Maid for the South Pole

Part 5

FIVE

When Jean awoke, the first thing he became aware of was the whistling wind outside. He prayed that the ship would make it through the storm to retrieve him before the morphine ran out. There hadn't been much in the bottle and he'd surely need another dose soon. Death wasn't an option. He had to get home to Dairine.

Jean pried his eyes open. Instead of the foam-insulated domed ceiling of the hut, he saw the cable-covered curve inside a cargo plane. Home. He was going home.

The next time he opened his eyes, the ceiling was flat, white and much closer. Disinfectant seared his nostrils and something behind him beeped. Hospital, his fuzzy mind told him.

As the days passed, the fog faded a bit, but never enough. Doctors talked of compound fractures and possible infection and all the metal things they'd inserted into his body to help the bones heal straight. Maybe they'd mistaken him for Wolverine. Surely these New Zealanders could tell the difference between a Canadian and the Australian actor who played the character in the movies. Not that he'd mind being Wolverine right now, so he could heal instantly and hop on a plane home.

Instead, days turned into weeks as they pumped antibiotics into his body and wheeled him in and out of the operating theatre. If he hadn't dragged his damaged legs into the water and along the beach, he wouldn't have to endure all this treatment, the doctors told him.

Jean agreed with them. If he hadn't done those things, he'd be a frozen corpse in a lava tube.

Then they told him there was a chance he wouldn't walk again.

Screw that for a joke.

When a woman walked into his hospital room and introduced herself as his physiotherapist, he nearly kissed her. Dairine wouldn't like that, though, so he controlled himself. Not that he'd have kissed the woman like he kissed his wife, of course. If Jean was one thing, it was faithful. He'd never love another woman the way he loved his wife. He'd do anything for her. Including doing everything in his power to walk again, so he could pass the medical assessments to go back to Antarctica to finish his research. Once he had his PhD, he could settle down in Vancouver with her like she wanted, take a teaching position somewhere, and be the best father he knew how to be.

Jean threw himself into his physical therapy like he was training for the Olympics. When they finally released him from hospital, he headed for the Antarctic Research Centre near the airport in Christchurch, where the US expeditioners had their staging area. His status as a PhD candidate at an American university earned him a desk and some temporary accommodation, where he spent hours working on his thesis in between daily sessions of physiotherapy. He would walk again. Without a wheelchair, without crutches, without leaning on anyone. When he returned home to Dairine, he'd be a whole man again, not half of one, he swore.

Daily, he fought the urge to call her, but he'd promised he wouldn't, because she'd said the waiting between calls while he was in Seattle had killed her a little each time, and it would be worse this time, with him on the other side of the world. He understood. He missed her just as much, of course, but while he was out in the field, discovering new things every day, she kept to her routine. She'd work and spend the evenings at home or with her family in Vancouver, while catching up with her friends on the weekends. He'd slot back into that life as soon as he could, he swore. s**t, what he'd give for a family dinner, with her family or his.

He took a break from thesis writing for another painful trip to hospital to remove all the pins and rods that had held his smashed bones straight enough to heal, followed by more physical therapy, until the day when Jean was allowed to walk without crutches. He was glad Dairine couldn't see him now, taking his first steps like the baby he hadn't given her yet, but he could count the days now. Soon they'd let him go home to her.

Finally, the doctors declared him fit to fly. He had to swear to do daily exercises and attend a clinic in Vancouver, but he felt whole again. Whole enough to be Dairine's husband.

Winter gripped Christchurch when he flew out of the city, headed for summer at home for the first time in two years. He couldn't wait to see Dairine again, six months earlier than expected.

Maybe he'd give her that baby she wanted before the week was over. He'd damn well try.