When She Remembers

by Hope Jones

  “I’d love that,” I told her, pulling back to look at her again. I couldn’t believe so much had happened.

  An awkward pause happened when Tuesday looked over my shoulder, giving Graham a subtle smile.

  I had completely forgotten Graham was even in the room.

  “Is he your husband?” I half-jokingly asked Tuesday to which she looked at me like I had grown two heads then busted out laughing.

  “Oh my God, you’re funny.”

  Turning to see if she was laughing at Graham, he looked a wee bit angry and turned his eyes on me.

  Fuck, he was even hotter when he was angry.

  When he realized he was looking at me with rage, he softened a little, and I wanted to do whatever I could to make him mad again.

  He was seriously something to look at when he was mad.

  “Let’s get you back into bed,” Graham said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, bending at the waist and putting his other arm under my knees.

  He lifted and I let out a squeal of surprise, not expecting him to pick me up and put me back in bed. Graham ignored my squeal and deposited me back in my uncomfortable hospital bed, reminding me why I had gotten up in the first place.

  “I was getting up to get some water,” I told the room in general, hoping they would let me out of bed to get it myself.

  “Got you.” Graham grunted, flicking the covers over me and moving to get me water.

  He did exactly like the last time, pouring the water then reaching into my nightstand for a straw and handing it to me.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled shyly, taking the drink and sipping quickly until the entire cup was emptied.

  I twisted to set the cup down and Graham picked it up. “More?” he asked.

  Simply shaking my head no, I placed my hands in my lap, not speaking a word. I wasn’t exactly sure what to say or do now.

  “Want me to call the doctor in again?” Graham asked, knowing what happened last time the good ole doc came in here.

  I needed to put my big girl panties on and deal with it, regardless of how much it scared me. I took in a deep breath, hoping the inhale of air would also give me some courage and strength to deal with my diagnosis.

  Nodding my head to Graham, I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing.

  One, two, three, in, four.

  Four, three, two, out, one.

  An hour later, the doctor walked out, Tuesday following closely behind him, giving me a small but sad smile as she shut the door behind her.

  I could say my breathing exercise helped with my nerves. I didn’t have another panic attack, and after listening to what my doctor had to say, I felt a little bit better about my memory loss.

  The doctor assured me that in most cases, the memories do come back. I would be in the hospital for another few days to run tests and make sure I was okay internally. Dr. Raven told me it would be best to go home and get into the same routine I had before my accident, hoping it would jog some memories.

  With the room empty, save for Graham and myself, I felt awkward.

  I wasn’t sure how to act around him, considering I had no idea who he was.

  Clearly, he was someone important in my life, but I wasn’t sure of the importance.

  Graham cleared his throat and I peered at him through my eyelashes. He looked torn, like he wanted to be on the bed next to me but wasn’t sure of my boundaries.

  Honestly, I didn’t know my boundaries.

  “Who are you to me?” I whispered, hoping to get an answer this time.

  Graham opened his mouth to answer but a phone ringing cut him off.

  Dammit, I was so close to getting the truth of who he was out of him.

  Graham stood up, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a large, but slim device.

  “Vano,” he all but growled and it hit me.

  Like a ton of fucking bricks.

  When Dr. Raven first came into my room, he called me Mrs. Vano.

  Graham had growled “Vano” down his phone.

  Ignoring the conversation he was having, I looked for his left hand, which was a feat considering he was talking with his hands. Finally, he stopped waving his hands and rested his left hand on his hip, and I saw it.

  The glint of a gold band resting on his ring finger.

  Holy freakin’ crap.

  Bring my hand to my mouth in shock, the movement caught Graham’s eyes and they narrowed as if he knew I knew.

  Looking at my own ring finger, I didn’t have any rings on, but I had a tan line as if a wedding ring was there at one point.

  Oh my God!

  I had a freaking husband.

  Graham was my husband.

  I was married!

  My last name was no longer Westbay.

  I was Henley Vano.

  Even in the middle of my freak out, I had to admit Vano was a pretty badass last name, and I kind of liked it against my first name.

  Somehow, from the last time I had memories, I had gotten married.

  To Graham.

  Well, this was a plot twist in my own life I had not expected.

  Underneath all the panic, I was somewhat calm. I wasn’t sure why my body was so comfortable with the idea of being married, but it was almost as if my body remembered Graham, even if my mind didn’t.

  Graham roughly hung his phone up, and slowly strode to my bed, again treating me like I was a feral animal, ready to lunge and snap.

  “Henley,” Graham tentatively whispered, assumingly scared of the reaction I would have to the revelation that we were married.

  “You’re my husband,” I stated, saying it for the first time, eerily calm.

  He nodded his head, his golden-brown hair shifting slightly with the movement.

  All the little looks he had been giving me since I woke up, all the hisses of pain when I announced that I didn’t know him, they all made sense now.

  It was clear he was deeply in love with me by the looks, and I had hurt him when I didn’t remember him.

  For some reason, I felt terrible. Deep in my bones, I knew I didn’t want to hurt him, and by doing so, it hurt me.

  “I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” I told him, hoping he knew I meant it.

  Graham moved up the bed, fitting himself closer, and reaching for my hand, waiting for permission to touch me. Nodding my head, he grabbed my hand and the same electricity I felt earlier, shot up my fingers and through my arm before it moved all the way through my body.

  The electricity was a strange feeling, but I enjoyed it.

  “It’s not your fault, baby,” he said, giving me a small smile and interlocking our fingers.

  “How long have we been together?” I asked, sitting up and leaning into him. I wanted to ask all the questions about the last five years I had forgotten.

  “Right at three years,” he told me, giving me the first happy smile and it transformed his entire face. Gone was the sadness in his features, he no longer looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  “And married?”

  “We were celebrating our one-year anniversary the night of your accident,” he said, the sadness taking residence on his face again.

  I gave his hand a squeeze and asked him, “Are you okay?”

  Graham laughed a little, looking at me as if I were a puzzle.

  “What?” I asked shyly, the intense stare making me want to shrink into the hospital bed.

  “Only you would ask if I was okay after figuring out you lost five years and were in a car accident.”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I replied, “This has to have taken its toll on you as well. Clearly, I’m not the only one suffering from my accident.”

  We sat in silence, gazing at one another, Graham stroking my hand. If it were anyone else, I would have felt extremely uncomfortable with the intense gaze he had me pinned with, but I felt something entirely different.

  I definitely wasn’t uncomfortable.

  I felt like I had been under t
he scrutiny of his eyes like this before and liked it then.

  “Who was that on the phone?” I asked.

  “The detective working your case. He wants to come talk to you in the morning.”

  “I’m really not sure how much help I could be. I don’t remember anything.”

  “I tried telling him that, but he insists he may be able to jog your memory from that night.”

  Nodding my head, my eyes began to get heavy, and it was hard to keep my head up. Scooting down into the bed, I rested my head against the pillows and closed my eyes.

  “Rest, baby,” Graham said, kissing my forehead. “You’ve had enough for one day.”

  Opening my eyes to look at his tired frame leaving my bed, I told him, “Go home and get some rest.”

  He paused, looked back at me and asked, “Are you asking me to leave?”

  “No, no! You can stay, you just need better sleep than that uncomfortable chair can give,” I said nodding my head to the wooden rocking chair I caught him sleeping in earlier.

  “Unless you want me to leave, I’m not going anywhere, I can rest when I’m dead.”

  His tone was final and brokered no argument. He wasn’t going to leave my side.

  Deep down, I was completely okay with him not leaving. I liked him here.

  Chapter Three

  Henley

  IT WAS THE MIDDLE of the next day, and I was feeling a thousand times better than the day before.

  My head no longer hurt, but that could be the meds they were giving me through my IV. The detective working my case came to speak with me, but no memories of that night had come back, so he left as empty-handed as when he walked in.

  I had learned that my accident was a hit and run. It was raining that night, and I had gone to the store to get Graham’s favorite key lime pie to celebrate our anniversary when I was struck on the driver’s side, going about forty-five miles per hour. My car rolled twice, my head banging on the window multiple times being the case for my brain injury. The car that hit me left the scene immediately after and didn’t even call 911. Someone that lived up the street heard the wreck and helped me until an ambulance got there. Whoever hit me was a dick who couldn’t even check to make sure I was dead.

  I felt completely helpless to the police, but was assured that they would catch the guy, even without my memories. The person who helped me caught a glimpse of the car before it sped off and was able to give a description to the police, so at least they weren’t going off nothing.

  Graham was just as attentive to me when I woke up as he was yesterday when I came out of my coma. Things between us weren’t awkward, but stilted. We weren’t sure how to act with one another. Graham had known me for the last three years, had been intimate with me, but in my mind, I had only known him for twenty-four hours.

  It was very weird, but we were navigating it with a surprising amount of grace.

  My mom was on her way up to the hospital with a bag of clothes, my toiletries, and other things I had asked for when I called her this morning. She was extremely grateful to hear my voice and said she couldn’t believe I finally came to.

  Graham was outside my hospital room, on the phone with work, and I really needed to pee. Dr. Raven said I could start getting up and moving around, to take it easy though since my muscles would be stiff from being in a coma for two weeks. I was grateful for the all clear to move. The hospital bed was stiff, and I was tired of being in it.

  Not waiting for Graham to come back in the room, I lifted the covers and slowly swung my legs off the bed until my feet touched the floor.

  Going slowly, taking my IV stand with me, I made it to the bathroom with no issues. Dr. Raven wasn’t wrong, my muscles were stiff, protesting with every step I made, but loosened as I went.

  Finishing my business then washing my hands, I opened the door and started the short walk back to my bed.

  What I wouldn’t give to go for a walk around the hospital.

  The door opened and Graham strolled in, looked at my bed, then looked around the room with angry eyes before they landed on me and narrowed.

  “Woman,” he growled quickly striding to my side.

  He lifted me in his arms, somehow still able to grab my IV stand, and deposited me back in the bed exactly like he did yesterday.

  Sighing heavily, I told him in frustration, “Dr. Raven told me I can walk, just to take it easy. I took it easy.”

  “What if you had fallen?”

  I glared at him, his question a valid point, but also knowing sooner or later, I would have to regain the muscle strength I had lost in my coma.

  My anger paused when the door to my room opened again and my mom’s short frame walked in with two bags, filled to the top.

  She was a welcome sight, and I didn’t realize how much I wanted her with me until just then.

  “Mom,” I breathed.

  “Oh, my baby,” she whispered back, dropping the bags to the floor and coming to my side.

  Pulling me into a tight hug, she wept on my shoulder, the relief of me still being alive racking her body.

  I managed to keep the tears at bay, but still hugged her back just as fiercely.

  A hug from my mom was just what I needed.

  I hoped one day to know what it felt like to love someone as much as she loved me.

  After several moments, she pulled away and looked down at me, smiling happily even with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “How are you?” she finally asked, swiping the tears away.

  “I’m good, Mom, much better than I was yesterday.”

  “Oh, I’m so happy to hear that,” she rushed out, pulling me back into a tight hug.

  Looking around her shoulder, I saw Graham grabbed the bags my mom brought in and set them on the windowsill, giving us a private moment that I was thankful for. He caught my eye, gracing me with a small grin and then sat down in his rocking chair.

  Mom pulled away again, rearranged my blankets and sat down on the end of the bed. She looked at Graham, something unspoken between them.

  “Mom, I know I’m married to him,” I told her, nodding my head to indicate the tall, rough around the edges man in the room with us.

  “Oh, thank God,” she rushed out. “That would have been awkward trying to explain.”

  Giggling a little, I told her, “I figured it out last night. We’ve talked a little.”

  Mom nodded her head and looked at Graham fully. “Are you okay, honey? Do you need me to pick you up anything?”

  My heart warmed. It was comforting to know my mom approved of and got along with my husband.

  “I’m good, Margaret, thank you though.”

  My mom stayed at the hospital for a few hours, talking and chatting about everything I had lost when my memories left me. She told me how beautiful my wedding was, what I wore, what Graham looked like when I walked down the aisle and he saw me in my wedding dress for the first time.

  Graham sat quietly in his chair, closing his eyes and falling asleep a few times. It was obvious that the two weeks I had been in a coma, he hadn’t rested at all. My heart went out to him, and I knew I needed to do something to help him get a better night’s sleep.

  Mom left after giving me copious amounts of hugs, Graham walking her down to her car. Knowing he was going to be gone for several minutes, I decided to go against Graham’s wishes and get out of bed. Staying in the bed was driving me more insane than trying to remember everything I had lost in the last five years.

  I didn’t want to go out of the room and have Graham come back to an empty room and then worry. I believed he had already been through enough in the last two weeks. I only wanted to get up and move.

  I stood, dragging my stand behind me and moved to the window where all my clothes were. Thankfully, Mom brought me leggings and an oversized shirt. My entire wardrobe looked like the last I remembered seeing it.

  Taking the sweatshirt and leggings in one hand and my pole in the other, I moved to the bathroom, and sat dow
n on the edge of the tub to put my legs into the pants. It was difficult trying to move around the IV sticking out of my arm and my muscles groaning with every movement, but there was no way I was asking Graham for help changing.

  I was sure we had sex before since we were married, but I also didn’t remember that, so it was as if I hadn’t even seen him with his shirt off. Therefore, I was not asking him to help me pull my clothes off.

  After changing and throwing my crumpled-up hospital gown in the linen hamper, I moved to the window in my room and pulled the blinds up. The sun was setting, and I had a high enough view that I could see every second of it. It was blinding at first, since the only light in my room was the dimmed lights above my bed, but the light didn’t hurt my head like yesterday.

  I was thankful, because I wanted more than anything to watch this sunset.

  Standing there, admiring the beauty of nature, the red and orange leaves dotting the parking lot, I didn’t even hear the door to my room open. Graham’s light touch on my upper arms scared me, causing me to jump and look back quickly. When I saw it was him, I relaxed a little and continued gazing at the picture before me.

  “It’s beautiful,” I breathed.

  “It is,” Graham said gruffly, something in his tone making me think he wasn’t talking about the sunset.

  We stood like that for so long, time seemed to stand still. Graham eventually moved a little closer, and clasped his hands over mine, resting his chin on my shoulder. The touch wasn’t unwelcome, but foreign.

  Long after the sun had set, I finally looked away from the window, Graham moving away from me, but came back when he realized I was moving to the bed. He took the arm that wasn’t holding the IV pole and wrapped it around his shoulders, crouching down a few inches to let me lean onto him.

  “I can do it myself, ya know?” I smarted but accepted his help since I was getting tired.

  “I know.”

  After eating the food Graham ordered us from the cafeteria, I scooted as far to the edge of the bed as possible, shifted the blanket so it was equally covered across the bed and then patted the empty spot, looking pointedly at Graham.

  His features shifted to confusion. “What?” he asked.