by Carian Cole
The shock of her words freezes me in place. It takes a few moments for me to regain the ability to move my feet and speak.
“Sh—She’s awake?” The last word catches in my throat and barely comes out. “And talking?”
“She’s in and out, but she’s trying to speak,” she says as I slip into my boots and head for the front door.
“Oh my God.” I gulp the cool night air as I step out onto the porch. “I can’t believe it. Is she okay? What’s she saying? Is she asking for me? I’m on my way there right now.”
“It’s very hard to tell, but it sounded like she was trying to say butterflies.”
“She said butterflies?” I curse under my breath as I smack my head on the doorframe climbing into my Porsche. I never should have left the hospital. “You’re sure?”
“Patients are usually very confused when waking, even from anesthesia. Your wife—”
Butterflies.
“I’ll be there in half an hour. Please tell her I’m coming. Tell her I’m on my way right now.”
I end the call and toss my cell phone onto the passenger seat, focusing on the road I’ve been driving with a mix of hope and dread for almost eight years. My hands shake as they grip the wheel, and my eyes blur with tears.
Finally, the scales have tipped to hope.
Ember’s awake.
My wife, my twin flame, my everything has come back to me.
Chapter Six
I used to show up at the facility in the middle of the night a few times a month. Some nights I came because I missed Ember so much, I couldn’t stand to be away from her. Other nights I was plagued with paranoia, and I’d have to come and see with my own eyes that she was still breathing.
Her waking up alone—without me there—has always been on the top of my worry list. And now it’s happening. She’s awake and talking, and she’s surrounded by strangers while I’m breaking twenty traffic laws trying to get to her.
When I finally pull into the parking lot, I can’t get out of the car fast enough. The main entrance doors are locked, but the night guard is behind the reception desk.
Sleeping.
“Hey!” I bang my fist on the glass doors.
He jolts awake and hits the door buzzer to let me in, which technically he shouldn’t have done, but following rules is the last thing on my mind right now. I rush inside and head straight for the elevators, ignoring the guard’s befuddled stare as I press the UP button impatiently.
“Excuse me, you have to sign in.” He stands, and his chair wheels back and bangs into the credenza behind him. “Wait, aren’t you the singer from Ashes & Embers?” He glances to the doors as if he’s expecting an entourage to appear.
I press the UP button again. “Nope. Not me.”
“Hold on. You have to sign in. Visiting hours are over. You can’t just come in here.”
The silver doors slide open, and I step inside the elevator, immediately pressing the door close button and then floor six as the guard crosses the foyer. The doors close just in time.
“Come on, come on...” I urge as the elevator ascends. My stomach lurches with the movement, and I suddenly feel like I’m going to be sick.
Ember’s awake.
This isn’t one of my dreams.
This is real.
My heart is thumping like a bass drum. My mind is a flood of excitement and questions.
What do I say to her?
What will she say to me?
What if she can’t talk?
The elevator opens, and I sprint down the hall, sucking in a deep breath as I come to a stop at her doorway. Three nurses surround her bed, blocking my wife from my view. When they finally move, I have to grip the doorframe to steady myself.
It’s been so long since I’ve actually seen her move that she almost doesn’t seem real.
She’s turning her head abnormally slow from side to side on the pillow, squinting her eyes against the bright overhead light. Her lips are moving, but I can’t hear her from where I stand. Swallowing hard, I step into the room.
“Ember...” Her name slips from my lips as it has a thousand times before.
In my daydreams, the sound of my voice would put an ear-to-ear smile on her face, and she’d reach her hand out to me, pulling me into a frenzied hug that would instantly erase all the fear and loneliness. Everything would be normal and right again.
But she shows no sign of hearing my voice, or even realizing I’m in the room.
“Mr. Valentine,” one of the nurses says. “You really should not be here.”
“I called him,” the other nurse says. “There’s a note to call Mr. Valentine immediately with any changes.”
“Yes, I should be here.” I veer around her. “She’s really...” I stop next to the bed as Ember’s focus drifts to my face. My heart leaps up into my throat as I instinctively touch her hand. “Awake.”
Or at least, more awake than she was. She’s no longer looking at me like I’m see-through, but not exactly focusing on me either.
“Em?” My voice shakes. “Hey, baby...”
Her eyebrows pull together in a dramatic scowl. She jerks her hand from mine and curls her fingers into a fist.
“No. No no no.” Her head twists to the side. “Help...”
The crack in my heart spreads and threatens to split wide open. “It’s okay. You’re at the hospital. You’re safe. Me and Kenzi are fine too. Everything’s okay.”
Smile. Assure. Enhance calm. Repeat.
Exude epic zen.
Suppress my own screaming soul while I’m at it.
Repeat.
A moan escapes her lips, haunting to the bone, and it makes the hair on my arms stand on end.
I look to the nurse who’s grabbing Ember’s hands to still her. “What’s wrong?” I ask. “Where’s the doctor? Why is she crying? Is she in pain?”
“You just missed the doctors. This behavior is normal. She’s confused and experiencing an overload of senses. She’s not fully coherent or aware of what’s happening.”
I’ve always been terrified that she’d wake up and be totally dysfunctional for the rest of her life—screaming and thrashing with no idea who or where she is. I don’t think I’ll be able to cope with it. It’ll be the end of me.
“Will that get better?” I ask as Ember’s whimpers feed my fears. “She’ll become more coherent, right?”
“Hopefully, yes, in time. We’re going to sedate her, and we’ll run more tests in the morning when the doctor comes back.”
I tear my attention from Ember to zero in on the nurse.
“Sedate her?” I echo. “Is that safe? She just came out of a coma and now you’re going to give her tranquilizers? What if she doesn’t wake up again?”
“That’s highly unlikely.”
“But is it possible?”
“I don’t believe so, Mr. Valentine. Honestly, it’s too soon to know anything.”
I glance at Ember, who’s whispering incoherently. My heart twists again. “Are you sure she’s not in pain?”
“Quite sure.”
I’m not convinced. “She seems so agitated.”
“That’s to be expected. Hopefully, her brain will slowly start to process things normally, and she’ll settle down. Right now, we don’t know what recovery will mean for her. It’s best we keep her as calm as possible. And you as well.” She smiles and pats me on the back.
I’m not liking the fact that the word hopefully has been used twice now.
Nodding, I turn back to Ember. My breath quickens at the sight of her with her eyes closed.
Only a few seconds have passed, and I already want to shake her awake. My heart literally aches with the need to hear her voice—soft and happy like I remember. I want to fast forward to the part where she’s wide awake, talking and smiling.
I need to hear her say she loves me.
I’d sell my soul to hear those words again.
“Can I stay here with her tonight?” I ask. “So I can
be here when she wakes up again?”
“I’m sorry, but we can’t allow that. As you saw, she’s in a very fragile mental state. All visits are going to have to be kept to an extreme minimum for now.”
I feel like I’m in my own fragile mental state. I don’t want to leave her. I’m on the verge of grabbing my wife and running far away from here. Away from tests and restrictions and unknowns. Instead, I lean down and plant a feather-soft kiss on Ember’s forehead, ignoring the glances between the nurses. “I’ll be back in the morning,” I whisper. “I can’t wait to see those beautiful eyes again.”
By the time I drive back home and begin to fully process the shock of Ember actually beginning to wake, I’m too exhausted and mentally fucked to call Kenzi or anyone else to tell them the news. All I want to do is go to sleep so tomorrow gets here faster.
I’m so tired of being tired. How much longer can I live like this before I lose my mind?
All I want is my wife and our life back.
I have so much to tell her. How—where—do I even start?
Chapter Seven
She doesn’t even have to say a word. I know.
She’s much calmer today, but I can see it in her eyes. Or I guess I should say, I can’t see it. The golden spark—the unique glimmer that lights up Ember’s entire being—is gone.
The very first time I met Ember, it was her eyes that captivated me. Then her smile and her sweet, happy personality sealed the deal on my heart. But her killer eyes—the way they lit up like fireflies when she looked at me—knocked me to my knees right from the start.
When I walked into the hospital room a few moments ago, her gaze locked onto mine. Wide and green, finally focusing directly on me and seeing me.
Amid the crazy, shocked excitement whirling around in my mind and in my heart, an awful realization rose straight to the top.
There’s no radiance of recognition in her eyes.
The I’m looking at the man I love like crazy glint isn’t there.
It’s gone.
I use the act of putting the vase of flowers on the nightstand to give myself a few seconds to convince myself that she’s probably got the worst case of brain fog ever.
And she’s been sedated.
That’s why she’s looking at me like she has no idea who I am.
Not because she forgot me.
“I thought you’d like these,” I say softly, turning to face her with a smile. “They’re called pink pearl roses.”
She blinks at me like an uninterested cat as I drag the guest chair closer to the bed and plant myself in it. Now I know why nurse Sherry was trying to stop me in the hall on my way in. She wanted to warn me so I wouldn’t be sitting here at a total loss for words.
Which is a first for me, because I always have the right words.
But not today.
My breath stalls as I look at her, my excitement morphing to somber empathy. Now that she’s awake, her deep sunken cheeks, dark under-eye circles, and sharp, protruding bones are suddenly much more pronounced. I saw her slow physical decline daily over the years. It progressed in small, almost unnoticeable increments until it became the normal. But now, the severity of her emaciation is gut-wrenching.
And yet, I still think she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Bones, pale skin, limp hair, chapped lips, and all.
She’s still the woman of my dreams. The only woman in the universe I want.
We stare at each other, her with cautious curiosity and me with utter fear of that curiosity. Sherry shuffles into the room with her cart. She hums an upbeat tune in an obvious attempt to break the thick, glacier ice between us.
“I see you have your very first visitor,” Sherry says casually.
Ember shifts her eyes uneasily between me and Sherry. Her chest rises and falls with each breath, her skeletal fingers clenching and releasing the blanket. Clench, release. Clench, release. I ache to touch her. To hold her tight in my arms and comfort her with whispers and soft kisses.
But the way she’s looking at me leaves no doubt that moving any closer to her would be an extremely bad idea.
“He’s the best first visitor anyone could have. He’s handsome and funny, and he always brings the prettiest flowers. He’s got some gorgeous hair too.” Sherry touches my hair playfully and gives us a reassuring smile. “Do you remember him?”
“No.” Her voice is foreign, distorted and hoarse, a mere scratchy whisper. But that single word could not have been clearer if she had screamed it at the top of her lungs.
“Asher, take some deep breaths.” Sherry trails after me as I stumble to the window at the far end of the hospital hall like a zombie. I had to get out of that room, away from the word no and the unfamiliar eyes before I had a meltdown.
I force air in and out of my lungs.
My head spins.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t feel my legs.
What the fuck is happening?
Outside, the sun is shining in a perfect, blue cloudless sky. We should be out there right now. Sitting by the lake, writing songs. Planning adventures for the grandchild that’ll soon be in our lives. Kissing and laughing. We should be living our dreams.
We shouldn’t be here in this continuous nightmare.
This shit only happens in movies. Not to real people.
Not to us.
What higher power hates us? What the hell do we have to do to be granted access through the door of happiness again?
Sherry lightly touches my arm.
“Tell me this isn’t really happening,” I say. “Tell me she hasn’t forgotten who I am.”
“Asher—”
“I feel sick.” I rub my hand across the persistent pain in the center of my chest. “I think I’m having a fucking heart attack.”
“You’re having a panic attack. Take some deep breaths. Do you want some water?”
I shake my head and try to remember how to make myself breathe.
“Asher, look at me.”
When I don’t turn, Sherry grabs my arm and pulls until I give in and face her. She removes her glasses and puts them on top of her gray hair. “It may not feel like it right now, but this is a blessing,” she says. “We’ve been praying for this day for such a long time. It’s a miracle.”
I nod, still taking deep breaths through the tightness in my throat and chest. “I know.”
Down the hall, I spot another nurse enter Ember’s room. I should be in there with her, not out here falling apart. “And I’m blown away that she’s awake. I can’t even put into words how fucking incredible this is. To have her back. It’s like a dream. I just wasn’t expecting—” I’m almost afraid to say the word. Like saying it aloud will set it in stone and make it permanent. “Fucking amnesia.”
She tilts her head. “It’s understandable and normal to be scared, but listen to me. She only just woke up. For lack of better words, her mind is a jumbled mess. She doesn’t know who anyone is—even herself. Memory loss is common with any head injury, and especially with a prolonged vegetative state. In time, her memories should fall back into place. Her brain is like a big puzzle right now, with all the pieces scattered to places she can’t find yet.”
I get that. It makes total sense. But it still doesn’t calm my heart.
“She didn’t show any sign of recognizing me. Not even a glimpse.” I blink back the sting in my eyes. “She looked petrified. It’s fucking killing me. I don’t know what to do...”
Or say.
Or think.
“I don’t know how to fix this.”
“Asher, it’s not your job to fix everything. You have to believe that.”
I nod, but it’s a lie. It might not be my job to fix the ones I love, but it’s my purpose. I wasn’t put here on this spinning orb just to sing and play guitar.
“Give her time. Give yourself time. Ember’s a very rare case. We knew she wasn’t going to wake up and be back to normal, throw her arms around you, and stroll out of here. Th
at’s impossible.”
“I know.” I shove my hand through my hair. But that’s exactly what I was hoping for. Normalcy and smiles and hugs. Love. “You’re right. I can be patient. I just want her to be okay. That’s all that matters.”
“You’ve been the King of Patience. You’re allowed to feel scared. You need to understand that as scary as this all is, she’s actually doing much, much better than we ever could have expected. When the doctor was here earlier, he couldn’t believe it himself. She can actually talk. That’s extremely rare. She can move her arms and legs. She can swallow. She’s aware of her surroundings. Those are huge, and I mean huge, positive signs that give us a lot of hope for her continued recovery.”
Hope. I’ve been running on hope for years. It better not have an expiration date, or I’m screwed.
I stare down the hall at Ember’s door. “What if she never remembers me? Where do we go from there?”
“You take it one day at a time. Just like you have with everything else.” She smiles knowingly. “And how could she not remember you? You’re a pretty unforgettable guy.”
I wish.
Sighing, Sherry brings her glasses down to the bridge of her nose. “Take a few minutes to yourself. Dr. Simms will be back at eleven to go over a preliminary treatment plan and next steps. Ember, you, and your family have a really long road ahead of you.”
“How does this work? Is it okay for me to even be there if she doesn’t know who I am?” The last thing I need is to be violating some kind of medical privacy policy.
“Of course. You’re her husband and legal guardian.”
“Does she know anything at all? Like how she got here, how long it’s been since the accident, anything?”
She shakes her head. “Not yet. When the doctor was with her earlier, she was told she was in an accident. She seemed to understand what he was saying. She panicked and had to be sedated. I do think she needs to know that you’re her husband. Knowing someone is here for her should give her some comfort. Other visitors should be restricted until she’s mentally stronger. Too much too soon will be overwhelming for her.”
