* * *
I didn’t say much the rest of the way back to the house and then ate very little before telling Smoke and Maureen that I was retiring to the bedroom. It wasn’t five minutes after I crawled under the covers, that I was fast asleep.
When I woke the next morning, Smoke was in bed beside me, his body spooning mine. Instead of bringing me comfort, it troubled me.
What had happened before I was shot that brought these unexpected feelings? Coupled with my dreams about the two of us being angry with each other, I couldn’t help but think that maybe we weren’t happy together. The idea of it brought me to tears.
I eased out of the bed, used the lavatory, and went into the main living area of the small house. Maureen was in the kitchen.
“Would you like some tea?” she asked.
“I’d love it. Thank you.”
“I’m afraid this is all you can have until after your scan.”
“I’m not hungry anyway.” The anxiety over what I might learn today about my memory left me with no appetite.
One thing the doctor had said during our meeting the day before was that I didn’t have to be on the IV any longer, nor was pain medication necessary unless I felt as though I needed it. That, along with the antibiotics I’d been given intravenously, I could now take in pill form.
I picked up the steaming cup from the counter with my left hand and then immediately set it back down. My mobility on the left side of my body had improved steadily to the point where I often forgot it wasn’t functioning normally. That my hand shook while I held boiling-hot liquid was a quick reminder that I was still suffering from more than memory loss.
“She’s not to have anything to eat or drink,” said Smoke, coming out of the bedroom, looking both disheveled and sexy as hell.
Maureen pointed to a piece of paper on the kitchen counter. “She is permitted clear liquids.”
He nodded and then set about making coffee. Again, the aroma of it brewing stirred something inside me, but I couldn’t pull the memory forward enough to know what it was about.
“I like coffee.”
Smoke turned to me and smiled. “You do.”
“More than tea?” I asked.
“Not that you’d admit.”
“May I have some?”
He shook his head. “You like it with cream.”
Instead of showering, I took a bath in the tub that was more luxurious looking than the rest of the house. Whoever owned it had left bath salts that smelled of lavender. I sunk into the warm water and closed my eyes. Again, the smell evoked something I could feel but not see.
It seemed as though scents stirred my memory over anything else. Just not enough for me to picture the reminiscence.
I heard a rap at the door. “Come in,” I said, putting my arm across my chest to cover my breasts. I moved it when Smoke walked over and sat on the edge of the built-in tub.
“That looks very relaxing.”
“There’s room for two,” I said, winking.
“Maybe two people the size of you, but if I got in, it would overflow.”
I reached forward and pulled the plug. “That’s easily solved.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Hurry before I get cold.”
Smoke reached behind him and pulled his shirt over his head and then lowered his joggers to the floor. Seeing his arousal stirred my own.
He settled behind me, and I closed the stopper when the water level was low enough that overflowing was no longer a threat. When I leaned back into him, Smoke put his arms around my waist.
“You have the most beautiful hair,” he murmured, kissing the side of my head where the wrapped bandages covered what was now only stubble.
“Do I?”
I felt him nod. “It’s inky black with waves that cascade onto your shoulders.” He kissed my shoulder. “Your skin is like alabaster, and your eyes…”
“What about my eyes?”
“They can freeze a man’s soul.”
His lips on my neck distracted me.
“Freeze?” I murmured, leaning into his mouth. “That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
“There are times it isn’t.”
While I wanted to ask more, his tongue running from below my ear down my neck and to my shoulders, left me bereft of thought. When he brought both hands up to cover my breasts, my body writhed of its own accord.
“Touch me,” I said, moving one of his hands between my legs.
Smoke cupped my mound, but I wanted so much more. “Please,” I begged.
His touch was gentle but nonetheless arousing. His powerful arm kept me still while his fingers pleasured me. Instead of satisfying my craving to feel Smoke inside of me, it made the yearning worse.
“I want more,” I whined.
“Soon,” he whispered.
“You’re playing with me.”
“There’s no toy I like more.”
“Is that all I am? A plaything?” I teased. “Smoke?” I said before he could respond. “Were we happy?”
“It was complicated.”
I closed my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. Did I really need to know? Couldn’t I be happy that I was in Smoke’s arms and he loved me? Did he love me?
I was about to ask, when I felt his arms tighten around me. “There’s no future in our past, Siren.”
“But there is a future?”
“I’d like to think so.”
“But?”
“I’m a lot older than you are.”
“Thirteen years,” I murmured, remembering that he’d told me I was twenty-six and he was about to turn thirty-nine.
“That’s a big gap.”
With so many uncertainties, our age difference was the least of my worries.
* * *
This time, Smoke said he’d stay at the hospital with me until they took me in for the scan and then leave once they took me into the room where the test would be conducted. “I’ll try to be back before you’re finished, but if I’m not, Maureen will wait with you and call me.”
I’d ask what he was doing, where he was going, but with despair weighing me down, I didn’t really care.
* * *
When I was finished and exited into the waiting area, I didn’t see Smoke. However, Dr. Mansfield was there, talking to my nurse.
“Hello,” I said.
“Siobhan, I was hoping we could take some time to talk.” Since Smoke wasn’t back anyway, I didn’t see why not.
“Sure,” I said and then turned to Maureen. “You’ll let Smoke know I’ll be another hour or so?”
“I will.”
I followed the doctor down the corridor and outside to the other building where his office was located.
“I want you to know that Smoke came over and talked to me while you were in radiology. He’s concerned about your state of mind.”
“Meaning?”
“It would be natural for anyone with retrograde amnesia to be depressed.”
I waited until we were inside his office before saying anything else. “I’m remembering things,” I began.
“That is very good news.”
“Snippets really. Less than that.”
“What about that concerns you the most?”
“That what I’m remembering is…troubling.”
“Can you give me an example?”
“It doesn’t seem that Smoke and I were happy together.”
“What is your relationship like now?”
I shook my head and looked out the window. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
“If you had to characterize it in any way, what words would you use?”
“That isn’t easy.”
“What comes to mind?”
“He cares about me.”
“I would agree. Very much so.”
“He seems conflicted.”
“That doesn’t describe your relationship.”
“Tentative.”
He nodded. “What else?”
“Tenuous.”
“Logical that it would be.”
The phone on his desk rang, startling me.
“Excuse me. I’ve been expecting a call from Dr. Taylor.”
I cocked my head.
“The specialist you met with yesterday,” he said before lifting the phone’s receiver. “Arthur. Have you received any results?”
I watched as he listened, murmuring and nodding his head periodically.
“I’m meeting with Ms. Gallagher presently. May I share these results?” He waited a few seconds and then set the receiver back in its cradle. When he walked back over to me, he pulled his chair slightly closer before making notes on the pad he held in his hand.
He cleared his throat. “There is good news I can share with you.”
“Go on.”
“The MRI and CT scan indicate your brain is healing rapidly. Better than might have been expected.”
“But?”
He shook his head. “The other good news is that nothing showed up to suggest there is a medical reason for your amnesia to continue.”
“That doesn’t sound like good news.”
“It is. It means the ‘snippets,’ as you called them, will likely increase in regularity and, as your brain continues to heal, the details of your memories should become more and more clear.”
I wished I felt as happy as the smile on his face suggested he was. Instead, I was filled with a terrible sense of foreboding.
13
Smoke
I loaded several bags of women’s clothing into the back of the SUV and read the text I received from Siren’s nurse stating she was currently meeting with Dr. Mansfield.
With each day that passed, I watched Siren become increasingly sullen. While it was to be expected, what I didn’t want was for her to sink into a bottomless depression. Whether her memory returned or not, or how quickly it happened if it did, she’d have to find a way to manage her emotions.
Before starting the engine, I called Hammer.
“How’s Siren?” he asked.
I filled him in on the tests the doctor had ordered for her. “I called to thank you for making the connection with the psychiatrist.”
“I’m glad that’s working out.”
“She’s with him now.”
“What about you?”
“I’m headed back there shortly.”
“That isn’t what I meant. Are you talking to Mansfield too?”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, Smoke. This wouldn’t be easy for anyone to navigate.”
“I’m managing.”
“Keep me posted.” Hammer ended the call, leaving me sitting in the SUV, vacillating between thinking my friend was a pansy-assed pain in my neck or one of the best friends I had. I appreciated that he didn’t press me further; if I chose to talk to the psychiatrist, that would be my business.
* * *
I drove up in front of the medical complex and saw Siren and Maureen waiting at a table in a courtyard. When I got out, they stood and walked toward me. The look on Siren’s face troubled me.
I looked at her nurse, who shook her head.
“Dr. Taylor asked us to come in at one,” said Siren.
I looked at my watch. We had a little over two hours. “How about an early lunch?”
“If you’re hungry,” she responded with zero animation in her voice. It made me want to do something to piss her off just so the fire would come back into her eyes.
Instead, I’d take her somewhere special.
* * *
“What is this?” Siren asked when I drove through the gates of Asheville’s well-known Biltmore Estate.
“This place was built by George Vanderbilt, Cornelius Vanderbilt’s grandson.”
“Should those names mean anything to me?” she asked, looking out at the spectacular views of the property.
“Not necessarily. To be honest, I know very little about the family myself.”
Siren gasped when we drove through a second set of gates and, to our right, she saw the main house. I stopped the SUV and put it in park.
“It looks like a castle.”
“It’s the largest privately owned house in the United States,” I said, reading over the brochure I’d picked up earlier while shopping. “Would you like to look at this?” I asked, handing it to her.
“Is this where we’re having lunch?”
“Not precisely, but we are dining on the estate.”
I continued our drive past the vast gardens, along winding roads, until I came to Antler Hill Winery.
“This is lovely,” Siren said, stopping to look out at the rolling hills of vineyards. “It reminds me of something.”
I walked over and stood behind her. What I was about to do was risky. However, Siren needed to remember things, whether or not that meant she and I would go from lovers back to enemies. Not helping her was selfish on my part. “Close your eyes.” I peeked over her shoulder and put my mouth near her ear.
“You and I were in Spain, on the island of Mallorca. We were working an asset-protection op, and one night, there was a meteor shower predicted. We sat on the sand as the full moon illuminated the ocean and the hills of vineyards on the estate.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “I think I remember,” she whispered without opening her eyes.
“You looked so beautiful—your pale skin glowed, and the fire I saw in your eyes…I came so close to kissing you.”
Her eyes opened. “But you didn’t?”
“Not then.”
“Why not?”
“A lot of reasons. We were working.”
“And yet we were sitting on the beach, looking for shooting stars?”
I turned her in my arms and looked into her icy-blue eyes. “I didn’t dare hope you’d want me to.”
“I did.” Another tear ran down her cheek. “I don’t know how I know that, but I do.”
I leaned down and kissed her like I’d wanted to do that night. Siren wrapped her arms around my neck, and I slid my tongue between her open lips. I didn’t care if the tourists walking to and from their cars saw us or even if it made anyone uncomfortable. I’d stopped myself from tasting her lips that night, and today, I couldn’t.
She pulled away first and looked into my eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“If you don’t mind, I think I’d enjoy shopping a bit before we head back,” said Maureen.
“You’re not hungry?” asked Siren.
“I’ll grab a bite on my own,” she said with a wave as she walked away.
“I feel terrible.”
“Don’t. She looked happy.”
“She’s probably getting tired of being around me,” Siren muttered. “And don’t say you are too.”
I smiled. “I’d never tire of being with you.”
“You’re not a very good liar, Smoke.”
I led Siren up the steps to the main winery building. Since she couldn’t have alcohol until cleared by her doctor and I was driving, we declined the offer of a glass of wine while we sat out on the patio and enjoyed our lunch.
* * *
“This was really lovely,” she said when we left the estate and returned to the medical complex. The closer we got, the more I could feel Siren’s anxiety increase. I reached over and clasped her hand.
“Whatever we learn, we’ll face together.”
She nodded but didn’t say anything.
* * *
Rather than go in with us, Maureen offered to remain in the waiting room while Siren and I spoke with the doctor.
“This is healing nicely,” he said after he removed Siren’s bandages and studied her incision. “We can leave these off.”
Siren’s hand went to her shaved head, and her eyes filled with tears. I brushed past the doctor and put my hand around her wrist. “It will grow back.” I brought her hand to my lips and kissed the back of it. “Let’s hear what else he has to say.”
“As Dr. Mansfield informed you, we see no evidence of a medical reason for your amnesia.”
“Might something show up on the other scan?” she asked while I sat, stunned she hadn’t mentioned this news during lunch.
“I’ve received preliminary results, and no, nothing showed up there either.”
“Which means?” I asked.
“I believe it is only a matter of time before Miss Gallagher’s memory returns.”
“That’s great news,” I said out loud, while inside, I felt like I’d just been given the worst news possible.
“As far as physical activity, I’d like you to begin therapy next week. In the meantime, as long as you don’t overdo it, you can resume sexual relations along with light exercise.”
“Are there any other restrictions?” she asked.
“Only that you take things slow. Adequate rest will continue to be imperative to your ongoing recovery.”
While both Siren and I should be smiling, given the news, neither of us were.
* * *
Rather than unloading the things I’d purchased for her earlier in the day, we packed up what we’d taken into the rental house after Siren asked if we could return to the ranch instead of spending another night in Asheville.
She was quiet, sleeping on and off during the drive back while I spent the time wondering if I should disregard Dr. Mansfield’s warning not to tell Siren the truth about our relationship.
“I’d like to lie down for a bit,” she said once we’d driven through the ranch gates and reached the main house.
“Of course. I’ll bring everything in.”
When I walked inside and down the hallway, the door to my bedroom stood open. Siren wasn’t on my bed, but I saw the door of the bedroom where she’d slept the night before we went to Asheville was closed. I couldn’t help but see it as a bad sign.
* * *
Siren slept through the night; I knew because I’d checked in on her several times, and when I did, she was softly snoring.
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