Free Homefront Hero by Allie Pleiter Page A

around the track with her hurt just as much as Nelson’s “ministrations,” but they came with a far better view.
    Resigned to yet another round of “useful pain” as Dr. Madison liked to call it, John pushed open the doors of the reconstruction room to find Leanne waiting for him. She wore a broad smile—no, a triumphant grin. She stood in front of an arrangement of horizontal bars, the banisters used to aid soldiers in walking therapies, grouped together to form a small square. Nelson was standing by with an equally mischievous grin—something that looked out of place on his brute features—and a phonograph.
    “What have we here?”
    “I’ve invented a way to make this morning’s exercise much more pleasant.”
    John started to say something about her very presence accomplishing that already, but swallowed the remark as too flirtatious. That didn’t stop him from thinking it. Being grateful for it. He managed a nondescript “Really?” as he took off his cap and coat, hanging it on the rack. At least the presence of a lady meant he’d not be required to work up a sweat in his undershirt, which seemed to be Nelson’s methodology of choice.
    “You mentioned yesterday how difficult it is for you to shift weight, particularly stepping from side to side.”
    All he’d told her during their endless final lap was that he no longer danced as well as he did before. “I don’t recall putting it in such clinical terms.” Suddenly the phonograph made a disturbing sort of sense. “You don’t mean…?”
    “I do indeed. Today—with the approval of Dr. Madison, of course—your therapy is the waltz. Suitably adapted, I daresay, for your particular condition.” She ducked under the front banister to stand in the center of the small square, raising her hands in a presentational gesture that made him laugh. “Captain Gallows, may I have the honor of this dance?”
    Intriguing didn’t come close to covering what he felt about today’s therapy. “You know, I’m the one who’s supposed to do the asking.”
    “And when did you ever subscribe to convention?” She gestured him inside.
    Laying down his cane, John ignored the pain that shot through his side as he ducked himself inside the tidy square of banisters. He’d have managed it even if it hurt ten times more than it did. “I take it Nelson and the phonograph serve as our dance band?”
    “You catch on quickly.” Hoping the smile on his face didn’t match the shameless grin he felt, John raised his arms to assume the standard ballroom dance position. She dodged out of his reach. “We’ll be going a bit more slowly than that at first. Arms on the railings, please.”
    “Well, that’s hardly fun.” He couldn’t help himself. Genuine amusement hadn’t buoyed him up like this in months.
    “Oh, this is not about fun.”
    “Says you .”
    “Concentration will be required.” She had her teacher voice on, the one she used in the Red Cross knitting classes, as she resolutely placed her hands on the railings to each side.
    John cleared his voice in mock seriousness, calculating how close he could position his hands to hers and still keep his balance. Yesterday he’d hated these bars. Today he rather liked them. “Of course.”
    “Just side to side at first, please.”
    “But you said I was to waltz .” It was childish to tease her like that, but she seemed to bring that out in him.
    She shot him a look that all-too-clearly said Would you like to return to pain with Nelson? Then she nodded her head toward one side of the box. “To your right.” She stepped to slide her foot and her body toward the bar on one side of the box. He did the same, despite the spike of pain it sent through his thigh. “Very good. Now your left.” He did as she asked, grateful that side produced much less pain. “Again.” They went through the clunky, side-to-side maneuver three more times until he could manage it with a bit of ease despite the pain. It took far longer