But he doubted it. Josie and Annie May had always been close.
“I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me,” she whispered. “I can stand anything but that.”
Without stopping to consider his actions, he moved closer to the bed. “I could never pity you, Josie. You’re way too tough for that.”
“I’m not very tough right now.”
He wasn’t going to agree with her, even if it was true. Instead he reached up and touched her long hair. “You let it grow. I never knew you had waves. I like it.”
“Thanks. I didn’t know about the waves, either. I always wore my hair really short. After the accident, getting it cut was the least of my problems and suddenly it was long.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “On days when I can’t move around much, fixing my hair gives me something to do. When I’m feeling strong, I can get it out of the way by putting it back in a ponytail, so it works.”
Josie was tall and strong and vibrantly alive. At least she used to be. He couldn’t reconcile that image with the pale woman sitting in the hospital bed. Two IV lines dripped into her arm. She was wearing a hospital gown. His Josie? Never.
“What about the other changes?” he asked. “You wear dresses now instead of jeans. Except on your walk last Saturday. Then you wore sweats.”
She sighed. “Jeans are too hard. Most days my legs don’t work that well. There’s a lot of pain from the surgeries. It’s just easier to pull a dress over my head and go.”
“I’m sorry for the reason, but I like you in dresses. You’re very pretty and feminine in them.”
“Not at all like the old me, huh? No wonder you didn’t recognize me.”
No wonder at all, he thought. She couldn’t run anymore or play basketball. “Are you working?” Last he’d heard she’d been a PE teacher and coach at a private girls’ high school in Los Angeles.
“Not since the accident. Eventually I’m going to have to do something but right now I’m not sure what.”
He stared at her, at the changes. “I can’t believe this is really you.”
She gave him a bright smile that was as fake as plastic wood. “It’s amazing what a close encounter with a big truck will do,” she said brightly. “You should have seen me the first couple of months. My face and most of the left side of my body was either bandaged or covered with a cast. I looked like mummy woman for what felt like weeks. There were braces and therapy sessions, surgeries, months in rehab. You name it, I did it. You remember my stepsister, Dallas?”
He nodded.
“She and I shared an apartment together in West Los Angeles. She’s a grad student at UCLA. The timing turned out to be terrific. I had a few weeks at home in between surgeries which coincided with her summer break. By the time she had to return to school, I was back in the hospital.”
He believed everything she was saying and yet it was like listening to someone talk about a movie they’d seen. No real person could have gone through this and survived. “And it’s really been a year?”
She nodded. “It was a year last month.”
He should have known, he thought suddenly. He should have sensed something was wrong with Josie. “I wish you’d had someone get in touch with me.”
Her blue gaze met his with a directness he remembered. “Why? What difference would it have made?”
“I would have come to be with you. Or does your family dislike me so much that they didn’t want me there?”
“They like you just fine. The reason they didn’t contact you was that I told them not to. We’d been divorced for two years.”
“But-”
She cut him off with a shake of her head. “Would you have let me know if the situation had been reversed? Would you have wanted me with you?”
“That’s different.”
“That’s also your way of saying no.”
“But I’m not the point. You are. Your not getting in touch with me had nothing to do with the divorce. You would have hated needing me. That’s why you couldn’t do it. You never wanted to need anyone.”
He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. Josie’s independent streak had been something he’d admired at the beginning of the marriage, but by the end, he’d grown to hate it. She would rather have eaten glass than admit she needed anyone for anything.
“Maybe once,” she admitted. “But not anymore. The last year has taught me that I do need people and I’m going to need them for the rest of my life. There were days when I couldn’t even feed myself. Believe me, I learned all about being dependent then.”
“That’s different.”
“I don’t think it is. For a long time I thought I was strong because I was physically capable, but I’ve learned that being strong is about will and determination. I could have given up, but I didn’t-no matter how much the odds were against me or how much it hurt. I experienced the worst it could be and I survived.”
“I’m not questioning your strength.” He straightened, shifting the chair back a little. “You’ve always been stubborn.”
She shook her head. “I’m different, Del. You have to know that. If I’d been the same you wouldn’t have been interested in getting to know Rose.”
“How much of Rose was real and how much of it was a game?” He couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice. “You were playing with me.”
“No. It was all very real.”
He wanted to believe her. He wanted to know that she was different, which was crazy because he wasn’t interested in reigniting the flame with his ex-wife.
“I need some time to think about this,” he said, standing, “and you need some rest.”
She tilted her head as she looked up at him. “It’s strange. For the first time since I’ve known you, you’re the one walking away, not me.”
“I guess I’ve changed, too. I’ll be back in the morning.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. Do you want me to call your folks and let them know you’re in the hospital?”
“No. I’m only going to be here a couple of days. I don’t want anyone worrying.”
More than likely she didn’t want them hanging around. As he’d said before-Josie hated needing anyone. Then, because he didn’t know what else to say, he turned on his heel and left.
Chapter Nine
Nothing made sense, Del thought as he headed down the hospital corridor. Rose, Josie… which one was real? How could his ex-wife be so different? “Intellectually he knew about the accident and the surgeries, but in his heart, he didn’t believe it. She couldn’t have gone through all that and survived. And having survived, he doubted she could have changed all that much. She might look physically different, but on the inside, where it mattered, he would bet she was exactly the same.
“Mr. Scott?”
He’d almost reached the elevator when he heard someone calling his name. He turned and saw a short woman with dark hair and glasses. She wore a white coat and had a patient chart in her hands.
“I’m Del Scott,” he said.
“I thought you might be.” The woman gave him a smile, then held out her free hand. “I’m Dr. Sanders. I’ve examined Josie and will be taking care of her while she’s here in the hospital.”
Dr. Sanders looked to be in her mid-forties. She was pretty, in a capable-looking way, with blue-gray eyes and a steady gaze that seemed to see down to his soul.
After they shook hands, she gestured to a small empty office just off the main corridor. “Do you have a minute? I need to clear up a few things.”
“Sure.”
