Chapter 1

A story of love and sacrifice.

Much like the title of the story, this tale is a bit experimental for me as well. It is my first story written in the third person point of view. It’s also my first attempt at a tragedy. But fear not, if you are a regular reader, you know that I am a sucker for happy endings. So tragic, yes, but not terribly so. Nobody dies, OK?

Also, like a few of my other stories, I have written it with a slow build and one of my characters is a bit of a tomboy. Why? Because I like it that way. I hope you do too.

And finally, I’d like to thank fellow Lit author Linnéa Lundin for letting me borrow her first name for one of my characters. Even though she claims there are hundreds of Linnéas in the world, I still appreciate it.

The events and characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Experimental Therapy

“We’re back at the Alpine World Cup for the final women’s downhill event. The top three contenders are all within a few hundredths of a second of the leader.”

“It’s still anybody’s race, Bob, but right now that leader is Linnéa Vaughn. And what a surprise that is when you consider the circumstances.”

“That’s right, Chris. After the tragic automobile accident that left her widowed, and confined to a wheelchair — just three years ago — no one expected Linnéa Vaughn would even be here today, much less leading the board.”

“What an incredible story this is, Bob. She credits much of her success to an experimental new treatment and to the extreme devotion — her words, Bob, extreme devotion — of her physical therapist.”

“Well Chris, it looks like she’s in the gate and ready to go. Let’s see if Linnéa Vaughn can hang on to that top spot.”

Take your mark. Beep!

Linnéa exploded from the gate. She skied like she had never skied in her life, before or after the accident. She had easily cemented her place in the upcoming Olympic games, she could feel it in her bones as she tore down the slope. Now within sight of the finish line, she knew it had been a perfect run. Perfect! She should have been happy, this was her shining moment, but all she could think of was Jackie and how much this moment had cost her.

Tears rolled down Linnéa’s face as she glided into the finish area. Everyone who saw her interview later assumed she cried tears of joy, for this truly was a miraculous comeback, but Linnéa knew better. The tears were for her lover, her best friend, who had sacrificed so much for this moment.

“Miss Vaughn. Miss Vaughn, can you hear me? There’s been an accident.”

“Miss Vaughn, I need you to focus on me right now, and answer a few questions.”

“Miss Vaughn, did you feel that?”

“Did you feel anything on your toe?”

“No, why? What’s wrong with my toe?”

“How about on the other side?”

“What? No. Where am I? Where’s Tom? Who’s holding my legs? I can’t move my legs. Why can’t I move my legs!”

“You have to understand that this is still an experimental treatment,” Doctor Chowdhury reminded Linnéa. “This has never been tried outside of a lab, and there are absolutely no guarantees.”

“I understand,” she replied. Linnéa hated to admit it, but this experimental treatment was probably her last hope. She had been to visit doctors all over the country, searching for something, anything, to reverse her paralysis. City by city, clinic by clinic, any promises of a cure seemed more and more tenuous. This was the end of the line, her last option, Columbia Medical Center in New York City. Here, Doctor Chowdhury and his team were working on a new treatment option for patients with spinal injuries like hers — a treatment that looked very promising.

“Just so we’re clear, Miss Vaughn, no guarantees. Now, we’ll begin with a series of stem cell injections over the next several days, to stimulate nerve regeneration. After that we’ll start you on the physical therapy. Miss King here will assist you with that.”

Linnéa looked up at the smiling face of what was quite possibly the darkest-skinned woman she had ever seen. Not that she held any prejudices, it’s just that her hometown, Park City, Utah, wasn’t very ethnically diverse. As a result she had encountered very few faces like Miss King’s over her lifetime. Linnéa was intrigued.

The intrigue was mutual as the woman extended her hand. “Jacklyn King,” she said. “You can call me Jackie.”

An outsider might think that the two women were having a staring contest, but in fact they were both merely fascinated, each trying to figure the other out. Jackie, a skinny kid from the Bronx couldn’t remember the last time she had ever seen a woman so fair-skinned, so blue-eyed, so blonde. Linnéa was just as foreign-looking to her as Jackie was to Linnéa.

“Miss King has been fully trained in the operation of the machine, by the manufacturer,” Doctor Chowdhury put in. “Right now, there is no one in the world who is more qualified in its operation. You’re in good hands, Miss Vaughn.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Linnéa nodded. “Jackie.”

“Now, Miss Vaughn, the machine works by sending the impulses from Miss King’s brain to yours. Essentially, she’ll be using it to retrain your nerves with her movements.”

“Like the exoskeleton therapy?” Linnéa asked. One of the other, promising-looking treatment options had been a nerve retraining program that involved a robotic exoskeleton that she would wear over her legs. It would do the moving for her in hopes that her own body would learn from that motion and regenerate the pathways needed to someday move without the exoskeleton’s assistance.

“This is light-years ahead of clumsy exoskeletons,” Doctor Chowdhury said flatly. He wasn’t bragging about his own work, he was simply stating a fact.

“So, how do we hook it up?”

“It’s completely wireless, Miss Vaughn. Place your hand here and give it a minute to sync to your own unique nerve impulses. Then, as long as the machine is switched on, and you and Miss King are within one-hundred feet of it, give or take, it will work.”

Linnéa gave him an incredulous look.

“I told you we were well ahead of the pack.” This time Doctor Chowdhury betrayed his pride with a grin. “Now, let’s get you down the hall for your first series of injections.”

Jackie extended her hand. “I’m looking forward to working with you Miss Vaughn.”

“The feeling is mutual, Jackie, and please call me Linnéa.”

The two women exchanged polite, if somewhat awkward smiles, as Linnéa was wheeled out of the room and down the hall.

“Are you ready Miss Vaughn?”

“Linnéa,” came the gentle reminder.

“Right. It’ll be a little strange at first, Linnéa.” Jackie reached over and switched on the machine.

“Ooh!” came the surprised gasp.

“Fine, Jackie,” she admitted. “It just that … well, I can feel your scrubs moving against your legs as you walk.”

“That’s an excellent sign. That means your nerves are picking up the signals.”

“Wow!” Linnéa exclaimed. “Would you mind walking around some more? I don’t want to seem weird, but I haven’t felt anything below the waist in years. I can’t even go to the bathroom on my own.”

“I know,” Jackie responded, “I can feel your catheter. It’s itchy, and I think you might have an infection. We should get you checked out when we’re done here.”

“You can feel what I’m feeling too?” Linnéa asked in astonishment.

“Yep, that’s what makes this better than the exoskeleton. As your physical therapist, I get immediate feedback.”

“That’s so cool! Can you walk around some more?” Linnéa felt like a kid in a candy store. She concentrated on enjoying every movement of Jackie’s legs against the thin fabric of her scrubs, the rippling of Jackie’s muscles as she walked. She couldn’t see through the fabric, but she could feel underneath it.

Linnéa could feel the lean, wiry muscles flexing as they propelled Jackie’s legs forward from one step to the next, feel the rush of cool air passing over top of her short ankle-socks as her leg moved, feel the ball of her foot striking the floor when she came to a stop. The experience was quite intoxicating for someone who had gotten used to sitting in a wheelchair as a passive observer.

“We should really get started on your exercises,” Jackie said. “This thing’s got a time limit.”

“No, it won’t overheat or anything like that. The limit is more for safety. It’s never been tested for extended periods, so nobody knows exactly what will happen. Four hours is the recommended maximum, but we’ll start with forty-five minutes today.”

“OK. We should get to it, then.”

Jackie walked over to the treadmill and kicked it up to a brisk walk for her warm up. Linnéa watched intently as she gradually picked up the pace to a jog. She found she enjoyed the feeling of the perspiration on Jackie’s legs — the perspiration that felt like it was on her own legs — as it formed little droplets and ran down her thighs. She couldn’t believe how something so simple felt so incredible. After three years of feeling nothing, even beads of sweat were a delight to be savored.

After the warm-up, Jackie moved to the weight machine and set it up for leg presses. Linnéa watched the younger woman working out for a few minutes. She could feel Jackie’s muscles, her muscles, straining against the significant weight that Jackie had piled on. Skinny or not, Jackie’s legs were powerful, and Linnéa felt every push, every stretch, every strain.

“Ohh,” Linnéa cried.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah! My right leg just twitched!”

“That’s great,” Jackie beamed. “That means it’s working. I’m going to do a few sets of curls and then some extensions. After a warm down, we’ll call it a day.”

Linnéa was looking forward to feeling the additional exercises, but lamenting the fact that they were approaching today’s time limit for the machine. She hadn’t felt so alive in years, and it was exhilarating. Her legs twitched a time or two with the curls and the extensions as she felt her hamstrings and quads being worked by Jackie’s body, from across the room. An odd feeling, but satisfying nonetheless.

“All right, you did great!” Jackie praised.

“You did all the work.”

Jackie just smiled. “Let’s get that catheter taken care of,” she said while discretely reaching down to itch her crotch. Not very ladylike, but she couldn’t help it. The feeling of her catheter — Linnéa’s catheter — was just a bit too maddening. Linnéa let out a small sigh and felt the beginnings of a grin forming on her lips. After three years, even an itching felt good.

“Remind me to wear shorts next time,” Jackie continued, “these scrubs are really sticking to my legs.” Linnéa knew all about sticky scrubs. She had felt it too.

Linnéa and Jackie were running on twin treadmills that were set up in the living area of Linnéa’s condo. Linnéa had convinced Jackie to move to Park City to be closer to the action. She wasn’t ready to ski yet, but hoped that with Jackie’s help she soon would be.

Jackie was both fascinated and a little intimidated by Park City. It was a much smaller town than she was used to, but she had to admit, the snow covered mountain peaks were just a tad more exciting than a landscape dominated by skyscrapers. She also found the crisp mountain air in her lungs to be very refreshing.

“If only there weren’t so many damn white people, it would be perfect,” Jackie giggled to herself. The fact was, that even though she stuck out like a sore thumb, no one gave her a hard time. If anything, people her seemed to go out of their way to make her feel welcome.