by Jillian Hart
“You didn’t lose me. I’m still here.”
Her eyes welled with tears and a sob lodged in the middle of her throat. She felt the tangible weight of all the fear she had refused to let herself feel after Jonas was shot, all of the terror she locked away because it had been too overwhelming.
At the time, she’d pushed aside all her anguish because being calm and having a positive outlook for Jonas’s sake was more important. But now it rolled over her like a tidal wave. No one really knew—not the doctors, not the well-meaning nurses, not even her family or their minister—how deeply she loved her husband.
Only God did, Who could see into her heart.
Jonas, however, could not—he no longer could—and only stared at her with a thousand questions in his eyes. “Tell me about our first date.”
There was so much to say, so much more that couldn’t be put into words. Love was like that, the greatest pieces of which could only be felt. “What do you want to know?”
“Did I ask you out after the brunch with your family?”
“No. You didn’t get a chance to talk with me alone. My family kept butting in, nosy as always, bless them.” She could feel the kiss of the summer sunshine on her face and smell the sweet scent of strawberries from that long-ago day drifting in from the farmer’s fields across the road.
“They liked me at first?”
“They adored you. What I will always remember is the way you took my hand to help me into the car. Your hand was strong and tender all at once. You stood so tall next to me, and your hand was so big compared to mine. And your touch was intimate.”
“How do you mean?”
“Like when our hands met, our spirits did, too.”
He watched her with unblinking eyes, his gaze thoughtful, with realization on his face. “I was already in love with you, too. Love at first sight.”
“That’s what you told me, later.” Happiness, that’s what the pressure was, expanding painfully in her throat. The man before her, with a shaky smile and the side of his face still a touch paralyzed, with his slightly gnarled left hand and the walker tucked off to the side of the couch, was no longer a complete stranger. “Do you remember me at all, Jonas?”
“No. But I’m going to.” He reached out and gathered her hands. His movements were slow, his touch tender, as he wrapped her hands with his.
She felt her heart tug. Her spirit awaken. Her soul sigh in recognition.
“I want to. Help me remember, Danielle.”
She would not fail him. She hadn’t given up on him in the hospital, when his survival had been nothing but the smallest chance. She would not let go of him now. “I will, Jonas. I promise you.”
“Mommy!” Madison stood in the shadowed light of the hallway, scrubbing her sleepy eyes with her little fists. Her stuffed bunny was tucked in the crook of her arm. “I want some water. Minnie does, too.”
“Okay, bubbles.” It took a little piece out of her to withdraw her hand from Jonas’s. Their moment was interrupted by the best possible reason, but the opportunity was not gone. They would have more time alone on their upcoming date night.
She scooped up their little girl, who had Jonas’s eyes and her brown curls, and snuggled the warm, sleepy toddler close. She caught Jonas’s gaze over the top of Madison’s downy head. His look was amazingly full of warmth and tenderness and a deep, heartfelt wish.
A wish she could feel.
Thank the Lord they were on the same page, still wanting the same things in life. Jonas might be lost to her, but she believed not for much longer. Hope lifted her up as she took off for the kitchen.
Chapter Five
Jonas took the photo album marked Our Wedding off the closet shelf. Since he was ready for their date and waiting on Danielle, maybe this album would help. Please, Lord, let me remember.
He wished his foot didn’t drag as he made his way across the bedroom floor. He wanted his hand to stop spasming as he eased down onto the overstuffed chair by the big window. If only he knew how to put the frustration he felt into words.
He wished for a lot of things these days, but he did not waste his prayers on himself. It was Danielle he thought of as he turned to the first page. It was Danielle he prayed for as he fought to find a single scrap of recognition in the professional-quality photograph of the two of them smiling together, hand in hand, wedding rings gleaming.
Please, Lord, let me remember for her sake.
It had been such a tough week. Their family minister, Pastor Green, had stopped him after the morning service and asked how he was adjusting to being back home.
“Fine, just fine,” he’d told the minister, because Danielle had been at his side. He hadn’t wanted her to hear the truth. She’d been beside him, holding on to his arm to steady him in the crowd. That killed him but he’d allowed it, not wanting to hurt her feelings. She kept watching him with those big brown eyes of hers, so sad and hopeful all at once. It destroyed him that he was letting her down.
Just fine had been the truth. At least, part of the truth; he hadn’t lied to their pastor, but he hadn’t added the whole truth, either. The unsaid words haunted him now. Fine, except I’m a stranger to myself. I have a life that doesn’t feel like it’s mine. I can’t remember my fantastic kids. I don’t know my own wife, the woman who stood by me this far through my rehabilitation.
Danielle’s picture stared back at him, her lovely smile making his soul brighten. As if down deep he did remember, as if she had made him come alive once. He suspected the days before her were colorless in comparison, as if he’d been simply walking through life.
Her face was younger in the picture, softer, untouched by the fine lines of worry his injury had carved there. He would give anything to be able to wipe away that worry. To make things right. She was an amazing woman, and from the moment he’d woken from the coma to see her at his side, he’d been blown away by her.
What kind of wife fought so hard for her husband? Who rarely had left his side during his coma. Who had broken down in tears of gratitude, pressing close in a hug, holding him so tight.
The kind of woman who was true and good and loved deeply, that’s who.
How could he not have been awed by her? Even through the pain and fog the coma and accident had made of his brain, it took him all of a second to appreciate how blessed he was to have such a wife.
He turned the page, stopping to listen to the snippet of her soft alto that carried down the hall. She was talking with her sister Rebecca, the one in college, who had arrived to stay with the kids. She was the one who’d missed all their family get-togethers—including church—over the week since he’d come home. Trouble with the boyfriend, Danielle had explained quickly, promising she wouldn’t be with her sister for long.
He didn’t mind waiting. He was sort of nervous about this date. He wished the sound of her voice could tug at some recognition, but no, nothing. He turned his attention to the page in front of him. It was all done up with pink-and-gold ribbons and lace, and a wedding invitation with a date and their parents’ names. The next page was full of personal snapshots someone had taken—maybe Danielle, as the caption read, The Morning of our Wedding.
He glanced at photos of Danielle in her robe, laughing with her sisters. Hugging her mother. Standing in her wedding dress looking so happy. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight.
That was his wife. His throat closed. If she had known what was down the road for her, would she still have married him anyway? Failure beat at him, and he closed the album. Set it on the bedside table. Fighting back the terrible sense he had failed his family. One bullet had changed the course of their lives; he feared that old life—and the old Jonas—were gone for good.
“There. I’ve got everything squared away. Rebecca broke up with her boyfriend so we had some serious stuff to talk about. Thanks for waiting.” Danielle—Dani, as her family called her—swept into the room wearing a knee-length pink dress and it made her look so beautiful that he could not believe his luck.
“So, do you want to go out to dinner with me, handsome?”
Did he ever. He rose to his feet shakily, wishing he was stronger, the way he used to be—for her. But she didn’t seem to mind as he transferred his weight to the walker. “I’m a married man, lady. Not sure what my wife is going to do if I say yes.”
When something amused her, little sparkles flashed in her wide brown eyes. “I think she’ll allow it this one time. But if you try to make off with any other women, watch out.”
“What women? All I can see—will ever be able to see—is you.”
“There you go, being charming again.” She grabbed her purse—a smaller one than the one she usually dragged around with the kids—and escorted him to the door. “No wonder I fell for you.”
When she looked at him like that, as if she knew him to the soul, he had to believe everything would turn out all right. That the Lord would not have brought him this far in vain. He just had to keep working hard and believing.
And getting to know his incredible wife.
There was a young woman settled on the couch reading a book with brown hair and quiet eyes. She looked up with a shy smile. “Hi, Jonas. You’re doing so great.”
That was Rebecca, Danielle’s baby sister. He was starting to keep all the sisters straight. He took another step forward. “I’m doing okay. Thanks for watching the kids tonight.”
“It’s my pleasure. Besides, I owe Dani.”
Beside him, Danielle shook her head, tugging him gently in the direction of the garage door. “You know that’s not true. I’m here anytime for you. Heaven knows you’ve been there for me, kiddo.”
The sisters exchanged emotional looks, as if in silent understanding before Danielle opened the door to the garage. “Becca, Spence will be back with the kids in ten minutes tops. He took them to Mr. Paco’s Tacos. He said he’d bring enough food back for you, too.”
“That brother of ours. He needs his own family. What are we going to do with him?”
“I don’t know. We can’t marry him off. No woman in her right mind will have him. Not that we haven’t tried to set him up.”
“To no avail.” A loving joke, apparently, as the sisters nodded knowingly together.
He hated the walker because he had to struggle to use it. It slowed him down. It made him look less…less than able and less than the man he’d been. All right, so he was less these days, and it was a painful reminder, one he didn’t need. He could see that enough for himself.
“Call if you have any troubles,” Danielle called out, holding the door patiently as he pushed the walker through the door. “I have my cell on.”
“You’re on a date,” Rebecca called out. “No worrying about the kids. I’ve got things covered here.”
“Oh, I know. It’s just hard to turn off the mom mode.” Danielle laughed at herself, following him into the garage. “Bye!”
Rebecca’s answering “bye!” echoed briefly through the doorway before the door clicked shut, leaving him alone with his wife. His stunning, wonderful wife. His heart ached in all the empty places where he supposed his memory and his love for her used to be. He wished he could remember one thing about her, anything, and then maybe he wouldn’t feel so formal, as if he were with an acquaintance, someone he only knew distantly, instead of the woman who had given him two fantastic kids.
Everything in his soul longed to love this woman who opened the passenger door for him and did not look at him as less. No, when he gazed into her wide liquid eyes, he could almost see a glimpse of what had been. He could almost see who he’d been.
“Are you hungry?” She smiled up at him as she folded up and stowed the walker.
“Starving. Where are you taking me?” He settled unsteadily into the seat.
“Where we went for our first date.” Her smile turned mischievous as she leaned closer to help him with the seat belt buckle. “I know you don’t remember, but it’s always been our family’s favorite. It’s the best steak in town.”
“Steak? Sounds good. Am I going to need my wallet?”
“It’s my treat.”
“That doesn’t seem very gentle—” He couldn’t grasp the word. Polite? Manly? The word hovered just beyond reach and then it slipped into his mind. “It wouldn’t be gentlemanly of me, making such a quality lady pay.”
“Quality, huh?” Her face softened, and some of the ever-present tension washed from her face. “Jonas, you’re the quality one, believe me.”
“That can’t be.” She must not know what he saw when he looked at her. The woman who sat by him so he wouldn’t be alone in a coma. The woman who fought with doctors and the insurance and through her own exhaustion to help him with his rehabilitation. The woman who didn’t look at him with pity or unease because of his partial paralysis.
Quality was too small a word, as was every other word he could think of to describe her.
“Don’t worry about it.” Her hand covered his and gently squeezed. Reassuringly. Sweetly. “I may be paying, but I’ll use the credit card with your name on it.”
“I’d like that.” Jonas’s empty heart filled with a strange surge of emotion. She deserved his very best, and he was going to make sure he gave it to her.
“What did I like here?”
Danielle looked over the top of her menu at her husband across the table from her. He still looked good in a suit—wait, he looked even better because he was right here with her, when she’d been terrified she would lose him.
Her heart fluttered. She loved this man in more ways than she could count. “Here’s where I could cause all sorts of trouble for you, handsome.”
His puzzled expression melted into a shy grin. “That means what?”
“Not only do I know what you like, I know what you don’t like.”
“I’m in a—what does Tyler say?—a pickle. I have to trust you.”
“You do. Lucky for you, I won’t torture you by having you order the prawns.”
“Prawns?” He glanced down at the menu, searching the words and the pictures of the tempting food. He awkwardly tapped one of the pictures with his gnarled hand. “Oh, I see. The prawns.”
“Do you remember not liking them?”
“No. I wish I could. I just don’t like the look of ’em.”
“That’s got to be a promising sign, at least.” Danielle reached over to touch another picture on the menu. Jonas could read, but she thought the picture might strike an image in his injured brain. “You always order the filet mignon. Medium well. With the salad and the loaded baked potato.”
“That sure does look good.” He closed the menu. “Why don’t I like prawns?”
“Your birthday. A fishing trip to the Oregon Coast. Prawns for lunch and then a boat excursion in choppy seas. How’s that for a clue?”
He chuckled, and for an instant he was like the old Jonas, the hint of the man she knew so well. “I used to think it was a blessing you could remember for both of us. Now I’m not so sure. You know all my secrets.”
“That was the kind of marriage we had.”
“The kind we have.” He reached across the table for her hand.
His gesture was so sincere that her heart broke all over again. He didn’t know what they’d had. She prayed they could get there again. She missed him, with all the depth of her soul. She missed talking with him, leaning on him, sharing with him, and, most of all, she missed loving him. The weight of his hand on hers, so warm, brought back memories of all the times he had touched her in comfort, in sweetness, in love.
The waitress chose that moment to stop at their table. Jonas, bless him, did not let go.
“Danielle. Jonas.” It was Marni, from their church. “How wonderful to see you, Jonas. I don’t suppose you remember me.”
“No, miss, I’m sorry, I don’t.”
Danielle watched the puzzlement creep back onto Jonas
’s face.
“About two years ago, I was coming home from closing up here, I hit a patch of ice and got myself hurt pretty bad. You were on patrol that night and stayed with me until the ambulance came. You even drove my aunt to the hospital to see me and then back home. You took care of the tow call, and when I came home from the hospital, my car was repaired and in my carport. I don’t suppose you remember.”
“Nope. I’m glad you’re better now.”
That was her Jonas. Danielle ached with love for him. Such a caring man. Always a man she—and everyone else—had counted on.
Please, remember me, Jonas. It was a wish from her soul. Danielle closed her menu. “Marni brought by a casserole for the family every Saturday afternoon.”
“Did she now?” Jonas looked bewildered.
He had no idea all the outpouring of care and prayer that had come his way. What goes around comes around, and the old adage had proved true in his case. So many people had done so much for him and their family.
“It was the least I could do.” Marni gave a shrug. “I felt bad for all of you. I prayed so hard for you and Dani.”
Danielle’s throat tightened. “Marni, it made such a difference. Thank you.”
The waitress swiped her eyes. “Goodness, it does my heart good to see you both here tonight. Now, what can I start you off with? Our appetizer platters are on special tonight.”
There it was, that incredible healing sense of fellowship and community. Never had she been so aware of it than after Jonas was shot. “Jonas loves the mozzarella sticks. Thank you, Marni, for everything.”
“Not a problem.” She took their drink and food orders with a smile and sauntered away, leaving a silence behind.
She took solace when he didn’t move his hand from hers. They sat in silence, and yet the distance between them felt vast. She hadn’t noticed it before, at least not like this. She sat face-to-face with him finally—without the medical staff at the rehab clinic, or the kids to interrupt them, or errands pulling her in one direction and worries tugging her in another.
What did she say now? Conversation had always flowed between them. From their first date, they had just clicked. It had not been like this, uncomfortable, fighting for common ground. What she wanted to talk about, he could not remember. He looked so serious that she didn’t want to remind him of what was lost.