"So, what would my wife like for lunch?"
Wow, he changes gears fast. "Umm... I'm not really that hungry."
He looks hurt. No wait, that's irritation, definitely. "Krissy, you must eat. Tell me."
What is it with him and food? "Can't I just wait till we leave? How much longer?" I deflect.
"I'm not sure. I'll get you something from the cafeteria, and ask my mother on the way." He pats my knee and strides out again, taking the sharpie with him.
Crap. My deflections don't seem to work on him, at least not when it comes to the subject of food. And to top it off, he took the sharpie. I sigh.
~ EDWARD ~
"Up you go." I lift her from the wheelchair that my mother insisted she ride in to the side exit where Taylor is waiting with the SUV. She's far too light, and swaddled in a heavy blanket. I gently settle her into the back seat, buckling her seat belt, cocooning her in. It occurs to me that this vehicle replaced the one in which she almost lost her life. It's a good thing I thought to have this one customized with all manner of safety features. It's likely even more reinforced than the one used by our President.
"Edward?"
My thoughts have apparently moved me to still with my hands in her lap. "Sorry." I resume snapping her into place, making sure nothing is in the way of the door, and I shut it carefully. "Let's get her home in one piece this time," I mutter.
"Yes, sir." Taylor holds the rear door on the other side for me, and then climbs in. My mother waves from the walkway. She's going to check in on Krissy later after I get her settled in.
Krissy is weak, I can tell. But she's putting on a brave front. Her cast is in a sling and encased by the blanket, but as Taylor pulls into the roadway she leans to the right and bumps into the door.
Shit. In one movement I unbuckle my seat belt and wrap my arm around her shoulders, placing my hand between her casted arm and the door. Mom told me that the hospital staff wasn't happy about discharging Krissy so early; they wanted to keep her through the weekend. I'm beginning to understand why. She's struggling just to sit upright. I should have brought pillows to pack around her. Perhaps some bubble wrap... that's what my wife needs. A suit made entirely of bubble wrap, so she won't get hurt. No... a giant hamster ball! That might work. I need to stop this ridiculous tangent before it gets any sillier. I plant a soft kiss at her temple and then rest my head against hers. "We'll be home soon, baby."
"Is Ryan there?" she murmurs.
"Yes. Mom sent him home with Sawyer."
"Remind me who everyone is?"
I told her briefly of who has access to the house, among the staff and security, and she's seen most of our family, with my father being the one exception. "This is Taylor," I nod toward the front seat.
"Glad to see you're well, Mrs. King," Taylor chimes in.
"Thank you," Krissy replies.
I continue. "Sawyer is the one who's been standing outside your door most of the week. Ryan is the shorter one. Reynolds has been on leave, you'll meet him next week. And Carter is on Ryan duty. Gail keeps our house in order. Ben tends the grounds, he's very good at blending in, so you may not see him."
"That's a lot for a family of three," she muses.
I chuckle. "Some would say it's rather light, for a family of our standing."
Krissy is quiet for the rest of the ride, and I wonder if it's because of my last comment. She'd finally gotten accustomed to the wealth, or at least, learned to tolerate it. Now we're back to square one, discomfort central.
I lift her gently from the car, still wrapped in the blanket, and she sinks into my arms, melding to me. Her body radiates exhaustion. Sawyer holds front door, and to my great surprise, lining the entry, are Ryan and Gail, the two day nurses, Elliot, Kate and Ava, my father, Mia, Ethan, and... Ray. Ryan is in Ray's arms, fast asleep again.
"Dad?" Krissy's voice is weak, but uplifted.
"Hi Annie, thought you could use some backup." Ray looks
to me for a moment, and I think we're okay for the moment, an improvement over how we left things after our earlier conversation.
"We're not going to stay and bother you," Kate chimes in. "We just wanted to be here to welcome you home. You can call on us any time, for anything. We're here for you."
"Thanks." Krissy's eyes flit to the unfamiliars, but she's too exhausted to absorb introductions, I imagine.
"Thank you all," I say. "I think my wife needs to rest now. You're all welcome to stay, of course." On that note, I carry her, probably too carefully, toward the master bedroom.
I bury my nose in her hair and inhale, unsure when I'll next have the opportunity. The nurses follow in behind me. I reluctantly hand Krissy over to them. "What can I do, baby?"
She's watching me with tired eyes as the nurses unwrap her and settle her into bed. "I think I just want to sleep," she murmurs.
I nod. "Okay." I move forward and lean down, press a soft kiss to her forehead, caress her hair with my fingers, and reluctantly turn to leave, looking back just once before exiting. And to my great hope, her eyes are still on me.
~oOo~
"How many times must I say it? She doesn't remember anything." God, my brother is irritating. I take a sip of the wine. The taste is off, or perhaps I'm a bit off. I'd bet on the latter.
"I'm just saying, there's got to be a reason she remembers everything but you," Elliot states the obvious.
"And you think I haven't worked that over and over again in my head since she woke up?" I snap, wearily. "Enough. I'm tired of talking about this." I swallow the dregs in my glass and rise for a refill. Something different this time, I think. "I'm surprised you're here, Dad. How is the case proceeding?"
"It's finally settled. Took bloody long enough." Dad looks rather tired. His tie hangs loosened from beneath his collar. I suspect he can't go into any detail due to the nature of the case, and he doesn't offer any more information.
"Jose called," Kate pipes up.
"Oh?" I stop filling my glass. Mrs. Kavanaugh-King has my undivided attention.
"He's been doing some freelance photojournalism across Europe the last couple months and only just got the message about Krissy. He got back to Portland last night and asked when would be a good time to come up to see her. I only told him the basics. He's really sorry he didn't phone earlier."
Of course he is.
"I'll mention it to Krissy later." Perhaps much later. I drop the wine bottle in the door of the fridge.
"What can we do, son?" My father is a hero in his own right. Growing up, I'd see him come home, weary from long hours at the firm and in court, and then dive right into meeting whatever my mother or us kids needed.
I retake my seat on the couch and shake my head. "It means a great deal that you're here. I don't know what else there is to do... I've hired one of the best physical therapists in the Seattle area, Krissy has a handful of the finest private nurses Mom could find, and we're scheduled to meet weekly with the neurologist. John is working with her as well. I just want to integrate her back into the family as carefully as possible. Krissy will dictate whether she wants our support or our distance." My eyes have again unfocused, and I'm staring past the glass wall, into the rainy backdrop of the sound.
"Well... when she's ready, your mother and I would like to have a family dinner to honor her recovery."
"That would be nice, Dad. Thank you."
"Have you been back to King House yet?"
We slowly build into a dialogue around work, and I take the opportunity to brainstorm a few acquisitions I'd discussed with Ros earlier in the week. Dad is blessedly fluent in the inner workings of my business; I can discuss any aspect with him without having to explain a great deal. He just gets it. This whole situation has made me stop to think how seamlessly I've taken for granted his expertise. If he wasn't around... no, I'm not going to grow some morbid sense of 'what-if' from this. I'm grasping again. My father senses that my tone has become a cover for what I'm trying not to feel, and excuses himself to mak
e a phone call.
"She's going to be okay," Kate's voice breaks through the stretch of silence. Elliot is squeezing her hand, and nods his assent. Ava is asleep on his shoulder, oblivious.
Ray steps quietly down the stairs. "Ryan's asleep. I think I'll head home, unless you need me to do anything."
"Please Ray, you're more than welcome to stay as long as you'd like," I offer, suddenly panicked. Shit. I hope no one noticed. I swallow and steel myself, rising to meet him in the foyer. "Krissy may want a familiar face when she wakes."
"And I'm only a couple hours away," he fishes his keys from his pocket. "Getting pretty behind in the shop. Call if she needs anything, will you?"
"Of course." I extend my hand, and we shake briefly. I wonder if he's leaving because he really does need to work, or if something of this situation is uncomfortable for him. I can't fathom the latter, but I can look into the former. Discreetly.
"Did Ray take off?" My father re-enters from the sliding glass door, dropping his phone into his pants pocket.
"Only just."
""Did he take the envelope I left?"
"Envelope?" My eyes sweep the room, and fall upon a manila envelope resting on the entry table. "I suppose not. I'll send it by courier in the morning."
"That's all right, I'll take care of it." My father picks up his jacket and folds it over his arm. "I'd better be off as well. Your mother will be by in a while." He picks up the forgotten envelope and shakes my hand. It's been three years, but he still respects my longstanding boundaries, with very few exceptions. "Give Krissy my love."
"I will... Dad?"
"Yes?"
What is that?" I indicate the mysterious envelope.
He shakes his head. "Just something Ray needed my opinion on. You take care, call if you need anything."
I nod. The heavy oak door closes behind him with a stately click, and against my better judgment I stand there, baffled. What kind of advice would Ray need, besides legal? I must look into this.
"Mr. King, your wife is asking for you." The nurse waits patiently.
"Of course."
She's supposed to be resting. It's only been an hour. The room is dark, the shades are drawn but tiny slivers of gray light from the cloudy evening sky peek through the seams in the window coverings. "Krissy?"
"Hi."
"Hi... is everything all right?" I push the door almost-shut behind me.
"I can't sleep."
"Would you like some company? Kate's still here, I can..."
"I wanted to talk to you." Her voice is small, but her eyes are bright.
"All right." I cross to her bed and tentatively perch on the edge of the bed. "Do you need anything?"
She shakes her head. "Why me?"
I frown. "What do you mean?"
She slowly sucks in a breath. "I mean... what you said in the car, about... a family of our standing... what does that mean?"
Oh, here we go. I shake my head. "You don't need to worry about that, baby. It's just wealth, it's nothing." I softly run my index finger down her cheek.
"It's not nothing, though... It's not how I envisioned myself, not that I ever envisioned myself in any great detail with anyone in particular. But... what if I don't want all this?"
"All... this?" I wave my hand at the room. "Krissy... it's just a room. In a house. In a neighborhood. A family lives here. Our family lives here. Does it bother you?"
"A little," she murmurs. "Okay, a lot. Why me?"
"Why not you?"
She breathes deeply for a moment. "I'm... nobody."
I gasp. "That's just not true," I tell her, swallowing. It hurts, really hurts, to hear her say such a thing. "I don't want to hear you talk like that about yourself. You're everything to me."
"Why?"
I blink at her for a moment. "Because you brought me to life."
Confusion crosses her face. She doesn't believe me.
"Let me guess, and you tell me if I'm right, hmm?" I begin. "You're thinking, what does a successful bachelor see in a newly graduated literature major whose only life experience revolves around books and hardware store merchandise?"
"I'm not a bad cook, either," she jests, almost but not quite pouting.
"Yes, of course, how can I forget?" I smile gently. She knows I have her pegged. "Imagine this. I have no depth, just a lone businessman with few aspirations outside the world of mergers and acquisitions. I go to work, buy failing companies, fix them, make a profit. I dine out alone, return to an empty penthouse, continue work from home, attend the occasional charity event, and sleep when it is convenient. Everything is in grayscale, and I'm content. One day a marvelously intelligent, beautiful woman falls into my office. We talk, I flirt, she flees. I pursue. I work hard to win her trust, though she might say I wore her down." I laugh suddenly, finding such truth in the statement. My Krissy did love to tease. I sigh. "She forced me to rethink parts of my life I'd long since set in stone. She believed in me. And eventually, I realized she wanted me too, really wanted me, and not for the reasons others might. I respect her sometimes-disdain over the wealth I freely share with her, and yes, it is quite significant. But..." I heave a breath, "I'd give it all away, just to have her back again."
Her eyes leave mine, drifting downward to where she's trying to entwine her fingers again. There's shame on her face, and I'm sure it's burning in her eyes. Shame I caused. I bring my fingers to rest under her chin. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad," I tell her. "Please don't look away." I feel her gulp, and she tentatively raises her eyes to mine again. And yes, the shame is there.
"I want you to know how much I love you, Krissy. That's why I said what I did. And I would. I'd live in abject poverty again, for the remainder of my life, just to have you remember me, remember us."
Now it's her turn to gasp. I've said too much, as usual. She does that to me, even when she doesn't know she's doing it. What an effect she has.
"Again?"
I sigh. Shit. I wonder how well I can skirt the issue. "My mother told you I was adopted, hmm?"
She nods.
"Did she tell you how I was found?"
She shakes her head, brow furrowing. Oh, I have her attention. Perhaps she'll be satisfied with half the story, the less-gruesome half, of course.
"My biological mother was an addict... and a prostitute," I smartly amend the terms I've used in the past. "She was exceptionally neglectful. I remember regularly going a day or more without food. She... killed herself when I was four. It was a while before anyone found me. It was probably the hungriest I've ever been." I swallow and gauge Krissy's reaction.
"How could anyone..." she trails off.
I offer her a shy smile. "I'm fine now. Grace and Carrick have been the best parents anyone can ask for. And I was fortunate enough to have the support necessary to start my business. I vowed at an early age that I'd never be hungry again. My primary goal in business is geared toward building clean energy and sustainable infrastructure in third world countries to improve food production and distribution. It's been my life's work, until I met you."
Krissy looks... awed. There isn't another word for her expression, but it's marred by a single tear that drips from the corner of her eye and runs into the crease by her nose. I gently wipe it away with my thumb.
"Please don't cry."
She sniffles, blinking back a second wave of tears. "Is that why you're always trying to feed me?"
I nod, giving a half-smile. "It's very important to me, to see that you're healthy. The very least I can do is to properly feed my family. That's the least any husband and father can do." I brush the back of her hand with my fingers. "At the risk of sounding pushy, are you hungry at all?"
She sighs. "Not really..."
I'm not surprised, having given her so much to think about.
"... but I'll try to eat, I probably need to," she interrupts my disappointment.
The corners of my mouth turn up. "Good." I kiss her forehead gratefully. "I'll bring you somethin
g."
"Can I..." she groans, trying to shift under the covers.
"Baby, lie still. Don't strain yourself."
She stills, defeated. "I don't really want to be cooped up... can I eat out there... with you?"
I sigh, pursing my lips. "I'll bring dinner here for both of us."
"Please, I..." she struggles again. God, she's exasperating.
"Krissy, I won't have you hurting yourself. You're exhausted," I scold.
"Please, Edward?" Her eyes... oh, the Puss in Boots gaze. Ryan does it too; the things he absorbs from his library of animated movies. But Krissy hasn't seen the movie yet, or at least, she won't have remembered, I don't think. I can't bear that look. It has me melting.
"All right. Let me arrange things; I'll be back momentarily." Her eyes follow me from the room again.
"Everything all right?" Mia bombards me in the kitchen. Gail's stew smells delicious.
"Krissy would like to join us for dinner," I announce. "How is it progressing?"
"The stew's ready; Mia has kindly made some bread and Kate brought a salad," Gail informs me.
"Splendid." I walk through to the casual dining area, surveying the table, and return to the living room to snatch a wing chair from the corner. It should be more comfortable, not to mention secure. I place it just left of the end.
Kate emerges from the kitchen, arms laden with placemats and silverware. "We've got the table, you worry about Krissy," she instructs. The imperious Kate, giving orders in my house. I roll my eyes. I don't have it in me to fight with anyone right now.
"Your dinner awaits, milady," I return to Krissy and lift her gently into my arms. The nurses have pulled a warm robe over her pajamas and socks onto her feet. It'll have to do, and I'm grateful for their careful attention. Krissy sinks into my arms again. She's so trusting, even though she barely knows me. And she's so light, my stomach wrenches at the thought. She's never been this light before.
"Mommy!" Ryan runs to us as I emerge from the hallway. He clamps onto my leg, but Ethan is quick to the rescue.
"Hello Ryan," Krissy manages. She looks absolutely smitten with our son, and my heart bursts with hope.
"Your Mommy's going to have dinner with us, Ryan-bear," Ethan tells him. "Can you show her your best table manners?"
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