"They're here," Dr. Grace tells me, bringing an end to the stream of passing thoughts. "Are you ready? Do you need a minute?"
Do I? My breathing quickens. No. It's now or never. "No... it's fine." My fingers find each other and twist into a series of knots. Dr. Grace gives my knotted hands a squeeze, goes to the doorway and waves, and then moves to stand by the window.
Edward appears at the doorway. His eyes are rimmed with barely-concealed fear. Nestled in his arms, snuggled into his neck is a little boy with copper curls, just like Edward's. Edward whispers something to him, and he turns his head.
My heart stops.
We have the same eyes.
The boy's lips mouth the word... it can only be 'Mommy'.
I don't think. My good arm rises of its own accord, and reaches toward him.
Edward shuffles forward, his expression shifting from fear to hope. The boy is straining forward, arms outstretched. "Gently with Mommy, Ryan," he says softly, and, with only the slightest hesitation, places the boy at my side.
And something connects. Whether it's his warmth, his sweet baby scent, I don't know... but something is just... right. His little body is heaving with sighs and whimpers of relief, and after a long moment absorbed in him, I realize he's softly crying.
"Shh..." I soothe him, tucking him under my arm. I stroke his back awkwardly, as my other arm would be more well-suited to this task but remains encased and useless.
I look to Edward for reassurance, and he nods, blinking rapidly. It takes me a moment to realize that he's trying not to cry.
Little Ryan's dimpled fists clutch my shirt. There's a sense of urgency, of desperation in his hold on me, and not just physically. He has me entranced. I try so hard to pull any whisper of remembrance, any memory of him, and I can't. But he's... mine. How do I just know?
Ryan's tears slow, and he unburies his face to look up at me. His nose has run gloriously and his cheeks are splotchy pink, but his eyes are clear and blue, exactly like mine. He notices my cast. "Ouch, Mommy," he declares.
"Yes, baby boy. Mommy was hurt for a while, but she's getting better now," Edward tells him gently, coming forward again to wipe his runny nose with a tissue. Ryan sits back and shakes his head in resistance, but it appears Edward has had some experience with this, and Ryan's face is relatively snot-free in seconds.
Ryan mopes for a moment, then continues his appraisal of me, his eyes scanning my face, looking to the now-dormant machines off to one side, and then tentatively reaching out to brush his toddler fingers over my cast. He looks back to my face as though asking permission, and I nod. I begin to worry if he senses my nervousness, or worse, my lack of recognition. Considering the looks on Edward's and Dr. Grace's faces, I think I'm passing the test with flying colors. However, the only judge I'm interested in satisfying is the two-year-old giving me a diligent look-over.
His scrutiny continues, passing over me, up and down, like he's making sure that I'm really here, that I'm real. He must have had a real bond with his moth- I mean, with me. I have to keep reminding myself that to him, I've just been gone a month, that he knows me, that this is far more delicate and open-wounded for him than for me.
Ryan suddenly puts his hand on my unusually soft belly, patting it gently. "Sur-sur bye bye?" he asks.
I hear two gasps. Edward's face is suddenly ashen, and Dr. Grace has her hand over her mouth. Both appear in a great deal of pain.
"What did I miss?" I ask, confused. "What's he talking about?"
Ryan looks to Edward expectantly, and then turns his eyes back to me. He's confused as well. What did he say?
Edward gulps, and Dr. Grace stifles a sob. My heart plummets, and my mind taunts me. One information bomb, coming right up. And I hope it's not what I think it is. Sur-sur... sursur, sister? Oh please, God, no.
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. "Something you want to tell me?"
~ EDWARD ~
I take a few breaths. I. Must. Not. Cry.
"Krissy, please... let my mother take Ryan so we can talk about this," I say in my gentlest voice.
"No!" Ryan dives under Krissy's arm once again, and Krissy pulls him into her side, clutching him to her. Her frosty expression indicates that she has no intention of relinquishing him. My mother has made no move to take Ryan; rather, she's frozen to the spot. I can't say I blame her, with a storm of this magnitude brewing.
"Please, we shouldn't argue in front of our son," I beg her.
"I wasn't aware we were about to argue," she says, her voice remarkably even. It occurs to me that she's using him as a balm, but this isn't fair to him... he won't understand. He's too little.
"I can't... explain... in mixed company," I inject my meaning into the words.
"Krissy, honey..." my mother interjects.
"Find a way." Krissy's voice is still even, but there's a new edge to it... sadness. Fuck. She knows.
My heart hurts, all over again. It hurts.
"Mom, will you wait in the hall... please?" I ask, and hear her shuffle away. The heavy door clicks shut. I am without backup, without rehearsal, just... without. I mechanically drop into the chair at Krissy's side.
I'd hoped Ryan would forget. I'd not thought he'd bring it up. The possibility of the current situation had not even crossed my mind... I should have remembered how excited he was, that he associated Krissy and the baby indistinctly from the moment we'd told him. More pain... that's the last thing either of them deserves. I'm failing miserably as a husband and father. My Krissy would be so disappointed in me. I should know exactly what to do. I'm failing them.
Krissy's expression changes subtly, as though she's reading my last deprecating thought, and for a mere second, I think I see recognition in her eyes. It's all I have, so I cling to it.
"Krissy, Ryan... I have something to tell you." Ryan's head turns slightly and I can see his eye peeking at me. "Can you come out so I can talk to you?" I ask him. It's a long moment before he relents. He pushes himself to a kneeling position, but his hand rests on Krissy's chest, almost protectively. The gesture stabs my heart with a pinprick of pride. He is, after all, my son... he's protecting her... from me.
I suck in a breath. "Ryan," I begin, "I know that we all talked about how you were going to have a baby sister." I require another breath, not only to continue my story, but to keep it from being broken by a quivering voice. "We all wanted her very, very much. But something... happened, and she had to go away."
"Where go?" Ryan's voice rings clear and innocent. I swallow the lump in my throat.
I offer my family a small, sad smile. "Heaven."
Krissy mouths words at me, eyebrows knitted together. 'The accident?'
I nod.
Her eyes close, and I realize that on some level, she's feeling the loss as I did a month ago. Ryan's expression is one of pained confusion. I'm sure all he's able to comprehend at this point is his own disappointment, but then, his consideration of others often amazes me.
"Ryan, do you need to ask anything?" I prod. Flynn had said this revelation would likely confuse him, and to be receptive to any questions he has, and to answer them as honestly as is age appropriate.
"Why?" he says.
"Why what, Ryan?" I encourage him.
"Why sur-sur go-way?"
Oh, this is hard. I can't explain the mechanics of death without scaring or confusing him, and I'm not sure how Krissy will react to my bringing spiritual beliefs into this very serious conversation, but if I know her well, and I hope I do, she'll appreciate my answer.
"Your baby sister... she had another job to do," I tell him. "It's not a job like Mommy or I do when we go to work, this is a very special, very important job; much more important than any other job in the world. And since she was such a special girl, and because she loved her big brother so much, she decided to become an angel."
Krissy's eyes have opened, and a single tear has run down her cheek. Her eyes are so understanding, so loving, and also grieving. In this moment, I kno
w she approves.
"Angel?" Ryan clasps my attention once again.
"Yes." I swallow that awful lump again. "She's your guardian angel, and that means, she's always with you, always watching you, and she'll be there to help protect you, even though you can't see her."
"She 'tect Mommy too?"
"Yes, Ryan. Phoebe protects Mommy too." I need to stop talking, otherwise I'm going to weep in front of my son.
"Ryan," Krissy's soft voice rises. "Will you let Daddy take you outside for a few minutes? Mommy and Daddy need to talk for a while, okay?" Her eyes move from Ryan's to mine, and I feel her understanding. She's taking this so well... too well. And she's handled Ryan beautifully. I'm endlessly proud of her.
Ryan nods, and I gently scoop him up. He wraps his arms around my neck, his eyes trail behind me, and I know he's still glued to his mother. I won't keep him away for long. "Blow Mommy a kiss," I say, and he does. Krissy mimes catching it, holding it to her heart, as she always has, and my heart stirs with hope.
~oOo~
"My mother was there when they took her... she worked on the baby herself, but nothing could be done. She was just... gone."
Krissy and I spent a half hour talking through what happened that day. She cried, I cried. I made her nibble on the pancakes I'd brought, but considering the depth of today's revelation, I wouldn't be surprised if it puts her off this breakfast food forever.
"Are you okay?" She asks me, genuine concern edging her voice. My Krissy would be more worried about me than herself, as well. She's coming back to me in pieces, in feelings and nuances, it seems. The least I can do is to be forthcoming.
"Honestly," I shake my head, "No." I shift a bit in the chair. It's all too familiar and just as uncomfortable. "I used to be able to talk to you about all manner of things..." I trail off. Krissy's expression of betrayal pins me where I sit. "I don't mean that unkindly, love, not at all. I just don't want to burden you, not with things you don't understand."
"Then help me to understand," she demands, her eyes narrowed. "She was my child, too." The tone has gone from melancholy to tense and distrustful in as little time as she's often accused me of allowing my moods to swing.
"I'm trying," I promise her. "I really am." I shift from the chair to settle on the edge of her bed, and I pick up her hand. It surprises her, I think, and she doesn't pull away from me.
"Yes, you're very trying," she snaps, but squeezes my hand. My heart picks up speed. She's said this to me before, as well. She isn't remembering, but she's... adapting?
"I know," I admit to her, returning the squeeze. "And not to diminish any part of the confusion you've experienced since you woke up, but this is difficult for me to navigate as well. If I tell you too little, it makes you feel as though I'm keeping things from you, and if I were to tell you too much, it could be too overwhelming for you to handle, and I don't want to hurt your chances of remembering. Please, please know that my intention is for you to know everything," I implore. "I want you to come home with us this afternoon. We can leave as soon as the doctor clears you."
Krissy's expression drifts, and her eyes lower. She looks torn.
"What is it?"
Her eyes flicker to mine, then back to her fingers a few times. My stomach churns, my heart races with fear.
"Please, Krissy. Tell me."
"I... um..." She closes her eyes and sighs. "Ithinkimgonnagohomewithray."
"What?" I heard her, and I wish I hadn't. My heart sinks.
She swallows. "I think... it would be better, for everyone. I'm going home with my dad for a while."
I'm not sure what to say, but I'm holding my breath, and it's getting painful. I blow it out quickly and inhale again. "I don't understand," I say.
"Everything's so... new, and confusing and sometimes uncomfortable. I haven't had time to process it all. I don't know how I can be expected to remember when I haven't had time to really think."
"So that's it." I can't help but allow the hurt in my voice to escape. "You're running." I fold her hand between mine and bring it to rest at my lips. The abandonment I felt when she left me those years ago comes creeping back, and I suddenly have the urge to be sick.
"I'm not running away, Edward," she tells me. "I'm just going someplace familiar for a while. If our positions were reversed, wouldn't you want familiarity?"
"And who will look after you? You can't expect me to just..."
"I don't expect anything from you," she interrupts. "You've done so much for me. I can't burden you with something over which you have no control. And what if I never remember? I can't hurt you like that."
"But you're my wife." My voice begins to crack. "I love you. I need you. You and Ryan are everything to me." Fuck. More tears.
"I'm not going there to hide, Edward. You'll still see me, and I want to know Ryan. Maybe it's a good sign that I felt something when I held him, I don't know. But I want to be around him, and I'd like for you and I to get to know each other again, slowly. Maybe we went too fast before and maybe that's part of why I can't remember, I just don't have any answers. But I agreed to talk with your guy Flynn. Maybe he can help. Maybe he can help us both."
"So that's it." I'm being petulant, I know. She has it wrong, of course. She couldn't possibly guess what we were about back then. But what else can I do? She's leaving me. Leaving me. It hurts.
"What else is there?"
We're both at a loss. "I don't want you to go," I whisper to her fingers.
"I know." And she does, she understands, on some level. Just not on mine.
She can't go. It isn't safe, away from home, away from the protection our home provides. She needs me to look after her. She needs her security personnel. She needs Ryan. And Ryan needs his mother, and I can't let anything stand in the way of this.
"Krissy, I beg you to reconsider. I'll do anything," I plead my case, trying to keep my voice even. "Ray can come to stay with us. I'll move to one of the guest rooms, as I said before. I need you home, where I know you're safe. I need to know you're taken care of. If anything were to happen to you..."
She sighs. "But hasn't something already happened to me?" She means the accident.
"Yes, you're right. But I am... paranoid, and used to having things under control. I need to know you're safe," I reiterate. "It's the most important thing to me, knowing the people I love most are safe and taken care of. Please, baby." I kiss her fingers. "What must I do?"
She blinks, watching my face. It's like she's working something out. Does she feel my despair? Can she reach deep down and feel how powerful this need is, to have her safe? And I realize, for the first time since she woke, that so long as she's safe and happy, I can live with her not loving me.
"There's more, isn't there?"
"More?"
"More."
I sigh, and a twisted part of me wants to laugh. "This whole thing between us started with more, my love." Oh, fuck. It just slipped out. I was thinking it, not intending to say it. Shit.
"What does that mean?"
"It means..." How shall I put this? "It means, that once upon a time, our positions were, of a fashion, reversed."
"I don't understand."
"Do you want to?" The crease in my forehead is pleading.
She nods. "Yes."
I can't breathe. She has me between a rock and a hard place. I have her attention, and though she hasn't said it, she may allow me to take her home if I were to give in to her curiosity about us. But our relationship was anything but traditional, and I'm still, three years later, processing exactly what happened to lead us to each other, and why she went along so willingly, knowing how dark I once was.
But if I tell her nothing, I may certainly lose her. "I'd like to tell you everything, Krissy. I'm just afraid you won't understand." And it's the truth. She deserves nothing less than my honesty, even if it is vague.
"Try me."
I sigh again, feeling for a way to salvage this. It dawns on me to try a new tactic, it worked before,
early on. "Baby, I want you home. That's the bottom line. How we get you there is entirely up to you. In that, I am at your mercy." I keep my eyes locked on her, drawing her in, searching for any sign of recognition, of response to me. I'm certainly not out of practice in the art of seduction, though I am about a month rusty. I run my fingers over the creases of her palm. "I propose that in exchange for your agreement, I'll employ Dr. Flynn as a medium to help us get reacquainted, and that includes, but is not limited to, how we came together in the first place." Oh, the double entendre of that final statement. "What do you think?"
"Well, wouldn't you tell me that anyway?"
"I would, but it might be easier to bear if there were a neutral but informed party present," I negotiate.
"I still don't see what's in it for me."
"Our son isn't enough reason?" I slip again.
She blanches. "That's not fair."
"No, it isn't, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant," I stammer. God, I'm really grasping. "I want you to see him every day, and he you." I exhale. "I'm only thinking of what's best for our family as a whole."
She's on the fence. I can see her gears spinning, and I know I've reached her. I deploy my expression of utmost contrition for the situation she's in, and the sincerity to match that of my offer to her.
She sucks in a long breath. "I need to call Ray."
My heart sinks. I close my eyes. I've lost her.
CHAPTER 9
~ EDWARD ~
I can't believe I've let this happen.
I bring her fingers to my lips and kiss them, briefly, lovingly, and then release her hand. I fish in my pocket for my Blackberry and hold it out for her. "Speed dial eight." Mechanically, I rise and carry myself from her room.
I'm vaguely aware that my mother is cuddling my son, who appears fast asleep. Everything else is fuzzy. I drop into the chair next to them. My eyes unfocus. I'm staring straight ahead at... nothing. I clench and unclench my fists. I need to control something... now.
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