Come, Josephine

Chapter 43

1928
   Nick moved stiffly across the yard. He wasn't limping, but held is arm in a strange position. As he shuffled one leg forward, he kept his neck completely straight, his arm tucked into his side. My eyes locked with his as he neared.
   "You alright?" I said, studying his shoulder. It was the one that got shot, and still troubled him in the cold.
    "I'm fine, I just slept funny- have you got a hot water bottle?" He smiled, but it looked more like a grimace.
   I helped him up the porch steps with his good arm, and put the kettle on to fill the hot water bottle. When he was sat by the fire, I peeled off his jacket, freeing his good shoulder first.
   I placed a hand over the scar on his shoulder and pressed lightly, "how does that feel?"
   "Not bad, just like you're pressing on an old bruise."
   "Okay, and this-" I manipulated his shoulder, moving his elbow out slowly. It had only moved a few inches when he let our a cry, and went to grab my hand.
   Pain was written all over his face, "shit, that hurts."
   It wasn't like Nick to swear, "Oh, it looks like the cold has gotten into the joint. Can you move it?"
   He tried, winced, and stopped, "not really."
   "Okay, and can you move your elbow?"
   He tried again, "no."
   I took his hand, "squeeze my fingers?"
   His grip was weak, and his fingers were slow to move. Any chance he had of finding board in exchange for work was gone.
   "Alright," I said, "let's use the hot water bottle and see if that helps."
   I took him over to the sofa, and helped him sit down. A cushion was placed in his lap to support his bad arm. It was then that I went to the kitchen to retrieve the hot water bottle, and upon returning, I sat down beside him. I carefully pressed it to the sore joint, his face relaxing.
   I rubbed his back in slow circles, trying to relieve the tension through his body. He relaxed into the motion, and seemed relieved from the warmth of the hot water bottle.
   I heard steps on the stairs behind us. Before I could move, however, they paused abruptly. From his steps alone, I knew it was Jack.
   "Josephine, what are you doing?"
    Nick remained sat forward, as he was too stiff to move. I wondered if the fear helped him keep still.
   "The cold has irritated the old shot wound, dad," I said, "he's lost motion in it and it's quite painful."
   "I want to talk to you outside."
   Jack motioned towards the back door, and I reluctantly rode from my seat. Nick replaced my hand on the hot water bottle, keeping it in place, and I followed Jack outside. When the back door clicked shut, he turned to face me. His eyes severe, he watched me furiously.
   "Josephine, are you angling to have him in the house?"
   "What, so he won't be in debilitating pain? Trust me, Jack, it would be nice, but I know you'll never let that happen."
   "Oh?" Sarcasm lined his voice.
   "No, because you're too damn stubborn to see that Nick has nothing but honest intentions-"
   "Then why was he in your room?"
   "Is that all you think of me?" My eyes smarted, "I let him sleep in the warm because I didn't want the love of my life to end up in crippling pain, Jack."
   He didn't say another word. Instead, he looked at me, his face grave. I didn't break eye contact, or turn away. I stood my ground, and waited for Jack to speak.
   Eventually, he did, "I imagine you want him to sleep in the house, then. Your mother feels the same way."
   "She trusts me," I snapped.
   "And I have your interests at heart."
   "And she doesn't?"
   He pinched the bridge of his nose, about to argue. Instead, I spun on my heals and reentered the house. Jack could argue with the wall for all I cared. His opinion was increasingly frustrating.
   Back inside the house, Nick remained sat when I had left him. He looked less uncomfortable, but still ill at ease. He hadn't moved from when I had left him, and he still cradled his arm in his lap.
   "Hey, how you feeling?"
   He looked up and smiled, "absolutely fine- is everything okay?"
   "Perfectly," I returned a half-hearted grin, "it's nothing to worry about."
   "You sure?"
    "We'll talk about it later," I whispered, although something on Nick's face told me he already knew.
   He nodded and readjusted the hot water bottle. I took it from him, keeping it in place on his his shoulder.
   "Have you tried moving it again?" I said, "you remember what the doctor said, don't you?"
   "That I should keep moving it? Yeah," he winced.
   "Come on, let's try stretching it out," he shot me a look, "it'll only get worse if you don't."
   He relented, nodded, and let me take hold of his elbow. I left the hot water bottle on the table, and began slowing moving his arm, centimetre by centimetre.
   "So, how were things back home?" I said, trying to start up idle conversation.
   He  kept his eyes on the floor, "good, you know, harvest is in a few months so things are pretty quiet right now, the farm's ticking over-" his voice cut of suddenly, and I felt him tense up.
    His elbow was only half way to his shoulder; it was the worst I had ever seen him since it had healed. I forced the frown off of my face, "relax- look, just keep it there for a moment- so, what are you looking forward to at home?"
   "Our walks, mostly, but also just being home, you know? I've only been here a few days, and I'm already missing it," his voice was tight, "what about you?"
   "I miss you having a bed," I stopped myself from going into a tirade about Jack's juvenile behaviour, "I missed you, but now you're here, I think I just miss the farm and everything familiar, you know?"
   I slowly started moving is arm again, without pausing, and managed to raise it fully above his head while we talked. His whole body trembled with the effort, but he didn't complain. I lowered it again, let him rest for a moment, before starting to move his arm in a circle. As I pulled the joint forward, I noticed his eyes were watering.
    "Is it that bad?" I stopped the movement, "Nick, do you need me to stop?"
    "No, just keep moving it, it'll pass," his voice was low, "the pain just makes me feel sick."
   I stretched it further out, "relax- think about something else," I noticed that as I pulled his arm out, completely extended, he dug his good hand into the pillow, "you alright?"
    He shook his head.
   "Do you want me to stop?"
    He shook his head again.
   "Good, because afterwards I'm going to kill Jack."
   I could have swore I saw him smile. I relaxed my grip on his arm, and let it rest in his lap.
   After a moment, I spoke again, "come on, see if you can move it."
     He flexed his elbow, then stretched out his arm completely. He wiggled his arm about again and again, as if trying to get a sense of how to move it again.
   "Has it helped?"
   "Yeah, it hurts less."
   "But it still hurts?"
   He nodded.
   I went to the kitchen, and retrieved aspirin from the cabinet. I went back to Nick to offer him the meagre apology of water and pain medicine.
   After my small offering, I went upstairs. If I was going to solve the issue, it would be through talking to Ruth.