Author's note:
Allow me to present the sixth chapter in this series, a little delayed but a longer chapter than usual to compensate. I'd intended this to be the final chapter but there will be an epilogue in a couple of weeks for anyone still interested. Many thanks to the readers who have taken the time to read the story, and to those who have encouraged me with their votes, comments and emails. Reader response is one of the best parts about writing a story and you folks have been really fantastic so THANK YOU! Also, the esteemed author karaline has patiently and insightfully provided her feedback and editing, ruthlessly hunting down every unnecessary adverb she could find (although a few snuck back in stealthily and sneakily after she was done). Many thanks, karaline, I'm in your debt!
This is a story about fictional adults in a consenting relationship.
*****
Jane lay in a hospital bed. The dopey peace of the painkillers had faded she was starting to feel the full after-effects of the appendectomy. She'd have to buzz the nurse for more drugs.
They'd told her she was lucky her appendix had only perforated and not burst. The open surgery and clean up of her insides had gone well. Even the ugly incision on her abdomen would eventually fade into a thin white line. They'd keep her for another day to be sure there was no issue with the wound, then send her home.
She didn't feel lucky, just numb. And lurking beneath that numbness lay a growing sense of horror. The curse was in its final stages, ripping chunks out of her body, taking her a piece at a time. She'd be dead by spring, eight days away, unless she could find a way to wipe away the stain of a terrible betrayal and five years of indifference.
'Regain the trust most cruelly betrayed or die before spring'. That's what the old lady had said when she'd uttered the curse.
And Jane had tried. Over the past month she'd tried every angle she could think of, every trick, every tactic. She'd made progress; Mike was warming to her again and the spark between them was still there, promising to flare into the passionate love they'd once shared. But the sins of the past remained, making a full reconciliation challenging.
Or maybe impossible. Maybe it couldn't happen. Maybe some bonds, once broken, were forever irreparable. Maybe the upcoming week would be her last.
"Hey." Mike poked his head in through the privacy curtain that surrounded her recovery bed. His voice was low; she shared the room with three other people who didn't want to be disturbed.
"Hey," she said, giving him a grateful smile. He'd stayed with her the whole night after she'd been admitted, Nessa sleeping on his lap. He'd been there when she'd woken after the surgery and stayed with her most of the day and part of that night, even though she'd been too doped up to supply much in the way of conversation. She was glad to see him again, but concerned, too. "Where's Nessa?"
"At her friend's house. The mother said she could watch Nessa until three."
"You should be training. Your fight's in less than a week."
He shrugged, then pulled a chair close to the head of her bed and sat down. "The nurse says you can have coffee. Want me to make a run to the cafeteria?"
"I was just about to buzz for more drugs."
He nodded, then stood. "That's a good idea. Get some sleep. They're saying you'll be discharged tomorrow."
"Wait...stay a while?"
"I don't want you in pain."
"It's manageable. Your company would make me feel better than the drugs, I think."
He smiled, then reclaimed his chair.
"I don't know any jokes appropriate for a hospital recovery room," he said.
"It hurts to laugh anyway."
He held her hand and squeezed. They passed some time in silence.
"How freaked out is Nessa?" Jane asked.
"She's handling it. I told her you got sick, now you're in the hospital getting better. She gets it."
"I should have done a better job."
"She's fine."
"I didn't want to let you down."
"You didn't. You kept her safe and healthy. It's all good," he said.
"I'm relieved."
There was a pause.
"Janey, I think you should let your sister know you're here."
"No."
"She'd want to know."
"I don't want her to know. She'd find some way to blame you," Jane said.
"For appendicitis? Even Betty wouldn't go that far."
"I can't trust her."
He sighed. "I won't say anything if you don't want me to, but I'd like you to at least consider it."
"I appreciate you keeping it to yourself," she said.
"In that case, we need to talk about the next couple of weeks. The doc said you need to be careful - no lifting, no exertion. Probably wouldn't hurt to have someone else around in case there are problems."
How awful would it be to spend her final week alone in her apartment, waiting to die? She shuddered.
"You could stay with us, but a lumpy, old couch probably isn't the most comfortable arrangement for you..."
"I'll take it, and thank you. I really don't want to be alone."
"Well, Nessa still has to go to school, and I still need to get to the gym, but at least there would be someone there in the evenings."
"We might have to modify our deal," she said. "I won't be scrubbing any floors or carrying any laundry for a couple of weeks."
"It was fun while it lasted. Guess I'm back to being Mr. Mom."
His tone was lighthearted but Jane realized how disastrous her position was. Her final week - the week where she should be making a strong push and working hard to close the deal - she'd be lying on the couch uselessly, watching Mike do all the housework. Not only useless but actually burdensome. How could she demonstrate her trustworthiness when she couldn't even get off the couch?
Even the sex option was off the table - the doctor had been clear about it. Nothing strenuous meant NOTHING strenuous. During the most important week of her life she'd be a sexless blob on Mike's couch. She wouldn't even be able to shower or wash her hair.
"No, seriously, Mike. We can extend the deal by a few more weeks. When I'm better I'll more than live up to my end. Make up for lost time, you know?"
"The focus right now is on you getting better. Forget about the deal. I'll accept a cash settlement instead."
"Will you take a personal cheque?"
He chuckled and gave her hand another squeeze. She'd been right; his warmth felt better than codeine. She felt a sleepy wave wash over her.
"You've got four or five hours. Get to the gym. The fight's on Friday and you're an underdog as it is," she said.
Perhaps hearing the fatigue in her voice he stood up and put the chair back. She was drifting when she felt him lean in close and kiss her forehead. It brought a smile despite her distress. He really was better than drugs.
**
Early Monday afternoon Mike picked her up from the hospital in her own car. Getting from the hospital-supplied wheelchair into the passenger seat of her car was agonizing - it felt like someone kicked her in the stomach. The fact that her left ankle and right wrist were still sprained and mostly useless didn't help matters. She was a basket case.
