A Chance Meeting

Part 5

It was only one day this time before Chance came again into Sara's room. She was asleep, but as soon as he stepped a foot into her room, her eyes blearily blinked open and fixed on his shiny bright ones.

"Chance?" she groggily croaked.

He had brought his own paper and pencil today, and a grin already lit up his face, showing off his perfect facial features. There was more energy in his step today as he walked over to the bed and pulled out the chair.

"I take it the surgery went well?" He nodded and Sara smiled, happy for him and his sister.

She's going to have to stay twelve days in the hospital, but then she'll be released back to the house. She's already looking better.

"What about her legs?" For being in a hospital bed for two years, Sara's mind was still sharp, and she remembered him writing something about her legs not being able to work. As a legs-not-working girl herself, she knew what it was like to not be able to walk. She hated it. "Are they going to be okay?"

A slight shadow of concern darkened his face. They think so for the most part; she'll be in a wheelchair for a while, but, with the help of physical therapy, she should be able to regain the use of her legs.

Sara cocked her head in confusion. "Shouldn't you be with her if she's out of surgery then? Your sister, that is."

Chance smiled at her, a knowing, kind smile that made her wonder what she'd said that he found he had to correct. She sat up a little straighter, ignoring the bolts of pain that shot down her back because of it.

She's going to be in and out of sleep for a while. I'm supposed to be notified as soon as she seems to be awake and staying that way.

"Oh," Sara said, a little surprised she hadn't figured that out by herself. "But she's okay, right?"

Yes, it's just a side effect of the drugs and the stress of the surgery.

"Well, if you say so." Sara leaned back with a slight wince.

Chance immediately sat up a little straighter and he looked a little distressed. What's wrong? What can I do?

Sara's heart-monitor began to beep a little more unsteadily, and Chance stood up, paper forgotten on her lap and the pen falling onto the floor with an unheard click. A nurse poked her head into the room, one more behind her with a cart of medical supplies. A grim expression was on her face as she ushered Chance from the room and began to work on Sara, the second one wheeling the cart into the room and pulling some more IV fluid bags off it.