Persuaded

by Misty Dawn Pulsipher

  “They say comatose patients still sense the world around them,” Hanna pointed out.

  “Well, it’s thoughtful of him to fill in, anyway.”

  Hanna said nothing. It was better for Mary to think that Benny was acting from some altruistic instinct than to know the truth. Some things didn’t need to be said.

  Mary yawned again. “Charles and I are going to get some shut-eye while Walter is down for his nap, if that’s okay.”

  Hanna assured her that it was, then took CJ outside to swim. She tried not to think about Ella, experiencing the world from behind an implacable curtain, or about Derick’s green eyes, aflame with guilt, or about that horrible article—all her fault in some way. The sun was beaming down from the cloudless azure sky, but to Hanna it still felt as if rain was thrashing the ground around her—finding its way under her skin and breaking down her heart one chunk at a time.

  ☼

  Over the next few days, Hanna received only one text from Derick—saying that he had taken the Laconia out. Part of her wished he’d taken her with him, but the other part knew that, even if he’d asked, she would have refused. There was no way she could let herself off the hook so easily; if Ella was fighting for her life, the least Hanna could do was deprive herself of the comfort of Derick’s arms.

  Hanna didn’t miss his stormy eyes, his freckles, or the feel of his skin on hers—she ached for them. The way someone who hadn’t eaten in a month might ache for food. The way an addict might ache during detox.

  She tried to shove the ache to the back of her mind, to shift it to the outskirts of her heart. Sketching would probably help, but when she rummaged through the bag she’d taken to Block Island, her notepad wasn’t there. At length she settled for cleaning the house top to bottom and starting the boys’ laundry.

  It was late afternoon on day four of Ella’s coma, when Benny called from the hospital to say that she had finally opened her eyes. The Musgroves rushed off to see her, but Mary was unable to convince Hanna to go along.

  About an hour after they left, Hanna got a call from Charles.

  “Hanna, do you think Sophie could bring you down to the hospital?”

  “I’ll check. Is everything okay?” It wasn’t—she could hear Mary’s unintelligible blubbering in the background.

  “Ella’s had some memory loss. She doesn’t remember her own name, or any of us. The doctor thinks that a surge of emotion might jog her memory.”

  Hanna agreed, not thrilled at the prospect of being the cause of said emotion, but willing to do whatever she could to help. Sophie was called and brought Adam along when she came to pick Hanna up about five minutes later.

  On entering the recovery room, the first thing Hanna saw was that Ella looked pretty good—other than bruising around the butterfly tape on her forehead. The second thing she noticed was Benny sitting protectively beside the patient with Robinson Crusoe in his hands.

  “Do you recognize her?” the doctor asked Ella, pointing to Hanna.

  Hanna was scared of what the answer might be, terrified of what might be in Ella’s eyes when she looked at her. But after a moment Ella just shook her head and sent a hesitant glance at Benny. “Is she another person I’m supposed to know?”

  The grip on Hanna’s heart loosened. There was nothing like loathing or pain on Ella’s face.

  “She’s my sister,” Mary said.

  “Oh. Who are you again?”

  “My wife,” Charles offered. “I’m your brother,” he added when there was no response. “So Hanna is sort of your sister-in-law.”

  Ella took that in with wide eyes.

  “What about these two?” the doctor pressed, indicating Sophie and Adam.

  Ella watched them for a moment before slumping against the pillows in defeat. “I’m sorry, I just don’t remember.”

  “I think that’s enough for now,” Benny said to the doctor, maintaining his posture at Ella’s side.

  “Yes, I quite agree. Miss Musgrove needs to rest for a time, so everyone out.”

  “But we’re family—” Mary protested but was silenced by the doctor.

  “Not to her. Not yet. She’s had a trauma, and what she needs more than anything now is sleep. You’re welcome to return in the morning if you like.”

  At the physician’s declaration, Ella grasped Benny’s sleeve with a desperate look in her eyes. “Will you stay and read some more?”

  Something danced across Benny’s face, there and gone, like a ghostly ballerina. He shot a look at the doctor, who inclined his head in agreement, then sank back down in the chair. Ella’s face relaxed.

  The doctor asked them into the hall to discuss Ella’s prognosis. He called it “post-traumatic retrograde amnesia” which was a fancy way of saying she hit her head and couldn’t remember anything before that. There was hope that her memory would eventually return in full, but it was by no means guaranteed. The doctor recommended experiences that would stimulate her senses, and in turn, trigger recognition. The olfactory sense had been found in studies to be extensively linked to memory. He also warned the family against overwhelming Ella with their expectations.

  When the doctor offered to answer any questions they might have, Charles said, “How is it that Ella remembers Benny, but none of us?”

  “She doesn’t remember him. But he was in the room when she woke up, and sometimes amnesia patients tend to fixate on the first person they come in contact with after waking from their comas—particularly when there is no pressure to remember that person. Usually it’s hospital staff or a volunteer, but in this case it happens to be a family friend. Tell me,” he said, his voice shifting with curiosity, “has Miss Musgrove spent much time with him in the past?”

  “Very little,” Charles said.

  “There’s no way to know for sure,” Hanna said. After all, Callie had mentioned something about Benny’s taking them fishing, and he had been with Ella when she returned home before the accident.

  “And didn’t you say that Benny stayed in the room and read to her while she was unconscious?” Hanna asked Mary. “Maybe she recognized his voice.”

  “Sometimes coma patients have déjà-vu of things that they experienced during unconsciousness,” said the doctor. “It’s not unheard of.”

  “I think you’re all reading too much into this,” Mary said. “Ella’s obviously not in her right mind—she didn’t remember the car accident. She kept insisting she’d been in a shipwreck.”

  “Robinson Crusoe,” Hanna said to herself, then spoke up at the questioning looks on the faces of her audience. “It’s from the book Benny’s been reading her. Robinson Crusoe is about a shipwreck.”

  “Huh,” Charles said.

  “Most interesting,” said the doctor. “Whatever state of mind your sister is in, I would advise you all to leave her there for the time being.”

  As Hanna and the Musgroves walked out to the car, Mary said to Charles, “You should call Derick and have him come to the hospital. I bet Ella would recognize him.”

  Hanna vaguely registered Charles’ disagreeing with his wife, reminding her that the doctor had said no more visitors for today—but the moment his name came into the conversation, everything else faded away.

  Sandwiched in the backseat of the car between her nephews, Hanna pulled out her phone and sent Derick a simple text:

  She’s awake.

  She wanted to add, come home, but she didn’t.

  FORTY

  GETAWAY CAR

  But these measures, however good in themselves, were insufficient for the real extent of the evil.

  —Jane Austen, Persuasion

  When Hanna’s text came through, Derick was already on his way back to Old Lyme. As soon as Sophie called with news of Ella’s condition on her way to pick up Hanna, he pulled up the anchor. Fisher’s Island, the place he’d been for the past couple days, was only an hour away. In no time at all he was nosing the Laconia back into her slip at the dock. With any luck, this whole catastrophe would be
behind them soon.

  He was so excited by the prospect that it took him a second to register the mob of flashing cameras that was waiting for him at the marina. He had known it was coming, had been expecting it for days. Ditching the crowd would be a lot harder from this end of the beach, with no gate to stop their progress. Going straight home wasn’t an option since they would follow him all the way. Instead he called Adam to come pick him up in the car. Driving the long way around to the marina would take several minutes, but it was better than the alternative.

  While he waited, he went back to the Laconia’s cockpit and called the team’s PR guy. “Dammit, Paul! I thought you said you would handle this!”

  “I did! I had a friend of mine give the press a false lead.”

  “Where? Rhode Island?” Derick said with derision.

  “No, Italy.”

  “Well, they didn’t buy it. A pack of paparazzi just showed up at the dock.”

  A sigh. “Look, I know you think I’m some kind of miracle worker, but there’s not a whole lot I can do at this point. It’s probably time for you to disappear again.”

  “I’m tired of running,” Derick said through his teeth.

  “Then just be boring for a while. You know how it is—it’ll die out on its own.”

  Paul had a point, but it was the last thing Derick felt like admitting. “Can you just send a couple security guys over to my house, at least?”

  “Sure, Derick. Text me the address and I’ll call it in. But you and I both know that’s only a temporary fix.”

  He was right, again. But instead of telling him so, Derick hung up on him. Then he texted Adam for his ETA.

  Adam responded with a call back. “I’m here—close as I can get without driving onto the dock.”

  Taking a breath and promising himself he wouldn’t punch anyone on his way to the car, Derick grabbed his duffel, locked the cabin door, and leapt onto the dock.

  The reporters peppered him with questions all the way to the car, then Adam screeched the tires and nearly took two paparazzi out in the process. “So, where to?” he asked, as if he drove a getaway car on a daily basis.

  “Back home, for now. They won’t be able to get through security.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like they can’t get to the house from the marina.”

  “Security is coming to guard the house.”

  Apparently impressed, Adam shrugged and took the long way home.

  “How is Ella?” Derick asked.

  Adam laughed. “You’re going to love this, dude. She has amnesia. She doesn’t remember her own family or any of us. The only person she seems to want around is Benny.”

  “Come again?”

  “He stayed at the hospital almost the whole time she was out of it. Sitting by the bed reading her that book Hanna gave him.”

  Interesting. Hearing Hanna’s name smarted a little, but he pushed it to the back of his mind as Adam gave the guards a heads up and proceeded through the gate. Inside Kelynch, Derick locked all the doors and windows, then closed all the blinds. “Any photographers shown up here?” he asked Sophie, who was reading on the couch.

  “Not so far.”

  “We’re getting some extra security, just in case.” He peeked through the blinds, breathing a bit easier when he didn’t see the media buzzing around the house. Finally he was able to relax a bit, enough to put Adam on lookout duty while he took a shower.

  So, Ella was okay. That was a relief. He could understand Benny’s motivation to be near her, but Ella’s sudden attachment to him seemed a little weird. It was something he was going to have to see for himself. Determining to make a trip to the hospital, he let his thoughts drift back to Hanna.

  Upon their return from Block Island, when Derick did a final sweep of the Asp before returning it to the rental place, he’d found Hanna’s sketchbook in one of the cabins. He had every intention of returning it to her, but chaos had been waiting to usher them back into Old Lyme Harbor, and it had been the last thing on his mind.

  The last few days had made him grateful for the oversight that left Hanna’s sketchbook in his possession. It was like having a piece of her with him out there on Fisher’s Island. He’d studied her drawings until he knew them by heart. Each one told a story, and he found himself scrawling captions along the bottoms of the pages. Even those drawings that had nothing to do with him, like the one of Eli, were vital parts in Derick and Hanna’s story. It had taken a good amount of self-control not to scribble a mustache on Eli’s dimpled face, and Derick’s regard for Hanna’s creativity was the only thing that stopped him from doing it.

  After toweling off and dressing, Derick looked out his back door and was pleased to see that security had arrived. He took one of the guards with him over to Uppercross, explaining the situation to Charles. Mary informed him that Hanna was in her room, and Derick went up.

  He hesitated outside her door, unsure what he would find on the other side. He didn’t think he could handle her shrinking away from him like the last time he saw her. Finally, after getting up the nerve, he tapped on the door and went inside at the sound of her muffled voice.

  Hanna didn’t see him at first; she was sitting at the window looking out—no doubt still torturing herself about Ella.

  “Are the boys in bed?” Hanna asked, obviously thinking it was Mary who had come in.

  “Not when I came in,” Derick answered, and Hanna’s head snapped around.

  She gaped at him for a moment, as if she was seeing his ghost and not his corporal form. Then she got to her feet and stretched onto her toes to embrace him. Derick obliged her, using his arms to hold her in place. After a long time, Hanna leaned back, and he saw that she’d been crying.

  “Please tell me those are happy tears?”

  “You’re back,” she said, laughing at herself as she brushed her cheeks with her fingers.

  Derick let his forehead rest against hers. “I missed you,” he murmured.

  “I don’t think miss is a very good word,” she told him. “There should be a word for something between ‘miss’ and ‘die without.’”

  Derick couldn’t help grinning at her. “Maybe you should make up your own word.”

  “I will,” she agreed. “For now we’ll just use . . . want. I wanted you.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Derick said, then took her face in his hands. When his lips met hers, it was like a drink of ice water after days in the desert without so much as a sip. Funny—he hadn’t known he was dehydrated until now.

  A few minutes later, Derick regrettably released all but Hanna’s hand. “I’m going over to the hospital. Do you want to come with me?”

  From the look on her face, it was the last place Hanna wanted to be, but she agreed all the same.

  “Good. You can protect from the big bad paparazzi if they show up.”

  “Have they shown up?”

  “They were waiting at the dock when I came into the harbor,” Derick answered, relieved when there were no reporters at the front gate. Hopefully they had thrown in the towel for the day.

  During the drive over to the hospital Hanna brought him up to speed on Ella’s situation, confirming what Adam had already told him.

  “You must be a good luck omen,” Derick told Hanna as they came through the automatic doors of the hospital. “I thought we’d have the media crawling all over us by now.”

  It was about a quarter after eight when they signed in at the nurses’ station on Ella’s floor, earning an intimidating glare from one of the nurses. “Visiting hours are over at eight thirty,” she informed them.

  “We’ll be quick,” he assured her with what he hoped was a winning smile.

  The nurse responded with a that-charm-doesn’t-work-on-me grimace, and Derick couldn’t help wondering if she had two jobs: nurse by day, bouncer by night. He pledged to avoid any of the local night clubs in the future, just in case.

  At Ella’s door, Derick took a steadying breath and looked over to find Hanna
doing the same. Then he leaned over and kissed her just once before knocking. There was no answer, so he pushed hesitantly into the room. When Benny looked up and found more visitors instead of hospital staff, the irritation was plain on his face. “The doctor said no more visitors today.”

  He was clearly exhausted, but Ella’s next words made him perk up a bit. “I remember you from earlier,” she said to Hanna.

  “Hi, Ella,” Hanna answered, looking paler than usual. “We just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing.”

  Ella smiled at Benny. “We’re just getting to the good part of our book. Is this your friend?” she asked, her eyes cutting over to Derick.

  “Um, yes,” Hanna said. “This is Derick.”

  “Derick is my brother’s wife’s brother, so that kind of makes him my brother-in-law,” Benny clarified.

  Ella’s eyes widened. “Like Hanna is my sister-in-law, right?”

  Benny gave her a soft smile. “That’s right.”

  She beamed back at him. “See? I’m getting it!” Then she looked at Derick. “Did I know you before too?”

  “No, you didn’t,” Benny answered for Derick. For once, he didn’t mind being cut off.

  Derick was glad he had come to the hospital; if he hadn’t witnessed the Benny-Ella thing for himself, he never would’ve bought it.

  “Well, it looks like you are in good hands,” Derick said, and he meant the comment for both of them. “There’s a nurse out in the hall that is going to come in here any minute with a spiked whip and drive us out. We’ll let you guys get back to your book.”

  “Do you need anything, Benny?” Hanna asked.

  He took his eyes from Ella just long enough to assure her that he didn’t, then swiveled them back to her. And just like that, Derick and Hanna seemed to disappear from the room.

  FORTY-ONE

  OVERHAULED

  “We will write the letter we were talking of . . . if you will give me the materials.”

  —Captain Wentworth, Persuasion

  On the return trip to Kelynch, Hanna assumed that Derick was absorbed in his own thoughts like she was. As normal as Ella seemed, Hanna still found it hard to swallow that she had miraculously forgotten the scene before her accident and had no ill feelings for anyone involved. It was simply too good to be true. Obviously Hanna was thrilled that Ella was okay, that her brain was fine, and that she had the use of all her limbs—to say nothing of the fact that Benny seemed more content than she’d ever seen him—but the end didn’t justify the means. Whether fate had stepped in and erased Ella’s memory or not, Hanna was still indirectly responsible for the whole affair.