Smitten at First Sight: A Contemporary Romance Novel

by Astor, Marie

In an instant, Taylor disappeared from sight, the vast snow closing in on him. Gone, vanished.

  “Taylor!” she screamed, the sound of her voice splitting through the air, waking her up.

  The nightmare had dissipated and her voice was hers to command again. “It was only a dream. Only a dream,” she repeated - an assertion that was difficult to believe, as the terrifying images from her nightmare lingered before her eyes.

  Taylor lay very still. He was surrounded by darkness and deafening silence that was only broken by the sound of his own breathing. He did not know where he was - it had all happened so quickly that he barely had time to think. He closed his eyes, focusing his mind on small tasks: breathing, waiting, hoping – hoping for a miracle, hoping that the rescue would get to him before all the air ran out from the snow tomb in which he was now imprisoned. The transmitter strapped to his chest was his only hope: its signal would guide the rescue team to his location. He breathed calmly, trying to consume as little of the precious oxygen as possible. How much time did he have: twenty, thirty minutes at best?

  The one thing Taylor regretted now was his decision not to return Maggie’s calls. He thought about the first time he met her, which was only a few weeks back, but felt like a lifetime ago: he had not been looking to fall in love, and yet, it happened without warning, his heart no longer being his own. He had forced himself to block her out of his mind until he would ski the Needle Eye. Yesterday, when he finally allowed himself to check the messages on his cell phone, the sound of her voice on the answering machine brought back all his feelings for her with a vengeance. Her messages were brief, asking him to call her without telling him what she wanted from him. At the time, he had been filled with vexation – what more did she want from him? He had already heard everything Maggie thought of him from Jeffrey, why go through the torment of hearing her say that she no longer wanted to be with him? But now, as he realized that he might not get a chance to reverse his decision, the thought filled him with regret. No, he could not allow himself to think this way. He had to believe that he would be found before it would be too late. Hope was all he had left.

  How quickly things changed in the mountains. Yesterday, he had accomplished his dream, and today he was lying trapped under countless feet of snow. But then Taylor had always known that mountains were living, breathing things: they gave you signals and if you were smart, you heeded them. Taylor remembered the weary look on Ryan’s face, realizing that Ryan must have sensed a foreboding in the eerie way the snow had swelled on the mountain peaks in the afternoon - a sign that Taylor failed to read. Spurred on by Jeffrey’s insistence that they continue filming, Taylor agreed, going against Ryan’s hunch, and they both ended up paying for it. He should have listened to his friend; after all, Ryan knew the mountains way better than him, having a decade of skiing over him. Instead, he had gone against his own instincts and against his own code of conduct when skiing off-piste: you listened to your partner; two sets of eyes were always better than one – what one failed to notice, the other was meant to catch.

  They had begun filming early in the morning, and Taylor had expected it to be a breeze of a day: he did not even bother packing his AvaLung, reasoning that they were going to ski the lower inclines that he knew better than the back of his hand. He had been enjoying himself on the mountain, but then everything went wrong.

  They were about to begin their fourth descent of the day when out of nowhere, came a tide of snow: it was literally a tide, a gigantic wave sweeping over them, engulfing them completely. Taylor remembered vividly the horror that he felt when he saw the wave swell behind Ryan. Taylor tried to get a grip of Ryan’s hand, looking desperately for a way for them to anchor themselves onto the mountain, but it was too late. An instant later, Ryan was swept away by the tide, and Taylor was engulfed by the next wave. He struggled to form his body into a cocoon by drawing his arms and legs together as he felt his body hurled down the mountain by the colossal, unrelenting force. He could not tell how long the nightmare had lasted – the last thing he remembered was a dull thump when the motion finally ceased, his body being held still by the heaping mounds of snow above him.

  Taylor had always been aware of the risks of off-piste skiing, but believed that as long as he respected the mountains, the mountains would allow him to enjoy their domain. Many had called him reckless, saying that skiing on such wild, untamed terrain was like flirting with death. But such a notion had never crossed his mind: all he ever wanted was to have a good time in the mountains, to keep enjoying the strength and pleasure that they gave him in such generous abundance. He knew his limits and was always in control. Yes, the risk was high, but so was the reward, and in his opinion, the risk was worth it.

  Had he gotten careless, blindsided by the promise of fame, forgetting the true reasons that had called him to the mountains in the first place? He remembered the grave look on Ryan’s face right before they began their descent. Ryan could read the mountains better than anyone Taylor knew. Why hadn’t he listened to his friend?

  Taylor could feel himself growing drowsy from the cold, the tentacles of slumber tightening over him. “Must stay awake,” he told himself. “Fall asleep and you will never wake up.” His eyelids felt heavy: it was so tempting to simply drift away into the cold darkness around him.

  A soothing drowsiness descended upon him as a feeling of numbness overpowered him. He was no longer cold – his body ceased to trouble him and a strange lightness descended upon him. Lighter than a speck of dust, Taylor felt himself dissolving into the darkness around him. At first he resisted, clinging to the last bits of his consciousness, but then he gave in, eager to be freed from the piercing cold. He thought he heard a faint murmur of voices calling his name, but brushed them away: it no longer mattered - he was leaving now. As if obeying his command, the voices faded away, but one of them, a woman’s voice, would not quiet. It grew stronger and stronger:

  “Wake up, Taylor. Wake up!” Maggie’s face loomed before him, her eyes brimming with tears.

  Why is she crying, Taylor wondered with cool detachment, wishing Maggie would stop so that he could drift off to sleep.

  “Taylor! Wake up! You can’t leave yet – you can’t give up without a fight.”

  “I’m not going anywhere - I’m just taking a nap.” He looked at her tear-stricken face. Why fight when I can simply drift away instead, he thought, wishing she would let him be.

  “You have to wake up! Promise me you won’t give up without a fight!” Her cries seared though his numbness.

  “I promise, Maggie.” With a gasp, Taylor opened his eyes. He bit his lip, welcoming the tiny pain – he was alive.

  Taylor listened intently, holding his breath: he thought he had heard voices again. He strained his ears, searching for hope in the deafening silence, but when he did not hear anything, he thought that he must have confused his dream with reality.

  But then there it was again – the sound of voices calling his name - the rescue team must have found him. Taylor forced himself to remain calm: there was not anything he could do to alert his rescuers to his location: mounds of snow had settled atop of him, and he would only waste oxygen trying to break out from beneath their weight.

  With every second it was getting more and more difficult to breathe, and still, he waited, the voices drawing nearer.

  And then, Taylor heard the sound that he would remember as one of the happiest sounds in his entire life: the sound of a shovel being plunged into the snow.

  “I’m getting a really strong signal. He must be somewhere right around here. Hurry up! There isn’t much time. Put your backs into it!”

  The voices grew louder and louder and the thick snow atop of him began to grow thinner, until finally, Taylor felt the fresh air brush over his face as the darkness around him lifted, replaced by bright sunlight.

  “Taylor! You’ve made it – it’s going to be all right. Don’t you worry, just hold still.” A female voice sounded over him.

  “Maggie�
�” Taylor hoped to see her face, but looking up he saw that it was Hannah. Shawn was standing a few paces behind her. “Thanks for finding me, guys,” Taylor added, doing his best to fight off another onset of drowsiness, but his words came out slurred all the same. He felt himself being strapped onto the gurney, an oxygen mask being placed over his face. Then, he was carried into the helicopter, the buzzing sound of the propeller sending him into a dreamlike trance.

  “Stay awake, Taylor,” Hannah urged him once they were inside the helicopter. She spoke softly, holding his hand.

  “You’re going to be all right, kid,” Jim called over from the pilot seat. “You’re lucky Hannah and I spotted you from the helicopter when the avalanche started.”

  “Where is Ryan? Did he make it?” Taylor feared the worst.

  “Shhh,” Hannah murmured, “save your strength.”

  “You’re going to be fine, buddy. Just hang in there.” Shawn had a bright smile plastered on his face, but his eyes, full of grave concern, gave away his thoughts.

  Taylor smiled weakly at his friend’s botched attempt to cheer him up: Shawn could not keep a poker face to save his life. “I know… It will be all right,” Taylor whispered, struggling to stay awake, but sensing that he might lose the battle at any moment.

  Chapter 30

  Taylor’s recollection of subsequent events was akin to a patchy memory of a bad dream. He remembered Hannah and Shawn talking him through the helicopter ride, doing their best to keep him awake. At times, he felt as though none of this was happening to him, and that he was only a bystander, a detached observer.

  After what seemed like an eternity in the helicopter, the sharp, sterile smell of the hospital hit his nostrils, as he was wheeled down the long, austere halls. Taylor could hear people whispering and rushing all around him, as he was being hooked up to a myriad of machines. A middle-aged man with a drawn, tired face was asking him questions, shining a flashlight into his eyes. Taylor tried to answer, but his lips would not obey him, as his tongue grew woolly and unmanageable in his mouth.

  Suddenly, the room grew darker. Taylor could hear voices urging him to hold on, but he could no longer resist the temptation of drifting away. An incredible lightness descended upon him, erasing the painful heaviness in his body. He was floating, lifting up higher and higher, leaving his body behind. The voices around him grew fainter as if they were coming from somewhere far away until they drowned out completely. Taylor vaguely remembered that he had promised Maggie not to give up, but that seemed irrelevant to him now. Surely, she would understand if she knew how wonderfully liberating it felt to let go. There was no more struggle to be had, no more agitation, just the pure ease of letting go.

  As soon as the door to the examination room opened, Hannah jumped from her chair, looking expectantly at the tall, middle-aged man in a doctor’s coat. It had been over an hour since Taylor had been wheeled behind the closed doors. Taylor’s grandparents had arrived shortly after Taylor had been admitted into the hospital, and they had been waiting in the hallway together with Hannah and Shawn.

  The doctor’s face looked drawn and tired. He introduced himself as Dr. Evans.

  “Is our grandson going to be all right?” asked Millie, clasping her hands nervously.

  “I think it will be best if we talk in my office,” replied Dr. Evans. “It’s down the hall on the left.” His eyes were fixed on Millie and Phil the entire time he spoke.

  Slowly, the four of them filed into the doctor’s study.

  The room was small with pale blue-green walls and a glaring fluorescent light in the ceiling. Millie and Phil took a seat in the two chairs that stood across the paper-laden desk, while Hannah and Shawn stood behind them.

  Dr. Evans took a seat behind his desk, placing a manila folder before him, as he adjusted his glasses. He remained silent for a few minutes, as though searching for the right words for what he was about to say.

  “Doctor, please tell us how is our grandson,” Millie started humbly. “We need to know the truth.”

  “Taylor suffered brain trauma,” said Dr. Evans slowly, “and went into a coma shortly after he was admitted into the hospital.”

  For a moment the room grew deafeningly quiet as everyone contemplated the gravity of Dr. Evans’s words.

  “But that’s impossible!” Hannah burst out. “He was awake throughout the helicopter ride. He was fine.”

  “Hannah, please!” pleaded Shawn, clasping her arm in attempt to calm her.

  Dr. Evans nodded, drawing a deep breath. “I understand how you feel, but please try to stay calm. Taylor suffered what is called subdural hematoma, which is when the blood gathers right below the covering of the brain.” Dr. Evans lifted up a plastic model of a human skull, demonstrating the area that he was referring to. “The fact that Taylor was conscious immediately after the injury is a very good sign. That being said, we ran an MRI, and the images show heavy bleeding and significant swelling to the brain.” Dr. Evans pointed to one of the MRI images that he removed from the folder on his desk. “However, the bleeding has stopped and that is very promising….”

  “Is our grandson going to die?” Millie’s voice was barely audible.

  Noticing the pained look on Dr. Evans’s face, Phil reached for Millie’s hand.

  “Mrs. Ratran, I know this is very difficult to hear, and I am so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but the fact is that Taylor has suffered a very serious trauma. The process of recovery varies in each case,” Dr. Evans’s face was filled with empathy as he spoke. “Most patients do recover from this type of injury. However, the duration of the recovery and resulting side effects vary in each case.”

  “There’s no need to beat around the bush,” said Millie calmly, ignoring Phil’s attempt to quiet her. “I’d like to know what are the chances that our grandson will recover.”

  “Patients with similar injuries have regained consciousness. However, because of the severity of the brain injury, the recovery is almost never complete. There is a high risk of a permanent speech impediment, memory loss, or loss of motor function.”

  Upon hearing this verdict, Hannah gasped sharply, drawing her hand to her mouth.

  “Please go on, Dr. Evans,” said Millie, clasping Hannah’s shoulder.

  “Mrs. Ratran, you must understand that every patient reacts differently. I’ve seen cases where patients fully recovered without any side effects within minimal recovery time, and I’ve also seen situations where recovery took much longer and was not complete. A lot depends on the patient and the support of those close to him.” Dr. Evans paused, taking off his glasses. “I urge you to stay positive. We will monitor Taylor’s condition closely. Of course you are free to come and visit him any time during the visiting hours. It has been documented, and I have witnessed it firsthand, that hearing the voices of loved ones aids recovery in coma patients.”

  “Thank you, doctor.” Millie got up from her chair. Her voice was calm, but her legs twitched involuntarily, and she held on to Phil’s arm to steady herself.

  “Shawn, I still can’t believe what happened,” murmured Hannah once Phil and Millie had left. “It’s just so terrible.” Her eyes welled up.

  “Yes – I can’t believe it myself. It was sheer luck that you happened to be in the helicopter with Jim – if you hadn’t spotted where the avalanche wave went, I don’t think we would have gotten to Taylor in time – he could have been gone, just like Ryan.”

  “I am afraid to think that Taylor might not wake up...” Unable to contain herself a moment longer, Hannah gave into her tears, leaning into Shawn’s shoulder and burrowing her face in his chest.

  Shawn gingerly pressed his hand against Hannah’s back. “We’ve got to stay strong for Taylor – it will give him strength to get better.”

  “Yes, our love will guide him back to us.” Hannah grasped Shawn’s arm as they walked back to his car. It felt good to have a dependable shoulder to lean on and comforting to know that Shawn would always be there for her.
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  Chapter 31

  Maggie slept fitfully all night in a frightening succession of nightmares in which she was losing Taylor over and over again. Each dream had a different setting to it: they were either in the mountains together, on the beach, or in the midst of some unknown, bustling city street, but every dream had the same ending: she would get separated from Taylor, and a cold, crippling fear would steal over her entire being. She would run through the maze of her dreams, trying to find him, but her search ended up being fruitless each time as she kept waking up from her own tears.

  She counted to one thousand, telling herself that there was no reason to worry and that she would call Taylor first thing in the morning, trying to distract herself by imagining how the two of them would laugh about her groundless fears, but each time she drifted back to sleep, the nightmares returned.

  It was five in the morning when Maggie woke up for the last time: dreading the thought of another nightmare, she decided to stay awake. She stroked the emerald on the left ring finger of her hand – ever since Taylor had given her the ring, she never took if off. The stone was as green as Taylor’s eyes, and she wished she could be with him right now, remembering how his eyes twinkled every time he looked at her. She yearned to hear his voice, if only for a minute, so that she could know that he was all right. For a few moments she contemplated calling him, but then decided against it: it was the middle of the night in Eagleville.

  She sat up in her bed, thinking of how to pass the time: she needed to do something to get her mind off things or she would go crazy with worry. Her glance fell on a pair of running shoes that stood in the corner of the room. Aside from skiing, jogging was her favorite form of physical activity – it always helped clear her mind and ease away tension. Since there was not anything she could do at the moment, rather than spend the next few hours in throes of helpless anxiety, she put on her running shoes, hoping that the physical exercise would calm her down.