Home Free - Fern Michaels [75]
Gus just looked puzzled.
“You’re supposed to make a wish the first time you see someone’s tree. Okay, okay, I made that up, so let’s each just make a wish. Close your eyes and wish hard.”
“Okay, I made my wish.”
“I did, too,” Maggie said. “We can’t tell each other what it is unless it comes true. You know that, right?”
Gus nodded solemnly and grinned.
Maggie just smiled.
“So, it’s okay for me to stay over. I have to do the couch, though. There’s no way for me to do those stairs of yours.”
“It’s not a problem. The couch in here opens up. You’ll have the benefit of the fire and the tree at the same time.” And me, if you want me, she thought as she left to get the sheets and blankets to make up the sleep couch into a bed after dinner and more visiting.
“Uh-huh,” Gus drawled.
Chapter 20
Gus Sullivan hobbled into the room using both canes. He looked around and was surprised to see that he was the only patient, but then again, he was twenty minutes early. Even his therapist wasn’t there yet. Not surprising, the weather being what it was. For all he knew, his two-hour therapy session might even be canceled. Doubtful but entirely possible.
Most days the smell of stale sweat and the powerful disinfectant the cleaners used bothered him. Today he barely noticed it, his thoughts back in Georgetown with Maggie Spritzer. He wished he had someone to confide in. Someone like Cleo, who would listen and nuzzle with him, but Cleo came only during the week.
Gus lowered himself to one of the benches, propped up his canes, and leaned back. He closed his eyes as he tried to project how much pain his therapist was going to put him through that day. And, of course, how cooperative his body would be. He thought about what he’d promised Maggie. He wondered how successful he would be. Four-star generals did not have loose lips, even though in this room they were just two guys fighting to get their bodies back into some kind of livable shape. In here were no spies, no secret recording machines. What there was, was a lot of cussing, moaning, and groaning—even tears. He had certainly shed his share and didn’t care who saw the tears rolling down his cheeks. He’d seen the general swipe at his eyes, and the senator had turned white and almost blacked out a few times. Therapy was a bitch. But the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
Gus’s thoughts shifted to his evening with Maggie. It was the kind of evening he’d dreamed about when he was in the desert, finding that perfect mate, making it work, and going on with your life as a couple. The evening had been so endearing, so sweet, so perfect, he thought he was dreaming. Forty-seven years old and he was just now finding true love, and that true love didn’t care if he was a cripple or not.
What was it Maggie had said? “If you go back to being a hundred percent, fine. If you don’t, I’ll take care of you.” That had blown his mind. Absolutely blown his mind. He hadn’t known what to say, couldn’t find the words. Maggie was the one who knew all the words. When she saw him struggling to say something, she’d put her fingers on his lips and say, “That’s a promise.” And he believed her, heart and soul.
Gus was so deep into his thoughts, he didn’t hear it when someone came into the room. When the air stirred around him, he opened his eyes to see the general easing himself down onto the same bench he was sitting on.
“How’s it going, son?”
“Today is better than it was yesterday, sir. How are you doing? I didn’t see you last week.”
“Had to go to Rhode Island to a funeral. Old army buddy. I got so caught up in my memories, I just didn’t feel like coming here. I hate to admit it, but I needed to wallow a bit.”
“I understand, sir.”
The general looked around. He gave a snort of laughter and said, “Maybe you and I are going to give each other therapy. No one is here. The weather is bad, but when that happens, you have to leave early to make sure you arrive on time. You and I know that, son. It’s these civilians that march to a different drummer who don’t understand