Wedding Dreams: 20 Delicious Nuptial Romances

by Maggie Way

  Chapter Nineteen

  Subtle Sounds

  Even after John gave up on getting any responses from the interview, Gretchen kept checking. Not in front of him anymore, but at work, or after he went to sleep, she would check messages, read new comments, and hope there would be something. By the end of the fifth week, she had given up hope that anyone was going to call and fill in the holes in John’s memory. John never really seemed to have any hope, so maybe it wasn't as big of a letdown for him. It was a bittersweet realization for Gretchen.

  She kept trying to come up with more ideas to figure out who John was, but after John refused to let her mail out the flyers, she was hesitant to bring them up. None of them were very good anyway. Short of getting him on national television, Gretchen couldn’t think of anything else to do. John thought it was all pointless and ignored her any time she tried to bring it up. Gretchen thought the stress of waiting for someone to respond was wearing him down.

  Accepting the truth that no one was looking proved harder for Gretchen than John. Her parents and sister meant everything to her. Having a loving family as she did, compared to John who had nothing like that anymore, perhaps that was why she kept holding out for hope and why he could let it go. He didn’t understand what he was missing. On one hand, John still felt so incomplete, but on the other, it did raise Gretchen’s hopes that John wouldn’t be pulled away from her. It had been on her mind since the day of the interview. The argument with Carl led to the conversation at the kitchen table. But what had the conversation led to? She didn’t know yet.

  For the most part, things were pretty much the same between John and Gretchen. Both of them admitting they were willing to let their relationship progress didn’t mean either of them was ready to jump in without looking. Wondering whether John was really a psychotic killer was a thing of the past, but the pain leftover from Steve, and the fear that Gretchen would only be crushed again, made her timid. Gretchen got the feeling from John that he didn’t want things to move too quickly either. They were both willing to let things move at their own pace. That didn’t mean nothing had change, though.

  When they watched TV together John immediately pulled Gretchen against his side. When it was time to make dinner, he joined her in the kitchen, clumsily dancing around her with familiar ease. Coming home to his welcoming hug was something Gretchen came to expect. They felt at home with each other, and for the time being, that was enough.

  Driving to the hospital to have John’s casts removed, six weeks after having them put on, stretched by in comfortable silence. At least, it was comfortable until they pulled into the hospital parking lot. John’s whole body went rigid as Gretchen brought the car to a stop. It happened every time they went back. He hated going to the hospital and being reminded of what had happened.

  At home, he could pretend living with Gretchen was what his life had always been, but at the hospital the doctors forced him to remember waking up with nothing. Just as Gretchen did the last three times they had gone back to the hospital, she took his hand and waited. They had left the house early so John would have plenty of time to prepare himself.

  “Can’t we just go home?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  Gretchen liked hearing him say that word. Home. It wasn't “Gretchen’s house” any more, it was just home. Their home. “You can do this, John. Just take a deep breath and think about something else. Think about the smell of the bread you made the other day or the lasagna we had for dinner last night.”

  For some reason, food really helped calm him. It wasn’t a comfort food kind of thing. It was more of a control mechanism. He could taste something new and immediately know whether or not he liked it. He was reclaiming part of himself with every bite. It made him eager to explore new tastes, and led to Gretchen being practically kicked out of the kitchen. Which was hardly a bad thing. John loved cooking new recipes, and he was getting pretty good at if they didn’t count a few of his more interesting flavor experiments. They had to order in those nights.

  As John thought about the foods he loved, Gretchen got out of the car and went over to his side. He didn’t move when she opened the door, but he did slowly get out when she grabbed his hand and pulled on him gently. John let Gretchen lead him all the way through the hospital, to the unpleasant Dr. Marshall, with his eyes half closed. He stayed nice and relaxed until the screeching whirr of the saw snapped him out of his thoughts.

  “Hold still,” Dr. Marshall said. “I’m going to start with the cast on your hand, so put it up on the table.”

  He was so polite. John didn’t seem to notice. Even with having to visit the hospital again, his excitement to get his casts off was quickly taking over. Propping his hand up on the table, John watched the saw slowly slice into the hard plaster. The cast cracked open and John was quick to wiggle his fingers around.

  The leg cast was off a few minutes later, and John eagerly slipped off the bed only to stumble when he tried to put his weight on it. Between Gretchen grabbing one arm and John catching himself on the bed, they managed to keep him from falling.

  “Oh yeah, your leg is going to be very weak at first. The muscles have atrophied from not being used,” Dr. Marshall said, amused. It was the first time Gretchen had seen him smile. At least he was enjoying himself. “You’ll want to start exercising the leg so it can regain its strength. And don’t forget that you have an appointment with the physical therapist next week.”

  Dr. Marshall stood up then and brushed away the white dust from cutting off the casts. “And now you’re free to go,” he said. He looked pleased that this was the last time they would have to meet with him. Gretchen didn’t know why he was so happy. She and John were perfectly nice people, unlike him. Dr. Marshall seemed oblivious to that fact. He nodded to them both and walked out.

  “So, how do you feel?” Gretchen asked John. He was still having fun wiggling his fingers and toes.

  “I feel great,” he said excitedly. “We should do something to celebrate.”

  “Already covered,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.

  An hour later, they were seated at their table. Live piano music filled the room, enhancing the atmosphere. Little candles flickered on their table. The crystal bowls they were in broke up the light and scattered it around the table.

  John poured over the menu, clearly excited to try something new. “I think I’ll try the salmon,” he said. “I haven’t tried salmon yet. Does it taste anything like tuna? I didn’t like tuna very much.”

  “I don’t think salmon tastes anything like tuna. I think you’ll like it.”

  He didn’t just like it, he loved it. Gretchen had never met a person who got so excited about food before. Every new taste was an adventure for him. She spent most of the meal just watching him eat. Then to see him get excited again, Gretchen offered to let him taste some of her garlic shrimp. Not surprisingly, he loved the shrimp too. He rambled on about the different herbs and spices in each dish and how he would have done them differently. Gretchen had no great love of cooking, but she enjoyed listening to him. The rich deserts they ordered afterward kept him quiet for the first time that night. He was enjoying his chocolate lasagna too much to speak.

  When he finally laid his fork down, John looked happy. Truly happy. There was no sign of the lingering uncertainty and pain Gretchen usually saw in his eyes. He looked comfortable, at peace. She doubted it would last much past that night—there was still too much that haunted John—but it was a good look on him. She would have to try to bring it out more often.

  “Hey, do you want to dance?” John asked suddenly.

  Glancing over at the piano, Gretchen noticed that there were actually a few couples dancing in the empty floor space around it. “Are you sure you want to dance right now?” she asked. Her eyes fell on the cane he had to use to make it out of the hospital. “Your leg might not be ready for that yet.”

  “My leg will be fine. Come on,” John said.

  Gretchen wasn't convinced his leg
would hold up, but she nodded anyway. John used the table for support as he stood, but held a hand out to her once he was standing on his own. She took it, holding tightly to make sure he wasn’t going to stumble when he took his first step.

  Leaning on Gretchen heavily, the two of them made it to the edge of the dance floor, which was thankfully near their table. Gretchen supposed she should have felt nervous, dancing with John for the first time, but she only felt comfort. The way her skin tingled at his touch when he put his hands around her waist nudged her heart rate a little faster.

  They stood close together, and only partially because John might have fallen over if they hadn’t. Settling into an off-balance slow dance, Gretchen felt tingling pleasure spread through her skin when she laid her head on his chest. She could feel John’s heart beating faster at her touch. His reaction brought a smile to her lips, and Gretchen snuggled against him even more.

  They stayed there through several songs. She could have fallen asleep in his arms, feeling so calm and wonderful, if it weren’t for the fact that she was helping him stand up. Gretchen wanted the piano to keep playing forever. A break in the music wasn't what brought her head off John’s chest, though. It was his voice.

  “Gretchen, thank you for tonight,” he whispered.

  “You don’t have to thank me, John. I did it for me as much as I did it for you,” she admitted. She laid her head back down, wanting to recapture the quiet peace of hearing his heartbeat.

  “Gretchen.” She looked up at him again. “Thank you,” he said. Then before Gretchen could lay her head against his chest again, he leaned toward her.

  Gretchen’s whole body reacted, feeling every sensation tenfold. His fingers trailing across her cheek felt like ice on her skin. His warm breath on her body melted Gretchen’s fears. She was trembling by the time his lips finally fell against hers. The piano music disappeared. Background noises faded away. The subtle sounds of John’s breath and heartbeat were all she heard. They were all she ever wanted to hear again.

  Chapter Twenty

  Accidental Bruises

  Letting go of Gretchen was harder than keeping himself from falling over, which was getting more difficult by the second. Her body pressed against his felt more right than anything he had experienced since waking up. John pulled away from her reluctantly, ready to get out of the restaurant, but a sharp pain behind his eyes stopped him.

  Muffled voices played in his mind. Flashes of color jumped back and forth. For a moment he thought he saw a woman’s face, but it was gone too quickly to identify. John tried to push the voices and colors away. They lasted a few more seconds before everything disappeared. The pain, the colors, and the voices all vanished.

  “John? John, what’s wrong?”

  Shaking his head, he looked at Gretchen. She grimaced in pain and worry. Pain? Searching her to see what was wrong, John saw his own hands clamped on her arms. Her skin dimpled under the pressure, turning white around his fingers from the harsh grip. Gasping, John dropped his hands, stumbling at the lack of support.

  Gretchen reached forward to grab him, but John pushed her hands back. Limping away from her, he rushed to their table, grabbing his cane and racing to the door. John needed to get away from her before he hurt her again. He tried to warn her about this. He told her he didn’t know what he might do.

  But John didn’t stop her from staying near him.

  The cool, spring air hit him as he burst through the doors. He could hear Gretchen calling for him to wait, but pushed ahead anyway. He didn’t even know what had happened. What were those colors and voices? Did he see something in them? The pain he felt beforehand was awful. It came on so suddenly, he had no chance to do anything about it. What if it came back? What if he hurt Gretchen again?

  John started walking, but he only made it a few steps before remembering he had nowhere to go. He didn’t even have a way to leave the parking lot aside from his own two feet. That wasn’t going to get him very far. John didn’t have the chance to come up with another plan.

  “John, wait! What are you doing?” Gretchen called out as she ran up to him.

  John turned away, not wanting to look at her.

  “John, what happened?” she asked. “Your face went all white and you just stood there like you were in a trance. And why did you run out like that?”

  In her rush to get out of the building she hadn’t gotten her sweater back on. John could see the splotches of finger-sized bruises beginning to form around her arms. “Gretchen, I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

  “Sorry for what?” she asked, and then she seemed to realize what he was staring at. She lifted her arm to inspect the damage. John expected her to cry or be angry, but she just shook her head. “Forget about that. It’s nothing. You need to tell me what happened. Do we need to call Dr. Sanchez?”

  “Nothing?” he asked in disbelief. “How can you say that’s nothing? I hurt you, Gretchen. Look at the bruises!”

  “For God’s sake, John. You squeezed my arms a little too hard. It’s not that big of a deal. What is a big deal is that something obviously just happened to you,” she said. “You looked like you were in pain, and if you don’t tell me what happened I’m calling Dr. Sanchez right now.”

  “It was nothing,” John said, repeating her words.

  She looked as though she were about to throttle John if he didn’t give her a real answer. He should have known she wouldn’t let this slide. She was so protective of him. So careful. John’s shoulders slumped. There was no getting away from her now. Not that he really wanted to. He could never actually leave her.

  “There was this sharp pain in my head,” John said. “Then lights and sounds.” That was all they were, right? Just some random flashes. He wasn’t even sure if the sounds had been part of the experience, or just the restaurant noise amplified by the pain in his head. For a moment, John thought there had been a face, but he was almost positive it had just been someone passing by them in the restaurant.

  “Lights and sounds? What do you mean?”

  She must have thought he was hallucinating. Was he? Was there still something wrong with his? His last MRI had been clear, but could they really be sure? Gretchen grabbed her phone from her purse, and John had no doubt she was searching her contacts for Dr. Sanchez’s phone number. Maybe she would know what was going on, but John was done with doctors for the day. John quickly grabbed her hand, forcing the phone down.

  “Gretchen, wait,” John pleaded, “I don’t think it was anything serious. I don’t know, but I think the pain just made me really sensitive to light and sound for a moment. I was just seeing and hearing the room more than I should have. It’s not worth calling Dr. Sanchez about.”

  Gretchen stared at him in frustration. “This is more important than your fears of going back to the hospital. There might be something wrong.”

  “I’m fine,” John said, surprised by the heat in his voice. “It was just a side effect from the injury. Dr. Sanchez said I might experience something like this as I’m healing.”

  “But, why now? You haven’t had anything like this before. Why would your head suddenly start hurting almost two months later? That doesn’t make sense,” she said.

  “It has happened before,” he said quietly.

  “What? When? Why didn’t you tell me?” She was absolutely stunned he’d kept something from her.

  “It was just once, and it was even quicker than what happened tonight,” he said. “It was that night you made Swiss steak. You where pounding the steaks and the same thing happened. I think it was just the loud noise, last time and this time.”

  At least, he was pretty sure that had been the cause.

  Frowning, Gretchen struggled to agree that what he was saying made sense. Dr. Sanchez had said he might be more sensitive to noise, especially for the first few months. It had been a month and a half since the accident, but the last MRI showed parts of his brain still healing. It was a slow process. A headache and some sensitivity to light and soun
d really weren’t worth dragging him back to the hospital. And she would literally have to drag him.

  Gretchen sighed. She seemed to realize John was right. Slipping her phone back into her purse, she turned to him. “Fine, I won’t call Dr. Sanchez, but will you please tell me if anything like this happens again?”

  John hesitated. Was she going to react the same way every time something weird happened? She was so good to make sure he got to all his appointments and took the right medications and got enough rest. He loved how caring she was, but he didn’t want her freaking out every time he got a headache.

  “I’m serious, John. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” she said. She smiled and stepped a little closer to him. Her flirting calmed his panic somewhat. “I’m getting kind of attached to you, you know.”

  “Is that so?” John pulled her closer and started to wrap his arms around her. When his hands touched her arms, his eyes drifted down to the tiny bruises and his playfully seductive smile faded.

  Gretchen groaned. John wanted to put his arms around her. He wanted to get back to the kiss that had ended all too quickly. The finger-shaped bruises stole his focus. Gretchen suddenly pushed back from John and punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

  “Ow!” he said. His confused expression made her smile.

  “See? I can give you bruises, too,” she said.

  Scowling back at her, John said, “It’s not the same.”

  “No,” she said, “it’s not. I punched you on purpose.”

  John wanted to respond to that, but Gretchen didn’t give him a chance.

  “You’re being an idiot about this,” she said. “You pinched my arms in a moment of pain. It was an accident. If you’re going to act like such a baby about things like this, you’re going to end up with a lot of bruises on your shoulder.”