Coop tossed the fork on the tray and drew in a deep breath. In the four years they’d been married, he’d never lied to her—not ever, not once. Yet he’d been back in her life less than twelve hours, and the lies and half-truths were piling up faster than he could count. He could tell himself he was just trying to do the right thing, but it didn’t make it any easier. A lie was still a lie, no matter how noble the cause.
He looked at her across the narrow table, seeing the tension in her shoulders, the anger in her eyes, and seeing past all that. As much as he hated the lies, as much as he hated avoiding the truth, he would do whatever it took to give her back her life. The void in her past terrified her, and he knew she’d never have a true moment of peace until she’d gotten her memory back—no matter how painful it was.
He reached across the table, slipped a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head to look at him. “If there was something else, I’d tell you,” he said in an uncompromising voice, ignoring the cold, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. “If I seem awkward or uncomfortable, it’s just because...” He paused, letting his thumb trace the outline of her lips, searching for the words. “I nearly lost you,” he whispered, not having to lie about the emotion that suddenly swelled in his heart. “I don’t want to do anything to put you at risk again, and if that means we have to wait before we can...well, you know, before we can, then I want to wait.”
She looked at him, slipped a hand around his wrist and released a heavy sigh of relief. “I’m sorry,” she moaned, shaking her head. “I... don’t know what’s the matter with me. It’s just that ever since the coma, things have felt so...so different. It’s made me suspicious of everything. I’m really sorry.”
It seemed only natural to lean down and brush her cheek with a kiss, something a husband would do for his wife. Still, having her apologize to him made the empty feeling in his stomach even worse. In an effort to assuage his guilt, he fell back to teasing, hoping to lighten the mood.
“If you don’t stop apologizing, I’m going to be the one getting suspicious,” he joked, reaching down and picking up her fork. Pushing it into her hand, he pointed at the tray. “Now finish your breakfast, or I’ll take my chopper and go home.”
Kelsey smiled, taking the fork. “Home. God, I can’t wait to get home.” She scooped up a forkful of eggs and popped it into her mouth. “Did I happen to mention I hate being stuck here?”
“Once or twice,” he said dryly. He sipped at his coffee and watched her while she chatted and ate. It wasn’t even nine yet, but he was already exhausted. It had been one hell of a morning—a roller coaster of emotion.
He would have to be a lot more careful if he was going to avoid the kinds of mistakes he’d made this morning. He still wasn’t exactly sure how the whole subject of her car had come up. She’d mentioned something about the helicopter, he’d mentioned something about the car, and before he knew it, they were knee-deep in an argument he’d had with her years before.
He finished the cup, set it on the tray and reached for the coffee carafe to pour them both more. He needed the caffeine, as much as he could get this morning, but what he really wanted was Dr. Cohen’s head on a plate.
The good doctor had suggested he help Kelsey fill in the blanks. He just hadn’t mentioned how difficult it was going to be. Kelsey had been terribly upset to learn about her car, which only made him dread all the other things she would have to rediscover.
Still, the morning hadn’t been a complete wash. He’d learned one very important thing—he was going to have to be a lot more careful or he was never going to be able to make it work.
“Cooper said you got a little upset this morning.”
Kelsey glanced away from the window to the woman sitting in the chair beside the bed. She wasn’t in the mood to talk, wasn’t in the mood to lie there and do nothing, either, but she had little choice. “‘I wasn’t upset.”
Dr. Gloria Crowell paused as she wrote in the notebook on her lap, then peered at Kelsey over the top of her glasses. “Oh?”
Kelsey took a deep breath, hearing the skepticism in the doctor’s voice and hating it. Hadn’t she been poked and prodded enough for one day? “All right, all right, I got a little upset. What’s the big deal?”
Dr. Crowell slowly closed the notebook and leaned back in the chair. “Would you like to tell me about it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Kelsey groaned loudly and covered her face with her hands. “Psychiatrists. You people drive me nuts—crazy.”
“Is that right? A little like having a difficult patient?”
Kelsey stopped and peeked through her hands. “Okay, Doctor, point made.”
“Good. So, why don’t we talk about it—this morning, I mean. What got you so upset?”
“You mean other than the fact that I junked my car and couldn’t remember doing it?”
“Think that would do it?”
Kelsey turned and glared at the woman beside her. “Don’t you?”
Dr. Crowell smiled. “I’m the shrink, remember? I’m the one who gets to answer questions with other questions.”
Kelsey couldn’t help smiling, too, liking the woman in spite of herself. “And you’re so good at it.”
“You think so?”
Kelsey rolled her eyes. “You know, if I wasn’t crazy before, I would be, listening to you ask questions.”
“Oh? Is that why you work so hard to avoid answering them?”
The smile on Kelsey’s face faded. Maybe she didn’t like her so much, after all. “I’m not avoiding anything.”
“No?”
“No!” Kelsey insisted, turning away. The move was too quick, too careless, and it sent an arrow of pain shooting up her leg from somewhere beneath the cast She fell back against the pillows and pounded the mattress with her fist. “Look, I know you had to drive up here from Santa Barbara, but couldn’t we do this some other time? I told you yesterday I wasn’t ready for this. I don’t feel like talking.” She turned her head. “I don’t feel like having my psyche probed at the moment.”
“Sure,” Dr. Crowell said, making no move to leave. “We can do this any time you want. Just have the nurse give me a call. I thought since I was here and—”
“And I was so upset?” Kelsey snapped sarcastically.
Dr. Crowell leaned forward in the chair. “You seem a little upset now.”
Tears stung Kelsey’s eyes. She impatiently blinked them away. “Okay, maybe I am upset, but why does everyone keep making such a big deal about it? Why can’t all of you just leave me alone?” The tears became too much, despite her efforts to push them aside, and they streamed down her cheeks. “I feel lousy, I’m snapping everyone’s head off, and I can’t stop crying. Why can’t I stop crying? Ever since I woke up from that stupid coma, I want to cry.”
“And that’s a problem?”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I don’t cry. I never cry.” She turned and looked at the doctor again. “Never.”
“Maybe you need to now,” Dr. Crowell pointed out simply. “Why not just let yourself go, get it all out?”
Kelsey lifted her head off the pillows and glared at the woman. “Because that’s not what I do. I don’t cry.” She sniffed loudly, swiping at the tears on her cheek. “It’s just that everything is so...so different. now.”
“Different? From what?”
Kelsey steeled herself, trying to will away the emotion, will away the fear. “From before.”
“Before the accident?”
Kelsey pounded her fist against the mattress again. “Yes, before the accident, before I woke up and found out I couldn’t remember everything, that huge parts of my life were missing.”
“So that’s what you want. The way things were before?”
Kelsey looked at the psychiatrist, feeling herself start to tremble. She felt like screaming at the woman, felt like ordering her out of her room and out of her life, and yet a part of her wanted to run so
bbing into her arms.
“I—I don’t know what I want, Dr. Crowell,” she confessed, weary of trying to put up a front, of pretending nothing was wrong. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me. Nothing seems right anymore, nothing makes sense— nothing except Coop. Being with him is the only thing that feels real. No one else realizes what it’s like, no one else understands there is this big hole in my life—this big, black, ugly hole that—that...”
Dr. Crowell waited, watching Kelsey struggle. A trained eye wasn’t needed to see the words were difficult for her and the emotions almost impossible. “It frightens you, doesn’t it?”
Kelsey felt the fear like an entity within her, and her bottom lip trembled. “It scares me to death.”
“I’d like to try to understand,” Dr. Crowell said, leaning forward in the chair and slipping a hand over Kelsey’s. “I think I can help, if you’d let me.”
Kelsey turned to her. “How?”
“Talk to me,” she said, leaning back in the chair again. “Tell me what it was like, your life before the accident.”
Kelsey looked at the woman who had come so highly recommended, the specialist all her doctors had said would help her get her memories back. She was a rather formidable-looking individual, with her short-cropped hair and wire-rimmed glasses—not the kind of person with broad, motherly shoulders to cry on. Still, there was something about the woman Kelsey found herself responding to, something that made her want to open up and talk.
She wasn’t sure where it all came from—the words, the emotions—but before she knew what was happening, they were pouring out of her like sand through an hourglass. For the next hour and a half she talked about her childhood, her brothers and sisters, the loss of her mother. She talked about nursing and helping people, and about the bad dreams she’d been having. And she talked about Coop—a lot about Coop.
It would take her a while to decide what kind of an expert Gloria Crowell was on memory loss, but when it came to listening, the woman was a master. By the time the doctor had finished making the last of her notations in the tablet on her lap, Kelsey felt drained of energy—and eons better.
“For someone who didn’t feel like talking, I guess I did pretty good,” she said with a wry laugh. The smile faded from her lips. “Look, Dr. Crowell, about earlier...I was in a bad mood and—”
The doctor stopped her with a hand on the arm. “Hey, no explanations needed.” She bent, opened her briefcase beside the chair and slipped the notebook inside. “Besides, I’ve got a pretty tough hide—and there’s nothing I like better than a challenge.” She slid a glance at Kelsey and winked. “And I want you to notice I didn’t say a tough nut to crack!”
Kelsey laughed, appreciating the joke, but as she watched Gloria pack up her case, her laughter died and she nervously began to twist the end of the sheet between her fingers. “So? What do you think?”
“About?”
“About me,” Kelsey said with a nervous laugh. “Is it hopeless? Am I crazy—a tough nut to crack? Or do you think I’ll get my memories back?”
Dr. Crowell straightened, running a hand through her short hair. “You want them back?”
“More questions.” Kelsey groaned, rolling her eyes. “For once, please, just a straight answer. What do you think?”
The doctor zipped her briefcase closed and stood up, stepping close to the bed. “Kelsey, there are never any guarantees in my line of work, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in twenty years of psychiatry, it’s that a person can do just about anything they want, if they want it bad enough. If you want to remember bad enough, you will—when the time’s right, when you’re ready.”
Kelsey breathed out a long sigh and smiled. “Thanks, Doctor.”
She watched the doctor open the door and disappear down the hall. Then she reached for the buttons on the control panel mounted on the railing beside her and lowered the bed until she was lying flat. She stared at the ceiling, thinking about Dr. Crowell and the things they had talked about.
Actually she’d done most of the talking, but the doctor had been skillful in steering her in the direction she wanted. She wasn’t sure if the session had done much about the amnesia—the gaping holes in her memory were still there. But she couldn’t deny she felt better, and that counted for something.
She closed her eyes, feeling fatigue heavy on her lids, and let her thoughts drift to Coop. Having him with her was better than any pill or therapy session the doctors could offer. When they were together, it was as if nothing bad could ever happen. There was nothing they couldn’t get through together.
Still, a sense of loss nagged at her. Something major was missing in her life, something hidden in those lost memories, and she had to get it back, had to remember.
She let herself drift toward the darkness, too weary to sort it out now. She surrendered to the warmth and the security of sleep, telling herself once she got her memories back, the sadness would go away, the sense of loss would disappear. In the meantime, she had her life and the man she loved—and that was all she needed.
“It’s only been four days,” Coop snapped, feeling his blood pressure start to climb like mercury in a thermometer. “You said she’d have to stay for at least a week, probably longer.”
“I know what I said, and believe me, all of us here wish she would,” Dr. Cohen insisted, gesturing to the other two doctors sitting at the conference table with them. “But you’ve talked to her, you know how she feels. She’s doing great, and she is determined to go home.”
“You’re her doctors. Can’t you insist? Tell her there are tests you need to run or something?” Coop pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. “For God’s sake, make something up.”
“The fact is, Mr. Reed,” Vince Hamilton, the doctor of orthopedics, said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, “we have no reason to keep her. And as a nurse, Kelsey’s aware of that. There’s nothing she’s doing here that she couldn’t be doing at home—bed rest, relaxation.” He stopped and gestured to the woman sitting beside him. “It’s not necessary that she be hospitalized to continue her sessions with Dr. Crowell, and as tending orthopedist, I can tell you she won’t be ready for physical therapy on her leg until the cast comes off, and that won’t happen for at least another five weeks.”
Coop turned to Mo, who sat at the table with them. “You couldn’t talk her out of this?”
Mo shook his head slowly. “You know what it’s like trying to talk Kelsey out of something once her mind’s made up—and believe me, she’s got her mind made up to go home.”
Coop ran a hand through his hair. He’d only returned to Santa Ynez this morning and wasn’t ready for this. He’d flown the chopper back to Santa Barbara yesterday to tie up loose ends with Doris, make arrangements for another pilot to handle his flights while he was gone and check on things at his house. The break had felt good after three emotionally packed days. He’d arrived at the hospital this morning feeling refreshed and renewed—until now.
“Okay,” he said after a moment, glaring across the table at the team of doctors. He was furious with them, and anger made him strike out, hate everything about this—the charade, the doctors, and most of all his part in it. “So have any of you brain surgeons thought about what we’re suppose to do now?” He zeroed his gaze on Dr. Cohen. “Isn’t it time to reevaluate treatment?”
“I was hoping we could do that now,” Dr. Cohen said stiffly. He drew in a deep breath, pushing his glasses against the bridge of his nose. “And I don’t think we’re going to get anything accomplished hurling accusations back and forth.”
“Hurling accusations.” Coop snorted, shaking his head. “I love it. Anyone with the audacity to question your judgment is suddenly hurling accusations.”
“I think we all need to pull together here,” Dr. Cohen said. “For Kelsey’s sake.”
“Oh, yes, by all means, for Kelsey’s sake,” he scoffed. He leaned over the table toward the doctor. “It’s easy lo
oking out for Kelsey’s interests as long as you’re not the one in there lying to her, isn’t it, Doc?”
“Mr. Reed,” Dr. Cohen said in a reasonable voice. “The pretense hasn’t been easy on any of us, but the fact is she’s made remarkable headway. She’s up and around much sooner than we’d expected. She’s alert and gaining strength every day. Her physical progress has been nothing short of extraordinary.”
“Except her physical progress isn’t what we’re lying to her about, is it?”
Mannie Cohen sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. “Sit down, Cooper,” he said in a tired voice. “Let’s try and figure out where we go from here.”
Pushing himself away from the table, Coop grabbed his chair and sank into it. He felt the eyes of the three doctors boring into him, scrutinizing and inspecting every move he made. He knew he was acting like a jerk, overreacting, spouting off, but he couldn’t seem to help it. It hadn’t been easy posing as Kelsey’s husband, opening up the memories of what they’d once had and lost, making believe the last two years had never happened. Three days at her bedside had left him drained and exhausted. What was he suppose to do if they released her?
Dr. Cohen opened the chart in front of him. “Dr. Crowell,” he said, swiveling his chair in her direction. “You’ve had a chance to speak with Kelsey a number of times in the past three days. Give us your thoughts on how she’s progressing.”
Gloria Crowell flipped open the notebook on the table in front of her and looked over her notes. “Well, I agree Kelsey’s progress has been encouraging. She’s stronger, certainly less fragile emotionally than she was during our first session.” She paused, flipped the notebook closed and drew in a deep breath. “But I won’t lie to you, she’s got a ways to go.”
“Physically or emotionally?” Mo asked.
Dr. Crowell shifted in her chair. “Of course, this is just my opinion, and Dr. Cohen and Dr. Hamilton might be in a better position to judge, but I don’t see much right now that is going to interfere with Kelsey’s physical recovery. You just have to look at her to see she is definitely on the mend as far as that goes. Emotionally, however, I think there are still some obstacles we have to get over.”
Mind Over Marriage Page 6