Chapter 7
“It’s remarkable, really.” Mannie Cohen mused, scanning the chart in front of him. He looked up, slipped off his horn-rimmed glasses and turned to Coop. “Except I don’t know why I’m surprised. Kelsey is a remarkable woman.”
Coop nodded, gazing at the crowded parking lot of Community General Hospital. He wasn’t thinking about Mannie Cohen and his reflections on Kelsey and her progress. Instead, he was remembering that night over a month ago when he’d first stood here and stared at the parking lot below. It had been almost deserted back then, not bustling with cars and people as it was now, but that wasn’t the only thing that had changed in the past four weeks. His entire life had been transformed since then.
“And the reports from Dr. Crowell seem to be just as encouraging,” Dr. Cohen continued. He flipped the chart closed, tossing it on his desk and sitting up. “No doubt about it, she’s remembering more and more.”
“Yeah,” Coop mumbled. “More and more.”
He watched a young mother with two small children in tow and an infant in her arms make her way across the lot, carefully herding the children through the parked cars. He admired the careful, nurturing way she protected her children, despite the fact her arms were filled with the baby she was holding. Kelsey would have been that kind of mother. She would have protected her children no matter what the situation.
He turned from the window, feeling an ache in his chest. Except there would be no children for Kelsey, and one day soon she was going to remember that
“How are things going between the two of you?”
Coop looked up, shrugging casually. “Okay—given the situation.” He pushed himself away from the window and walked to the desk. “Of course that was with her stuck in bed most of the time. All that’s changing pretty quick.” He sat in the chair opposite the doctor. “Who knows what it’s going to be like with her up and around more. She’s already talking about getting rid of the hospital bed.”
Dr. Cohen picked up a pencil, and wove it absently between his fingers. “For what it’s worth, I advised her it would be a good idea to hold off on any...activity for a while longer.”
“Activity?” Coop laughed, shaking his head. “And what do you advise for me, Doc?”
Dr. Cohen dropped the pencil and leaned back in his seat. Resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, he tented his fingers together, peering at Coop over the top.
“Something you want to talk about, Coop?”
Coop snorted, learning against the hard back of the chair. “I thought you were an internist, Doc, not a shrink.”
“I don’t have to be a shrink to see you’ve got something eating at you.”
“You mean other than the fact that I’m living with my ex-wife and pretending the last two years of our lives never happened?”
“Is that it? Is that what’s got you tied up in knots?”
“You don’t think that’s enough?”
Mannie Cohen smiled. “I think maybe you’re more worried about her getting her memory back than a little subterfuge, am I right?”
“A little subterfuge?” Coop laughed—a harsh, mocking sound. “Oh, that’s good. Is that a little like saying World War Two was a small altercation?”
“Not really,” Dr. Cohen replied, unaffected by Coop’s jeering laughter. “And you haven’t answered my question.”
Coop’s smile faded. “If you think I don’t want Kelsey to get better—then no, you’re not right.”
“Oh, I don’t have a doubt you want Kelsey to get better,” Dr. Cohen insisted, pausing for a moment. “I’m just not so sure you’re anxious for her to remember.”
“You think I should be?” Coop charged, coming forward in his chair. “Do you have any idea how she’s going to feel when she remembers, when she realizes we’ve been lying to her all this time?”
“It also means she won’t be your wife, and the two of you won’t be playing house any longer.”
Anger flashed red-hot, and Coop was on his feet in a heartbeat. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I think it’s time you started being honest with yourself.”
Coop glared into Mannie Cohen’s face, hating him at that moment. He wanted to crawl across the desk and grab the guy by the throat and deny everything. Only it wouldn’t do any good. Mannie Cohen had seen right through him, and there was no argument he could make, no denial he could offer in the face of the truth.
“If it had been my call,” Coop said, the anger dying in his veins, “there would be no need to pretend. We would still be married—she’d still be my wife.” He rubbed a tired hand over his eyes and looked at the doctor. “How’s that for honesty?”
“I suspected as much,” Mannie Cohen replied. “You’re still in love with her.”
Coop felt the doctor’s words penetrate to the very core of his soul, that deep, dark place where he’d stowed all those forbidden feelings the divorce decree declared he didn’t feel any longer.
He laughed, feeling more tired and weary than he did after seventy-two hours in the air. “Is it that obvious?”
Dr. Cohen shrugged. “If you’re looking—and I have been for a while.” He hesitated, tapping the pencil against his palm. “You know, you’re not the only man who wanted a woman he couldn’t have.” He paused again, his voice lowering. “It happens to the best of us—even outof-shape bald guys like me.”
Coop looked at the man behind the desk, feeling a little as though he was seeing him for the first time. A moment ago he’d hated the doctor with his platitudes and medical double-talk, and would have liked nothing more than to vent a little of his well-deserved anger and frustration against the good doctor’s square jaw. Now he felt a kinship, an alliance that stemmed from understanding—man to man.
“I’m living with the woman, Doc,” Coop said. “I’m with her day and night.” He drew in a shaky breath, relieved to talk about what he hadn’t been able to talk about to anyone else. “I know the score, I know this isn’t real— nothing she says to me is real. I know that just because she doesn’t remember we’re not married any longer it doesn’t mean I’ve been given the green light to take her to bed.” He ran a hand through his shaggy hair and shook his head. “I’m not interested in taking advantage of her. It’s just...damn, I’m not made of stone, either.”
Mannie Cohen reached for the pencil that had rolled down the length of the desk blotter and rested against the leather-trimmed edge. “If it’s any consolation, there’s a good chance it won’t be much longer. Everything points to her making a full recovery. I believe she will remember everything.”
“Yeah.” Coop slowly walked to the window and stared out. “And once she remembers, she’ll want me gone again.”
“You don’t know that.”
Coop turned and looked at him. “You forget, Doc, I’ve been through this before.” He paused, growing thoughtful. “It’s just a matter of time. I know it, I accept it.”
“Do you?”
He laughed. “What choice do I have?”
“Maybe not any,” Dr. Cohen conceded, jabbing the pencil onto the blotter and snapping the lead. “But things are different now. A lot has happened in the past two years. You’ve both had time to think, to be alone, and...feelings can change.”
“That’s just it,” Coop said, walking to the desk. “Her feelings did change. It’s what broke us up two years ago and it’s what will break us up again.” He extended a hand over the desk. “Look, Doc, I appreciate the try, I really do. But it’s over.”
“What is it?”
“A walking cast.”
Coop frowned, staring at the narrow blue cast that covered her foot and calf. “It looks like a boot.”
“It’s supposed to,” she said, turning it from side to side to give him a better view. “So you can walk on it.”
Coop moved her jacket from across his lap to the vinyl cushion beside him. He slowly rose to his feet. His frown deepened. “It looks so small.”
Kelsey looked at him and grinned. “I know, isn’t it great?” She took a few quick steps with her crutches. “And see how much better? It’s so light compared to the other one.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, watching as she made her way across the narrow waiting area off the corridor outside Vince Hamilton’s office. “I can see that.”
“I almost feel like I could run in it. Let’s see.”
“Kelsey!”
She giggled at his reaction, stopping him with a hand on his chest. “Calm down, calm down, I’m just kidding. No running, I promise.” She took a step closer. “Not yet, anyway.”
He looked at her. Even in the glaring white light of the hospital corridor that made the healthiest people look sick, she looked great, the very picture of life and vitality. Her blue eyes were clear and sparkled with excitement, and her long, golden hair shone with platinum highlights.
He reached out, brushing his fingers along her cheek. Her skin felt like satin against his hand and glowed warm and rich like honey. He heard Mannie Cohen’s words in his head, words that were like a clock ticking in his brain. It won’t be much longer. Everything points to a full recovery. She’ll remember everything...
“Kelsey,” he murmured, slipping his free hand around her waist and pulling her close. He wanted to hold on to the moment, wanted to stretch it and pull at it, make it last forever. “Kelsey.”
Something in his expression, in his voice, the intensity in his eyes made the smile on her face fade. “Coop, what is it?”
He brought his mouth to hers. “Tell me,” he whispered against her lips. “Tell me you’re mine. Let me hear the words. Tell me you’re mine.”
“Yes,” she said, her breath coming in quick, short pants. “Yes, yours. Always yours.”
Coop closed his eyes. “Mine,” he growled, crushing his mouth against hers. “Remember that.”
The kiss was hard and fierce and filled with all the turbulence inside him. He wanted her to remember, wanted her to mark the moment in her heart and not forget when the memories came back. He wanted her to know what she had felt, what it was they had together before she sent him away again.
“I love you, Coop,” she whispered, looking at him.
And at that moment, he could see the love in her eyes. She had loved him once, deeply and completely, the way he had loved her. Love had been in her heart and in her soul before it had deteriorated and disappeared.
Pain twisted in his chest. He’d spent two years thinking about it, two years trying to find a reason things had happened the way they did. If only she could have turned to him. If only she’d taken his comfort and strength. But she hadn’t. Instead, she’d allowed the pain and the bitterness to ravage her love, to destroy everything they’d had.
He pulled away from her, squeezing his eyes shut. Looking at her was like looking through a window into the past. She had loved him. How could feelings just disappear? Were pain and disappointment powerful enough to destroy love? Even after two years, he still didn’t know. Where did love go when it died?
“Coop?”
Coop jumped, startled, and opened his eyes. “Yeah?”
“What is it? What’s the matter?”
He saw the concern in her eyes, and the ache in his heart intensified. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”
“You look upset.”
“Me?” He shook his head, feeling embarrassed. “No, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, lifting her hand to his cheek. “If it’s that crack I made about running, I wasn’t serious—”
“No,” he said, cutting her off by pressing a kiss into her palm. “No, it’s...it’s not that.” He looked at her. If only he could tell her. If only he could explain the clutch of emotion that gripped him like a vise—the regret, the sorrow, the sadness of what they had lost—but he couldn’t. There was no way he could make her understand all the feelings in his heart without telling her everything—and she would know everything soon enough. “I’m...I’m just glad you’re here with me now—right now.”
“I’m glad, too,” she murmured.
He saw the line between her brows deepen, and drew in a deep breath. He had to lighten things up and push aside the memories. It was too dangerous getting her suspicious, and he was far too vulnerable.
“What say we get out of here?” he asked, plastering a smile on his face and sweeping his emotions aside like dust under a rug.
“No, wait a minute,” she said, stopping him with a hand on his sleeve. “I wish you’d talk to me.”
“About what?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Me? What for?” He leaned close, lowering his voice. “I’m not the one who had a building fall down on me, remember?”
Kelsey’s frown deepened. “What was all that about?”
“All what?” He walked to the elevator and punched the button.
“Damn it, Coop,” she said, coming straight at him and backing him against the wall. “Don’t play dumb with me. What happened back there?”
The elevator door opened, but they both ignored it. After a moment, the door slid closed, leaving the hall silent and empty.
“I kissed you,” he said, but his voice sounded defensive and guarded even to his own ears. “What’s the big deal? A man can’t kiss his wife anymore?”
“That wasn’t just a kiss.” .
“No?”
“No.”
Coop stared at her. He wanted to joke, wanted to play dumb and mock her concern, but it would do no good. She would see through the act as easily as she’d seen through his joking denials.
“Okay,” he said after a moment, pushing away from her. “Okay, maybe it just scares me a little, that’s all. Maybe it bothers me when I think about losing you.”
“You haven’t lost me,” she whispered, slipping a hand on his arm. “And you never will.”
Coop steeled himself against the truth. Just hearing her say the words meant something, even though he knew they weren’t true. She believed them, and for now, that was enough.
“Come on,” she said, smiling at him and pressing the button again. “Let’s go home.”
“Yeah, home,” he mumbled absently, turning at the sound of the elevator door sliding open. He reached out to help her, but she stopped him.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I can do it myself.”
He gave her a tired smile, stepping to one side and making a gallant sweeping gesture with his hands. “After you, madame.”
“You see,” she said, taking a few wobbly steps forward. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh?” he said dryly, following behind her.
There were several people in the elevator, and as she moved forward, they all stepped back, giving her a wide berth.
“Yeah,” she continued, making her way inside the elevator. Despite the new cast, it took considerable effort to maneuver in the cramped enclosure. “You’ve been the one doing all the work the last few weeks—taking care of me.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“I know,” she said, smiling at him as the door slid closed. Leaning close, she lowered her voice. “I think it’s time I started taking care of you a little, too.”
Coop felt a lump of emotion form in his throat. “You just concentrate on getting better.”
“I am better,” she insisted, with a boastful shrug. “I’m up, I’m around and...” She wiggled her crutches. “And these things are a piece of cake.”
Just then the elevator jostled slowly to a stop. The movement was leisurely, but enough to throw her off balance. To catch herself, she shifted her left crutch. Unfortunately, instead of the smooth tile of the elevator’s floor, she planted the rubber end of the crutch squarely on the toe of the orderly standing beside her.
“I’m terribly sorry,” she said, turning quickly.
However, the move made her more unstable. Flustered, she quickly tried to compensate, shifting directions and moving back, only to slap the older gentleman to her left on the backside with the end of her other crutch.
“Oh—oh, my,” she gasped, seeing his shocked expression. “I am so sorry. Please, excuse me. I’m very sorry.”
Coop watched, trying hard not to let the laughter that bubbled just below the surface escape.
“A piece of cake, huh?” he said, offering her a steady arm out of the elevator.
“Just remember,” she warned, seeing his bemused expression and shooting him a killing look. “I’ve got a crutch in my hand, and I know how to use it.”
Kelsey hobbled closer to the living room window, peering out through the darkness to the car that had just pulled into the drive across the street. She knew the couple who emerged from the minivan with their two young children were her neighbors. She knew because Coop had told her, not because she remembered.
She watched as the family made their way up the walk, the little boy running ahead playfully while his baby sister rested a sleepy head on her father’s shoulder as he carried her to the house.
Kelsey searched for something familiar about the picture playing out before her, and the people in it, something that would trigger a memory, bring some recognition, but there was nothing. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t seem to force the memories, couldn’t demand recall. Like it or not, the people disappearing into the house were strangers to her.
“Get used to it,” she mumbled in the darkness, closing her eyes and rubbing them. But she knew she never would. She’d never get used to the black holes and the blank spots, never accept the empty cavities in her past that made strangers out of neighbors.
She opened her eyes, turned from the window and stared at the blackness of the barren living room. There was a lot she would never get used to—like living in a house she had loved, a home she remembered and wondering why it felt so different to her now.
Her eyes followed the stark expanse of carpet that spread unchecked and unused through the room. What could have ever possessed her to get rid of all their things? What had she been thinking?
She thought of the things she’d recovered, the small bits and pieces of the past that were slowly coming back. Someday she would remember, and everything would make sense again. She believed that, trusted it was going to happen. Her memory was coming back, and when it did all the questions would be answered, all the holes filled in, and the blank spots wouldn’t frighten her ever again.
She turned to the window, watching the family inside the house across the street, seeing mother, father and children moving from room to room. She thought of her own house, one empty room after another. The empty rooms bothered her, bothered her the way the empty spaces in her memory did. She wanted all those empty spaces in her life filled in—wanted to fill them with hope, and happiness, and love.
In the distance she heard the sound of the shower, heard the water running, and she felt herself smiling.
Coop. She loved him for so many reasons, but it had been his strength and his caring that had sustained her in the weeks since the accident. It was his love that kept her sane, that kept her focused on the future so the fears from the past didn’t take hold. He made her want to look ahead, made her want to think of the life they had in front of them rather than concentrating on a past she had yet to discover.
She caught a glimpse of movement from across the street and watched as the crazy shadows of father and child danced wildly over a closed drape. She thought of Coop, imagining what a wonderful father he would make. How many times had they dreamed the dream together, talking about the family they would have and the things they would do as parents?
As she watched the figures moving along the window, the smile slowly faded from her lips. Starting a family had been at the top of their agenda before the accident. If she hadn’t gotten hurt, she might have been pregnant by now, might have been carrying Coop’s child inside her at this moment.
She wanted it to happen, didn’t want anything else to get in their way of starting a family. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a birth control pill—memory loss or no memory loss. It was just a matter of time.
She glanced at the cast on her leg. Unfortunately, there was just one small hitch. Mannie Cohen had been properly tactful and delicate, but his message had come in loud and clear—she should put any “marital activities” on hold for a while longer. He’d told her in no uncertain terms that she needed to give herself a chance to heal completely, and not risk her recovery by adding any extra stress to her life.
Kelsey had almost laughed at that. She’d never thought of her love life as stressful, exactly, but she knew Dr. Cohen was simply being cautious. She’d also been a nurse long enough to know that the link between mind and body wasn’t something to be ignored. She was getting better—she was remembering more and more every day, and Dr. Hamilton had said there was a possibility she would have the cast off her leg completely in as early as a couple of weeks.
She thought of Coop and the hospital bed he’d had delivered to their room. She might have been the one injured, the one who had the broken bones and the scrapes and bruises, but the accident had been a difficult ordeal for him, as well.
She knew better than most people how difficult it was to sit on the sidelines while the person you loved was in danger. Coop’s missions as a SEAL had often been hazardous, and she had laid awake more than one night wondering if he would return to her alive and in one piece. She understood his need for caution. She knew his desire to follow the doctor’s orders to the letter came out of his fear and concern for her safety.
She listened to the water running, picturing him standing beneath the hot, steamy spray. His care and consideration during the past weeks had been sweet and endearing, a true act of love. He’d been careful not to push or press her to do more than she should. But nights alone on a lumpy futon two rooms away were beginning to take their toll on him.
She remembered the look in his eyes today in the hospital corridor and couldn’t deny it pleased her that he found it difficult to keep his distance. She knew his secret now, understood his frustration—because despite his caution and concern, despite doctors’ orders and his best intentions, he wanted her. She could see it in his eyes, on his face, in every move that he made.
She turned from the window and started through the living room toward the hall. Her crutches were silent on the plush carpet, and she moved through the darkness like a woman with a mission.
She did have a mission. She was going to have her life back, going to restore her past, heal her body and grab at the future. It might be too early to be thinking about throwing away crutches and removing casts, about making babies and planning a family, but she was still a woman, still a wife, and she could show her husband how much she loved him.