Free Waking Up in Dixie by Haywood Smith Page A

the rabbit hole to her usual, frustrating, busy dreams, when pain and motion brought her upright.
    “Lillibuh,” Howe gasped, gripping her arm so hard she almost cried out.
    Thank God! He was awake! He could speak. He recognized her.
    The resident summoned the others, who came running.
    “Yes, it’s me, Lillibet. I’m here.” Howe had a future.
She
had a future, with him or without him. She leaned close and studied his face. His eyes communicated happy recognition mixed with fear and confusion.
    By then, there were three doctors and as many nurses in the room, and they all started buzzing at once.
    Howe let out a thundering fart, then looked at Elizabeth with glowing adoration, pulling her close. “God, I miss you,” he said, kissing her hair as tears ran down his cheeks.
    She couldn’t believe he was so alert, so articulate. Maybe it really
was
a miracle.
    “When was the last time we made love?” His voice was hoarse and insistent, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I want to make love to you, Lillibet.”
    After all those years, he gets the hots for her
now
?
    On camera! In front of all those people, with more doctors and nurses crowding in every minute! Horrified, Elizabeth drew back, but Howe wouldn’t let go of her hand. “Howe, you—you’ve been very ill,” she stammered out. “You’re in the hospital, and the doctors are here.”
    “I don’t care where we are.” He didn’t look at the doctors. “Tell them to leave, so we can be alone. Lizzie”—Lizzie! Where had
that
come from?—“I want you more than anything in this world.” One look at the sheet across his hips confirmed his statement, in spades.
    Mortified, Elizabeth glanced to the doctors. “Is that normal?”
    The dark-haired doctor in charge murmured back, “As we explained, a certain percentage of the patients have difficulty controlling their emotions and appetites at first.”
    Howe held on tighter with a plaintive, “Lizzie!”
    “Do not call me ‘Lizzie,’ ” she snapped at him. “I hate that name!”
    Suppressing smiles, the other doctors and residents scribbled busily away on their notepads.
    Howe tried to sit up, then collapsed against the pillows. “Whew. Feels like I’ve been hit by a train.” He leered at her. “But I can still make love.” He grabbed her hands and pulled. “C’mon, Lizzie. We’re married. It’s okay.”
    She’d prayed for years to get back the man he’d once been, but this wasn’t the Howe she’d fallen in love with. He had never been so coarse and demanding. God only knew what he’d been doing with his whores all those years up in Atlanta, but he’d never talked about it.
    Elizabeth tried to pull free of his grasp, but he was too strong. “Howe, let me go,” she ordered. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” How could he be so strong? Regardless of the physical therapy, he’d been in bed for months.
    Stifled laughter erupted from some of the underdoctors as many hands came forward to free her.
    “No!” Howe protested when they pulled her loose, his expression burning as he fought them. “Lizzie, don’t go. Don’t leave me. I have to have you.”
    Elizabeth stepped back out of range and rubbed her arm. Howe hadn’t wanted her since he’d moved out of their bedroom when Patti was a toddler! And what was with this
Lizzie
business? He’d never called her “Lizzie.”
    “Mr. Whittington,” one of the doctors told him, “you’re having a reaction to the treatment we just gave you. Try to rest. This compulsion will pass, I promise.” Oh, really? How could he be sure? “Your wife is here, and she’s not leaving, but you need torest now. There’s plenty of time for the two of you to be alone later.”
    “Wha . . . no.” Howe wrestled against their restraining hands. “I need her
now
.”
    The neurologist drew Elizabeth safely out of range while the others kept Howe in his bed.
    “Get off me,” Howe protested, his strength failing as the adrenaline ebbed.