Lilah Mason, standing in bare feet, skintight jeans, and a faded red T-shirt, looked like a commune mama straight out of the sixties. She'd been a mere child during that decade, but her expression personified the rebellious spirit of the bygone era. Vexed, she tossed her thick, curly hair over her shoulder. Wisps of blond bangs were held off her face by a bandanna sweatband tied around her forehead, but she made a reflexive swipe at them too.
"You haven't even heard us out yet," Elizabeth chided her younger sister.
"I heard enough. Adam Cavanaugh. That name is all I needed to hear to turn me against any plan you two have hatched." She eyed her sister and brother-in-law with open hostility. "Let's forget you ever mentioned it and go out for ice cream, okay? No hard feelings."
Thad and Elizabeth stared back at her with unspoken reproach. Seeing that they weren't yet willing to throw in the towel, Lilah flopped down on the sofa in the living room of her small apartment and drew one threadbare knee up in front of her like a shield. "Well, let's hear it. Give me the sermon quick so we can get it over with."
"He's not doing well, Lilah."
"Most patients with spinal injuries don't," she replied sarcastically. "Especially not at first. And most don't have the financial means to help themselves the way your Mr Cavanaugh does. Thanks to his checkbook, he's got more doctors and nurses and physical therapists at his disposal than most patients in his condition could count. He doesn't need me."
"That's reverse snobbery, isn't it?" Thad asked her reasonably.
"How much money Cavanaugh does or does not have is irrelevant."
"Then why won't you agree to be his therapist?" Elizabeth demanded.
"Because I don't like him," Lilah shot back. She held up both hands to ward off the objections she saw rising from them. "No, let me rephrase that. I loathe and detest and despise him. And vice versa."
"That shouldn't have anything to do with it."
"Oh-ho, but it does!" Lilah bolted off the sofa and began pacing. "Guys like him who need physical therapy are the worst. I mean the absolute worst of patients. Children love and adore you for your attention. Elderly people are tearfully grateful to you for your kindness. Even young women are pathetically thankful. But men in Cavanaugh's age group," she said, shaking her head adamantly, "uh-uh. No way. We at the hospital draw straws to see who gets stuck with them."
"But Lilah — "
"Why is that?" Thad's voice overrode that of his wife. Elizabeth had a tendency to become emotional in situations such as this. His approach was more pragmatic, especially with his volatile sister-in-law, whose mood swings were drastic and unpredictable.
"Because for the most part they had been in great physical condition prior to the cause of their spinal trauma. Most are injured when participating in a dangerous sport. They're thrill-seekers. Active and adventurous. Motorcyclists, surfers, skiers, divers, that sort. They're athletically inclined. More so than the majority of the population. When one gets hurt and suffers paralysis, even temporarily, he goes a little wacko. He can't deal with going from superjock-superstud to helpless invalid. His psyche goes off the deep end. No matter how congenial he was before his accident, he becomes embittered by it and wants to punish everybody in the world for his misfortune. In short, he becomes a pain in the … neck."
"Adam won't be like that."
"Right," Lilah agreed drolly. "He'll be much worse. He had more to lose."
"He'll know you're there to help him."
"He'll resent everything I do."
"He'll thank you."
"He'll fight me."
"You'll be his ray of hope."
"I'll be his scapegoat." Lilah drew a long breath. "I would bear the brunt of his foul temper and his recalcitrance. If I subjected myself to that kind of abuse, which I won't. So, end of discussion. How about Häagen-Dazs?"
Elizabeth turned to Thad and looked at him in appeal. "Do something."
He laughed shortly and shrugged. "What do you want me to do? She's a grown woman. She makes up her own mind."
"Thank you, Thad," Lilah said righteously.
"But you saw Adam. I didn't." Thad had stood firm in his decision not to let Elizabeth fly abroad, but at her insistence he had gone to see Adam and had returned with a firsthand report on his condition. "Tell Lilah what the doctors said."
Sighing heavily, Lilah returned to her seat on the sofa. When she was settled, Thad told her, "I went to Hawaii to see him."
"I thought he was in Rome."
"He was. At his request he was transferred to a hospital in Honolulu after the surgery."
"He had surgery?"
Thad nodded. "From what I understood, the spinal cord wasn't severed in the fall." Lilah's professional interest was piqued in spite of her personal aversion to the entrepreneur.
"Thank God it wasn't. But several bones in his back were broken or cracked. The surgeons repaired them. I don't know the medical jargon, but he suffered a spinal contusion. He had sustained a real blow to the spine that caused a lot of swelling."
"A contusion is a bruise. The tissue swells and puts pressure on the nerves. Until the swelling goes down, the doctors won't know for sure the extent of his paralysis or whether or not it's permanent."
"Exactly," Thad said, nodding at her knowledgeable summary, which agreed with what the experts had told him.
"And the surgery prolonged the time there would be swelling around the vertebrae," Lilah added.
"Yes, but that was two weeks ago. He should be showing improvement and he's not."
"He's still in a state of diaschisis?" At Thad's puzzled look she clarified, "Spinal shock. Paralysis."
"Yes."
"He doesn't feel any sensation below his waist?"
"None."
"He should have started therapy already." Thad looked away guiltily. "He has," Lilah said perceptively. "Hasn't he?"
"Yes," Thad mumbled grudgingly, "but he hasn't responded well."
"He's resisted it," Lilah stated flatly. "Which brings us full circle. You just made my point. Men like Adam always resent a therapist's interference. Mostly out of fear that they'll never be the same, they either want to do everything on their own, or they don't want to do anything at all. Which is it with Cavanaugh?"
"He doesn't want to do anything at all."
She gave a professional harrumph.
"Do you blame him?" Thad asked with a trace of exasperation.
Lilah snapped right back, "It's not my job to place blame, Thad. It's my job to make the best of what these patients have left. Not to baby them while they cry over what they've lost."
He ran a hand through his hair. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just, hell, if you could have seen him lying there in that damn bed, unable to move, looking so … pitiful."
Lilah's expression softened. "I see patients like that every day. Some much more pitiful than Adam Cavanaugh."
"I'm sure you do." Thad expelled a deep breath. "I didn't mean to suggest that Adam should take precedence over any other patient or that you aren't compassionate."
"It's just that Adam is our friend," Elizabeth said quietly. "Our very special friend."
"And my mortal enemy," Lilah reminded them. "From the first time we laid eyes on each other, it's been mutual detestation. You should remember, Lizzie. You introduced us that day in Fantasy."
"I remember."
"Remember your wedding? Adam and I could barely get through one obligatory waltz without coming to fisticuffs."
"He accused you of leading."
"I was! I didn't like the way he led." Elizabeth and Thad exchanged a glance. If the situation hadn't been so grave, they could have found humor in Lilah's account of their wedding reception. "And last Christmas morning as soon as I arrived at your house, he invented a lame, transparent excuse and left."