Flashback

by Amanda Carpenter

  The adrenalin had stopped pumping. Something was wailing in the distance and getting louder, an inhuman sound, insistent. Dana still couldn’t breathe, but it no longer really mattered as she felt her awareness fuzz up around the edges. Her luminous eyes started to glaze. She no longer could see peripherally, but if she concentrated very hard she could still see David well enough, and the anguish in his eyes. It was ripping him apart she could see, and she knew that he was feeling her pain along with her. She knew how hellish that could be. She’d experienced it before, knew how it crippled, how it hurt. She felt herself go even fuzzier and she wondered what death would be like. She hoped it wouldn’t hurt too badly. At that thought, she remembered, for some strange reason, the dream of the knifing and smiled painfully at the memory. “You see,” she whispered soundlessly, lips moving with no air. Only he could hear her. Only he knew what she was saying. “I couldn’t save myself, either.” And out of pity for him and his tortured mind, she deliberately blocked off herself so that he wouldn’t feel any more pain, and as the awareness of what she’d done shuddered through him, she fell into darkness.

  Chapter Ten

  She’d been in the darkness for so long and she felt so heavy, it was time to let go. It was time to leave this heavy body. Everything was too dark and painful, she didn’t want any more pain. And so Dana pushed out of her body and started to float away. The darkness was receding, and she no longer felt pain. There was light up ahead, a gentle, golden light that made the darkness and the pain a thing of the past. She went towards that with a feeling of joy.

  But then she heard someone call her from behind, from the darkness, and she automatically jerked to a halt to listen. It was a strange sort of call, a whisper really, nothing more, but it held her as surely as if it had been a manacle of steel. She resisted, straining for the light, but then she recognised the voice of the one calling her.

  He was in pain, too. She grew puzzled, for she dimly remembered stopping that pain. Then she realised that it was the pain of fear and grief, and it was all for her. He was whispering a name over and over again, and with a jolt she realised that it was what her name used to be. Through the desperation ran a thread of exhaustion and hopelessness. He thought she was leaving for good. She attempted to tell him that she was not really dying but merely going to another place, but she found that she could not get him to hear. So she looked, from the light to the darkness, back and forth, in an agony of indecision. It would be so easy to slide away into that warmth and light up ahead. It would be so very easy. But she knew who was calling her now, and she remembered that she had once loved him. His pain and his grief were unnecessary. She turned her back to the light and went back down into the darkness, reluctantly. After all, she told herself, there was always time later on to go back. Someday, she knew, she would go to the light. And the darkness consumed her until she knew neither the darkness nor the light, nor anything of the man who sat by her side in a lone vigil.

  When Dana opened her eyes, she became aware of two things simultaneously. She was staring up at something white, and she was covered all over with cotton. No, that wasn’t right, she thought, and she turned her head to look down at her body curiously. At least she thought she had turned her head to look at her body, but nothing had happened. She tried again and was astonished to find the simple movement of lifting her head incredibly hard. Sweat broke out on her forehead and her neck muscles strained before she was finally able to get her head off the pillow long enough to look down the length of her body.

  Exhausted, she let her head fall back and pain lanced through it as she thought to herself, silly. There wasn’t any cotton down there. There were some strange lumps, but absolutely no cotton.

  And someone came through the door just outside of her range of vision. She turned her head slightly to the left, and that too was such an effort that she had to close her eyes to rest. She felt her hand taken and held carefully, and the warmth of another human’s touch was such a pleasurable feeling, it made her smile. She opened her eyes and looked her love to her mother, who was bending over her with a tired, drawn face. When Denise saw her daughter look up and smile so sweetly, her eyes filled with tears, and she squeezed the hand that lay so limply in hers.

  “I’m always…such a burden to you,” Dana whispered, and watched a tear fall. Her mother shook her head gently. “Jenny?”

  Denise reached out and stroked her forehead with cool fingers. “Yes, Jenny’s fine. You pulled her out of the way in time.”

  “Mick?”

  “In jail for drunken driving and malicious conduct. Why are you asking about him? How are you feeling, darling? Are you in pain?”

  Dana just smiled as she closed her eyes and the smile was one of compassion and sadness. “Poor boy…” she murmured, and slept.

  Silence met her next awareness and she lay for some time with her eyes closed, drifting. Then she slid her hand over the top of the covers, feeling her fingers tremble from weakness, turning it over so that it lay with palm up, an invitation. A hand immediately closed over it, a large, calloused, masculine hand. David held hers as if it were something infinitely precious. A tear trembled at the corner of her eye and suddenly slipped away to soak into her hair. Another followed, and then another, for the cotton was no longer there, but the pain was and it jabbed throughout her whole body.

  Something scraped, and David was stroking her head while lifting the hand he held and cradling it against his chest. Lips shaking, she whispered, “It would have been easier to go…”

  “I know,” he whispered. “But don’t say it. You didn’t go, and now you no longer have the choice.” A long, silent pause, and then full of emotion, “Dana? Did you really want to go so very badly?”

  Such a wealth of sorrow, she thought, and forced her eyelids open to stare at him. He seemed different somehow, tired, worried. “Not really,” she whispered, a mere thread of sound. Her eyes smiled at him for a moment and then closed. “I was just—very tired couldn’t handle the pain by myself…” She stopped and gathered her strength so that she could whisper, “I want to live.” Lips pressed against her forehead and again she slept.

  A few days later, Dana was eating with help from one of the student nurses when her door opened and David again walked into the room. He’d visited every day, quite often for several hours at a time, reading to her, or talking and helping to pass away some of the time made tedious by pain and boredom. Dana carefully blanked out her mind, as she had for his past several visits, and she smiled at him lightly before taking a bite of vegetable.

  He stood there and looked down at her silently for some time before finally saying, “Hello.” She mumbled a greeting around her mouthful, wrinkled her nose at him, and turned her head back to the student nurse. Her heart was thudding at a mad pace and her hands shook like they hadn’t for several days. David was waiting, just standing there quietly, and she knew he wasn’t waiting for the student nurse to finish.

  After an eternity, during which her appetite had completely diminished, the nurse finally picked up her tray and left the room, and Dana was left alone with the silent, watching man who had perched himself on the wide hospital window sill. He was staring at her face, and she turned it away to look at the opposite wall.

  “What’s going on in that busy little mind of yours?” he asked conversationally, and she swallowed nervously. It didn’t make the lump in her throat go away. “You must know that I’ve felt your block for the past several days. What have you been thinking about, I wonder? Why do you close up like a tight little clam every time I get through that door?”

  “No reason,” she whispered, clenching her hand into the top sheet until her knuckles whitened. “No reason.”

  “I don’t even know why you bother to lie to me,” he said pleasantly. Her mouth shook. “But I’ll tell you this, Dana. You aren’t going to get away with it. Sooner or later, I’m going to make you tell me what’s making you do this.” He waited and then said softly, “Look at me.”
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  “No.” She screwed her eyes tightly shut and kept her face turned resolutely away.

  “Look at me, Dana!”

  “No, I said!” Footsteps marched determinedly her way, and she felt a moment of intense frustration at her lack of mobility before hard fingers grasped at her chin and forced her head his way. She resisted but was too weak, and her face was taken firmly between his hands and cupped.

  “Dana, I’m only going to say it one more time,” he told her gently. “Look at me right this instant—”

  “All right!” she shouted, and coughed at the pain in her ribs as she glared her helpless rage at him. He seemed very calm, as he let his eyes travel over her furious features. After just staring at him hatefully for a few moments, she said hardly, “There, have you seen what you wanted to see? Are you satisfied now?”

  “Yes,” he said strangely. “I think I am.” He loosened his hold and just touched her face lightly, gently, his thumbs starting to stroke at the base of her jawline, on vulnerable skin. She quivered and shut her eyes again.

  “Then get out.”

  He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Do you want me to tell you what I saw?” She remained stubbornly silent, and he went on patiently. “I saw a very frightened young girl just now. I wonder what has made her so afraid. Something has, in the past few days. What could it be?” He lifted one hand and smoothed the hair off Dana’s forehead. She suddenly grabbed at both of his hands in order to try to push him away, but he captured her wrists and held her clenched fists against his chest as he positioned himself on the edge of the bed and leaned over her, too near. She gulped and shuddered, and tried desperately to get herself in control. She was too damned weak.

  “Whatever it is, do you think you could just let go of it?” he asked her gently, pressing her hands into his shirt. She felt his pulse. “It can’t really matter in the long run, can it? Let’s talk about something else. There’s something I’ve been wanting very much to ask you.”

  “No! Not now, all right?” she choked, renewing her efforts to get her hands free. His own tightened on hers so hard it hurt and she sucked in her breath, collapsing in defeat. “Just go away and leave me alone, please.” It wasn’t a request; it was a moan of anguish.

  He sat very still, eyes sharp on her, expression stern. “Whatever is hurting you so much is about me, isn’t it?” he asked slowly. “What have I done to upset you so, Dana? “Whatever it is, I’m sorry for it. Why won’t you talk to me?”

  His gentleness was too much. She turned her face away and started to cry, and in her misery let her guard slip and her emotions spill through. He hissed, and with her guard down she felt a ripple of pure rage ripple through him. He grabbed at her chin and forced her head around again, his features hard and set. “Who told you, dammit?” he gritted. “Answer me! They weren’t supposed to say anything yet!”

  She lifted both her hands to her mouth as she sobbed. “No one told me! I—I just knew, that’s all. When the doctors came in to check on me a few days ago, I just knew! It—it’s no one’s fault. It just happened. Like the accident,” she said miserably.

  He fought to get his shocked surprise under control, fought to control his expression. “Then you know everything?” he asked quietly.

  She said with great difficulty, “I know that my spinal column was damaged pretty badly. I know that I most probably won’t be able to walk again, if that’s what you mean.”

  He looked away, jaw muscle working. “There’s a chance you may walk again, Dana. Don’t rule out that chance.”

  “I don’t.” She didn’t look at him. “But I’ve got to be realistic. I’ve got to prepare for any eventuality.”

  He asked, “Dana, please, will you marry me?”

  She replied as quietly, with great finality, “No.”

  “I love you.” It was a simple, heartfelt statement, and a plea.

  “And I love you.” In spite of her efforts, her words trembled in the air horribly.

  “Then you can’t say no.” He reached down, half turned on the bed, and brought his face down to hers. He didn’t kiss her right away but instead looked clearly into her eyes, the honesty in his own, together with the strength of his emotion reaching into her very soul. His eyes were vulnerable, searching, loving. His face was harsh and yet gentle, the rough features softened, the dark hair falling on his brow. “I love you, Dana. I love your smiles, and I love your warmth. I love your gentleness, your passionate sincerity, and your caring of others. I love your beautiful eyes, your lovely hair, your laughter, your sadness. I love your weaknesses and your strengths, and the femininity that is so inherently you. I love your faith and your gifts. Please don’t block me out. Please don’t send me away. You once said that you had the strength to stay, and that if I chose to go, I could. But now I’m the one who wants to stay, with you, and you are the one who wants to go.”

  “I’m crippled,” she said clearly, in the clarity a wealth of fear and pain and helplessness was held.

  “Don’t say that! You’re not crippled. You’re the most whole person I’ve ever known. You may not be able to walk, but you are not crippled.”

  “I won’t marry you.”

  “I won’t accept that.”

  “Leave me alone!” she screamed at him, feeling as if her heart would break, pushing away with both hands at his shoulders. He grabbed her hands and forced them down as he leaned his head into her shoulder and buried his face in her hair. He didn’t try to fight with her, and he didn’t try to reason with her. After her first shocked moment of stillness, she caught such a strong and overwhelming tidal wave of love and longing and hope from him that she was rocked to her core. She’d never known another person quite like him before in her life: he was such a powerful man, with such powerful feelings, and he could overwhelm her every time with himself.

  She turned her head and buried her face against his, gave a great sob, and whispered, “I’m not strong enough to handle this.”

  “Hush. You’re the strongest woman I know.” He began to kiss her all over her face.

  “I’m not. I’m not.”

  “I’ll be your strength.”

  “I’m so scared, I’ve never been so scared in my entire life,” she murmured in a moan, kissing him back, on his cheekbone, his jawline, the side of his nose, anywhere she could reach. “I’m so scared it makes me sick to my stomach, I can’t—”

  “Oh, Dana, don’t.” He drew back, looked down into her eyes, and smiled tenderly. “You’re so precious to me. I was never so horrified in my life as I was when I watched you tumble through the air like a rag doll, and I felt your pain and your shock, your disbelief that it was actually happening. When you nearly died, I’d thought I’d never seen anything more beautiful than when I saw you as a bright, ethereal figure, running freely towards a great, wonderful light, and my feet were bound to the ground so that I couldn’t follow you. I saw your eagerness, and I called you back. You were in this hospital bed, and in reality you looked so small and white and still. The doctors had already told me that you might never walk again, and what I did was totally selfish. I didn’t call you back for you, I called you back for me. And what I’m asking right now is totally selfish, for no other reason but that I want, and need it more than I’ve wanted or needed anything in my life. I love all of you, every single thing about you, and I’ll beg. Don’t leave me. You refused to ask anything of me, but I’m asking something of you now. Please don’t leave me.”

  There was no way she could put up the barrier again. He was in too deep, too strongly. She would never get him out of her heart or her life. She put out her arms and he came down to her, covering her mouth as his eyes closed in great, shuddering relief, and she surrendered her fears and uncertainties as she surrendered her mouth. And he absorbed it all, providing an immense well of strength and love for her to draw upon. She leaned on him.

  Chapter Eleven

  She sat, peacefully lounging under the wide, thick shade of the maple tree. A book l
ay on the dark green cushioning grass beside her. She drew her sweater around her slim shoulders, for the days were getting a bit chilly. The air was tranquil, bright light and mottled, shading leaves. Happiness was living inside of her, a constant healthy glow. She felt that her world was overflowing with the goodness and richness of life.

  Across the beautifully cared for lawn, in the old, spacious home that was hers, the sound of the distant clicking of typewriter keys stopped and after a few moments a large, dark figure appeared in the doorway. The man searched with his eyes until he found her under the maple tree. He smiled, white teeth in a dark face, and walked over to sit down the grass beside her.

  “How’s the story coming?” she asked him lightly, reaching out and pushing back the lock of hair that had fallen over his brow.

  He grinned at her. “I think another five weeks or so should finish it. I’ll be well ahead of the deadline.”

  She was pleased. “Good! And then we’ll take that vacation you’ve been promising me for the last year.”

  “Mmm,” he growled, and reached over to kiss her lingeringly. “And we’ll lie in the sun and make love on the beach…”

  She murmured laughingly, eyes half closed, “Wonderful love…whoever would have thought that our mental sensitivity to one another could make it so delicious?” His eyes laughed at her as he kissed her again.

  “…and I’ll be thinking of the sequel for the book—”