The Heart's Shrapnel

by S. J. Lynn

  “Can he now?” I laugh.

  “Oh yes. I’d cook for him many a time. I’d make him his favorite dish of Veal Orlov. He loved it so much, and would tell me so.” Betty then proceeds to tell me what is in it. Seems simple enough, and it does sound good.

  Knowing his favorite dish, and hearing how un-complicated it is, warms me inside. It makes me realize just how human and regular he really is, though he’s not.

  “Would you like to know a secret?” she says conspiringly.

  “Um, sure?”

  “You come over here.” I follow Betty around the kitchen island. Behind it, underneath, are rows of top-shelf liquor, glasses, and some serving dishes. She reaches in on the top right shelf all the way to the back, and pulls out a green Tupperware container. She sits it on top of the counter. “This is secret only the Duke and I know, but I share with you. Da?”

  I don’t say anything for fear I’ll spook her away from telling me this. I feel like I know him so much more after these past two minutes with her than I did from the things Hugo has told me over the past two weeks. Yes, they aren’t big things, but they are little ones that make a person who they are. A portrait of a man rather than a patient or a Duke.

  “You see, the king of this castle like cake, but not any cake.” She emphasizes her point holding up her index finger. “German chocolate cake. I know him since he was little boy with curly hair, always had sweet tooth. When I take over kitchen, I make him dessert whenever he want. Every night, around midnight, we meet here, I keep big piece of cake for us to share. Our little secret.”

  I try to envision him sneaking down here at night, in his own house, to eat his favorite cake with his longtime family chef. Hearing this only makes me want to get to know him more, and I feel a twinge of sadness as I’m not at all certain that will happen.

  Betty must sense where my thoughts are going. “He come out of it,” she states with certainty. “He a fighter and decent man. He get through anything.” I see tears form in her eyes and she looks away from me to wipe them off with her apron. “Well, anyway, when he wake up, his cake will be here and so will I.”

  I don’t want to burst her bubble, but even if he did awake, he wouldn’t be able to walk down here to eat it. Betty puts the container back where she got it and turns to me.

  “So, enough of that. You tell me when you want to use kitchen, and I leave you be.”

  I thank her for the lovely meal she had made for me and head up to my room feeling pleasantly tired.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  HUGO TAKES ME ON A thorough tour of the grounds today. It is more beautiful than I could have imagined. I haven’t been able to explore all that much beyond the garden out front because I’ve been sticking to Evan like glue.

  On the way in, I remember the long, winding driveway meticulously lined with weeping willow trees as that seemed to embrace me in welcome. But, as it was nighttime I couldn’t fully enjoy the beauty of the grounds as I can now, in the full light of day.

  Acres upon acres of land stretch over the horizon, and as we keep walking, we come across a huge pond populated by ducks who no doubt call this place home. I make a mental note to stop by and feed them some-day. Maybe this is something the Duke would do when he was out here.

  Eventually, we find ourselves at the in-ground pool which looks like it stretches on for miles. A beautiful statue of a naked woman is placed in the center.

  The landscaping is another thing to behold. The lavish array of plants and intricate gardens give the grounds an almost exotic look like what you would find at a fancy resort—not that I’ve been to one.

  The actual castle, built of old stone, looks like it sprang up from the earth in ancient times. Green moss has taken up residency on the exterior walls. It’s in direct contrast with the modern addition that Hugo tells me that the Duke added on a few years back. Its design is exquisite with pillars and rounded archways. I feel like I’m in my own little fortress. Everything is beautiful.

  I’m happy to note that Hugo’s mood has lifted considerably, and I suspect it has a lot to do with the news I gave him last night concerning the Duke in which Shelly wasn’t too thrilled about. It is a joy to witness him like this, though I still worry about him expecting too much; still if this makes him happy, then who am I to take that from him?

  We’re becoming fast friends, which is not good. Evan hasn’t shown any additional improvement since yesterday, which was fleeting, and I’m afraid my time here might be running out. I’m a nurse, top in my field, and he could be competently monitored by someone far less qualified. They need me back in New York.

  “How did you like Betty?”

  I smile to myself, reflecting on our private chat about the Duke’s hearty appetite and passion for dessert.

  “I love her, she’s so open. She seems like she’s devoted to the Duke.”

  “We all are here. The Duke is a kind man, Ms. Carter. You will find this out soon enough.” He offers a smile and I shrink back a little. I want the Duke to wake up too. I can see how much his life has affected those around him. They miss him and want him back with them. But, I’m still not so sure that is going to happen and it would be unprofessional of me to encourage false hope.

  “I can see that.” We walk on. My mood is heavier than before. I don’t want to rain on his parade, but he needs reminding that this arrangement isn’t a permanent one. “Hugo, you know when I arrived that I was only to be here a week if nothing had changed with the Duke.”

  “Yes. And so much has changed since you’ve arrived. I can’t thank you enough for staying on. If you just bear with us a little longer, I’m sure everything—”

  “I can’t guarantee anything, Hugo. Ultimately, it isn’t my decision to make and I have responsibilities back where I’m from. I’m sorry, but I can’t just stay here and twiddle my thumbs, Hugo, but I can help you locate someone to take over when I leave,” I offer sympathetically. Hugo looks like he wants to object, but doesn’t.

  “I understand, Ms. Carter, although we have no wish for you to leave. In your time here, as I said before, there’s been more improvement with the Duke than all this time he’s been in that coma. So, for that, I thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” The Duke’s cousin pops into my mind suddenly. “I know you said that William doesn’t have control anymore, but does he ever come to see the Duke?” I’m not sure why that still is bothering me, but it does. I can’t imagine why someone wouldn’t visit their comatose cousin from time to time.

  “Oh, yes. He came at least once a week up until I hired you.” Hugo doesn’t continue further and I wonder if they had a disagreement over all of this. He sure doesn’t seem to like when I bring him up. Really, it’s none of my business. “I’m sure he will pop in soon though.”

  I nod my head and continue to walk.

  ***

  After checking on the Duke for the night, I head to my room exhausted. I bathe and curl up to read a book that I borrowed from the library. It was stories high, more books that anyone could read in a lifetime, and I plan on reading as much as I can before I have to leave.

  I jolt awake from a horrible nightmare. They haven’t happened since I’ve been here, and so I wonder why now. Feeling uneasy, and knowing that I won’t be able to go back to sleep anytime soon, I go to check on the Duke. Grabbing my robe, I throw my hair up in a messy bun, not caring what I look like, and slowly open our adjoining door. Allowing a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light, I prepare to tiptoe into his bedroom but I’m stopped dead in my tracks. It can’t be.

  The Duke of Warlington is rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He casts a confused look about the room. Unable to sit up, he lays there not saying anything, or even calling out for help. He doesn’t notice me yet.

  Crap! What do I do?

  I carefully tread over to his bed, not wanting to startle him.

  “Duke?” I whisper. I’m not really sure the proper way to greet a Duke, but as my patient this will do for now.

&
nbsp; He turns his head at the sound of my voice; his eyes meet mine in a bewildered state. From the crinkle in his brow, I assume he’s trying to figure out who I am and what I’m doing in his house…in pajamas, nonetheless. Now that I think about it, it’s probably not at all appropriate to walk around like this. I never would have done it in New York. But, I also don’t usually sleep next door to my patients and how was I to know that this would be the night he came out of his coma?

  His eyes are a deep sea of blue. They are soft and bright and knowing—the kind of eyes that pierce through your soul. The rest of him suffers in comparison. His cheeks are a tad too hollow for his face. Even his skin has a slight gray hue. He’s all tubes and wires, running in and out of his nose. I want to yank them all out. I’m sure they are confusing the hell out of him.

  For a second, I go to push the speaker button to alert Hugo, but decide against it. I want this moment. I want to be the one who eases him into this new reality of his. There are so many questions swirling in my head; I can’t even imagine how disconcerted he feels—and who or what he remembers.

  I saunter around the bed. His eyes never leave mine. “Hello, Duke. I’m your nurse. I’ll be taking care of you for a while. I need to ask you some things, but first, let me get this feeding tube out of you. You won’t need this anymore and I think you’ll feel better with-out it.” I’m shaking inside like crazy, but I try to offer him a reassuring smile. Thankfully the nervousness doesn’t spread to my hands.

  He closes his eyes as I retrieve the tube. Since I’m in my nightgown, this man is either really trusting, or he simply just wants freed from all of this medical bondage that he’s in.

  The feeding tube reaches through his nose all the way down to his stomach, and I’m careful to not pull it out too fast or too slow.

  “You are doing great,” I assure him. He gags a few times, and I wince at his discomfort as I successfully pull it out all the way. “Can you talk? Do you know who you are?” I keep my voice low.

  The silence is thick before he answers. “Yes, I know who I am.” He struggles to lift his arms to rub his neck. His voice sounds dry and rough, but it’s got to be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard in my life. He’s awake.

  There’s an empty glass and pitcher that I keep on his nightstand, although it was usually me that drank it while I read to him. Heading to the bathroom, I refill the pitcher and bring it over to fill up the glass and offer it to him. He doesn’t take it. Instead, he tries to reach over to pick up the newspaper. He is struggling to sit up, and I offer my help before I hand him what he seems to want so badly.

  “You read this to me,” he states.

  He was aware? He heard me reading to him. I wonder for how long?

  I take a seat next to him on the bed. I’m staring, but I can’t help it. I didn’t expect him to really wake up. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “I wasn’t sure if that was a dream or not.” His eyes flit over to mine before he turns to the paper once more, his questioning eyes on one spot. Minutes go by until he finally looks up—uncertainty evident in his stare. “Is this a joke?”

  “Is what a joke?”

  “This.” He points to the date line.

  “No. It’s not a joke. That’s today’s…well, technically, yesterday’s date.”

  He drops the paper in his lap and carefully runs his hands over his tired face. He looks around the room, taking in all the details he doesn’t remember or recognize.

  “I’ve been lying in this bed for over two months—almost three?”

  The uncertainty he’s expressing is heart wrenching. I can’t believe I even considered leaving. I was so set on getting back to my job in New York that I hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate all that I actually was doing for him that was good—that would make him better. Now here he sits, and I thank God that I didn’t give up when I could have, or this might not even be happening right now. Perhaps I was being a little selfish.

  “I’m afraid so. But now that you’re awake, we need to get you fully checked out.” I zero in on his other arm. His IV has come out. Getting up, I walk around the bed to his right arm and disinfect the needle for insertion. He peers up at me, studying me like I’m an anomaly. He’s so focused that he doesn’t even wince when I slide the IV back in. It’s unnerving how unscathed he is.

  “Everything’s fine. You must have accidentally pulled it out when you were waking up.”

  He blinks a few times, still trying to comprehend what is going on. “Must have.”

  “Give me a second, please, while I grab the rest of my supplies.”

  Once I’ve retrieved my medical bag, I reapply some gauze over the IV site and tape it up so it stays in place. “There, although I bet you can’t wait to eat actual food. I know Hugo will…”

  “Hugo? Where is he?” He lightly grips my hand, the warmth of his palm sending shock waves through my body. Startled, I jump. “Sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He removes his hand and studies it.

  “Oh, it’s nothing, I’m just not used to you being awake.” I clear my throat and try to smile. “Hugo’s in bed.”

  “I must speak with him at once.” Evan tries unsuccessfully to rip the covers off his legs; I move to stop him but I am too late. He leans over and clutches his head with his hands when a wave of pain seemingly plows through him. “Aaaah! Shite!”

  “Duke, listen to me. You have just awoken from a coma.” I place my hands on his shoulders to help calm him down. “I haven’t completely evaluated you yet. The last thing you need is to overwork yourself and risk the chance of seizing, which could lead to another coma, or worse. Do you understand? I won’t have it. Not on my watch.”

  “Miss…” He grits his teeth. “You don’t understand, and I don’t mean that unkindly.”

  “That might be so, but in this case, I’m your home health nurse. And I’m telling you that you need to rest. You have my full assurance that I will notify Hugo first thing in the morning.” Reaching into my bag, I rummage through it for some pain medication. “You need to get your strength back up. Here, take this.”

  He hesitates as if unsure he should be taking anything from me. But, it’s only for a brief moment. He opens his mouth and I place the pills on the edge of his tongue and hand him the water that was sitting untouched from earlier.

  “Why can I barely move my limbs? What’s wrong with me?”

  “You’ve been lying in this bed for quite a while. Without exercise, your muscles atrophy. You’ll need therapy to regain some of your motor skills. You’ve lost a lot of muscle mass. Recovery will take time.”

  He looks down at his upper body. His eyes stray to his arms. “Yes, I suppose I have. My head is fuzzy. What manner of spirits is this?” He grabs the pill bottle out of my hands, eyeing it like it’s poisoned wine, his cut-glass English accent sounding more slurred by the minute.

  “It’s not alcohol. It’s meds to help calm your nerves. It will make you drowsy so that you can rest. You need to sleep.”

  “Sleep? I’ve been asleep for over two months according to that paper that sits in front of you. Now, please, I need to speak with my butler.” I almost give in to his earnest plea. If I were him, I’d want to see a familiar face.

  “I’ll call him, but I need to ask you some things before I do that, okay?”

  He opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it.

  “Some of these questions might seem silly to you, but I need to understand how much the coma has affected your memory and motor skills.”

  “Okay,” he relents, his bottom lip sticking out slightly. I turn my face away from him, because I don’t want him to see me laughing at the sight of him sulking like a toddler. It’s comical, but also very adorable.

  “Can you wiggle your toes?” I pull up the sheet a bit so we can see. Placing his hand on his leg, he tries to move his toes. There’s some movement which is great news. I focus on his eyes. He’s gazing intently at his uncovered feet as if willing them to action.
r />   “No. I can’t.”

  “That’s okay.” My voice is soothing. “This is to be expected.” Grabbing my pen out of my pocket, I jot down some notes and catch him out of the corner of my eye curling his fists against his thighs in frustration.

  “Let’s try something else. Try lifting your arms as high as you can and for as long as you can.”

  “Okay.”

  He slowly starts to lift his arms. The strain he is putting on his body is too much and I can tell that he’s had enough. He only lasts about ten seconds before they drop down to his sides.

  “No, I can’t seem to hardly do that either.” He looks away in disgust. It breaks my heart. He should be happy he’s alive, rather than be ashamed of what he can or can’t do. “That’s it. No more, please. I’m exhausted.”

  I fluff his pillows behind him and motion for him to lean back. He sighs in relief.

  Sweat beads his brow and so I go to get a wet, cold cloth and carefully dab his forehead. He closes his eyes and starts to surrender to the medication.

  I hate to disturb him, but there are just a few more things I need answered before he can go to sleep.

  “Duke?”

  “Hmmm…” he mumbles.

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-ni—thirty,” he corrects.

  “Good. What is your full name?”

  He swallows. “Evan Jacob Frederick, Duke of Warlington.”

  “Great. One more question, and I promise to leave you alone for a while. Do you have any family, Evan?” Because he knows his name, I decide to use it from now on. He’s my patient, not my ruler. This should also help to make him more at ease with me.

  I wait with bated breath. No answer comes and I begin to think that he’s fallen asleep.

  “Cousin and grandmother…” His words are barely audible now as he slips into a peaceful slumber.

  Grandmother? This is news to me. Why hasn’t Hugo said anything about her? Why hasn’t she visited? Are they estranged? I scribble this tidbit of information down to ask about later.

  All said and done, our first meeting went really well. I’m shocked at how alert he was but realistic. It’s evident that he is going to need some work. His motor skills are not that great.