Return to Rosewood. Bonnie K. Winn

“Bret knows where the pool is, so you can get started.”

      She whipped her head up. “Now?”

      “Can’t think of a better time.”

      Bret held out his hand. “Thanks, J.C.”

      The doctor stood, accepting Bret’s handshake. “Don’t let her buffalo you into leaving.”

      Samantha stared. “What?”

      “I know how intimidating you can be. I ran against you for student council, remember?”

      She’d won. Back when everything was easy.

      Bret wheeled Samantha to the physical therapy area despite her nonstop protests.

      “This is ridiculous. I can’t do any kind of water therapy wearing sweats.”

      He drew his eyebrows together in a frown. “Excellent point. Good thing Rachel’s here with your stuff to change into.”

      Samantha twisted her head and Rachel rushed over with a tremulous smile. “Hey.”

      “Et tu?” Sam rubbed her forehead. “Plotting with Bret?”

      “And J.C.,” Rachel admitted. “You know we can’t stand by and do nothing.”

      Hands folded in her lap, Samantha lifted her face. “I appreciate all the concern…I know it’s because you care. But it really, really is a waste of time to try and make this work.”

      “It’s our time,” Rachel rebuked gently.

      Outnumbered and weary, Sam gave in. “I didn’t pack a swimsuit.”

      Rachel took Bret’s place behind the chair. “We do have stores in Rosewood.”

      As they headed to the women’s dressing room, Bret retrieved his gym bag from the men’s lockers. He’d left it there after he and J.C. had come up with a plan. Rachel had figured out all the details for clothes, along with a time that worked for both of them.

      Changing into his own knee-length swim shorts, he glanced at his watch. He should be at the nursery, but Herb would do his best.

      With J.C.’s blessing, Bret and Rachel intended to learn how to do the water exercises. The aqua therapy teacher, Wanda, was willing to teach them so Sam could have daily sessions. And there wasn’t any charge to use the facilities. Once Rachel was comfortable with the exercises, he could turn the entire task over to her. It wasn’t just the fact that he needed to be both at work and checking on his dad—this much proximity to Sam was a bad plan.

      Guessing it would take the women longer to change, he stowed his clothes in the locker, then looped a towel around his neck. In time, they emerged, wearing matching T-shirts and shorts to cover their swimsuits, like many of the other patients. Sam looked like a well-covered but trapped animal.

      He took the towel from his neck and tossed it on a bench. “Reminds me of the time you tried to push me in the pool, missed and fell in yourself.”

      Startled, Sam stopped fussing with her exposed calves. She was thin, but her legs were still knockouts. “I’m not even wet yet.”

      “Only a matter of minutes. There’s a special PVC wheelchair and ramp to get you in.”

      Mortification filled her features.

      He stepped closer. “Or we could just hop in ourselves.” Not giving her time to process his words, he scooped her up, cradling her in his arms.

      “What do—”

      “We don’t really need the special chair.” She was so slight now, it was like carrying feathers. Feathers covered in silky skin. Skin that grazed his arms, teased his senses.

      Instinctively she wrapped her arms around his neck to hold on. And he remembered how they’d felt in that same position years ago when they dated in college. He’d never expected to feel them there again. Nor to experience a rush of awareness now that they were.

      Warm water enveloped them both as he walked deeper, stopping at one of the built-in ledges that Sam could sit on. Rachel followed, taking a spot directly across the pool.

      The teacher wasn’t far behind. “Hi. Samantha? I’m Wanda, the aqua therapy teacher. I hope you’ll relax, let the water soothe you. We’ll learn some exercises to rebuild your strength, but part of the therapy is to ease muscle tension.”

      Samantha averted her face. “That’s not really a problem with my muscles.”

      “Dr. Mueller briefed me. You have a spinal injury and your legs aren’t responding. Those muscles may be in a state of atrophy—I understand we’ll know more after the doctor runs some tests. Naturally, the shock of injury causes tension in the rest of your body. Your neck, shoulders—the usual suspects.”

      Reluctantly, Samantha nodded. “I suppose so.”

      “Without an injury, I get stressed.” Good at her job, Wanda had understanding in her voice without resorting to pity. “The warm water helps. Try to think of it as an oversize tub.”

      In just over waist-deep, Sam tentatively touched the surface of the water. It was a tiny step, but Bret expected most of them would be. J.C. had been candid when Bret had talked with him alone. It was possible Sam might never regain the use of her legs. Then again, she hadn’t had the intensive program he thought she needed. After a long coma, her muscles hadn’t worked properly. Not having a positive attitude about the therapy could have made a huge difference as well. And she hadn’t been surrounded by friends, or the power of prayer.

      Not letting the past intrude, Bret had placed Sam’s name in the prayer circle a day after the fire. Now the entire church was praying for her. Sam didn’t know it, but she was being circled herself—neighbors and friends wanting to shore her up, to help in any way they could. Despite the untenable break in their relationship, Bret hated that Sam had been injured, that she’d lost hope.

      Listening closely, he followed as Wanda took them through some relaxation motions. Warm water slipped between them, pushing them apart, pulling them back together. The entire time his hand remained at Sam’s waist, to support her, he told himself. Even though his heart echoed a time he believed they’d never be separated.