Without remorse - Tom Clancy [69]
'Okay.'
'I haven't thanked you for taking such good care of me.'
Rosen stood and walked to the door, but he stopped dead three feel short of it and turned.
'You think you can fool me?'
'I guess not, Sam,' Kelly answered guardedly.
'John, I have spent my whole damned life using these hands to fix people. You have to stay aloof, you can't get too involved, because if you do you can lose it, lose the edge, lose the concentration. I've never hurt anyone in my life. You understand me?'
'Yes, sir, I do.'
'What are you going to do?'
'You don't want to know, Sam.'
'I want to help. I really do,' Rosen said, genuine wonder in his voice. 'I liked her, too, John.'
'I know that.'
'So what can I do?' the surgeon asked. He was afraid that Kelly might ask for something he was unfitted to do; more afraid still that he might agree.
'Get me better.'
CHAPTER 9
Labor
It was almost grim to watch, Sandy thought. The strange thing was that he was being a good patient. He didn't whine. He didn't bitch. He did just what they told him to do. There was a streak of the sadist in all physical therapists. There had to be, since the job meant pushing people a little further than they wanted to go - just as an athletic coach would do - and the ultimate aim was to help, after all. Even so, a good therapist had to push the patient, encourage the weak, and browbeat the strong; to cajole and to shame, all in the name of health; that meant taking satisfaction from the exertion and pain of others, and O'Toole could not have done that. But Kelly, she saw, would have none of it. He did what was expected, and when the therapist asked for more, more was delivered, and on, and on, until the therapist was pushed beyond the point of pride in the result of his efforts and began to worry.
'You can ease off now,' he advised.
'Why?' Kelly asked somewhat breathlessly. 'Your heart rate is one-ninety-five.' And had been there for five minutes.
'What's the record?'
'Zero,' the therapist replied without a smile. That earned him a laugh, and a look, and Kelly slowed his pace on the stationary bike, easing himself down over a period of two minutes to a reluctant stop.
'I've come to take him back,' OToole announced.
'Good, do that before he breaks something.'
Kelly got off and toweled his face, glad to see that she hadn't brought a wheelchair or something similarly insulting. 'To what do I owe this honor, ma'am?'
'I'm supposed to keep an eye on you,' Sandy replied. 'Trying to show us how tough you are?'
Kelly had been a touch lighthearted, but turned serious. 'Mrs O'Toole, I'm supposed to get my mind off my troubles, right? Exercise does that for me. I can't run with one arm tied up, I can't do push-ups, and I can't lift weights. I can ride a bike. Okay?'
'You have me there. Okay.' She pointed to the door. Out in the bustling anonymity of the corridor, she said, 'I'm very sorry about your friend.'
'Thank you, ma'am.' He turned his head, slightly dizzy from the exertion, as they walked along in the crowd. 'We have rituals in uniform. The bugle, the flag, the guys with rifles. It works fairly well for the men. It helps you to believe that it all meant something. It still hurts, but it's a formal way to say goodbye. We learned to deal with it. But what happened to you is different, and what just happened to me is different. So what did you do? Get more involved in work?'
'I finished my masters. I'm a nurse-practitioner. I teach. I worry about patients.' And that was her whole life now.
'Well, you don't have to worry about me, okay? I know my limits.'
'Where are the limits?'
'A long way off,' Kelly said with the beginnings of a smile that he quickly extinguished. 'How am I doing?'
'Very well.'
It hadn't gone all that smoothly, and both knew it. Donald Madden had flown to Baltimore to claim the body of his daughter from the coroner's office, leaving his wife home, never meeting with anyone despite