Chapter 9 - Rebuilding the Bridge
When the six weeks were finally up, I sat in the orthopedist's office as the medical technician brought out the buzzing rotary saw.
With precise, practiced movements, the technician sliced through the fiberglass cast. The heavy casing split open, and for the first time in nearly two months, my right arm was free. My skin was pale and dry, and my wrist was stiff from disuse, but the X-ray showed complete bone union.
"Looks great, Mrs. Morgan," the doctor said, examining the film. "A few weeks of light physical therapy and you'll be back to 100%. Just don't go falling down any stairs."
"I don't plan on it," I smiled.
Derek was standing right beside my chair. The moment the technician stepped back, Derek reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around my hand, kissing my knuckles with profound tenderness.
"Thank God," he whispered.
When we arrived back at our home that afternoon, it felt like a completely different house. It was spotless, bright, and filled with the warm scent of lavender and fresh-baked bread.
Derek had set up a physical therapy station for me in the living room, complete with resistance bands and heating pads. But more importantly, he had established a new family system.
That evening, when the boys began to stir for their 6:00 PM feeding, Derek didn't sit on the couch waiting to be asked for help. He immediately stood up, walked into the kitchen, prepared both bottles, and sat down on the rug.
He held Owen in his left arm and Eli in his right, using supportive pillows to feed them both simultaneously with a practiced, calm expertise that made my heart melt.
"Look at you," I said softly, leaning against the doorway, rubbing my stiff right wrist. "You look like a pro."
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Derek looked up at me, a soft, humble smile gracing his face.
"I was a fool, Rachel," he said quietly as Eli drifted off to sleep against his chest. "I thought being a provider meant bringing home money. I didn't realize that the greatest provision a man can give his family is his presence, his labor, and his respect."
