doc?" He looked decidedly uneasy in the exam room.

"I see no reason why not, as long as she stays off that foot." The doctor barely got the words out before he was out of the room. It was obvious to Trisha that this doctor really needed to work on his bed-side manner.

"Let's get you home, now," Mark began, reaching out his arms to help Trisha balance herself on her new crutches.

"Hold on!" Trisha glared at Mark. "I'm not quite sure what you expected to accomplish by coming. Carl drove me here in my car. He's going to take me home."

"No, he's not," Mark countered decisively. "John followed me to your house, where I dropped off my truck and then we both came here. If Carl intends to get his car, he needs to go with John because John is headed back to work. I want your keys. I'm going to take you home and make sure you stay off that foot!"

"I need to go back to work; I'm sure there is paperwork I need to fill out because of the accident," stalled Trisha, looking pleadingly at John, her boss.

"All taken care of," John announced. "I'll have everything filled out for you to sign on Monday. That will be soon enough for the paper-pushers, trust me." John was doing everything in his power not to laugh at the two strong-willed adults in front of him. Mark was definitely not used to a woman half his size standing up to him so forcefully, John mused. She will be giving him a run for his money, that's for sure. And, Trisha needed someone to take care of her, which is just what the doctor ordered for his best friend.

"I need to leave a message for Scott, so he knows I won't be in this weekend." Trisha knew it was a weak excuse, but she didn't want to give any indication that she was a helpless woman.

"Done." Mark was not going to allow her any more excuses. When he had heard about her accident, he had begun to panic a little. He had helped her a couple months ago when she was upset about things with her former job. He liked how it felt to have her rely on him. He enjoyed the feeling he got as he watched her mood lighten that night, and knowing that he was responsible for the change. Now, she was hurt again and he wanted to be there again. He was desperate for Trisha to realize that she could depend on him. He didn't want her to be alone. "Where are your keys; I'll bring your car around."

Relenting, Trisha spoke softly, "Carl has them in the waiting room."

John and Carl waited with Trisha inside the doorway while Mark went to bring her car around. Instead of allowing Trisha to hobble to the car on the crutches, Mark came around and scooped her up in his arms. She let out a squeal as she dropped her crutches and desperately clung to Mark's neck. With surprising ease and a sly smile, Mark gently set Trisha in the passenger's seat, while John and Carl packed her crutches and other personal belongings into the backseat of her car. As soon as John closed the door, Mark was back behind the wheel and placed the car in gear as they headed toward Trisha's house. As Mark eased the car to a stop and placed it in park in her driveway, Trisha felt compelled to explain herself, and to set some "ground rules."

"Look," she began, placing her hand on his arm to get his attention, "I appreciate what you're trying to do here, but I can take care of myself; I have been for quite a while now."

"I know you can; I never doubted that." Mark spoke softly as his hand landed on hers. He wanted to keep her hand in his for as long as possible. "But," he continued, "it's okay to need help and accept help every once in a while, too. It doesn't mean you're weak."

"It's just hard for me, sometimes," Trisha began to admit. She pulled her hand out of Mark's and began to turn away.

"Look, let's get you in the house and get that foot elevated with some ice on it. I know the boys are with their dad this weekend, so you'll need someone to help out, at least for tonight. After you're settled, I'll order dinner; Chinese okay with you? And we can sit and eat and watch a movie or something." Before Trisha could respond, Mark had turned off the car, gotten out and moved around to Trisha's door, opening it. As he held out his arms, Trisha had to object.

"Whoa, big fella!" she teased. Then she quickly turned serious. "You are NOT going to carry me to my door; I'll walk, or, hobble as the case may be. I know my walkway. Even though there's no ice on the sidewalk, it gets pretty slippery when wet. It would be easier and safer for both of us if we traveled on our own and walked on the grass." Mark looked behind him and, reluctantly admitted she was right. "However," she continued, "I will probably need help getting up those stairs. I don't have much confidence in those thin aluminum rails."

With a slight chuckle, Mark helped Trisha get out of the car and get steady on the crutches. He hovered around her as they walked to the stairs, and he helped her climb the few to get into the house. Once she had unlocked the door, Mark gently scooped her in his arms again, and asked for directions to her sofa. True to his word, Mark helped Trisha get settled on her sofa and called for Chinese delivery. As they were waiting for dinner to come, Mark started to peruse her movie collection.

"What is your pleasure tonight, madam?" Mark inquired in his most noble tone.

"Oh, no," Trisha objected. "This is your first time in my house; you are the guest, you get to choose what you want to watch."

Mark wanted to choose one of the action or sci-fi movies she had, but wasn't sure she'd be up for it. He, however, wasn't sure he could sit through a romance and not start thinking of Trisha in that sense. Trisha noticed his discomfort. While it made her happy to see his struggle, she decided to put him out of his misery, at least for a while.

"I'm feeling a bit like sci-fi or comedy," Trisha finally offered. Relief washed over Mark as he nodded his head. Just as Mark pulled out a movie to watch, dinner arrived. They quickly got settled in with dinner and the movie. When they had had their fill of food, Mark paused the movie and went about cleaning up the left-overs, not letting Trisha do anything but tell him where the storage containers were. He had to move. Just being close to Trisha started his head spinning.

Soon enough, he was back on the sofa next to Trisha. Since they were no longer eating, he placed a couple of throw pillows on his lap and swung her feet on top of the pillows. To elevate her foot, he rationalized to himself; and, if it hid any arousal he might develop, all the better.

"You need to keep that foot elevated, remember?" Mark said out loud, feeling the need to justify holding her feet on his lap.

"That's fine," replied Trisha. "But I was thinking about getting changed into something more comfortable before getting back to watching the movie. Besides, I need to use the little girls' room," she finished, blushing slightly.

"Actually, that sounds like a good idea. How about if I help you upstairs so you can change and whatever? I have a change of clothes in my truck, so I can get changed out of these stuffy threads. Then we both can be comfortable watching the rest of the movie." Before she could object or question anything, Mark had picked her up in his arms and was carrying her up the stairs.

"You've got to start giving me some warning!" she scolded. In the back of her mind, however, Trisha wasn't objecting but squealing in delight. She liked the doting way he acted around her. Even if it was only for a short time, she was going to learn to appreciate the brief spoiling she seemed to be getting.

By the time she had changed into baggy yoga pants and an over-sized top, Mark had changed and stood in front of the doorway waiting for her. She noticed that he looked appealing in his not-so-baggy sweatpants and tight t-shirt. She could tell that, even for being over 40, himself, he still worked hard to keep in shape.