San Antonio, Texas
“Come on Jason; you can do it one more time. And you know we ladies love when you go the extra mile!”
Deva winked at the young man struggling to pull himself up one more time on the bars, his smile turning into a frustrated grimace, his arm muscles and shoulders straining with the effort.
“You’re a slave driver, and I hate you!”
Deva only arched an eyebrow at the half-serious threat and pursed her lips. “I’ve been called worse. Now, do as I say, slave, and use more of your leg to push yourself up. I want you straighter. No more slouching on my watch.”
Sweat pouring from his face, Jason grunted and moved slowly, his body tense as a bow. And as she hoped, he pulled himself to a standing position by himself. Trembling from the effort, and for the very first time, the wounded soldier offered her a beaming smile.
“Fuck yeah! Oh, sorry about that, Deva.”
Having heard far worse language in her life, and as his success with standing for the first time in months bringing the shadow of a smile on his young, stern face, Deva let it slide. She lived for these moments as a physical therapist; fighting through the struggles, the pain, to finally see a sliver of hope in men and women who had lost it. That’s all she needed to keep going, to encourage the patients into her care and help them more than they hoped for in their lives after bouts of tragedy and pain.
Jason, a young Marine, had been severely wounded during a mission five months ago, losing his left leg at the knee, his right one damaged almost beyond repair with several shrapnel pieces embedded into his back, putting pressure on his spinal cord. His prognosis had been bleak, condemning him to a wheelchair. When he had undergone all possible surgeries to stabilize his situation, and no more could be done on that front, he had been moved to the Greenwood Rehabilitation Center where Deva had worked for the last ten years. Upon their arrival, the patients were in pain, inside and out. That was when the true work started. The center didn’t offer miracles or hope, but hard work, and tough love with the goal of offering the patient a chance at a more normal life. Some of those young men and women would never get back to the body and life they once knew, and Deva was well aware of that. It was a mourning period only they could go through. What she wanted to give these wounded souls, through her words and her skills, was a sense that life could be good again. That it was worth living again. Make them fight for it!
Sidestepping behind her patient, she placed her hands on his hips. “Keep straight another thirty seconds, and I’ll give you a break.”
The Marine turned his head slightly in her direction, a wry grin on his face. “If you slide your hands a bit forward, I’ll tough it out for a full minute.”
Deva rolled her eyes behind his back, but she knew that when they started to make lewd remarks if only in jest, it meant that something had shifted in them and they were heading in the right direction. Another part of their humanity was clicking back in its place, like a piece of a puzzle.
“I’m not in charge of rehabilitating that part of your anatomy, sweetie. But I’ll take that minute, though.”
Jason half laughed, half grunted, but true to his word; he stayed standing for a full minute, just as he said. Prepared, Deva discreetly moved the wheelchair with her foot, ready if his arms gave out. But as she suspected, his pride and determination kept him up almost as much as his straining, underused muscles.
When she slowly helped him down into a seated position, the man was grinning like a fool and heaving as if he had run a marathon, sweat staining his t-shirt emblazoned with the Marine Corps logo.
“Excellent job, Jason. And for that, I’ll personally give you a massage. How’s that for a reward?”
Jason tilted his head, giving her a suspicious look as he caught up his breath. “By massage, you mean twisting my body in impossible positions until I cry for mercy?”
“Yes, but I’ll finish up with something softer. If you behave, of course, and endure your torment like a good Marine.”
Jason chuckled and rolled his chair toward the door. “Let me shower first. And then, I’m all yours.”
Shaking her head at his smart mouth, she started cleaning up her workstation. They may all tell her outrageous things, but Deva knew they would never do anything inappropriate. And because of that, she gave them more leeway. In this place, she was in control, and safe.
As she was finishing, Stuart, one of the other therapists, poked his head into her workroom. “Deva, someone on the phone for you. I transferred it to your office. It seemed urgent. Do you want me to finish up here?”
Shaking her head, Deva grabbed a towel on the floor. “No, I’m done. That must be the call from Doctor Humphreys about Jada. I’ve been waiting for him all week. By the way, Jason is getting ready for his stretching session after his shower. If I’m not done with the call, can you get him ready?”
“Sure will. And don’t forget about the five o’clock meeting!”
Deva laughed. “If that meeting involves booze and nachos, I’ll think about it. And if you’re paying, I’ll definitely go.”
Stuart rolled his eyes and whined good-naturedly. “Come on! There will be ten people there; I can’t pay for everyone!”
“You whine, we dine, suck it up, Stuart.”
And biting back her grin, she bypassed her co-worker and pushed the sweaty towel to his chest before heading to her office. Closing the door with her foot, she pushed the blinking red light on her phone.
“Hello, Deva. How’s my dark sparrow today?”
Everything in her froze, her mind slipping back ten years. That female voice. The codename. Deva swallowed hard and took the handset, not willing to risk anyone overhearing the conversation.
Wetting her dry lips, she finally answered. “Hello, Beatrice. It’s been a long time since I last heard from you. I almost thought you had forgotten all about me.”
The woman on the other end of the line let out a deep sigh. It was so unlike what Deva remembered about her; it made Deva frown.
“Believe me; I never call any of the people I saved lightly. But you know the deal. I’m only calling in my favor because I need someone with your skillset, and even more so, your knowledge. What about a coffee? You have one last patient to see today if I’m not mistaken. I know you have a small gathering afterward, what about we meet when you are done? At that small coffee shop you like so much. It’s open late, so I’ll be waiting for you there.”
Deva blinked and shook her head. Was there anything that woman didn’t know about her? If she didn’t believe that Beatrice Dante, a woman of mystery and savior extraordinaire, was one good soul, she would be seriously scared.
“Okay, let’s meet there. But I can skip the gathering and…”
“No need, see you later, Deva.”
Slowly putting the handset down, Deva, sat back in her chair, nothing in her body steady anymore. Ten years. It had been ten years since she had last seen Beatrice or had any contact with her since her old life ended and she started a brand new one with her help. For ten years, Deva had worked at pushing bad memories away and had finally stopped looking over her shoulder. But that blessing came with a price, and Deva was very aware of it when she had accepted Beatrice’s deal. One favor. One which could be called in at any time, or even never. Beatrice Dante was the head of an organization dedicated to saving people considered lost causes. And she had been one very lost cause at one point in time.
Deva removed her hair band, letting her wealth of dark brown curls tumble down over her shoulders. She hadn’t been able to cut them off when she disappeared, and instead dyed them a chocolate brown to cover the natural pale blond. Beatrice had offered plastic surgery if she wanted, or to change the blue of her eyes with permanent contact lenses, but she couldn’t. The blond was her father’s and was something she was glad to get rid of, but her eyes were her mother’s. The deep blue could be mistaken for other colors easily, and Deva needed a reminder of something good, soft, and loving in her past when she looked at herself in the mirror. When her mother had been alive, a long time ago. A lifetime away.
This was a different life now, but was she any different? Who she had been had forged her, scarred her, inked her personality, forever. It made her strong enough to fight back, to take another path. There was nothing helpless about her, so why was she shaking? It was only a favor, not the destruction of what she had built for herself. And not even the mighty Beatrice Dante would be able to destroy that. The monsters of her past had made her vow that much, and she intended to fight for what she had built, for the woman she had rebuilt from blood and ashes.