Mind Over Marriage

by Rebecca Daniels

  “Maybe,” Dr. Cohen said thoughtfully, following him across the pavement. “But maybe something could come out of all this. Maybe the two of you...” He stopped, looking into Coop’s angry eyes. “Maybe it’s not too late for a second chance.”

  Coop stared at Mannie Cohen’s full cheeks and round blue eyes. He didn’t want to hear about what if or maybe. He’d had two years to think about what had happened and the choices he’d been forced to make.

  The good doctor might mean well, but he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen the hope drain out of her and the love die in her eyes. She might have forgotten the past for a while, but there would be no going back. Soon they would be face-to-face with the truth—she no longer loved him.

  “Look, Doc, I know you mean well, but I just don’t see it happening for us again.” He turned, faced him and extended a hand. “I, uh, I know I got hotheaded at times, said a lot of stupid things, but you saved her life, and I appreciate everything you did.”

  Dr. Cohen nodded, taking Coop’s hand. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing—for Kelsey, I mean. Turning your life upside down, putting your feelings aside—it takes guts.”

  “Guts?” Coop laughed sadly, shaking his head. “I don’t think so. You see, Doc, when it comes to Kelsey, I’ve always been a pushover.”

  Dr. Cohen nodded solemnly. He gave Kelsey a wave, turned and headed across the helipad toward the hospital. Coop watched for a moment, thinking about the flight to Santa Barbara and what the next few weeks would hold.

  It was too dangerous to think this grand drama they were acting out was anything more than a scheme, a program, a plan to enable Kelsey to get better. He couldn’t afford to start fooling himself.

  “He’s a good doctor,” Kelsey said as Coop stepped inside the helicopter and checked her harness again. “I was lucky.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess we all get lucky once in a while,” he mumbled, securing the hatch on the overhead storage bin.

  “I know we’ve worked together before,” Kelsey mused thoughtfully. “I just wish I could remember where or when.” She shook her head, then gave Coop a determined smile. “But I’ll just take it as it comes. I’ll remember when the time’s right.”

  He glanced at her and smiled, too. “See? Now was that so hard?” He made another quick scan of the compartment, then looked at her again. “Things look okay in here. Ready to go?”

  “What do you think?” She laughed, catching the edge of his leather jacket and pulling him close. “I seem to remember we were working pretty hard at starting a family when all this happened. We both wanted kids.” She smiled, bringing her mouth to his for a gentle kiss. “I take it that hasn’t changed.”

  The smile on Coop’s face stiffened, and he felt the steady rhythm of his pulse stumble and become erratic. Some lies were harder to tell than others, and this was a killer.

  “No,” he whispered against her lips. “Wanting kids hasn’t changed.”

  He let her lips find his again, but he took no joy in the tender kiss. Sadness and guilt weighed too heavily in his heart. He tried to tell himself he hadn’t really lied, that the desire to have a child had never changed. But a sin of omission was a sin nonetheless. Someday she would know the truth again, would know a child of her own was just not in the cards.

  “Take me home,” she murmured.

  He slowly nodded, stepped out of the passenger compartment and secured the hatch tight. He climbed into the pilot’s seat and began flipping switches and pushing buttons. He pulled on the headset, then brought the huge turbines above them to life. They were going home—home to the house they had hoped to fill with children. The rooms sat empty now, dark, cold, and lifeless, like his hope for the future.

  He signaled to Kelsey they were about to take off. She waved, smiling and excited, and for a moment he wished he could forget all those painful memories, too. Her eyes were alive with the promise of what could be. He felt old and tired with the knowledge of what was.

  “Some redecorating?”

  “Yeah,” he said, shoving the key into the dead bolt lock and twisting it. “We, uh, started a while back.”

  “A while back?” she repeated in disbelief. “How far back?”

  “I don’t know,” he mumbled vaguely as he pushed her wheelchair through the open doorway and into the tiled entry hall. “A while—I don’t remember.”

  “You never mentioned anything about redecorating,” she mumbled, peering through the foyer into the living room. This was not the house she remembered, not the home she and Coop had made for themselves. “My God,” she gasped, her eyes growing wide. “Why...why didn’t you say something?”

  “I don’t know,” he said irritably. Defensiveness made him snap. The words had a hard edge. “I didn’t think about it, I guess. I did have a few other things on my mind, you know.”

  “You just assumed I’d remember?” she snapped back, matching his sharp tone with sarcasm.

  He closed his eyes, hating everything about the situation at that moment. They had never redecorated. It had been another lie, another excuse to pile on top of the ones he’d told her already. But he hadn’t exactly been given much choice. He’d had to explain the empty house some way, and the truth wasn’t exactly available to him at the moment.

  “You’re right,” he said with a tired sigh. He set the brake on the wheelchair. “I should have said something. I guess I just wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

  “No,” Kelsey said quietly, covering his hand with hers. She drew in a deep breath and shook her head. “It’s not your fault. It caught me by surprise, that’s all, and I overreacted. Just something else I wasn’t expecting.”

  Coop quickly turned away, heading for the door. He didn’t want to see the emotion in her eyes, didn’t want to see the remorse or regret. He hated it even more when she put the blame on herself, when she apologized as though she was the one telling lies.

  “I’ll, uh, bring in the other stuff,” he mumbled.

  “The place is so...so empty,” she said after a moment, glancing through the archway to the vacant formal dining room. She turned back just as he made his way inside with a heavy suitcase in one hand and a pair of crutches in the other. “What happened to all our stuff?”

  “It’s not empty,” Coop insisted, as though saying it with force and conviction would somehow make it true. “We still have a lot of stuff.”

  “We do?” she asked skeptically.

  “Sure we do—in the family room and the bedroom.” He deposited everything inside, then closed the door behind him. “It’s just the whole project is taking longer than we expected, you know, to get at the painting and papering.”

  “And all the other furniture?” she insisted, curiosity getting the best of her. “The couch, the sofa? And...” She turned and stared at the dining room again, then gasped loudly. “My mother’s hutch! My God, Coop, where’s my mother’s hutch? Don’t tell me I got rid of that. It was all I had of hers.”

  “The hutch,” Coop said, remembering the cherry wood china closet Kelsey had cherished so much. “No, no, God, no. It’s just...well, it’s out...” His heart raced, leaving him light-headed. “Being...refinished.”

  “Refinished?”

  Coop shot her a dubious look, uncertain she would buy the explanation. “Yeah.”

  “Well, thank God for that,” Kelsey said, letting out a deep sigh. “The car was bad enough, but if I’d gotten rid of my mother’s hutch, too—well, I really would have had to be crazy.”

  “Yeah, well,” Coop said again. He felt almost giddy with relief. “You should know you’d never do anything like that. And you’re not crazy.”

  “No?” she asked dryly. “Well, I’m glad one of us doesn’t think so.” She drew in a deep breath, gesturing to the empty rooms. “So, what about the rest of the stuff?”

  “The rest,” Coop repeated, his momentary burst of elation suddenly deflated. “Well, let’s see...the rest of it. Uh, what we kept we put in stora
ge.” He released the brake, then pushed her down the hall toward the family room and bedrooms. “What we didn’t we sold in a garage sale and will replace.”

  “Wow,” she murmured, looking at the sparse furnishings. “This is really quite a project. Whose idea was it—yours or mine?”

  “I dpn’t know,” Coop said, stopping at the counter that divided the family room and the spacious kitchen. “It was just sort of a mutual thing, I guess. You hungry?”

  Kelsey shook her head. “No, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m actually feeling a little tired.”

  “No problem,” he assured her, thinking that was about the best news he’d had all morning. Scrambling for excuses and explanations had left him exhausted, and he wouldn’t mind some time alone to collect himself and get focused. He pushed the wheelchair into the hallway toward the master bedroom. “You take a nap, and I’ll bring you a tray later.”

  “Hmm,” she mused, turning and smiling at him. “You waiting on me. I think I could get to like this.”

  He pushed her past the bedrooms that sat empty, grateful he’d at least had the foresight to close the doors. She didn’t need to know right now that those rooms would never be occupied by their children—and he didn’t need any reminders of that right now, either.

  “Here we go,” he said, wheeling her through the open double doors of the bedroom suite. “All ready for you.”

  Kelsey leaned forward, her jaw dropping. “What’s all this?”

  “What’s what?” Coop asked innocently as he quickly crossed the room, pulling open the drapes over the French doors to reveal a breathtaking view of Santa Barbara and the Pacific Ocean.

  “This,” she said, pointing to the elaborate hospital bed in the middle of the room.

  “The bed? What about it?”

  She glared at him. “A hospital bed?”

  “Dr. Hamilton recommended it,” he offered meekly. “I, uh, I thought you’d be...happy.”

  “Where’s our bed?”

  He thought of the king-size white enameled iron bed they had shared during four years of marriage. Kelsey had left it when she’d moved out, and he’d given it away soon after that. He hardly could have offered her the lumpy futon he’d been sleeping on ever since.

  “Oh, I, uh, moved it,” he said evasively, making a vague gesture toward the garage.

  “Then move it back,” she insisted. “I want to sleep in my own bed—with you.”

  This was the moment he had been dreading, the moment that had kept him awake all night. Just how was he going to convince her they couldn’t share a bed and make it sound not only believable, but plausible?

  “This will be much better for you,” he insisted, starting the speech he’d rehearsed a million times. He walked across the room and picked up the remote control device, moving the bed into various positions. “See how great it is? You can fall asleep looking out at the ocean.” He pushed a few more buttons, elevating the foot of the bed. “I know how hard it is for you to get comfortable with that thing on your leg. This will be great for that. You’ll rest much better in this than our old bed.”

  “It’s so...so ugly.”

  Coop turned and gave her a stern look. “Of course it’s ugly, it’s a hospital bed. What did you expect?”

  “I expected my own bed.”

  “Well, aesthetics aren’t what I’m concerned about right now,” he said. “I’m concerned about you being able to rest comfortably.”

  Kelsey watched as he turned to the controls and manipulated the bed. “Where will you sleep, then?”

  Coop’s hands froze. He could feel her eyes boring into his back, but he didn’t dare turn around. She’d always been able to read his expression, and one look was all it would take.

  “In one of the spare rooms,” he said in a flat voice.

  “What?”

  Coop steeled himself, carefully schooling his expression, and turned. “Just for a while,” he insisted. “What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is if I’d wanted to sleep alone in a hospital bed, I would have stayed in the hospital.”

  Coop tossed the remote control on the mattress. “Look,” he said, walking to the wheelchair and kneeling in front of her. “You’re exhausted. Let’s talk about this later, okay?”

  Kelsey closed her eyes. She was exhausted—exhausted, disappointed, confused and annoyed. And damn it, she felt like crying again.

  “I just want my life back,” she whispered, hating the tears in her eyes.

  “I know,” he said, slipping a hand under her chin. “And you’ll have it back, too—just not in one day.”

  “You’re right, I know,” she said, leaning her head back and looking at him. “Was I always such a pill, or is this a new thing for me?”

  He smiled, stood and wheeled her to the side of the bed, then gathered her in his arms. “To be as big a pain as you are, years of practice are necessary.”

  “Thanks a lot,” she said, giving him a swat and smiling despite how lousy she felt. “Like I’d believe anything you said, anyway.”

  His smile threatened to crack just a little. If she only knew how fast and loose he’d played with the truth in the past several days.

  He carefully settled her on the bed, adjusting the cast on the mattress. “How does that feel?”

  “Okay, I guess,” she admitted reluctantly, lying back against the pillow. Actually, it felt wonderful, and she wanted nothing more than to sink under the covers and sleep for about a week. “I still don’t see why we have to sleep in separate rooms.”

  “It’s just easier this way,” he said as casually as he could. He wanted to move the conversation away from their sleeping arrangements. “We’ll both rest better, and if you need anything...” He reached for the nightstand beside the bed. “Just ring.”

  Kelsey laughed when she saw the small brass bell he held up. “You’ll be my butler?”

  “Why not?” He laughed, handing her the bell. He lowered himself to the edge of the bed, tucking the covers around her. “I’m already your slave.”

  Kelsey reached over and ran a hand up his arm. “I really am sorry about all this. I guess I just expected too much. I thought if I was home, things would start to feel normal again.”

  “I know you hate hearing this, but it’s—”

  “I know, I know,” she said with a tired laugh, cutting him off. “You don’t have to say it. It’s going to take time. I understand that.” Her smile faded, and she raised her head. “I just get impatient, that’s all. Impatient and frustrated.”

  “Well,” he said in a soft voice. “If it’s any consolation, I get impatient, too.”

  She settled against the pillows again. “I just want things to be the way they were, instead of all mixed up and confused.”

  “Things seem confusing now because you’re exhausted,” he whispered, catching her hand in his. “It’s been a big morning for both of us. Why don’t you try to get some rest? I’ll check out the fridge and see what I can rustle us up for lunch.”

  “Coop?” she said when he moved to leave.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m really glad to be home.”

  Coop watched as she drifted to sleep, feeling his chest constrict. He envied the peace he saw in her face, the tranquillity that came with not remembering the pain and the sorrow of the past few years.

  A safe place. That’s what Gloria Crowell had said Kelsey had wanted—a safe place to hide from the pain and the fear.

  He leaned down and kissed her gently on the cheek. She’d come back to him—for a while, anyway—because he made her feel safe, and as much as he wanted her to heal and get better, a part of him wished it could stay this way forever.

  Chapter 6

  “Finish it up.”

  Kelsey glanced at her half-eaten ravioli on the plate in front of her and shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “You promised you’d clean your plate,” Coop reminded her.

  “I’m too stuffed.”

  Hi
s glared at her, his gaze narrowing. “You don’t like my home cooking?”

  She looked at him, imitating his expression.

  “It’s not going to work. These are Vince’s ravioli, I’d recognize them anywhere.”

  He laughed. He should have known better than to try to fool her. The small Italian deli had been a favorite of theirs, and Kelsey had particularly loved the ravioli. “I heated them in the microwave, I put them on the plate. That classifies as home cooking.”

  “That classifies as take-out,” she corrected, pushing the tray to the mattress. “And you put a mountain of them on that plate in the first place.” She patted her abdomen. “I ate so much it hurts.”

  He smiled as he rose from his chair beside the bed and reached for the tray. He had given her a generous portion, and she’d done better than he’d expected.

  “Dr. Cohen says you need to gain weight,” he said, setting the tray on the nightstand.

  “Well, I’m not going to do it in one night,” she insisted, reaching for the remote control and adjusting the position of the bed. “Besides, you mark my words. If I do put on a few pounds, Dr. Cohen will be after me to lose weight.” She sank back against the pillows. “It’s a sick little joke doctors like—lulling you into a false sense of insecurity. They’re never going to tell you you’re fine. They’re afraid it will put them out of business.”

  “Want some more wine before I take these out?”

  “Now that,” she said with a broad smile, holding up her glass, “I’ve got room for.”

  He filled her glass. “This will help you sleep.”

  “Like I need help. All I do is sleep,” she mumbled, taking the glass from him. “I practically slept all day.”

  “You needed the rest,” he said, gathering the remaining dishes and stacking them on the tray. So had he. The day had been an emotional drain on them both—for different reasons. “I’ll take these out,” he said, carefully lifting the tray. “Want anything else before I leave?” He nodded in the direction of the open French doors. “Is it getting too cool?”