The Hour of Dreams

by Shelena Shorts

  Eventually I started with telling him I was there, of course. And that I was fine. That his sacrifice worked. And I told him that everything would be okay if he just woke up. After the first couple of assurances, I glanced around to see whether the doctors were watching us. Surely they could hear me, but thankfully they were studying the charts and readings.

  I turned back to Wes, feeling a little bit more private. From there, I held his hand and started reminiscing about our past. But then I thought it might be better to talk about our future. I told him about all the places we could visit when he woke up. I was talking about snow and how we’d be able to ski worry-free, when I felt a faint pressure.

  I looked down to see his thumb moving along the back of my hand, and my heart started racing. I gently squeezed and continued talking. Within a few moments, he gave my hand a full squeeze and amidst the noise of beeps and the doctors talking, Wes turned his head away.

  His back arched slightly, and his head turned back my way.

  “Come on, Wes. It’s okay. Open your eyes. We’re here.”

  As he squirmed a little more, the beeping sounds in the background sped up, and then his eyelids fluttered.

  “It’s okay, Wes,” I assured again.

  Now, both Dr. Lyon and Dr. Carter were beside me. Wes’ eyelids peeled back slowly, and he let out a small groan.

  “Wes,” I sighed, glancing into each of his beautiful brown eyes, hoping he was okay. They looked the same. They looked perfect.

  When his gaze caught mine, he coughed softly and then smiled, squeezing my hand harder.

  “I think it worked,” Dr. Lyon muttered.

  “Wes,” I repeated, kissing his cheek.

  When I pulled back, he gazed up at me and whispered, “You’re here.”

  “Of course I’m here,” I assured.

  He gave another labored smile and then tried to lift his head. “Lay back and rest,” Dr. Carter ordered.

  “Is my mother here?” Wes asked, looking around the room.

  “What?” I whispered.

  “I dreamed of a letter. She was sick,” he croaked.

  “But…” I looked at Dr. Carter for help, and he stepped closer.

  “Wes,” he said. “Do you know where you are?”

  “Yes, but my mother,” he whispered, squeezing my hand tighter. He then looked at me, concern in his eyes. “Amelia, tell me where she is.”

  I sucked in a frightened breath as Dr. Carter put his palm on my shoulder. “Wes. I’m not Amelia. I’m…Sophie.”

  His eyes narrowed as he glanced at Dr. Carter, looking for answers.

  “Who?” he asked.

  Chapter 16

  THE RECOVERY

  As I stared at Wes’ perplexed features, the unexpected was happening. Somewhere in his brown eyes there was a comforting recognition, but below the surface there was complete confusion. He had no idea who I was talking about.

  “Sophie?” I repeated.

  His head shook. With no idea what to say or do, I stood there with my mouth parted, mute. Dr. Carter, thankfully, jumped in.

  “Wes, do you know who I am?”

  Wes turned his head back to Dr. Carter, wincing. After studying him for a long moment, he nodded and hoarsely replied, “Yes.”

  “And my name?” Dr. Carted prodded.

  “What’s going on?” Wes asked.

  “You’ve just woken up from a procedure. We just want to make sure you’re all right.”

  Wes nodded again. “Dr. Thomas,” he whispered.

  He thinks he’s back in London. Dr. Carter glanced at me briefly and then at Dr. Lyon.

  Dr. Lyon also looked stunned, but quickly picked up a clipboard and murmured to Dr. Carter. “Let’s check him over physically and then we’ll evaluate him mentally.”

  Dr. Carter nodded. “Yes, let’s proceed.”

  It must have been obvious that I was about to hyperventilate, because Dr. Lyon turned his attention to me. “I think it would be a good idea if you took a short break.” He raised his brows as if to suggest it was not optional. I wanted to protest, but knew that a break was exactly what I needed.

  “Okay.” I squeezed Wes’ hand, gave him the best smile of assurance that I could muster, and then walked, like a zombie, toward the door. As soon as it closed behind me, I started crying, again. Embarrassed and hoping no one would see, I made my way toward the lounge.

  Halfway there, my mom appeared at the end of the hall, having just come off the elevator.

  By then, I was a mess. She must have sensed something was off, because she hurried down the hall and grabbed my shoulders. “Sophie, what’s the matter? I came over because Tom said Wes would be coming around today. What happened?” she pressed, eyes wide.

  I just cried and leaned into her.

  “Is he okay?”

  I nodded.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, not understanding.

  I finally mustered up enough strength to answer. “He’s okay. But he doesn’t remember me. He doesn’t remember who I am.”

  She pulled herself back and looked at me, eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

  I nodded. “He thinks I’m Amelia. That it’s 1915 all over again.”

  I started sniffling again, but she sighed with relief. “Oh, Sophie. That’s okay. It will be okay. Here, come on.” She put her arm around me and guided me into the lounge. Inside, we sat on the sofa and I cried some more.

  She let me get it all out before talking. When I was tired of the tears and tissues, I rested my head against the back of the couch. She ran her fingers through my bangs.

  “Feel better now?”

  I turned to her with an exhausted scowl.

  “Well, you should. That was a lot you had built up. It’s time you let it all go.”

  I sighed and let my head fall back again. “How can I let it go? We’re worse off than we were before.”

  “Are you?” she replied.

  I sat back up, more persistent. “He doesn’t even know who I am.”

  “Sophie, don’t forget that he could be dead right now.”

  I jerked my head her way. “He could be,” she pressed on. “But he isn’t. He just went through a very dangerous experimental procedure, and he made it. And of course he remembers you.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” I argued. “He remembers Amelia.” I was suddenly feeling a jealousy that I’d never had.

  “Same thing,” she said.

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Sophie, isn’t that what you convinced me and Tom? That you are the same?”

  “But I’m not. I mean, I am, but it’s not the same. I’m my own person. My own memories. Everything we’ve been through this past year has been us. And it’s gone?”

  She rubbed my shoulder. “It’s not gone, Sophie. It’s there.” She pointed to my heart. “That’s where he loves you. Not up there.” She tapped my temple, and continued. “What if you lost your memory? Do you think Wes would be out here, crying a river? Of course not. He would love you the same and figure out a way for you to love him back.”

  Of all the things I’d feared or prepared for, Wes’ memory loss was not one of them. He was the glue that held us together for three generations. Three generations of love and hope, and now it was gone. And I was supposed to be the glue now? I wasn’t Wes.

  She squeezed my shoulders to pull me from my reverie. “Sophie. Wes will remember you. And even if he doesn’t, he’ll love you all over again. In case you haven’t noticed, you two are meant to be together. Now take a deep breath and go in there and support him. He needs you. Especially if he can’t remember the last hundred years. Can you imagine what that would be like? Waking up in a world entirely foreign? Your challenge right now is not about you and him…it’s about how to get him to understand where he is and when.”

  Her words drew my attention. There I was, focusing on my woes. I’d been given a cure that was supposed to free me from worrying about my body literally attacking itself and shutting down. And ther
e I was, focusing on the negative again.

  Like I’d done many times before, I would force myself to focus on the positive. Wes made it through his transformation. That was huge. Huge. Whether he remembered Sophie or not wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things. He was about to find out that a century had gone by and that somehow he was still alive to see it. How do you explain that to someone? If anyone was capable, it was me.

  I hugged my mother for once again offering me sound advice, and together we walked back toward Wes’ room. Dr. Lyon came out just as we were approaching the door.

  “How is he?” I asked eagerly.

  “He’s doing exceptionally well.”

  I tilted forward onto my toes, ready to spout a million questions, but he cut me off. “Considering. He’s extremely tired and weak,” he continued. “His muscles are very stiff, but we think it’s the adjustment of the tissue. He’ll need some extensive physical therapy. Dr. Carter has broken the news to him, that this is his second transfusion, as well as what year it is.”

  My own muscles became stiff too. How could they just spring that on him, fifteen minutes after him waking?

  Dr. Lyon read my thoughts. “Wes remembered his first transfusion—and its side effects. Dr. Carter explained to him that he'd wanted to reverse the procedure because he was aging too slowly. He doesn’t quite understand, but he’s a smart boy. He’s asking to see you, because he doesn’t know how either Dr. Thomas or Amelia is still here if it’s truly decades later. We thought we would leave that to you to explain however you see fit.”

  I felt the biggest responsibility of my life coming on, and knew I needed to muster up a plan to conquer it, but I needed to first understand what was happening.

  “How is it that he doesn’t remember so much time?”

  Dr. Lyon smiled softly. “It’s actually not all that surprising, considering the extent of what we did. It could be a combination of the seizures and the transfusion. He’s just really disoriented right now.”

  “Will the memories come back?” my mom asked.

  “Well. It’s hard to tell. If the memory loss is due to the seizures, it’s possible. If it’s because of the blood loss, then we won’t know.”

  I felt myself worrying over the “we won’t know” part, but then reminded myself that there was a bigger issue, and it involved just getting Wes healthy. Nothing else was as important as that.

  Dr. Lyon excused himself, and my mother and I slowly entered Wes’ room. Inside, his bed was tilted up so that he was sitting more upright, but he looked oddly still. When he heard us enter, he turned his head slowly and smiled softly. My mom gave me a shove in the back and then took a seat in the corner.

  Dr. Carter hung up a chart and nodded to Wes. “I’ll leave you two alone for a bit,” he said, making his way past me and patting me gently on the shoulder.

  I approached Wes’ bedside, wanting to hug him tightly, but I held back. Instead, I took his hand again and was relieved to feel him hold mine firmly in his palm. My gaze settled on his, and for a long moment we stared at each other.

  I searched for the right words. As usual, I couldn’t put my thoughts together, but his familiar voice cut through the silence.

  “Will you tell me what happened?” he asked.

  The appropriateness of the question and the absurdity of the answer caused me a chuckle. “It’s a long story.” I smiled.

  “I’m still trying to piece things together,” he murmured.

  “More importantly, how are you feeling?” I asked, rubbing his arm.

  “Well, it’s odd not to hear your accent. Or Dr. Carter’s.”

  I guessed that would be strange.

  “Other than that, a little achy. But not as much as the first time around.”

  “I’m glad you’re going to be okay,” I whispered.

  He nodded, but it looked labored. He must have still been in a lot of pain.

  Not wanting to overwhelm him, I figured I’d let him take things as slowly or as quickly as he wanted.

  “Can I get you anything? Help you in any way?” I asked.

  “Well, I’d like to know what happened. How I ended up here.”

  That I could do, but I wanted to make sure I did it the right way.

  “I can help you with that,” I started, releasing his hand. “But first.” I held my hand out formally. “I’m Sophie.”

  His gaze traveled to my outstretched hand and he weakly took hold of it. “Nice to meet you, Sophie.” The sound of my name coming off his tongue sent a warmth through my body. Even as new as it sounded.

  After looking at him for a long moment, I realized I could really help him, but I’d have to leave for a little while. “I have an idea,” I said, hopeful. “I’m going to get some stuff that will help you remember. And we’ll do this together. You just rest and let your body heal. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  He bit down gently on his bottom lip. “I’ll be here,” he said, offering a slight smile.

  Knowing I had a plan, I kissed him on his forehead and, after being released, left the facility with my mom. I still wasn’t cleared to drive yet, and she wanted to keep an eye on me.

  First, she took me to Healey’s to pick up some books. As soon as we entered, Dawn attacked me with a huge hug. Her brother Danny and Mr. Healey were there too, but they were much more reserved. My mom had told them I was having dizzy spells and that’s why I’d been away from work for so long.

  Dawn, however, knew otherwise. “I was so worried,” she whispered in my ear. “You better not die on me.”

  The abruptness of her words caused me to laugh. “I’m serious,” she said. “You better be around long after I have this baby. When it keeps me up or gives me hell, I’m bringing it to your house.”

  My mom jumped in. “Or my house. I’ll be happy to help you. Tom and I both would gladly lend a hand.” Dawn had almost become a sister to me, and I knew my mom’s offer was genuine and that it made Dawn feel better.

  After many assurances that I was fine, I began my search. I remembered shelving several non-fiction books that would be good. Wes loved airplanes, and told me many times how mesmerized he had been by them over the years, so I grabbed a reference book that chronicled the progression of airplane design. I thought he’d find it interesting to see how far aircraft had come. I also found a book on cars that not only had several well-known antique and modern models, but ones that Wes had actually owned. Then I went to our used DVD section and found one from World War I, one from World War II, a Vietnam movie, and a modern war movie. Then I picked my favorite romance movies from the fifties, eighties, nineties, and the millennium.

  After Healey’s, my mom drove me home to grab the medical book that Wes had first showed me to prove how old he was. It was the one with the picture of Wes and Dr. Carter, who was then Dr. Thomas, back in 1939.

  I also brought our wedding pictures, though they were not something I had planned on showing him until he asked. If he asked, since I wasn’t even sure whether he knew we were married.

  As we drove back to the medical center, I thought about the other item I had, and was truly thankful to have written it: my journal. All this time, I’d thought it might someday be used to help me remember our lives, but now it was going to be used to help Wes remember.

  By the time we arrived, a few hours had passed and I had a tote full of stuff. Inside, Wes was now dressed in his signature Henley and sweats, and it was comforting for me to see him looking like his modern self.

  Dr. Carter informed me that they had run some more tests, which came back clear, and had started a short, initial round of basic physical therapy. Apparently Wes’ joints and muscles were in a lot of pain. Almost as bad as they had been with his hemophilia, prior to his initial transformation. Dr. Carter said the pain would subside with medication and therapy. Something Wes hadn’t needed in years. I wondered how he felt about that. Dr. Carter gave several instructions on how to manage the discomfort, and listed a regimen that Wes would
follow over the next several weeks.

  Once we were alone, it was going to be just me and him for the rest of the night. There was a small sofa, a chair, and two hospital beds side by side, which had been left in the room while I waited during Wes’ transformation.

  As I glanced around, trying to decide where to sit, Wes tried to stand up from his gurney. He winced, and instinctively I hustled to his side to help him. “Where are you trying to go?” I asked.

  “The sofa,” he said, gritting his teeth in pain.

  I led him there slowly, but through the walk he maintained a stoic, determined expression. Once seated, he smiled and chuckled, letting out a deep sigh.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “Well, I certainly feel a hundred years old now.” I started to laugh, but the idea startled me and my eyes widened. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Dr. Carter thinks I’ll be back to normal soon.”

  I shook my head to clarify. “No, I wasn’t—I don’t care whether you stay like this. I mean, I do, but…”

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry. I care. But I’ll be fine.”

  After a moment of awkward silence, I asked him what he wanted to do first.

  “I have a few questions,” he started.

  “Okay.” I took a deep breath, wondering where he would start. “Go for it.”

  His gaze traveled down to my left hand. “Are you married,” he asked.

  Oh, geez. Really? The first question? I cleared my throat and his gaze fell. “It’s okay. You don’t have to answer that.” I tried to remember what he said about his relationship with Amelia. He said he’d loved her the moment he saw her, but that he’d never really had a chance to tell her. So maybe he thought I was just his caregiver or good friend, rather than assuming we were married. Obviously.

  “No, I want to answer that, but it’s a long story. First, why don’t I get you caught up?”

  His gaze met mine again, and I knew Wes well enough to know he was blazing with curiosity. But what was I to do? Spring it on him? Not yet. Besides, I wanted him to love me for me. Not because we were married.

  He studied me for a long moment, probably wondering why I was hesitant, and then nodded. “All right. Let’s get started.”