Shadows of Recovery (Everhart Family #3)

Chapter 22

Twenty-Two

S ophie’s physical progress was slow but steady. Each day brought small victories, measured in movements and milestones. Tristan had arranged for specialized physical therapy sessions to help her regain her strength and mobility. He was a constant presence, especially during her first attempts at walking.

The therapy room was bright and spacious, filled with various pieces of equipment designed to aid in recovery. Sophie sat in a wheelchair, her eyes fixed on the walker in front of her. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached out to grip the one handle and use the support for her fractured arm, her legs shaking with the effort of standing, one ankle supported by a boot.

“You’ve got this, sweetheart.” Tristan stood beside her, ready to catch her if she stumbled. “Take it slow. One step at a time.”

Sophie took a deep breath, grit shining through the exhaustion on her face. She pushed herself up, her legs wobbling as they accepted her weight. She gripped the walker tightly, her knuckles white with the strain.

“That’s it, just like that,” Tristan encouraged, his eyes never leaving her. “You’re doing great.”

With Tristan’s steadying presence beside her, Sophie managed to take a few tentative steps. Each movement was a struggle, but the progress was undeniable. The physical therapist, a kind woman named Lisa, smiled warmly at her. “You’re stronger than you think, Sophie,” she said. “Keep going.”

Sophie nodded, trying to focus, her jaw clenched as she forced her legs to move. Each step felt like climbing a mountain, every muscle in her body screaming in protest. But she kept going, pushing forward, one foot in front of the other. She could feel Tristan’s eyes on her, his grip steadying her as she willed her legs to keep moving.

The room blurred at the edges, her concentration so intense that everything else faded away. Her legs trembled, each step more difficult than the last. She could hear her breath coming in short, ragged gasps, but she refused to give up. Not yet. She had to do this.

But after what felt like an eternity, her legs finally gave out, and she sank back into the wheelchair with a heavy thud. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her muscles burning from the effort. She felt the sting of tears, but she bit them back, determined not to let the frustration take over.

Tristan was there instantly, kneeling beside her, his hand warm and comforting on her shoulder. “You did amazing,” he said softly. “I’m so proud of you.”

Sophie managed a tired smile, even as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. The words came out in a breathless whisper, but she meant every one: “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

His forehead pressed gently against hers, the simple gesture grounding her in a way that nothing else could. “You’re the one doing all the hard work. I’m just here to cheer you on.”

They stayed like that for a moment, just breathing, just being. She let the exhaustion wash over her, but she felt safe, knowing he was right there beside her. The room felt warmer, less sterile with him so close, his presence wrapping around her like a comforting blanket.

As she caught her breath, a movement at the doorway caught her attention. She looked up, blinking away the haze of fatigue, and saw a familiar face. Chris Skylar. His name came to her slowly, like a distant echo. He was the head psychiatrist at the Blackwell Institute, and he had helped her before, hadn’t he?

“Hey, Sophie,” Chris said warmly as he walked into the room. His expression was a mix of concern and relief. “It’s good to see you up and about.”

She looked at him, trying to place the memories that felt just out of reach. “Chris? Hi. It’s good to see you too.” Her voice was hesitant, unsure, but she could see the kindness in his eyes.

Chris smiled at her, that same reassuring smile she remembered, even if the details were still fuzzy. “You’re doing great. Keep pushing forward.”

Sophie nodded, but the confusion still lingered in her mind, a constant shadow she couldn’t shake. “I’m trying.”

Chris stayed for a while, just talking, giving her the space to say whatever she wanted. She didn’t have much to say, but it felt good knowing he was there, that they both were. The words didn’t matter as much as the feeling of not being alone. That, more than anything, gave her the strength to keep trying, to keep pushing forward, even when everything else felt like too much.

* * *

Later that day, Chris spoke with James and Tristan in a quiet corner of the hospital.

“We need to consider transferring Sophie to the Blackwell Institute. They have the facilities and expertise to help her with both her physical and cognitive recovery.”

Tristan nodded thoughtfully. “But we need to ensure her head injuries are stable enough for the move. We can’t risk her health.”

James ran a hand through his hair. “I agree. Her progress is encouraging, but we have to be cautious. I’d like to do another scan to get a detailed assessment.” He looked at Tristan, his expression firm but compassionate. “You’ve been amazing with her, Tristan, but you need to take care of yourself too. I know you’re still seeing Ellen Boyle. But this has been hard on you, and I fear things will get harder. We have no idea what will happen if and when she remembers what happened to her.”

Tristan’s brow rose, and he nodded, though the concern in James’s voice only added to his own worries. “I know. But I can’t stop now. She needs me.”

Chris placed a hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “We’re all here for her, and for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

* * *

The next morning, after weeks of intensive care and meticulous recovery efforts, Sophie's condition was finally stabilized enough for Tristan, James and her family to consider the next crucial step in her journey: transferring her to the Blackwell Institute. It was a decision fraught with careful consideration, knowing the significance of providing her with a safe and supportive environment to continue her recovery.

Tristan and James stood outside the conference room near the ICU, bracing themselves for the conversation ahead. Inside, Sophie’s family was gathered, their faces etched with worry. Dr. Chris Skylar stood with them, ready to provide his expertise.

James took a deep breath and stepped into the room, Tristan close behind. Sophie’s mother looked up, her eyes filled with hope and fear. Sophie’s sisters sat around her, expressions showing concern and anticipation.

“Mrs. Everhart, everyone, thank you for meeting with us,” James began. “We need to discuss the best course of action for the next phase of Sophie’s recovery.”

Charlotte nodded, her hands trembling slightly. “What do you suggest?”

James glanced at Tristan, who gave him an encouraging nod. “I believe her brain scans show stability. Her fractures in her ankle, arm, ribs and facial bones are also healing well, so I am passing off my expertise to Dr. Chris Skylar.”

Chris stepped forward, his expression calm and reassuring. “I understand this is a difficult time for your family. After consulting with the medical personnel, I believe transferring her to the Blackwell Institute would be the best option. The Institute specializes in both physical and emotional rehabilitation, and Sophie will need that comprehensive support to recover fully.

We believe we can provide her with the best care possible.”

Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears. “Will she be safe there? Will she really get the help she needs?”

James nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Everhart. The Institute is well-equipped to handle her medical needs. The blood clot I removed from her brain was in a critical area, affecting the hippocampus and amygdala.” He pointed to the side of his own head to illustrate. “I know her memory is affected. She may not remember the trauma now, but as she heals, there’s a possibility those memories could resurface. And, in fact, I believe they will. She’s been having snippets of memories.”

Olivia, her eldest sister, spoke up, her voice shaky. “And if she remembers? What then?”

Tristan took a deep breath. “That’s why we believe, why I believe the Blackwell Institute is the right place for her. The sexual assault was severe, and when those memories come back, or when she demands to read her chart, she’s going to need specialized support. The Institute has the resources to help her navigate that process.”

Charlotte’s face crumpled, and she buried her face in her hands. Molly and Isobel moved to comfort her, while Ruth looked at Tristan with wide, fearful eyes. “How will we know if it’s working? How will we know she’s getting better?”

Chris Skylar stepped in again, his voice firm yet kind. “We’ll work closely with Sophie, monitoring her progress every step of the way. We’ll keep you informed and involved in her care plan. That said, this is what we are looking for: we'll see Sophie start to manage her emotions better. Instead of intense mood swings, she'll begin to respond to situations with a more balanced emotional reaction.”

He counted on his fingers. "For Sophie, healing might mean fewer panic attacks, less frequent nightmares, and a reduction in her constant sadness. She will begin to use healthier coping strategies. Instead of avoiding her feelings or turning to unhealthy behaviors, she'll start using techniques we've worked on in therapy, like mindfulness, exercise, or talking about her feelings.”

He pressed his lips together. "As Sophie heals, she'll likely develop a more positive outlook on life. She might start looking forward to activities she used to enjoy and engage more with friends and family." He smiled. “You’ll all notice that.”

Dr. Skylar emphasized that healing was a gradual process and varied from person to person. He assured Charlotte that they would closely monitor Sophie's progress and adjust the treatment plan as needed to support her recovery.

The family sat in silence for a moment. Finally, Charlotte spoke, her voice filled with resolve. “Let’s do it. Let’s get Sophie the help she needs.”

* * *

Later that evening, Tristan found himself sitting in the hospital cafeteria with Charlotte Everhart. She was a poised woman, but her eyes betrayed the deep worry she felt for her daughter.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Tristan,” she said, her voice steady despite the circumstances.

“I’m just glad to have the chance to speak with you, alone.”

Charlotte nodded, her gaze intense. “I want to know how Sophie is really doing. James and her other doctors tell me she’s stable, but I need to hear it from someone who truly cares about her.”

Tristan took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “Sophie is strong, but the trauma she’s experienced was significant. Physically, she’s healing well, but emotionally... it’s going to take time.”

“I understand.” Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears she quickly blinked away. “I just... I hate seeing her like this. She’s always been so vibrant, so full of life.”

“She still is,” Tristan assured her. “It’s just going to take a while for that light to shine as brightly as it used to.”

Charlotte studied him for a moment, then leaned forward. “Tristan, can I ask you something personal?”

“Of course.” He was a bit taken aback by her directness.

“I know you love Sophie.” Charlotte’s expression softened. “What do you see happening now? Between you and Sophie?”

Tristan hesitated, then spoke from the heart. “I see a future where Sophie heals, where she regains her strength and her sense of self. And I want to be there for her every step of the way. Not just as a doctor, but as someone who cares deeply for her.”

Charlotte reached out, placing her hand on his. “I appreciate your honesty, Tristan. Sophie needs people around her who truly care.”

“I do,” he said, his voice firm. “I’ll be there for her, no matter what.” He hugged her. “We’ll bring her back, Charlotte. We’ll bring her back.”