Page 13 of Never Leave Me
Part of his mind urged caution, not to get too excited, that the sensations and movement might not mean anything. His rational side told him to bend his legs, to test them first, to analyze his situation.But as he lifted his gaze to Ellen’s retreating frame, to her long legs carrying her away from the room, her hair swishing in time with her hips, he threw caution aside, as he had in the vault, and he pushed himself up from the bed.
In one fluid, easy movement he was standing. Standing. His feet planted firmly on the floor. His legs supporting him. His knees bearing his weight. His muscles holding him in place.
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HARRISONSWAYED, blood rushing from his head, leaving vertigo in its wake. He was going to fall, was still weak.
With a lurch, he groped for the bedside table and braced himself. He’d been too hasty and needed his wheelchair. If only it was beside the bed instead of at the end.
Slowly, he shifted, needing to somehow maneuver himself into bed without collapsing. But as he straightened, the dizziness evaporated. A strange serenity enveloped him.
He glanced down at his legs and could feel the solid pressure of the floor radiating up through his feet. He patted a hand against one thigh then the other, feeling the imprint of his hand.
A sizzle of excitement zipped along his nerves. The numbness of his flesh was gone. The dead, detached part of his body was humming with life.
He lifted one foot and took a step. Then he lifted the other and took another step. The movement was strange but easy. And smooth.
He took several more steps. In two ticks, he expected to buckleto the floor, where he’d end up in a heap, his atrophied muscles quivering in protest. But he halted in the center of the room and stood straight and tall without tottering.
Lord in heaven above. Was this really happening, or had he finally gone mad?
Ellen was already out the door, her footsteps shuffling down the hallway, uneven and tired. She needed to preserve her strength.
“Ellen.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Did he dare chase after her? Could he make his legs work that fast?
Go. Keep moving.He started walking again, this time without any effort. His legs functioned as if they had a mind of their own and had been strong and healthy his entire life. He wanted to believe so badly this was real. But he was afraid he was in a coma and had only imagined himself walking.
Faster. His stride lengthened until he was out the door. Ellen was halfway down the hallway.
Run. Catch her.His legs obeyed his mind. As he closed the distance between them, a thrill shot through him. Hewasdoing this. He was moving. On his own. Without a wheelchair.
He easily reached her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her to a stop.
She swung around with startled, anxious eyes, certainly not expecting him and likely wondering who would dare to touch her in the middle of the hallway. As her expression registered recognition, her eyes widened and then dropped to scan the length of him.
She sucked in a sharp breath and took a rapid step back.
He released her arm, wanting to prove he didn’t need her help to stand, that he was strong enough on his own.
Again she drew in a breath and glanced from his face to his legs and back. Amidst the confusion, her eyes radiated a thousand questions.
Only one needed answering. He nodded. Yes, he was walking by himself.
“No way.” Tears filled her eyes, and a sob slipped from her lips before she captured it into her cupped palm.
“Yes way.” He couldn’t contain a smile even as heat formed at the back of his eyes. He pivoted in a slow circle, needing to convince himself and her that he wasn’t fabricating anything.
When he faced her again, this time the tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. She was still covering her mouth as though she didn’t trust herself to speak. And she shook her head in disbelief.
This was real. The holy water had healed him. He would demonstrate it to her—to them both.
He started forward, striding past her down the hallway toward the wide, winding staircase. His feet picked up pace until he was jogging. When he reached the top of the steps, he paused. How many times had he sat in his wheelchair at either the top or bottom of the stairs and watched guests and servants effortlessly climb up and down before sighing with resignation and rolling away to use the lift?
Never again.
