Page 27 of Cabin Fever

Carter grunted while turning his head. Dr. Ferguson obviously knew him as he took that as his cue to leave.

"I was hoping the fall would knock some kindness into you, but I was very much mistaken. In fact, I think it made your grumpiness worse. Since we're here in the hospital, maybe they could check for grouchy hermit disease."

"You can go now, too."

I could tell Carter wanted to fold his arms, but with his newly fitted cast on his arm, it made it difficult. That was entertaining. I felt popcorn should be made as I watched Carter struggle with his limited dexterity, and how he was forced to stay put instead of running off to hide in a bathroom.

"Are you in pain? Do you need me to call the nurse?"

"No. I didn't even want what they gave me. That's what the pharmaceutical companies want. They want you to get all the drugs at the hospital for pain and then before you know it, boom, you're hooked. We will not be filling any prescription they give me. Besides, a little discomfort will remind me not to argue with a woman while fixing a roof."

As tired as I was of Carter's attitude, I felt guilty about his fall. I distracted him when he was in a dangerous situation. The more time I spent here on this mountain, the more I realized I let my emotions dictate everything in my life.

If something was difficult and made me unhappy, I wouldn't do it. If something made me happy, I indulged. And not one of my friends or my family—except for Bea—would call me on it. I was beginning to discover I was a spoiled little rich girl . . . Just like Derrick had said to my cousin.

"When I make a mistake, Carter, I own up to it. I am sorry for saying all those bad things about you and calling you mad."

He glanced up with reluctance, but it faded as he stared at me. "It's fine. Thank you for attempting to help me after the fall. And, especially, for stopping your attempt to carry me down from the loft. I'm more thankful for that than anything, actually."

"I thought after working on the farm all this time that I was stronger than I turned out to be."

"You weren't. You really, really weren't."

"Hi, Mr. Fitzwilliam, I'm your afternoon nurse, Molly. I'm taking over for Delila. How are you feeling?" A cheerful woman pushed aside the blue curtain that separated Carter's bed from the other patient's.

There wasn't a lot of privacy here. I was used to large hospital rooms with leather couches and big screen televisions. My mother often had work done, and Bea and I would visit when she came out of surgery. Her room looked like something from the Astoria compared to this place.

And the color scheme left much to be desired. I don't know who was in charge of decor for this hospital, but they should be fired. The pastel blues and greens with a creamy white wall looked like they were going for a 1980s themed beach party held in a bathroom—complete with an aroma of disinfectant, occasional urine odor, and something that smelled like decay. Nothing about this place felt like it invoked healing.

"I'm ready to leave," Carter ground out as his eyes glared at Molly.

"Then it's a good thing I got the release papers right here." She walked over and rolled the movable bed table over. She slid a few papers toward Carter and handed him a pen. He quickly signed.

"Here are the care instructions. Do not attempt to do anything with your arm until you come back to visit the doctor. Luckily, it was only a slight fracture and doesn't require surgery. When Dr. Semego sees you, she'll most likely give you a prescription for physical therapy. But, until then, you are not to use that arm."

"But I'm a sheep farmer. I use both of my arms every day. What am I going to do with one arm?"

For the first time since Carter had arrived, he appeared worried. Even when I set fire to the blanket, he couldn't stop talking about, he didn't appear this scared. Now I felt worse than before. Not only did I cause physical damage to his body, but now I was affecting his living.

"I'm afraid you will have to get some help. Most patients with broken arms think up clever ways to work around it, but something like farming . . . well, you'll be limited. I'm sure you can ask a family member or a friend to help."

Molly gathered the papers from the table. "Looks like everything is in order. You're all set to leave. Have a pleasant day."

"Of course," Carter grumbled, though his usual irritated expression was more worried than angry.

She smiled at the both of us before she closed the curtain behind her.

Carter turned his attention from the closed curtain to me. "Did you pack up and hide the stuff at the cabin before you left?"

"Oh, I didn't think to do that. Sorry."

His jaw tightened. "We need to leave. Now."

I grabbed Carter's good arm and began to pull.

"Is there anyone I can call for you, Carter? I'm sure one of your friends will help."

Would any of my friends help if something like this happened to me?I thought about it and remembered the time I had some dental surgery and was too drugged up on pain medicine to do anything for two days. The only one, other than the servants, that volunteered to help me was Bea. Not even my good friend, Mandi, reached out to me, not a text or phone call. It was as if I fell off the planet until I was well enough to go shopping or to parties again.

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