by Edie Claire
Her face reddened.
I laughed out loud, and my eyes teared up all over again. “You’re going to like him, too, Mom,” I insisted. “I know you are.”
She smiled back, but it was a smile tempered with concern. “I’m sure I will, if you do,” she responded. “But you should be careful not to get your hopes too high… about how he’ll respond to all this. You have to remember that you didn’t exactly meet under normal circumstances. And now if he can’t remember—” she broke off, clearly uncomfortable. “I just don’t want you to get hurt any more than you already have been.”
Another icy blade sliced through my chest. Why, oh why, did they have to keep saying such things out loud? Wasn’t I afraid enough already? Weren’t my feet itching, even now, to get back to him and put things right, before he could slip away from me again?
I rose. “I need to get back to the hospital.”
My mother got up with me, her hand on my arm. “Oh, no you don’t!” she ordered. “You are going to stay right here and get some sleep.”
“But I just woke up!” I protested.
Her lips pursed. She pointed at the darkness outside the window. “It’s the middle of the night here, Kali,” she reminded. “Hardly visiting hours. They wouldn’t even let you in.”
I sank back down on the bed. “First thing tomorrow, then,” I said miserably.
Then I would talk to him. Then I could invite him to come back with me to Cheyenne, and we could start all over again.
We could.
Chapter 2
I was met at the front desk of the long-term care home by the tall, friendly nurse who had led me in to see Zane yesterday morning. “There she is!” the woman boomed in her drill-sergeant voice, even as she smiled broadly. “It’s about damn time! Our boy’s been asking about you.”
Warmth flushed my cheeks. “He has?”
The nurse grinned knowingly. “Mm hmm.”
My joy was mixed with regret. I had intended to arrive as soon as the doors opened, but after having been awake half the “night” staring at the motel ceiling, I had overslept, and neither of my parents — maddeningly — had chosen to wake me.
“Can I see him now?” I asked, sounding more impatient than I wanted to.
The nurse merely laughed. “Sure thing. Go on back. Room 264. Just be sure to knock first, this time. Our boy’s got a thing about his privacy.”
I’ll bet. I took off down the hall, wondering how awful it must be for any formerly healthy teenager to wake up in a world full of funny odors, IV tubes, and bedpans. The Zane I knew would hate having to rely on other people to take care of him. He would fight to get better as fast as he possibly could, think and plan and scheme a way to finagle himself out of here…
His door was standing open about a foot. As I approached I could hear him talking, presumably on the phone. His voice was even more hoarse than it had been yesterday. I knocked on the door, waited about two seconds, and slipped into the opening.
His bed had been adjusted to where he could halfway sit up. A tray table stretched before him holding an ancient-looking landline telephone, a notepad, and several pens. The curtains on the windows were drawn back and sunlight flooded the room. He looked up, and my stomach flip-flopped as his beautiful sea-green eyes lit up in recognition. He smiled and gestured for me to come inside. “That’s great!” he croaked into the phone. “It’s happening even quicker than I’d hoped. Thanks. Bye.”
He hung up. I wondered, with a dull sense of dread, exactly what was happening so quickly. But my brain was too preoccupied to obsess on the point. It was all I could do to drink in the sight of him.
He looked different from how he had appeared in Oahu, true. When I first saw him, he’d appeared to me as a sun-bronzed, curly blond hottie glowing with health and vitality, despite his not actually being alive. The living, breathing Zane had a complexion that was unnaturally pale, and it was obvious from his slumped posture and the slow, halting way he moved that he was still very weak. But there was no mistaking the glint of joy and humor in his eyes, nor the killer smile that spread across his face to create the sexiest dimples on the planet.
“Kali,” he said breathlessly. “You came back.”
I crossed the room in two strides. Did he remember me now?
Easy, girl.
“Of course I came back,” I answered, trying hard to sound casual and friendly, as if I would not have — with the slightest encouragement — launched myself into his arms and held onto him so tight it would take the entire nursing staff to dislodge me.
“My parents showed up yesterday and took me to a motel last night to sleep,” I explained, keeping a safely polite distance between us. “But I’m here now. How are you?”
“Better now,” he answered, not taking his eyes off me. “I was starting to think that maybe I dreamed you.”
I felt a tug of guilt at the worry in his voice. Waking up from a coma must be completely disorienting under the most normal of conditions, and his last twenty-four hours had been anything but normal. Of course my bizarre appearing-disappearing act would seem surreal.
“I’m sorry, but they made me leave the room while they were examining you,” I explained. “Whenever I asked if I could come back in, they told me that either you were busy with tests or you were napping, and then it was after visiting hours.”
His mouth twisted. “I asked about you, but they told me you were asleep in the lobby and they hated to wake you because you were jetlagged.”
“Yes,” I admitted ruefully. “That was true, too.”
His expression turned serious, and a wave of coldness swept up my spine. The Zane I knew never got serious without good reason.
“I am so totally confused,” he said. “I need you to explain some things to me.”
My joy dampened. Is that the only reason he was glad to see me? “Of course,” I answered. “If you don’t remember what happened in Oahu then it figures nothing else would make sense to you.”
He blinked at me. “I understand we’re in Nebraska.” His voice was steady enough, but I could sense the pain — and bewilderment — beneath it.
I fought back another desire to hug him. “That’s true. We are.”
“But you said we were in Oahu together. You were talking about it yesterday before I opened my eyes. When did all that happen? Why can’t I remember it? They told me that I should expect some memory loss, particularly what happened right before the accident. But I can remember the accident. I remember the whole trip!”
A swell of panic rose. He still didn’t remember me. And if he didn’t, why should he believe anything I said? He had no reason to accept my story and every reason not to. I could just be some stalker chick who saw a picture of him somewhere and got obsessed (not as unlikely as it sounds, given his gorgeousness) or some fortune-hunting schemer who knew his dad had money and read about the son’s accident online. I could be anybody. Why should he —
“Could you sit down?” he asked mildly.
Now I blinked at him. “What?”
He smiled at me. “It freaks me out looking up at a girl. I’m used to looking down at them. Messes with my manly ego, which is taking a pretty big hit already with the whole ‘bedridden’ thing. Can you grab that chair?”
I would have smiled back, but I was too petrified. How could I ever make him believe me? I grabbed the visitor’s chair, dragged it to his bedside, and sat down. “I know I need to explain,” I said uncertainly. “I’m just not sure where to start.” I ran a hand nervously through my long, curly locks. They were clean, at least. I’d shampooed last night for the first time in about three days. When I’d finished, the bottom of the motel tub had been gritty with beach sand, and I’d almost cried. I could almost cry at nearly anything lately.
To my surprise, he reached out and touched my hair.
Yeah. Anything like that.
My eyes teared up. I swiped the moisture away savagely. How unbelievably embarrassing.
He pulled his
hand back. For a moment, neither of us said anything.
Then I pulled myself together and straightened. “I don’t know how to tell you this except to just tell you. Then if you want to call me crazy and throw me out, you have every right.”
I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t bear to see the inevitable doubt in his eyes.
“I’ve been in Oahu for the past week. You’ve been here in a hospital bed. At least, your physical self has been. But…”
This was incredibly, unbelievably hard. It sounded even crazier explaining it to him than it had to my parents.
“But all my life I’ve had this weird thing — I call it a curse, but you called it a gift — where I can see things other people can’t see. And even though it makes no logical sense, I saw you in Oahu, surfing on the North Shore. We thought you were dead — that you were a ghost. Except you didn’t remember your life and didn’t know how you had died. We spent days together, doing all the things I talked about before. You started to remember, but you also started fading away from me, the same time the staff here noticed signs that you were coming back. Finally, you faded away from me completely. I was really upset, but then I saw another shadow, or ghost, just like you who wasn’t dead, and I figured out that you must be alive somewhere too. And so I—”
“You told me about that yesterday,” he interrupted. “I remember. Your friends helped you figure out where I was.”
I looked up at him. He was studying me intently, his green eyes blazing. “You came all the way from Hawaii to Nebraska just to find me?”
So much for acting casual.
I nodded.
He had been holding himself off the bed a little, his arms shaking with the tension. In one motion, his eyes dropped from mine and he fell back onto the pillows.
Another pain slashed through my chest. He didn’t believe me.
I sat motionless, waiting, for what seemed like half an hour. It was probably only five seconds, but it was all I needed to feel utter despair. If he didn’t believe me, I would never see him again. He would recover and go on with his life alone, remembering me forever as the whack job who’d showed up at his bedside blubbering like a baby and making a complete ass out of herself. Later on, he and his girlfriend would laugh about it…
No. He had to believe me. He just had to!
I stood up again. “I’m not lying to you, Zane!” I pleaded. “I swear, I’m not.” My mind began to race, searching for the kind of ‘proof’ that men like my dad needed to hear. “I knew that the accident was with an old woman driving the wrong way down the interstate, because you told me that. You told me she had the dome lights on and her headlights off, and that she looked scared. You were really hoping you didn’t hit her — did they tell you that you missed her, that she’s okay? How could I have known those things before you even woke up?”
He said nothing. I didn’t know what he was thinking because I couldn’t bear to look at him. I just kept pacing. And thinking. How could he be convinced?
Inspiration struck. “You told me a lot about your childhood, back when that’s all you could remember. You told me about having your first surf lesson when you were nine, and how your dad’s girlfriend bought you ice cream and took your picture. You said your mother was an actress, that she was a star on one of the soaps. She did commercials, too, and your favorite was one she did with a dressed-up dog.”
“Kali,” I heard him say hoarsely, but I went on. I was afraid to stop.
“You showed me a scar on your forehead, and you told me that a ramp broke and you went over the handlebars of your—”
“Kali!” he repeated, louder.
Reluctantly, I stopped my feet and turned. I cast a glance in his direction and his eyes caught and held mine.
“Will you stop?” he said good-naturedly, a smile playing on his lips. “Sheesh, you’re making me dizzy! I can do without the rundown of every embarrassing thing that ever happened to me when I was a kid. I believe you, okay?”
My heart skipped a beat. “You do?” I squeaked.
“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”
The blood in my veins began to warm again. “Why wouldn’t you?” I repeated. “Because it’s the most ridiculous, messed up, unbelievable story ever! It makes no sense. Why would you believe it?”
To my amazement, he laughed out loud. “Don’t ever go into sales, Kali. You’d totally suck at it.”
“Thanks,” I returned in an appropriate deadpan, pretending annoyance.
In reality, I was fighting another urge to go jump on him.
“Please,” he begged. “Come sit down again. You really are making me dizzy.”
“Sorry,” I said, sitting. “You mean it? You really believe I’m telling the truth? About everything?”
“It is some pretty weird stuff,” he said thoughtfully. Then his eyes began to twinkle. “But if it brought you here, hey — I’ll take it.”
I melted in my chair. If he kept looking at me like that, I’d be a puddle on the floor.
“Besides,” he continued. “I am cheating, kind of. I may not remember anything about being in Oahu, but whatever happened did seem to… well, leave an impression on me.”
My head snapped up. “How?”
He let out a long, slow breath. “The first thing I remember after the accident is hearing people talking. Nurses and doctors, I guess. They kept asking me to open my eyes, but I didn’t want to. I was so tired — but it was more than that. I knew they were trying to help me, but I just didn’t want to be here, with them. Plus they kept calling me Zachary — like the first day of school. It was annoying.”
I grinned. “They told me they didn’t know your nickname.”
He stared at me. “But you did. You said my name and you sounded like you knew me, like we were… close.”
My pulse pounded. “You could tell that?”
He nodded. “Now you’re going to think this sounds weird, but I swear, it’s true. When I heard your voice, before I ever opened my eyes, I had a picture of you in my head. I wanted to open my eyes and look at you, to prove to myself that I wasn’t making that up. But for the longest time, I couldn’t get my eyelids open. It was like trying to lift a pickup truck with one finger under the bumper… it just wasn’t happening. But I kept on working at it, and gradually it got easier, until finally I did it. At first I couldn’t see anything — the room was a blur. It took a while to clear up, and I was afraid you had left because you’d stopped talking. Then I realized you’d fallen asleep. I hated to wake you, but I wanted to see your face — I had to know if it matched the picture in my head. Once I got my hands moving, I couldn’t resist checking out that incredible hair.” He grinned mischievously. “So I woke you up. And you lifted your head and looked at me. And sure enough — it was you. I knew your face as well as I know my own. The only thing was — I had no clue why. I had no idea who you were; I didn’t even know your name.”
My cheeks flushed with warmth. I could only hope I looked rosy, rather than manic. “So you do remember,” I said in a half-whisper. “At least, some part of you remembers some of what happened.”
“I must,” he agreed. “Although it’s maddening to get such a tiny glimpse of the whole picture. To think that I’ve lost all memory of seeing you stroll along Sunset Beach in a bikini… that’s just criminal.”
His face was deadly serious, but his eyes were dancing, and the sight made me chuckle. “You can rest easy on that one,” I assured him. “I promise, neither you nor anyone else has ever seen me in a bikini. I don’t do swimsuits.”
“Well, that’s even more criminal,” he protested with a frown. “You said yesterday that I promised to teach you to swim. I did mention that the Zane Svenson School of Aquatic Instruction has a dress code, didn’t I?”
“You did,” I teased, suddenly fighting tears again. “I’ve got my official head-to-toe wetsuit all ready to go.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Fishnet?”
“Shut up!” I smacked him playfully
on the shoulder. My hand tingled pleasantly from the touch of his now wonderfully solid body, but his visible flinch just as quickly filled me with horror.
“I’m sorry,” I gushed. “I didn’t think. You must be sore all over from the accident.”
He attempted a smile. “A little, yeah.”
Don’t rush it, I ordered myself. One step at a time.
“Have you thought about where you’ll go now?” I blurted. “I mean, to finish your recovery. You don’t want to stay in Nebraska, do you?”
His eyes looked away from me. He seemed suddenly tired. “No, I don’t,” he answered. “I’ve been working that out just this morning. The lawyer who’s handling my dad’s estate is helping me get a medical transport to California. He’s setting me up at a rehab hospital near his place in Malibu.”
My stomach dropped into my shoes. “California?” I repeated.
“Right,” he answered, making a lame attempt to sound cheerful. “It’s where I was headed before the accident anyway, a little stopover on the way to Hawaii. I need to work out some things with him, like seeing exactly how much I have to live on until I’m twenty-one, and figuring out what to do about college. I haven’t met him yet, but he seems like a nice enough guy. He was my dad’s friend, too, not just his lawyer.”
I sat perfectly still, staring at him stupidly. I felt like a fool. Zane might have no family, but that didn’t mean he was helpless. He could go wherever he wanted to. He had other options. He didn’t need me.
“That sounds good,” I forced out. Then I just went for it. “I was going to say, if you didn’t have any other offers, you could transfer to someplace in Cheyenne, where I live. My parents and I could make sure you have whatever you need.”
Zane’s eyebrows lifted. I could often read his thoughts, but this time I was confused. He seemed surprised… and maybe touched… but at the same time, pretty obviously horrified.
“That’s really nice of you, Kali,” he said awkwardly, looking down at his hands. “But I think I should stay near Craig and his family. At least for now.”
