right,” she said calmly, flipping the sheet up to cover him. Then she walked to the door and stepped into the hallway, blocking Serena’s way as she started to enter Blake’s room.
Serena gave her a startled look. “Is Blake awake? I was just going to peek in; he usually doesn’t get up until about noon.”
No wonder he’d been so upset when I got him up at six! Dione thought, amused. To Serena she said blandly, “I’m giving him his exercises now.”
“So early?” Serena’s brows arched in amazement. “Well, I’m certain you’ve done enough for the day. Since he’s awake early he’ll be ready for his breakfast. He eats so badly. I don’t want him to miss any meals. I’ll go in and see what he’d like—”
As Serena moved around Dione to enter Blake’s bedroom, Dione deftly sidestepped until she once more blocked the door. “I’m sorry,” she said as gently as possible when Serena stared at her in disbelief. “He’s already had his breakfast. I’ve put him on a schedule, and it’s important that he stay on it. After another hour of exercise we’ll come downstairs for lunch, if you’d like to wait until then.”
Serena was still staring at her as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are you saying…” she whispered, then stopped and began again, her voice stronger this time. “Are you saying that I can’t see my brother?”
“At this time, no. We need to complete these exercises.”
“Does Blake know I’m here?” Serena demanded, her cheeks suddenly flushing.
“Yes, he does. He doesn’t want you to see him right now. Please, try to understand how he feels.”
Serena’s marvelous eyes widened. “Oh! Oh, I see!” Perhaps she did, but Dione rather doubted it. Hurt shimmered in Serena’s eyes for a moment; then she shrugged lightly. “I’ll…see him in an hour, then.” She turned away, and Dione watched her for a moment, reading wounded emotions in every line of her straight back. It wasn’t unusual for the one closest to the patient to become jealous of the intimacy that was necessary between patient and therapist, but Dione never failed to feel uncomfortable when it happened. She knew that the intimacy was only fleeting, that as soon as her patient was recovered and no longer needed her services, she would go on to some other case and the patient would forget all about her. In Blake’s case, there was nothing to be jealous of anyway. The only emotion he felt for her was hostility.
When she reentered the bedroom he twisted his head around to stare at her. “Is she gone?” he questioned anxiously.
“She’s going to wait downstairs to eat lunch with you,” Dione answered, and saw the relief that crossed his face.
“Good. She…nearly went to pieces when this happened to me. She’d be hysterical if she saw what I really look like.” Pain darkened his eyes. “She’s special to me; I practically raised her. I’m all the family she has.”
“No, you’re not,” Dione pointed out. “She has Richard.”
“He’s so wrapped up in his work, he seldom remembers that she’s alive,” he snorted. “Richard’s a great vice-president, but he’s not a great husband.”
That wasn’t the impression Dione had gotten from Richard; he’d seemed to her to be a man very much in love with his wife. On the surface Richard and Serena were opposites; he was reserved, sophisticated, while she was as forceful as her brother, but perhaps they were each what the other needed. Perhaps her fire made him more spontaneous; perhaps his reserve tempered her rashness. But Dione didn’t say anything to Blake. She began the repetitious exercises again, forcing his legs through the same motions.
It was tiring, boring work; tiring for her, boring for him. It made him irritable all over again, but this time when he snapped at her to stop, she obeyed him. She didn’t want to browbeat him, to force her wishes on him in everything. He’d put in the most active morning he’d had since the accident, and she wasn’t going to push him any further. “Whew!” she sighed, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand and feeling the moisture there. “I need a shower before lunch! Breaking off a little early is a good idea.”
He looked at her, and his eyes widened in surprise. She knew that he didn’t really see her all morning; he’d been preoccupied with his own condition, his own despair. She’d told him that he’d have to work hard, but now for the first time he realized that she’d be working hard, too. It wasn’t going to be a picnic for her. She knew that she looked a mess, all sweaty and flushed.
“A bath wouldn’t hurt you,” he agreed dryly, and she laughed.
“Don’t be such a gentleman about it,” she teased. “You just wait. I won’t be the only one working up a sweat before long, and I won’t show you any mercy!”
“I haven’t noticed you showing any, anyway,” he grumbled.
“Now, I’ve been very good to you. I’ve kept you entertained all morning; I made certain you had a good breakfast—”
“Don’t push your luck,” he advised, giving her a black look, which she rewarded with a smile. It was important that he learn to joke and laugh with her, to ease the stress of the coming months. She had to become the best friend he had in the world, knowing as she did so that it was a friendship that was doomed from the outset, because it was based on dependence and need. When he no longer needed her, when his life had regained its normal pace, she would leave and be promptly forgotten. She knew that, and she had to keep a part of herself aloof, though the remainder of her emotions and mental effort would be concentrated entirely on him.
While she was helping him to dress, a process that didn’t anger him as it had that morning, he said thoughtfully, “You’ll be spending most of your time dressing and undressing me, it seems. If this is the routine you’re going to be following it’ll save a lot of time if I just wear a pair of gym shorts; I can put on a robe before we eat, and Alberta can bring trays up here.”
Dione successfully hid her delight, merely saying, “That’s your second good idea of the day.” Secretly she was elated. From a practical standpoint he was right: It would save a lot of time and effort; however, it would also exclude Serena from most of their meals. That would be a big help.
If wasn’t that she disliked Serena; if she had met her under different circumstances, Dione felt that she would have liked Serena very much. But Blake was her concern now, and she didn’t want anyone or anything interfering with her work. While she was working on a case she concentrated on her patient to the extent that everyone else faded into the background, became gray cardboard figures rather than three-dimensional human beings. It was one of the things that made her so successful in her field. Already, after only one morning, Blake so filled her thoughts, and she was so much in tune with him, that she felt she knew him inside and out. She could practically read his mind, know what he was going to say before he said it. She ached for him, sympathized with him, but most of all she was happy for him, because she could look at his helplessness now and know that in a few months he would be strong and fit again. Already he was looking better, she thought proudly. It was probably due more to his anger than her efforts, but his color was much improved. He could stay angry with her for the entire time if it would keep him active and involved.
She was feeling satisfied with the morning’s work as she walked beside him into the dining room, but that feeling was shattered when Serena plunged toward Blake, her lovely face bathed in tears. “Blake,” she said brokenly.
Instantly he was alert, concerned, as he reached for her hand. “What is it?” he asked, a note of tenderness creeping into his voice, a particular tone that was absent when he talked to everyone else. Only Serena inspired that voice of love.
“The patio!” she wailed. “Mother’s bench…it’s ruined! They’ve turned the pool into a madhouse! It looks awful!”
“What?” he asked, his brows snapping together. “What’re you talking about?”
Serena pointed a shaking