Mend

by Autumn Grey

  In between listening and studying the man sitting next to me, watching me like a hawk, I lay my head on the pillow, closed my eyes for just a few seconds. I knew I could trust this man, even though I couldn’t justify the reason I felt that way. I remember someone kissing my forehead and whispering, “Good night, ma belle.”

  “Good night, Remington,” I mumbled as exhaustion pulled me under.

  MY EYES blinked open. I winced as the bright light hit my eyes and quickly shut them again. The room was quiet.

  Where am I?

  Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes carefully and blinked several times to adjust my vision. White walls, tiled ceiling . . .

  I turned my head and winced again. My neck felt stiff, as if I hadn’t moved it in a long time. I continued to take in the room and my eyes rested on the head full of curls with blonde-dyed tips, currently resting next to my hip.

  Marley? What is she doing here? And why am I lying on this bed, in this room?

  I tried to lift my hand but couldn’t; a weight was pinning it down. Glancing to the side, I saw Marley’s hand was on mine, her fingers carefully curled around it.

  “Marley.”

  What is wrong with my voice? Why can’t I hear myself?

  I wiggled my fingers, but they felt heavy, as if I hadn’t used them in years. I blinked and suddenly a scene played inside my head, clearly.

  I shift on my chair, rubbing my tummy to ease the sudden jabs of pain. Did I eat too much? Admittedly, the food was delicious. Remington hired a chef who specializes in Provençal Cuisine for this evening’s dinner. Maybe I need to walk off the food I consumed. I stand up and head out the door to the patio for some fresh air, and then exhale in relief as my stomach settles. My thoughts, like every other time, wander back to father and son. Today we had such a wonderful day, something we needed after the fire that burned most of the vineyard. I’m looking forward to spending the evening with him. Maybe tell him I’m thinking of extending my stay in France. The last few days, I’ve thought of possibilities that leave my head reeling. I’ve seen how my life would be with Remington and Adrien in it. God, I want that so damn bad. But I also realized I’ve been selfish, accepting Adrien calling me Mama yet planning to leave in a little over two months. I need to apologize to Remington, tell him he was right to be angry with me. Tell him I’m staying.

  God, I’m about to explode! I need to talk to him and Adrien before the boy falls asleep.

  I walk back to the dining room and refill my glass, with water this time, and bring it to my lips. My heart thumps inside my chest, and I have to grip my seat to stop myself from jumping up and heading upstairs to wait for Remington in the hallway. Instead, I laugh as the rest of my nervousness melts away.

  “I’m staying,” I whisper the words, rolling them on my tongue. They taste like freedom from my past and hope for the future.

  I gulp down the water, but suddenly I’m not feeling too good again. I clutch my stomach and push the chair back. Shit! I need to get to the bathroom before I vomit all over the floor.

  Something clatters on the stone floor behind me. Startled, I turn around, smiling, hoping that Remington has snuck downstairs wanting to surprise me. But before I can do that, the sick feeling overwhelms me. I heave and vomit.

  “Serves you right, you bitch. Did you think I was going to stand by and let you steal Remington from me? I’ve watched you for a long time, bided my time, waited.”

  I groan, raising my head to face this person and the only thing I see is a face flash in front of me before sharp pain explodes in the back of my head. I fall forward, my forehead hitting the floor. I try to lift myself with my hands, but I can’t. My head and stomach ache, my throat is sore, and I vomit again. I close my eyes to clear my vision, and when I open them again, I can’t see anything. The darkness that surrounds me is so deep, so terrifying. I think my mouth is open, calling to Remington, but there’s no sound.

  The tap, tap, tap of high heels grows farther and farther away. The last words I hear are, “Sorry, but this is not personal,” before my world goes black.

  My breathing came out in pants as the memory faded. Oh, my God, the stalker tried to kill me.

  I can’t breathe.

  God, I can’t breathe.

  “Hold her down!” someone shouted. Loud beeps filled the room, feet shuffled on the floor.

  “Remington!” I called out. “I need to talk to him. Warn him. Oh, God, please. That woman . . .” I fought against the horde of hands trying to hold me in place.

  “A hundred sixty to ninety and rising!” Another voice. “We need to calm her down.”

  “02 levels going down fast!”

  “Selene!” A familiar voice. Marley. I wanted my sister but I couldn’t get to her.

  “Marley! I want my sister. Please don’t send her away.” I thrashed on the bed in an effort to get to her. “Don’t take her away from me, too.”

  “Get her out of here!” someone yelled.

  “Merde! Won’t do any good. Bring her here.” Another voice.

  Suddenly, a hand clasped around mine. I turned to find Marley at my side and I gripped her hand tighter.

  “Don’t go. Please don’t leave me,” I said desperately. “I can’t lose you, too.”

  “I’m here, sis. I won’t leave you. Ever,” she vowed while tears rolled down her face.

  “BP still rising.”

  Then I felt a sharp prick on my arm and seconds later, everything became blurry.

  No, I don’t want to sleep again. I need to speak to Remington.

  Please, no.

  Everything went black.

  THE FLIGHT to London seemed long. My mind was preoccupied the entire time with thoughts of Selene. She couldn’t remember me. After we left the room to discuss the final details for the transfer to Paris, the doctor had informed me she was suffering from short-term amnesia caused by the blow to the head. There was no way of knowing how long it would last. A sharp pain dug into my chest, and spread all over my body. After leaving the hospital, I had called my mother and informed her of Selene’s condition and also asked her to hold off any visits to the hospital for Adrien. I didn’t want him to go through heartbreak, especially if Selene couldn’t remember who he was.

  The airplane touched down at Heathrow Airport at exactly 10:32 a.m. Forty-five minutes later, I strode inside the hospital and was standing in front of Caleb’s room, trying to catch my breath. I heard voices drifting through the door.

  Merde.

  My father was in there. I had planned to spend a few minutes with Caleb alone before surgery. My head was already fucked up with everything that was going on with the stalker and Selene, now awake but agitated and with memory loss; I wasn’t about to let my father inflict any more pain on me. I spun around and went in search of Dr. Hayes.

  “Remington?” a familiar voice called out.

  I looked over my shoulder to see Adele. She smiled widely, hurrying toward me.

  “It’s so good to see you, big bro.” She embraced me then pulled back. Jesus, it felt incredible to just be held like this. Comforting. “How are you doing?”

  I narrowed my eyes at her, studying her face. Black rings surrounded her eyes. “Better than you, I think. What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. “It’s Caleb. He doesn’t look so good.”

  “Why didn’t anyone call me earlier? You know I’d have—”

  “Shh . . . Remington. No,” she said, cutting me off. “Selene needed you—needs you, and Adrien as well. You’ve gone through so much the last few weeks. Caleb . . . we could wait.”

  “Adele.” She flinched at my tone.

  Merde!

  I sounded sterner than I had intended. “Adele,” I repeated in a gentler tone. “Please don’t do that. You of all people know me. Caleb is my blood. I need to know what’s happening. I can handle anything, okay?” She nodded. “And I want you to take care of yourself, all right?”

  She nodded and quickly wiped her cheeks. “A
re you going in to see Caleb?”

  I shook my head. “The doctor. I need some information before the surgery.”

  She narrowed her eyes, reminding myself of me. “Is Dad in Caleb’s room?”

  I nodded, grimacing. Whatever she saw on my face had her shaking her head, fighting a smile.

  “All right. Catch me up on what’s happening, then. Mum is in Caleb’s room as well, so it’s like being in a fire and ice storm.”

  I chuckled and I held out my arm. “Come on, walk with me.”

  She straightened and right there, I saw the Adele I’d known for four years. Cool and confident. We strolled toward the doctor’s office while I updated her on what was happening back in France.

  IT WAS finally the day where I gave part of me to my brother. I glanced to the bed, watching Caleb. His skin looked pale. Yellow. He seemed worse than when I arrived earlier the previous day.

  “Don’t look so enthusiastic about this surgery, bro,” Caleb said in a hoarse voice, sounding amused. I met his gaze, watching a mischievous smile play on his lips.

  “Oh, shut up. You don’t look so happy either.” He rolled his eyes. “You had better handle my kidney with care.”

  He laughed, weak and scratchy. “I’ll coat it with gold to preserve it.”

  “Smartarse,” I said with a chuckle. “Ready for this?”

  He nodded, motioning for me with his hand. “Come here.” I dragged my chair next to his bed and clasped his hand in mine. “Thank . . . you.”

  “You don’t need to thank me. You’re my family. Pl—”

  “Yes. I . . . do. Just please shut up and allow me to say this.” He closed his eyes; his breathing was heavy. I bit my tongue, waiting. “I am sorry I didn’t reply to all the letters you sent. My father made sure I didn’t receive any of them. I only came to know about you after Adele made up her mind to track you down, after I told her who you were. She was very determined to find you.” He laughed, but immediately started coughing.

  “Let’s catch up later. Right now, let’s focus on this surgery.”

  He shook his head, becoming more agitated and coughing. The beeps coming from the machine monitoring his vitals increased in frequency. The door burst open, and two nurses came rushing in.

  “Sir, please leave the room,” one of them said in an urgent voice while the other dashed toward the bed.

  I shot to my feet and stumbled backward to give them space.

  “Sir, you need to leave now.”

  I growled under my breath, frustrated, and turned around to leave.

  Merde. This can’t be happening. I can’t lose him. Not when he is this close to getting better.

  I pulled the door closed behind me and leaned on it.

  Bloody hell!

  Unable to stand still, I paced the hallway. It seemed like pacing in hospital hallways was becoming a norm for me. I leaned on the wall, focusing on the conversation I’d had with Adrien thirty minutes earlier to distract me. He’d been excited that Èric was taking him indoor go-karting, which seemed to distract him from thinking about Selene, and worse, that I was heading for surgery, but I knew he’d eventually ask about her. I had to speak to someone before I went insane. Before I even had the chance to call, the familiar buzzing in my pocket changed my direction.

  “St. Germain.”

  As Gilles began talking, my gaze wandered out the window to the park where a father and son played with their kite. Simple things. Normal.

  A lot of things had happened the past few weeks; I couldn’t remember what normal felt like anymore.

  “Mr. St. Germain?” a voice called out from behind me.

  I looked over my shoulder at a female nurse. She’d been in the room when Caleb was seizing. I gripped my mobile tighter. “I need to go. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  “Good luck, Remington.”

  “Gilles,” I said quickly before he could disconnect the call. “My family . . . I trust you to keep them safe.”

  He was silent for a few seconds, and then said, “You know I would die protecting them, oui?”

  I glanced at the ceiling, blinking hard.

  Fucking hell!

  I was getting soft in my old age. I disconnected the call without answering Gilles and focused on the nurse in front of me.

  “It’s time,” the nurse said, her expression softening as she scrutinized me. Whatever she saw on my face had hers softening. Or was it pity?

  I gave her a curt nod, schooling my features to neutral. Unreadable. I had mastered that art while growing up. Always kept people at arm’s length. I flicked my hand, gesturing for her to lead the way.

  She smiled, her blue eyes twinkling in what looked like ever-present joyfulness, and started down the hall toward Caleb’s room, flicking glances at me every few seconds.

  What the hell is she happy about?

  When we reached Caleb’s room, she stopped at the door and looked up at me.

  “It’s okay to feel emotional, you know?”

  I stared down at her, exasperated.

  “You are giving a part of yourself to someone else. Whatever you are feeling is normal. You are brave to do this for him.”

  “He’s my brother,” I said, letting those words speak for themselves. I glanced down at her name, patched on her uniform. “Nurse Patricks.”

  She pursed her lips; handed me a hospital gown.

  The phone rang right after I was done changing. I grabbed it from the table and glanced on the screen before answering it.

  Mother?

  “Bonjour, Remington,” my mother said as soon as I answered.

  “Bonsoir, Maman,” I greeted her. I glanced up as four nurses walked into the room. “I’m about to go into the operating room. Is everything all right?”

  “She has been asking for you and Adrien,” my mother said. I heard her sniff.

  My heart was beating fast. “Is she all right? Is everything okay?” I closed my eyes, bracing myself for whatever news she was about to deliver. Yet another thing I couldn’t control.

  “Her memory is returning in pieces. Most of the things she’s talking about don’t make sense, but she was agitated, looking for you. She is worried about you and keeps saying the woman is going to hurt you, too. It’s just, I have never seen Adrien so happy. He—he loves her.” Her voice was filled with wonder.

  I breathed out, blinking my eyes open. “Dieu merci!” I murmured under my breath. “Yes, he does. And she loves him, too.” One of the nurses gestured at the clock on the wall. “I have to go. I will call you later, all right? Tell her I’ll be there soon; and Adrien, too.”

  “I will. Be safe, my son.”

  After ending the call, I turned to face the medical team, smiling as hope and relief shot through me. For once since everything started spinning out of control, I felt a tinge of optimism. I could do it. Handle everything and get my life back on track. I pushed aside the looming worries about loving a woman when I had no clue who she was exactly, and the threats of yet another woman who seemed to want Selene dead, and focused on getting my brother better.

  “Let’s do this.”

  A WEEK had passed since I woke up, and my memory was returning in fragments. Emotionally, I was a mess. My moods seemed to change without warning. The doctor diagnosed these changes as post-concussion syndrome. Two days ago, I shouted at Marley because she was urging me to finish my lunch. And the next minute, I was bawling my eyes out. Thank God, she had been so understanding.

  Yesterday, I sulked when Estelle told me Remington had called while I was sleeping. I asked her why she didn’t wake me up. She explained I needed my rest and her son would call again. Then feeling distressed, I confronted her and asked her why she didn’t like me. She’d tried to calm me but I was inconsolable. Later, she had explained why she hadn’t warmed up to me yet. She was terrified her son was slipping back into the state he had been right after Colette’s death. She was worried I’d leave her son and grandson in complete chaos when I finally left France. I
had assured her I loved both father and son. When I told her about my baby, Ines, she had taken me into her arms and I’d cried as she held me. Her attitude toward me warmed further, but it didn’t stop the unguarded cautious looks whenever she focused on me.

  I slept in fear and woke up screaming every day as my nightmares followed me into waking moments. My only consolation was seeing Adrien walk in with Èric or his grandmother and also speaking to Remington on the phone every day. And Marley. She was my constant and my cornerstone as I continued to recuperate. Dr. Blanchett visited every day to check on my progress. He also informed me of Remington’s wish for a transfer to Paris. Sometimes I couldn’t remember some details, which was extremely frustrating. At times, I felt as if I was drowning, an onset of a panic attack. Most of the times when I couldn’t calm down fast enough, a shot was administered to calm me.

  But today was one of the days I felt invigorated as Adrien sat across from me, his eyebrows pulled down in concentration as he drew a portrait of me in one of my notebooks filled with my lingerie designs. After dropping off Adrien, Estelle left to deal with the company Remington had contracted to work on the château. Marley sprawled on the couch next to the wall, reading a crime novel from one of her favorite authors.

  “So, what would you like to be when you grow up?” I asked Adrien.

  He paused. Then he lifted his head and wriggled his nose. “A pilot. No. I want to play music.” His eyes widened as if he’d remembered something. “I want to be like my papa.” He went back to his drawing and mumbled, “I want to be a firefighter, too.” He grinned wide, a dimple flashing on his left cheek.

  I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. He looked happy and so cute. “You can be anything you want, tiger.”

  After a few minutes, listening to him mumbling in frustration when the drawing didn’t go the way he wanted, he announced, “I’m finished.” He flipped the book around.