Page 101 of Fighting Jacob

Several minutes later, after I’ve regained a small sense of composure, I stride back into Noah’s room. With Emily still in the shower, it’s just Noah, Dr. Miller, and me.

“I know something that will cheer you up.” Dr. Miller motions for me to join her next to Noah’s bedside. When I do, she lowers her eyes to Noah. “Isn’t Emily beautiful, Noah?”

I glare at her like she’s insane. No wonder she was ridiculed during medical school. She needs a straitjacket, not a doctor's coat.

I take back every bad thing I’ve ever said about her when Noah’s lips tug into a smirk. It isn’t his usual broad grin, but it’s a smile nonetheless. The only thing that could make it better was if a thick, bushy beard didn't hide it.

My heart quickens when a brilliant idea slams into me. “I’ll be back.”

After kissing Dr. Miller's cheek in glee, I race back down to the pharmacist. She's alarmed when I ask to be pointed in the direction of shaving cream and razors. She can look at me as if I'm batshit crazy as long as I get what I need. I want Emily to see Noah’s full smile, not one hidden by scruffy facial hair.

I take a mental note to start using the stairs when my return to Noah's room arrives with a bout of breathlessness. I'm so unfit, Hank’s concerns about me becoming pudgy might be more factual than in jest.

My fast pace slows when I notice Emily next to Noah’s bedside. Her dark locks are saturated and hanging loosely down her back, and her face still bears evidence of tears. She looks so defeated, beard or not, she needs to see Noah’s smile.

After curling my hand around her in support, my eyes drift to Dr. Miller. “Show Emily what you showed me.”

Dr. Miller’s smile competes with mine when she whispers, “Isn’t Emily beautiful, Noah?”

The look on Emily’s face when she sees Noah smile is priceless. The gloomy cloud hovering above her head dissipates in an instant, replaced with one that reveals she's fighting just as bravely as Noah.

“He’s smiling?” She raises her watering eyes to mine. “He’s smiling, Jacob.”

“He is. He’s smiling about you.”

“During our twice-daily sessions the past two weeks, I’ve been striving to replace Noah’s last memory of you with a happy, less confrontational one.” Dr. Miller joins us on the other side of Noah’s bed. “I’ve been asking him questions about your relationship before sharing stories about my own marriage. I’m still a little unsure what’s going on in that head of his, but I’m happy with his progress.”

“Me too. That’s amazing.” Emily gazes lovingly at Noah. “He’s coming back. The old Noah is coming back.”

“This might help him.” I move to the bedside table to grab the razor and shaving cream I purchased. “Do you want the pleasure, or shall I do it?” While waggling my brows, I wiggle the goodies in my hand.

With the biggest smile I’ve seen the past almost three months, Emily replies, “I’ll do it.”

When I empty Noah’s water jug, Dr. Miller makes an excuse to leave. She’s a stickler for protocol, so she’d never use a piece of hospital equipment for anything other than its intended use.

After checking the coast is clear, Emily dips her hands into the water jug, then scrubs them over the scruff on Noah’s jaw. Once she has a good amount of foam, her focus shifts to the razor. I probably shouldn’t grimace with every stroke she makes, but I didn’t think this through. She has a very sharp razor right near Noah’s jugular.

“Stop staring; you're making me nervous.”

“Don’t worry about me; watch what you're doing!”

She thrusts the disposable razor my way. “Do you want to do it?”

I shake my head, mortified she'd even ask.

“Then shut up!” My chuckle nearly drowns out what she says next, “I’ve done this before, you know.”

When my brows shoot up my face, as if to say, do tell, she murmurs, “After my surprise birthday party, Noah let me shave him at the hotel.” She smiles like she’s recalling a fond memory.

I can only hope it isn’t the only one she has today.

Later that afternoon, after Emily reluctantly left for the appointment I scheduled earlier, and I’ve finished sending Lola a text, Dr. Miller arrives for another physio session with Noah. She’s quieter today than she’s been the past two weeks, and her ring finger is missing the diamond solitaire ring she spins a minimum of a three dozen times every thirty minutes.

She has many obsessive-compulsive behaviors, such us, spinning her engagement ring any time she mentions her husband, using antibacterial solution like it’s lotion, and tucking her hair behind her ear when you stare at her too long. I may now stare at her for prolonged periods just to freak her out.

What? I’m bored. Nothing is entertaining about sitting in a hospital room all day.

Once her session with Noah is over, my curiosity gets the better of me. “Why aren’t you wearing your wedding ring today?”

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