Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 228

Storm POV

The last thing I expected when we left the hospital was a photographer. According to Dad, who talked to him, he had been waiting to capture a picture of Cloe leaving the hospital. A nurse had informed him that Cloe would be leaving today. Dad will investigate which nurse called him since the reporter won’t tell us. Dad said he took a really bad photo, and he couldn’t tell it was Cloe. A light on the camera was blurring the picture; he had not had time to adjust it, so you could hardly tell who it was. He wasn’t much of a photographer, but Dad still had him delete it from the camera.

As we arrived home, I tried to think of my home from her perspective. I don’t know what sort of home Cloe had lived in, but the father appeared to be well off, with his clothing, vehicles, and car on display, all of which screamed money. But then that could be a front, who knows, think Dad will have him investigated, or Mum will, or one of the others, nothing will get past them.

I carried her through the house, giving her a tour, trying to think which areas she might need the help with, the walkways were larger than average, making me think one of my ancestors, might have had a wheelchair, or the orignal builder, thought of making wider access for whatever purpose they had in mind, so getting around wasn’t an issue, expect the stairs. Dad was talking about one of those lifts, but when she gets her legs, will she need it?

In our room, she needed the bathroom, and I briefly panicked about how to handle it; the poor girl will be mortified, but we have to do it sooner or later. Get this side over with, and the rest will be easier, I hope. I look at what needs to be done, and am confused about how best to do it. Hope my choice doesn’t upset her too much. After she did her business, I held her over the sink to wash her hands, trying not to bump her stumps on the sink, my mind racing with ideas. I left her in bed, wondering if she minded being in a single bed. For now, she won’t be in my bed, no matter how much I wouldn’t mind holding her while she slept. Cloe’s health came first, mentally and physically. Mum said to give her space while being there for her, but then she talks about confusing me completely. I can’t do both, or I don’t understand what Mum meant.

I found Dad out back tinkering with my bike. He took it out for a ride and said it was lagging. Between Mum and Dad, they were tweaking it. Make it run smoother and faster. Mum loves riding fast. Dad said the first time she was on his bike, Mum told him to go fast, then said she needed to tweak his bike so it could go faster. It blew Dad out of the water to hear it was not fast enough.

“Dad. Can we talk?” He looked up at me and smiled. He always made me feel that no matter how busy he was, he would make time for me. It always made me want to be more like him. Dad was the same with all of us; he rarely growled at us, even when we had detention at school, or the one time he was called to the police station.

“What’s up?” He wiped his hands on a rag, pulled a crate out, and offered it for me to sit.

“You made something for us kids when we were young; our feet couldn’t reach the footrests.” I started slowly, not sure if it was a good idea.

“Yeah, you kids loved being on the bikes, and the special leather seat, which kept you safe, gave us peace of mind. What’s on your mind?” Dad was already smirking; I guess he knew what I was going to ask.

“Can you make one for Cloe so that she can be on the back of me? She mentioned that she had her bike licence, and thought she might like to be on the back, better than not riding at all. Something that her stumps would fit in, and be comfortable, give her some support.” I was not sure how one would work or if it could be done.

“Let me see what I can come up with. I think I can manage it if I remember what the doctor said. Cloe had about 6 inches from the knee, not much to work on, so maybe do something in the seating part to hold her in place and rest her legs.” Dad scratched his chin, then ran his fingers through his beard as he thought. It was a habit that I, too, had picked up.

“Thanks, Dad. Want a coffee?” I offered as he too stood and walked with me inside.

“Yeah, your mother mentioned that Cloe would like a computer. Do you think she would prefer a laptop?”

“How about both? We can have the computer in my office, and the laptop in the bedroom. I don’t want her to spend all her waking hours in bed when she gets stronger.” Sounds good, will set one up. I have a spare laptop in my office. You can give her. Got it a few months ago, but they sent the wrong one. Allowed us to keep that one and sent me a replacement.” I remembered Dad growling over the phone about sending the wrong laptop; he wanted a gaming one for Penny, as it was better for the program she uses at school, they were making a gaming program as part of her assignment.

“Thanks, she’s sleeping at the moment. Will put it in the room, and take that wheelchair up too, Mum got two, do you know which one was for upstairs?”

Cloe was awake when I entered the room. She turned to look at me as I walked in the door. She had managed to reach the glass of water I left on the bedside table and had poured out a second glass. “Hey, how are you feeling?” I asked, placing what I brought up on the counter, and returned to her. “Better after that sleep. So peaceful here.” I chuckled softly. Hospitals are anything but peaceful.

“Most of the rooms on this floor are soundproof, unless you leave the door or window open. Are you getting hungry? Dinner’s soon.”

“Yeah, can I use the bathroom first?”

“I have this.” I brought the wheelchair around to the side of the bed.

“It has those collapsible sides, my Dad calls them a wheelchair with no sides, but they have sides. You put the brake on here. I have lowered one side, now shift to the edge of the bed… Yes, that’s it, reach to the side of the chair. Good, shimmy your body across… and lower into the chair.” I stayed with Cloe the whole way, holding onto her, but letting her do most of the work. I wanted to see how strong she was, and for a tiny girl, she could hold her weight easily. This will make the transition to a wheelchair easier.

I showed Cloe how to raise her arm, turn off the brake, and move herself to the bathroom. I stayed at the door and watched, close enough to reach her but far enough for her to feel she was achieving something on her own.

“Can you help me? I can’t work out how to move over.” Cloe has wiggled her pants down, but couldn’t figure out how to make it across; she might have to get Dad to organise a handrail to make it easier.