Damien Prescott (Redemption Series, Book 4)

by Sandi Lynn

  Dr. Finn took London off the ventilator and started the process of bringing her out of the coma. I tried desperately to settle the nerves inside me by picturing the moment she opened her eyes. Another two days had passed, and she still lay there without any movement. She had still not woken up.

  “Hi,” Ava spoke as she walked into the room.

  “Ava, what are you doing here?”

  “I came to see how London was doing. I overheard my daddy telling my mommy that he brought her out of the induced coma. She hasn’t woken up yet?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “It can take several days to weeks. Her brain is in the process of rewiring and it’s going to take some time. She’ll wake up when her brain tells her to.”

  “You are a very smart little girl. Do your parents know you’re up here?”

  “They will once they find out I escaped the daycare center downstairs. This is always the first place they look for me.” She grinned. “You two got married?” she asked as she pointed to my wedding band.

  “We did.” I smiled. “The day before her surgery.”

  “Where’s her ring?”

  “In my pocket for when she wakes up.”

  “Why wait until she wakes up? You can give it back to her now.”

  “Ava.” Dr. Finn sighed as he walked in. “You know your mother doesn’t like it when you escape daycare.”

  “Sorry, Daddy. I just wanted to come and see how London was doing.”

  “You’re lucky your mother was in the middle of a trauma and they called me. Come on, let’s go back downstairs.”

  “Can I do rounds with you? Please, Daddy,” she begged.

  A wide smile crossed his lips.

  “Okay. You can come with me to see a couple of patients, but then it’s back to daycare. And don’t tell your mother.”

  “I won’t.” She smiled.

  I took London’s wedding ring out of my pocket and stared at it for a moment. Taking hold of her hand, I slipped the ring on her finger and then brought it up to my lips.

  “I love you, baby. Please wake up,” I whispered.

  I laid my head down on the edge of the bed and I held her hand in mine. Suddenly, I felt her fingers tighten around mine. I lifted my head and she opened her eyes.

  “London.” I jumped up. “Page Dr. Finn. She’s awake,” I shouted out the door.

  Jamieson came running into the room with Ava in tow.

  “London, welcome back. Do you know who I am?” he asked.

  She slowly nodded her head.

  “Do you know where you are?”

  She slowly nodded her head.

  “Can you tell me where you are?”

  She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

  “Can you squeeze my hand?” he asked her. “Good. Very good.”

  She struggled to talk, but she couldn’t, and I could see the tears swell in her eyes. Ava walked over and lightly grabbed her hand.

  “It’s okay. Don’t be scared. Your brain is still rewiring itself. It’s going to take time, but you will be able to speak again.”

  “Ava, go get a notepad and a pen from the nurses’ station.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  As London lay there, she wouldn’t take her eyes off me as the tears streamed down her face.

  “You’re going to be okay, baby.” I reached down and kissed her forehead.

  Ava ran back into the room with the notepad and pen and handed it to London.

  “London, I want you to tell me how you’re feeling,” Dr. Finn said.

  She slowly wrote on the notepad and showed him.

  “Why didn’t you just let me die???”

  “London, listen to me. I removed the entire tumor. Teaghan is completely gone and she’s not coming back. It’s going to take time for you to recover from this,” he spoke.

  She threw the notepad on the floor and looked away from us.

  “Ava, go back down to the daycare center now.”

  “Yes, Daddy.” She lowered her head in disappointment.

  “Damien, let’s step out into the hall. London is confused and angry right now. This type of behavior is common after brain surgery. She may even feel depressed for a while because a part of her is gone. A part of her that had been there for the past fifteen years. Some patients feel it as a type of loss.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  “It’s not for us to understand. She will get through it with your love, patience, and support. As far as her speech, Ava was right that her brain is rewiring, so it’s going to take time for it to come back. Just keep talking to her and make her hear your words. So far, if this is the only deficit she has, it’s a miracle and can be corrected.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Finn.”

  Chapter Thirty

  London

  I was aware of my surroundings. I knew who I was, where I was, and what happened to me. I couldn’t vocalize my pain and anguish and I hated every second of it. Damien walked back into the room and I couldn’t even look at him because all I saw was the sadness and pain in his eyes. He walked over to the bed and grabbed hold of my hand.

  “Look at me, London,” he softly spoke.

  I wouldn’t and just stared out the window.

  “Baby, I love you. You’re alive. Do you know how happy that makes me?”

  I didn’t want to hear it because I couldn’t say those words back to him.

  “Do you want the notepad?” he asked.

  I shook my head no and then closed my eyes. Communication ceased to exist between us or anyone, for that fact, over the course of the week. The nurse would come in and get me out of bed to walk, but I couldn’t. My legs were so weak that I did nothing but stumble. I hated this and I resented Damien for making me have the fucking surgery in the first place. I was so worried about him that I really didn’t stop to think how this would impact me and my life. I was helpless and scared, and I took my anger out on him.

  Damien

  For three weeks, she took her anger out on me. I tried to go with her when the therapist took her down for physical therapy, but she wouldn’t let me. Every time I looked at her, all I saw was anger. I didn’t know what to do to help her and Dr. Finn told me that I had to be patient. Patience wasn’t one of my strong suits, but for her, I would be, no matter how badly she treated me. I knew the old London was in there somewhere and I was going to get her back, even if I had to fight her.

  It was time for us to go back home and I could see the fear in her eyes when Dr. Finn told her. Her legs were getting stronger, but she still had some trouble walking.

  “I got in touch with a physical therapist in New York and he’s going to be coming to your house three times a week as well as a speech therapist,” Dr. Finn spoke. “I’ll be in New York next week and I’ll stop by to check on you. Also, the two of you are cleared to have sex and as much as you want of it.” He smiled. “I’m ordering it as therapy.”

  She turned her head away from both of us.

  I rented a private plane to fly us back to New York. I didn’t want her to be amongst all those people on a germ-filled plane. She didn’t look at me once the entire flight, but she did write on her notepad when I asked her if she was happy to go home.

  “That’s not my home,” she wrote.

  My heart ached when I read that, and I simply dismissed it like all the other things. The car pulled up to the curb of our building, and I climbed out and took London’s wheelchair from the trunk. After setting it up, I helped her from the car and into it. As I was wheeling her up to the door, Sammy held it open for us.

  “London, it’s so good to see you again.” He gave her a sympathetic smile.

  “She can’t speak, Sammy. But she will soon enough.” I said.

  London wrote down on the notepad and showed it to Sammy.

  “It’s good to see you too.”

  Okay, so apparently, the only people she was pissed off at were me and Dr. Finn.

  “Sammy, our luggag
e is in the car. Can you send them up?”

  “Of course, Mr. Prescott.”

  I wheeled her to the elevator, and we took it up to the penthouse. God, it felt so good to be home. I wheeled her into the bedroom and helped her onto the bed.

  “Do you want to change into your pajamas?” I asked.

  She gave me a dirty look and laid her head down on the pillow and went to sleep. A couple hours later, I went back into the bedroom with a tray of food. The moment I set it down, she took her hand and tossed it off the bed. Anger tore through me and I needed to step away for a moment to collect myself.

  London

  I was struggling. I felt like I fell so deep down the rabbit hole that I would never be able to climb out. Two weeks had passed and all I did was lie in bed. I barely ate and I didn’t write two words to Damien. All I did was lie there in a coma-like state, trying to make sense of everything and feeling sorry for myself.

  He walked into the room one morning, grabbed some of my clothes from the closet, and tried to dress me.

  “We’re going out whether you like it or not,” he spoke in a stern voice. “I’m taking you for a walk in Central Park.”

  I immediately grabbed my notepad, and in big, bold letters, I wrote: “NO!” and held it up to him.

  “Is that so? Do you really think I’m going to listen? You haven’t left this bed once except to go to the bathroom.”

  I wrote: “NO!” again and shoved the notepad in his face.

  “Okay.” He walked out of the room, and within moments, he was back with my camera in his hand. “You haven’t done shit since you woke up from surgery. You haven’t kept up with your blog, nothing. I had to go on there and let everyone know your status because you were flooded with messages from the worried people who have been following you since you started it.”

  He held up the camera and turned it on.

  “Hey, everyone, this is Damien Prescott, London’s husband. The reason she hasn’t been posting anything is because she’s playing the victim. See for yourself.” He turned the camera on me. “This is what she’s been doing since she woke up from her surgery. She’s been feeling sorry for herself and playing the fucking victim.”

  I leaped at him and knocked the camera out of his hands. In doing that, I fell to the ground. Tears started falling down my face as I tried to scream, but nothing would come out.

  “I don’t feel sorry for you, London. You’re doing this to yourself. I’m trying desperately to help you and you won’t let me. What happened to the girl who loved life? Who loved everything about it? What happened to the girl who told me to remember all the little moments and to take my life and make it the best story ever? Where is she?” he shouted.

  I looked at my hand that was planted firmly on the floor and stared at my wedding ring. I yanked it off my finger and threw it at him out of anger.

  “Oh, so now you don’t want to be married to me anymore? Is that what you’re telling me? Fine.” He reached down and picked up my ring. “Consider this marriage over.” He stormed out of the room and left me lying on the floor.

  I cried as I dropped completely, rolled on my side, and buried my face in my hands. I heard the elevator doors open and then close. He left and I was all alone. I got myself into my wheelchair and I wheeled myself out into the main area of the house. It was filled with silence and I was completely alone. I wallowed in self-pity as I sat in the middle of the living room. I wheeled myself back to the bedroom and picked up my camera, playing back what he had recorded. I didn’t even recognize the woman that was there. I rewound back a little further and found some footage he took when I was in the coma. It was of him singing to me an Elvis Presley song “Can’t Help Falling In Love.”

  “I recorded this so someday when I tell you that I sang to you, you’ll believe me,” he spoke into the camera.

  I slowly closed my eyes as the tears continued to fall. I was so wrapped up in my own emotions that I didn’t hear Damien walk in.

  “London?” he softly spoke.

  I turned my head and stared into his eyes. This was the man I loved with every fiber of my soul. I had let anger overtake me and I couldn’t see past the fact that I couldn’t speak and could barely walk. I lost sight of who I was. I was tumor free and had the rest of my life to live and I couldn’t see that past all the anger. I reached down and picked up the notepad and pen.

  “I’m so sorry. I love you, Damien.”

  “I love you too, baby. We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this.”

  He walked over to me, picked me up out of my chair, and held me tight.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  London

  He gently laid me on the bed and climbed in next to me, pulling me into him. I laid my head on his chest and listened to his beating heart, a sound that always soothed me. He softly stroked my hair but didn’t say a word. He knew he didn’t need to. He knew all I needed was to be safe in his arms. I sat up and grabbed my notepad.

  “I need sex.”

  He let out a chuckle. “Seriously? You want to have sex?”

  I wrote, “Yes. Right now.”

  The corners of his mouth curved up into a sexy smile as his fingers trailed across my lips and over my nightshirt as he traced the outline of each of my breasts.

  “Your wish is my command.” His lips brushed against mine.

  The next morning, as we were eating breakfast, Damien received a phone call from Dr. Finn.

  “What did he want?” I wrote down on the notepad.

  “He said that a friend of his is stopping by to see you. He said she’ll explain who she is when she gets here.”

  A while later, the intercom rang, and Damien walked over and pressed the button.

  “Mr. Prescott, there is someone here to see London. Shall I send her up?”

  “Yes, Sammy. Thank you.”

  Damien and I stood at the elevator and waited for it to come up. When the doors opened, a woman stepped out and introduced herself.

  “You must be London.” She smiled. “I’m Laurel Coleman and I’ve heard a lot about you from Jamieson.” She extended her hand.

  “I’m Damien Prescott, London’s husband.”

  “It’s so nice to meet both of you.”

  “Please, step into the living room. May I offer you something to drink?” Damien asked her.

  “I’m fine. Thank you. The reason why I’m here is because I would like you to come to my meditation center. I don’t know what Jamieson has told you, but he removed a brain tumor from my frontal lobe a few years back. I had a really hard time adjusting after that surgery, so I took off to Thailand and stayed in a monastery with the monks and learned all about healing the brain and establishing a mind-body connection through meditation. Jamieson told me that you’re unable to speak since the surgery, correct?”

  I nodded.

  “That must be difficult. Even though I didn’t experience that, I experienced other things. I thought after I got the tumor removed, I’d be back to normal and life would be grand, but it just seemed things got worse as my brain was healing.”

  “I can totally relate,” I wrote on the notepad.

  “Don’t worry. I’m going to help you heal your brain.” She smiled.

  A couple of weeks had passed, and life was returning to normal. My legs were growing stronger every day and I once again was able to walk, only needing to use a cane for when I left the penthouse. I continued working with my physical therapist, and with Laurel and meditation. Every day and night, I meditated. I didn’t give up hope and I knew in time, I’d be able to speak again.

  It was a beautiful fall day out and Damien took the day off work and took me to Central Park. We went to Cherry Hill and spread out a blanket on the grass. We had a picnic and watched the people as they went by. The light wind swept across my face as the sun shined down on us. If I hadn’t gone through with the surgery, I probably would have been dead by now. Instead, I was tumor free and appreciated the second chance I was given. A de
ep calmness settled inside me and the anger I had was now gone.

  When we got back to the penthouse, I was exhausted. So exhausted I could barely make my way to the bedroom. Damien swept me up in his arms and carried me to the bedroom. After he laid me down, I closed my eyes and slept for a couple of hours. I was awoken by a crash in the kitchen. My eyes opened when I heard Damien yell, “Shit.” I climbed out of bed and went to see what happened. When I walked in, I saw the vase that was my mother’s lying on the floor in tiny little broken pieces.

  “Don’t walk in here,” he said as he held up his hand.

  “Dammit, Damien,” I blurted out.

  I placed my hand over my mouth and his eyes widened as we stared at each other in shock.

  “Did you just say something?”

  I swallowed hard and nodded. He walked over to me and firmly gripped my shoulders.

  “Say it, baby. Don’t nod. Say the word.”

  “Yes,” I softly spoke as he pulled me into an embrace.

  “Oh my god. To think that it only took me breaking your mother’s favorite vase to get you to speak again.”

  “It’s okay,” I slowly spoke.

  He broke our embrace and firmly pressed his lips against mine.

  “God, I love you so much.” He smiled as he placed his forehead on mine.

  “I love you,” I slowly spoke.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Damien

  Six months had passed, and London’s speech was fully recovered. She continued going three times a week to Laurel’s meditation center and even managed to get me to go with her. We made it through the toughest times of our lives, and now, we were living each day to the fullest as if it were our last. I cut back on my work schedule. I went into the office at eight and was out by five. Weekends were no longer work days for me because those were the two days I got to spend every minute with my wife. I loved my new life and it wouldn’t have been possible had London and I never crossed paths. When I look back on those days of my life, I was a terrible lonely man who only cared about work and making as much money as I could. I never knew the love of one special woman could change me. I didn’t think people could change, but I was proof they could. She saw something in me that nobody else had and I would always be grateful for her. She was the love of my life and the only thing I needed in the world.