The Last Day

EIGHTY-TWO

Thirty- six days later, Natasha parked her Lexus in the garage and held on to Ward's arm to help support him as they entered their home through the kitchen. Her parents had left the day before to return to Seattle. Having them there had been a comfort, but Ward was fully able to walk short distances on his own, despite the painful tightness in his chest and abdomen. The operation on his hand had restored partial use of the fingers, although there was no feeling in them. Therapy would restore some measure of use, and some of the feeling could return in time, but the doctors agreed that his fine- line drawing days were done.

He looked around the living room and was pleased that there were no signs remaining of the events that had put him in the hospital. Except for the new carpet and the gray wool curtains on the windows, it was just the way it had been before.

Slowly, Ward sat down on the couch, and Natasha handed him the remote. “You hungry?”

He tossed the remote aside and took her wrist. “I'm starving, but not for food.”

“Not now, big boy,” she said, laughing.

“Why not? Doctors said I could exercise.”

“Walking is what they had in mind,” she said, laughing and pulling her hand away. “Besides, you might embarrass our friends.”

“What?”

He looked where she was pointing, and laughed at the sight of the wave of smiling people coming up the hallway.