Summertime & Butterflies

Twenty-Three

"Phew," Harry commented with dramatic relief as Olivia slowed the car down, pulling up his driveway. "Didn't think you would get me here alive, love," he teased, reaching out and poking her arm.

Olivia glanced sideways at Harry, frowning at his attempt at humour. "Too soon," she warned him, guiding the Range Rover into the garage, relieved to be home with her love. After his accident, Harry stayed in the hospital for a week to heal and begin the long process of physical therapy. The doctor refused to discharge him until he could tend to his bathroom duties on his own. As much as she loved Harry, it relieved Olivia to know she wouldn't have to aide him on the toilet. Of course, Harry had a few perverse comments regarding Olivia being his nurse, but he wanted to be home more than she wanted him to be, so he worked hard to meet the doctor's requirements.

Harry chuckled at Olivia's disapproval. "I'm the cripple, I can make jokes," he told her defiantly.

Olivia shook her head. "Jokes should be funny," she reminded him with a roll of her eyes, stepping out of the SUV and opening the back door where his and her suitcases sat. Olivia spent every night in the hospital with Harry, despite his insistence she should be at home getting a good rest. She tried, just one night, and found herself back at the hospital before midnight. She couldn't bear to be away from him and found the plastic armchair nestled beside the hospital bed wasn't so bad.

"Oh, yeah!" Harry exclaimed. "I always forget that part," he joked, reaching behind him to grab the crutches Olivia already had in her hand. "Sweetheart, I can do it," he assured her, watching as Olivia walked around the front of the car with his crutches.

She opened the passenger door, positing the crutches. "Just let me help you," she insisted, watching his movements as he angled his body between the crutches. He was getting stronger by the day, but he still moved with slow, pained movements that broke Olivia's heart. She hated seeing him in such a condition.

Harry grasped the crutches, chuckling as Olivia checked the positioning before he could stand up. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "You're babying me too much... I might get used to this," he teased as he hoisted himself from the car.

Olivia snickered, watching Harry's careful movements. "Don't worry, it won't last," she told him, unlocking the door to the house and pushing it open wide. Harry was fairly agile on the crutches – more graceful than Olivia was when she tried them out, and he wouldn't let her forget it – but she still watched him with concern, wrinkling her nose as he made his way over the metal threshold.

Olivia had ventured back to Harry's house earlier in the week to prepare the main level guest bedroom for them, removing the necessity for stair use. However, there was no other way into the house from the garage or driveway without using stairs. Harry had practised with the crutches on a staircase at the hospital, but with no doctors or nurses around, it was nerve-wracking to watch him limp up the stairs.

Harry turned to Olivia, a beam across his face as he reached the top of the stairs. "See, hon? No biggie!" he told her, waving his hand dismissively. He reached out and rubbed the small of her back, laughing at her. "Stop looking so worried, love," he commanded.

Olivia scowled at him, looking down the stairs and dreading the next time. Down was always more troublesome than up. "You should have let your mom call that stair lift company," Olivia told him, remembering the look of disgust on Harry's face when Anne suggested installing an elderly lift. "It's not just for old people!" she quickly reminded him before he could interject.

Harry pointed a finger at Olivia. "No," he answered, inching himself down the hall. "How's our new bedroom look?" he wondered, poking his head in the bathroom door on his way towards the makeshift master. He snickered when he saw the transfer bench placed in the tub, doctor's orders for his bathing.