Page 6 of Fractured Grief (Hope’s Ridge #2)

Indy

W heeling Seb back into his room, I helped him get situated on the bed.

Grabbing some heating pads from the supply cupboard in the hall, I cracked them to activate.

Once Seb stopped shuffling around, I carefully placed them over his most worked muscles.

I made sure to add a few to his back, neck, and shoulders for some added comfort.

He hadn’t injured those muscles, per se, but from observing him, he was very tense and rigid.

He was so wide, I had to get more than the usual two heat packs I’d automatically grabbed.

“How does that feel?” I asked while placing the last one.

“Good.” He closed his eyes.

“So, tell me honestly, other than your back, how are you feeling after that session?” I asked, glancing at Seb to gauge his answer.

“P-pretty good,” he huffed out, eyes still closed. I noticed that he paused a lot when speaking. I knew his stroke history, and while I wasn’t a speech therapist, I would say he’d come a long way from not being able to speak or form sentences to a few pauses and stutters here and there.

“W-hat’s your as-sess-s-ment… Doc?” He chuffed breathily, looking at me with tired eyes.

“Not a Doc, but thanks for the upgrade,” I smirked at him.

“You did well today. I’ll see you every day this week, and then we’ll reassess on Monday.

I want you to take it easy for the rest of today.

Rest and no pushing yourself. I’ll have a full set of exercises for you in the morning, so you’ll need to be ready. ”

“Sure th-ing, S-sarg,” he smiled and closed his eyes again.

“Let me see if I can make you a little more comfortable.”

Seb opened one eye and peered at me. “H-how?”

“You’ll see.” I couldn’t help but grin at the curious yet disbelieving look on his face as I moved to grab the spare overbed tray I’d seen in the hall and brought it to the end of Seb’s bed.

I placed a thin pillow and then covered that with a folded-over blanket for extra padding.

I carefully lifted each of his feet onto the tray and lowered it to be level with the bed.

“There, how’s that feel? A little better, no longer hanging off the bed.”

Seb was staring at me with a perplexed look on his face. When he still hadn’t said anything, I was worried I’d made him uncomfortable. “If it’s not helpful, that’s fine. I can put it back and think of something else.” I went to move the tray when Seb grabbed my wrist.

“Wait,” he whispered in a husky voice. “It’s g-reat. Thank… you.” His gaze connected with mine, and I couldn’t look away. My skin tingled where we touched, and I shivered when Seb started rubbing his thumb back and forth over my pulse point.

“I’m glad I could help,” I said, not breaking eye contact. We were joined in this moment, like the only two people in the world. I raised my other arm to caress Seb’s cheek, when a loud crash sounded from outside and we jumped, the connection between us shattering.

“Do you need anything else?” I asked hurriedly, trying to shake myself out of the trance. “Would you like me to shift the bed so you can take a nap or turn on the TV?”

“Bed… pl-ease,” he mumbled, turning his head away from me.

Recovery was hard work. I knew it took a lot out of the body, and even the healthiest person would struggle with Seb’s type of injuries.

Carefully lowering the bed, I kept my hand on Seb’s shoulder so he didn’t startle or move as the bed shifted.

Once it was at a twenty-five-degree angle, I stopped and locked it in position.

I was about to speak when I heard soft snores.

Chuckling to myself, I ensured he was situated and messaged a nurse about checking over his stitches as I left him to his nap.

I had case notes to write up and an exercise schedule to plan, so I headed back to the break room to get to work.

My four o’clock meeting with Carol came and went, and she approved my plan for Seb and adjusted my schedule for the rest of the week, as well as for all my new clients.

I was pleased with my progress, and I was fitting in well in the role.

I’d even been asked to join everyone for drinks on Friday, which was such a nice gesture and meant more to me than my colleagues knew.

Unfortunately, I’d had to decline since I had Hazel and hadn’t been organized enough to think about a sitter.

After a long week, I just wanted to relax with my little girl and unwind with a movie.

Hazel and I grabbed pizza on the way home because I was too exhausted to cook. I ensured we ate at the table and added carrot sticks to Hazel’s plate to make myself feel a little better about her diet. Taking the wins where I could, and thankfully, Hazel liked carrots.

“You need to eat some, too, Daddy. Mommy would say so.” She raised a delicate eyebrow at me as I went to put the carrot sticks back in the fridge. I did a quick about-face and added a pile to my plate, too.

“You are so right, Miss Hazel,” I smiled at her. “Wash your hands and let’s head to the table. Do you want water or milk? ”

“Water, please, Daddy.” She washed her hands in the kitchen sink.

Filling two glasses with cold water, I set them on the table by our plates. Hazel hurried around to sit in her seat.

“So, how was school today?”

Hazel finished her mouthful before mumbling, “It was fine.”

Pausing, I assessed my daughter. Hazel was shy but usually made friends quickly. “Only fine?”

She nodded.

“What’s the matter, sweet girl? Did something happen?”

She shook her head. Getting information out of kids was difficult, but I needed actual words. “Come on, Haze, talk to me.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“But it might make you feel better. I might be able to help.”

She paused and fidgeted with her fingers in her lap. “There’s a girl in my class who’s not very nice.”

Well, this was the first I’d heard. I thought she was doing well. She mentioned making friends that first day and talked nonstop about having her friend here for a sleepover.

“What happened, sweetheart?” I laid my hand on her tiny shoulder. She looked so forlorn.

“She says mean things about my friend. She makes fun of their glasses. She’s a bully, like the people who were mean to you and Mommy. ”

Taken aback, I asked, “What do you mean the people who were mean to me and Mommy? What did you hear?” We’d been so careful to shield Hazel from the vitriol.

We rarely went out as a family, and if we did, we went towns away.

We’d only spoken about it or discussed it once Hazel was in bed.

Kids were perceptive. Hazel was empathetic and whip smart, so it shouldn’t have shocked me to see she’d picked up on a few things.

“I saw Mommy crying sometimes and then heard the mean things on the phone and in the street,” she spoke as if it were no big deal, like she wasn’t breaking my heart.

“Then Mommy told me what happened and that people are mean sometimes. And those people are called bullies, and we should never show how much they upset us, cause that’s what they want. ”

I was gobsmacked. When had Lexi told her this? What phone call? Lexi hadn’t spoken to her family since she’d told them she was pregnant, or that’s what I thought.

“When was this?” I asked, thinking I already knew and dreading the answer.

“In the car, on the bad day. We stopped ’cause I had to go to the toilet.

I should’ve gone at home, but I didn’t need to then.

I told Mommy I was sorry. People were very mean and angry at us!

They said words I didn’t know, but Mommy said they were bad words.

I could tell she was trying to be brave, but her eyes were so sad,” she paused to look at me.

“Why were people so mean to Mommy? Mommy was nice and she took care of us. ”

“She did, sweetie. Your mother was the best person I knew. She was my best friend.” I could feel my eyes starting to burn. “There was no reason for those people to be mean to Mommy. Sometimes people are just mean or made to think that hate is okay, but it’s not.”

I wasn’t sure if what I said would make sense to Hazel.

Lex and I had thought about how to explain the town and the people’s hate.

But we hoped Hazel would be much older and able to understand religion and twisted belief systems. Not an innocent kind-hearted eight-year-old dealing with a bully on the playground.

“What happened with your friend? Was she okay?” I asked, trying to get back to the current issue and not dwell too much on who Lex might have been talking to on the phone.

“Mel was okay. They were sad, but we ran away from the mean girls, and then I cheered them up with hopscotch.”

“Did anyone else see this girl being mean? Was there a teacher on the playground?”

“No, she makes sure no adults are nearby.” Leaning forward as if she had to tell me a secret, she continued in a stage whisper, “She’s mean to everyone. I’ve seen her; she’s even mean to her friends. But her dad is the principal, so no one can say anything.”

“Well, that’s no good. What about your class teacher? Miss Emerson seems really nice. Do you think she could help or at least allow you and Mel a safe place to play? Can I talk to Miss Emerson and let her know what’s going on? ”

“No, Daddy! If you tattle on her, she’s even meaner! I can handle it. She doesn’t know me yet, so she hasn’t said anything mean to me, just Mel. But me and Mel can run away faster than her, so we know how to get away.”

I was both proud and worried about the whole situation.

I’d only met Hazel’s teacher and the office ladies in person once.

All other meetings were done via phone calls or emails.

In school, Lex and I had only had each other, and we were outcasts but usually overlooked, until Lex got pregnant, then everybody knew who we were.

I, thankfully, hadn’t had to deal with one-on-one bullying since Lexi had always stepped in, and we’d never left each other alone.

I was at a loss for what to do.

“Okay, but you have to tell me everything this mean girl does. Try to stay away from her if you can, but I don’t want you or your friend to get hurt.

Words can hurt more than people realize.

It’s important to speak up.” I was such a hypocrite.

I was the timid one. I never spoke up. Lexi was my defender, my voice, my savior.

She’d know exactly what to say to Hazel in this situation.

I didn’t feel equipped for this at all. I'm not sure what else I should say, so I redirected the conversation.

“Tell me more about Mel. Are they in your class?”

“Mel’s awesome! They like Rapunzel, too!

Mel told me it’s their favorite movie. If we have a sleepover, we have to watch it together.

They know all the songs, like me,” Hazel’s face lit up as she spoke about her new friend.

“You said the right pronouns, Daddy. I know it’s important.

Mel told me they like they/them pronouns, but the class doesn’t listen and still calls them by the wrong name.

It feels mean, but some people just don’t listen. ”

Trust Hazel to be a fierce ally. We wanted Hazel to be accepting of all people, no matter their race, gender, sexuality, or ability.

That was hard to do in a town that didn’t value diversity.

Our desire to escape had grown from this.

We’d discussed pronouns, nicknames, preferred names, and even touched on sexualities.

We wanted to ensure she would be comfortable coming to us with anything and everything, and knew from birth that we would love her unconditionally, no matter who she decided she was or who she loved.

We wanted to give her what Lex and I never had—a fully supportive, loving household.

“Some people choose not to listen, but that’s wonderful that Mel told you their pronouns and you know to use the right ones. I’m proud of you, kiddo,” I said.

“ Daddy, of course, I use the right pronouns. Mel would know who they are more than I would, and it seems mean to use the wrong ones when someone’s told you what they want.

” She was so matter-of-fact, I couldn’t help but smile and think how proud Lexi would be of this moment.

We’d taught our kid acceptance, kindness, and equality, and she’d run with it in the best way.

We’ve done good, Lex.