My trembling eased at his tone. It was as if he was asking instead of telling. Nodding my approval, I released the handle and placed my hands on his chest. Slowly he moved his hands to the hem of my nightgown. As he moved my gown slowly upward, his pulse beneath my hands quickened. Once the nightgown was above my waist, I felt his body stiffen.
I lowered my chin, unsure of what my expression revealed. There were too many thoughts trying to take root. Bewilderment and uncertainty swirled with embarrassment, yet they all seemed just beyond my reach. Taking a deep breath, I concentrated on the task at hand. Jacob and I worked together in silence. He spoke only to alert me of our movements, which I appreciated. Each one, no matter how gentle he tried to make it, aggravated my tender side. With his alert, I’d bite my lower lip and hold my breath. It didn’t stop the pain, but at least I avoided wincing. By the time he placed me back in my bed, the telltale copper taste let me know that I’d punctured the inside of my lower lip.
Heavy silence loomed around us as we waited for my food. By the sound of Jacob’s footsteps and occasional sighs I sensed that he too was fighting a whirlwind of thoughts, though I doubted we were thinking the same things. With each passing moment, I contemplated my options. I wanted food, but I wanted more than that. I needed more than that. I needed to understand what had happened with my accident as well as what was happening now.
The questions weren’t only in my mind. They filled the room, swirling around us, taunting me. Like the faceless shadows in my dreams, they mocked me with the knowledge they refused to share. As time passed, I felt increasingly trapped—claustrophobic—as if I needed air.
What do I normally do for an outlet?
The answer washed over me with a cleansing release.
I run.
A strange sense of relief filled me as I closed my eyes and imagined paths and trails. It was so real. I not only saw the sun’s long beams dancing through the tall trees, I felt the warmth as I passed through the shafts of light and my feet pounded the ground. I pushed my body, exercising its limits. No longer suffocating in an unknown world, I was moderating my breathing, keeping my pulse steady as I gained the strength to continue. I never doubted my ability to keep going. The motion came naturally. Peering beyond the woods, I spotted the open meadow where a cool morning mist had settled near the ground. Inhaling the fresh air, I smiled at the dew glistening like diamonds in the early light.
I audibly gasped at the intense memory. My body tensed. I wasn’t there, I was here. However, what I’d imagined couldn’t have been a dream. The terrain was familiar, more so than anything around me. I tensed as Jacob once again touched my hair.
“Sara, are you all right? What happened?”
I nodded with newfound strength. I was all right. I would be. I had a memory, a real memory. Since I couldn’t tell him what had happened, I smiled and moved my head from side to side. I wanted to say that nothing was wrong. For the first time since I’d awakened in this unfamiliar world, something seemed right.
I concentrated on the images I’d created. Just like physically running, the thoughts relaxed me, easing the blanket of doubt and worry.
“I should look for your brush. Do you think you can brush your hair?” Jacob asked. “It’s unlike you for it to be like this.” With each sentence his fingers smoothed and caressed my long unruly tresses. Before I noticed he’d left, he was back. Placing a handle in my hand, he said, “You’re much better at this than I.”
Careful not to snag the bandages, I pulled the bristles through my hair. As I did, the floral scent of shampoo reminded me of the lavender flowers in my dream. I imagined the long blonde hair blowing in the wind and wondered if that was what I was brushing.
The length seemed right. It was the color that eluded me. Once silkiness replaced the tangles, I began to braid. The rote motion came without effort and resulted in a loose braid, beginning on my left and lying upon my right shoulder. As my fingers neared the end, Jacob placed a hair tie in my hand.
It was silly, only a braid, but my chest no longer ached. It was the first thing I’d done on my own. My hands remembered what to do just as my mind recalled running. It was only a start, but I clung to it.
When the door opened, my hunger woke with a vengeance.
“Place it over here,” Jacob directed.
Where’s “here”?
Tension returned to my shoulders as I pressed my lips together, suppressing the comments I instinctively knew wouldn’t be welcomed. This macho-man routine was getting old. After the door opened and closed, wheels moved against the floor. With this new sound, I envisioned a table, one that could move in front of me and over my bed. I reached out.
“No, Sara. You didn’t forget about blessing the food, did you?”