The Forgotten Path

by Marci Bolden

  Marcus exhaled loudly, still trying to get control of his agitated nerves. “Don’t. My heart dropped through the floor, too.” He ran his hand over her hair. The strands were still short and shapeless, but it was growing out. She’d mentioned more than once that she was going to have to get it styled. Actually, she tended to mention everything more than once. Forgetting what she’d already said and telling him again was a part of their regular conversation now. He didn’t mind nearly as much as she did. She’d start to tell him something and then stop as frustration filled her face, and she’d ask if she’d said that before.

  Brushing another tear from her cheek, Marcus gave her a soft smile. “He just didn’t think.”

  She lowered her face as her brow scrunched and her lip started to quiver.

  “Okay,” he breathed, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her to his chest. “You’re okay.”

  She said something, but between her crying and the now-natural slur to her voice, he couldn’t understand her. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her by asking her to repeat herself. Instead, he hugged her closer as she sobbed.

  This was actually long overdue. She’d shed some tears—either from fear or frustration—but she’d yet to let go of what Marcus had known she’d been bottling up. No one could go through what she had without having at least one or two good cries, and as far as he knew, this was her first. So he didn’t ask her to repeat herself. He just held on as she let go. After a few minutes, she leaned back and sniffed. Marcus stretched to the nightstand and grabbed a tissue.

  She tried to take it, but it slipped from her hand. She choked out a sound and shook her head. Marcus picked the tissue up from her lap and held it out again. She took her time gripping it the next time, pinching it between her thumb and the knuckle of her pointer finger. “I’m a fucking disaster.”

  “Nah. I’ve seen drunk guys in way worse shape.”

  She chuckled through her tears then took a moment to focus on drying her cheeks. “I hate this. I hate feeling so scared. So broken.”

  “I know.”

  “He’s still out there, Marcus. I’ve lost months of my life. I can’t even blow my nose, and he’s still out there. It’s not fair.”

  “No, it’s not fair. But we can’t focus on that, sweetheart. We have to focus on getting you stronger and moving on so you don’t lose anything else to that coward.”

  She snuffled, swiped at her face, and then crumpled up the tissue and sighed heavily. “I’m such a mess. I can’t go back out there.”

  “So don’t.”

  “I have to.”

  “No, you don’t.” Kicking his shoes off, he scooted to the top of the bed and leaned against the headboard.

  She frowned. “I think I snotted on you.”

  He looked down at the numerous wet spots on his shirt. “That’s okay. I have clean ones.” He jerked his head toward the closet.

  She looked at the door then back at him. “I seem to recall you threatening to move in when I wasn’t looking. I didn’t think you’d sink so low as to do it while I was in a coma.”

  “Hell yes I did. You weren’t out five minutes before I was pushing your shoes aside.”

  He patted the bed beside him, and she smiled before slipping her shoes off and sliding up next to him. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her.

  “I only have a handful of clothes in there. Enough to get me through a few days. I wanted to make sure you got settled in okay. I’ll stay longer if you want. Or leave sooner. Or just move in. It’s up to you.”

  “Maybe I wanted to hire a cute little male nurse to give me sponge baths.”

  “Maybe I already hired a cute little female nurse to give you sponge baths. While I watch.”

  She chuckled and snuggled closer to him. “How did this happen?”

  “What?”

  “How did you become the one who makes everything okay?”

  He grinned. “Oh, I’ve always been the one. You just didn’t want to admit it.”

  “I was trying to be a good boss.”

  “A good boss would have let me grab her butt years ago.”

  “That’s sexual harassment.”

  His smile widened at the clear amusement in her stuffy voice. “What’s a little predatory behavior between consenting adults, hmm?”

  She exhaled loudly. “I wasted so much time.”

  He pressed his lips to her head. The teasing had left her tone. “No, you were right. We were co-workers first. I respected your choice, Annie. Don’t ever regret that you did what was right for you.”

  “Look at me now.”

  “I have. And I love you more than ever.”

  “You have to say that.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  She lifted her head. “You’d be a jerk if you didn’t.”

  “I’d rather be a jerk than a liar.”

  She looked into his eyes, as if searching for some sign that he was hiding the truth, and then kissed him gently. “I love you.”

  “I love you.”

  Resting her head on his shoulder again, she relaxed into him. “Let’s never leave this room again.”

  “I can deal with that.”

  Unfortunately for Annie, they did leave the room. When she and Marcus reappeared at the family gathering, the O’Connells were all sitting around the table, quietly eating. Usually their family dinners were filled with loud voices talking over each other. The discomfort in the room was palpable, even to her in her confused state.

  Walking behind Sean, she kissed his head in that annoying way people kept doing to her and ruffled his shaggy brown hair.

  “I’m okay,” she whispered in his ear before taking her seat at the head of the table. He still didn’t look at her, and she figured the lecture he’d gotten from his dad was far worse than the scare she’d gotten from the popped balloon.

  Marcus sat next to her and filled her glass from the pitcher of water on the table while she reached for the spoon sticking out of the mashed potatoes. She had to grab at it like a toddler—closed-fisted and awkward—but she finally managed to drop a scoop onto her plate. The green beans were another matter. They didn’t stick to the spoon the way potatoes did. They rolled off and spilled whenever she inadvertently tipped the spoon one way or another. Finally, she gave up. If she couldn’t get them onto her plate, she probably wouldn’t be able to get them into her mouth.

  She pretended that everyone at the table wasn’t staring as she tried to stab a slice of ham.

  “I’ve got it,” she said when Marcus tried to help. But she didn’t. The meat wouldn’t stay on the fork any more than the beans had stayed on the spoon. After several tries, she frowned and gave up getting meat, reaching for a roll instead. That she could handle. The scowl on her face deepened when Marcus scooped green beans on her plate, followed by ham.

  “You going to eat it for me, too?” she quietly asked when he started cutting her food.

  “If it’ll make it easier for you, smartass, I’ll feed you like a mama bird.”

  She winced at the image his words conjured. “You’re nasty.”

  He squawked like a bird, and she laughed while everyone else stopped talking to see what the hell he was doing.

  “Ignore him. He’s trying to be clever.”

  “I am clever.”

  “In your mind.”

  He went to work on cutting his food, and she stared at her plate. She’d been very careful not to eat in front of her family, and now there she was, at the head of the table while everyone continually cast glances her way. Using her left hand, she managed to hold the fork properly, but actually using it was another story. She had better luck getting the food from fork to mouth with her right hand, but she had to hold the utensil like a little kid just learning to feed herself—which, in a way, she was.

  Neither was very dignified. So, left-handed, she scooped up some potatoes and slowly lifted the bite to her mouth. She chewed slowly and swallowed with determ
ination. She was so focused on eating that she apparently missed the conversation happening around her. Marcus put his hand on her arm, and she looked at him.

  “Donna asked if you wanted ice cream after dinner.”

  Annie laughed softly. Clearly Donna hadn’t noticed how much time it was taking for her to eat food that didn’t melt. “No. Thanks.” She looked around the table, listening to the conversation and trying to decipher the overlapping voices and keep up with the chatter, until Marcus put his hand on her arm again.

  He gestured toward her plate. “Not hungry?”

  She looked down. She’d forgotten about her food. Something so basic as having dinner was far too challenging for her now. Pushing her plate away, she gave him a weak smile. “Listen or eat. Can’t do both.”

  “Eat,” he said, sliding her plate back to her.

  She shook her head. “Listen. Less work.”

  He didn’t laugh at her joke. He set his plate aside and took her hand. “We’ll eat later, then.”

  She smiled, touched that he’d wait for her.

  “You okay, Mom?” Mallory asked from her other side.

  “Yeah. Fine.”

  “Why aren’t you eating?”

  A bit of shame touched her. Why could she let Marcus in on this but was so embarrassed to tell her daughter? Actually, she knew why. The last thing in the world she ever wanted was for Mallory to see her as weak. She needed to be strong for her child. She needed to be the protector, not the one who needed protecting.

  “It takes some effort, Mal. I will.”

  Mallory looked at Annie’s food. “Do you want me to…feed you?”

  Annie laughed quietly. “No.”

  “I don’t mind—” She reached for Annie’s fork.

  “Don’t. You. Dare.” Any amusement Annie felt left her. “My God, Mallory. I’m not an invalid.”

  “I just… I thought…”

  Annie exhaled, realizing she’d come across harsher than she’d intended as silence fell heavy over the table. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “No,” Mallory said. “I’m sorry.”

  Annie lowered her face. Her homecoming was just one disaster after another. Kind of like her life right now.

  “I’m tired, Mal. I didn’t mean to snap.” Looking at Marcus, she frowned then looked around the table. “Thank you all for coming, but I need to lie down.” She lifted her hand to stop Marcus when he started to stand. “No. Please. I’d like some quiet time.”

  Standing, she walked away without looking back at her family. After closing her bedroom door behind her, she leaned against it and closed her eyes.

  It’ll get better, she told herself. It has to get better.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Marcus jolted awake. Sweat rolled down his brow as he panted from the fear that had made his heart race.

  Damn it. He thought he’d be over this by now. Rolling over, he felt some relief to find Annie sleeping next to him. For too long, his only comfort when he woke up from these nightmares was the steady beeping of machines to let him know she was still alive. But she was really there, lying next to him, breathing on her own, sleeping—actually sleeping, not comatose.

  He put his hand on her stomach. The rhythm of her breathing soothed him but didn’t stop his mind from replaying his dream. Scooting closer, he wrapped his arm farther around her and kissed her temple.

  She shifted and moaned, and he closed his eyes.

  “Get help,” he’d screamed, pressing his hand to her head. “Hurry! She’s been shot!”

  He’d alternated between screaming for help and assuring her she was going to be okay, even though he thought she was already dead—her eyes had been empty, her breath so shallow he couldn’t tell if her chest was moving—until he was pulled away from her by a paramedic. He’d sat back, watching them work on her, answering their questions, and asking if she was going to be okay.

  “I’ve got a pulse,” one said.

  Marcus closed his eyes tightly, trying to stop the replay, but it continued on.

  “Her blood pressure is dropping.”

  Rolling away from Annie, Marcus tossed the covers aside and sat up. Putting his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward and dug his fingers into his hair. “Stop,” he hissed.

  “Call it in. Make sure they’re prepared to handle this.”

  “Goddamn it.” He jumped to his feet and started pacing as he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

  “You okay?” Annie asked quietly.

  He stopped at the foot of the bed and took a breath so his voice didn’t tremble when he answered. “Yeah, just…can’t sleep. I’m going to get up so I don’t keep you awake.”

  “Marcus.”

  “Go back to sleep. I’m fine.”

  “Wait.” She sat up. “Come here. Please.”

  A moment later, the bedside lamp came on, and he blinked. She faced him, her eyes squinted as well.

  She stared at him for a minute. “What’s wrong?”

  He faked a smile. “Just restless. That’s all.”

  “It’s more than that. Isn’t it?”

  He shook his head. “No. This week has just been a whirlwind, you know?”

  She looked down for a moment. “Don’t. Please.”

  “What?”

  Meeting his gaze, she practically begged him with her eyes. “You are the only one who doesn’t treat me like I’m a house of cards. Please don’t start now. This”—she gestured to her arm and face—“might not be the same, but this is.” She tapped her head. “For the most part anyway.” She laughed uneasily. “I forget what I’m trying to say sometimes. I space out sometimes. But I can still think. I can see when something is wrong or someone is upset.”

  “I know that, Annie.”

  “So talk to me. Please. What’s wrong?”

  He sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed her hand. “I don’t want to add more to your plate.”

  She closed her eyes. “Please. Don’t shut me out. That doesn’t help me. I want you to talk to me.”

  He stared at her hand in his. Her fingers were always slightly curled now from the lack of control she had. It probably wasn’t obvious to someone who didn’t know, but he knew.

  He’d never forget.

  “I had a dream.”

  “Nightmare? Of that day?”

  He shifted, squeezed her hand, and then kissed it as a way to reassure himself that she was okay. “I was in the kitchen with a couple who was interested in the house. You were in the living room waiting in case someone else showed up. I heard a crash—something getting knocked over. I went to check on you. I called out your name as I entered the living room. I think I scared the guy, because he shot the gun as soon as I called out. I only saw him for a split second, but he looked as shocked as I was. You stumbled back, and I knew you’d been hit.”

  She creased her brow as she put her other hand on top of his, creating a hand sandwich.

  “I ran to you.” He cleared his throat when emotion tugged at his voice. “You fell back in my arms, and I eased you down onto the floor.” He closed his eyes as the vision filled his mind as clearly as if it were happening in that moment instead of five months before. “There was a hole…just a small hole. But it was in your head, and I… Damn it,” he said as his voice cracked.

  “Shh,” she soothed, scooting closer to him. She wrapped her arms around him. “I’m okay. Kind of.”

  He laughed softly at her joke but then shook his head. Sniffing, he pulled away and met her gaze. “You were staring. Just staring. There was nothing in your eyes. I thought you were dead. The blood…it was the strangest thing. You’d think it would gush, but it just trickled. I put my hand on your head and screamed for help. God, I must have screamed and screamed. It seemed like forever before the paramedics came. I sat there. Watching. Helpless.”

  “No, not helpless. You were there. You were with me.”

  He sighed and closed his eyes. “I dream about that moment. Every night, it seems.
Sometimes it’s worse than others. Sometimes I wake up and realize it was a dream and it goes away. Sometimes I can’t get the memories to stop.”

  “Like tonight?”

  He nodded. “Sometimes the guilt—”

  “Guilt? For what?”

  He looked at her. “I got you shot, Annie. If I hadn’t walked in and scared him, he would have left.”

  Her gaze went from confused to sympathetic. “No. No. You don’t know that.”

  “I saw his face. He didn’t mean to shoot you.”

  “He had a loaded gun aimed at me, Marcus. He is the only one to blame.”

  He lowered his face. She scooted closer and kissed his head.

  “You can’t blame yourself,” she whispered as he wrapped his arms around her. “You can’t.”

  “Because you say?”

  “Damn straight. Look, I don’t remember being shot. I never will. But I know”—she put her hand to his cheek and lifted his face so he was looking into her eyes—“I know that having you there made it better. Knowing you were there made me less scared. Just like having you here now makes me less scared. I know I get mad and I want to be left alone, but you have to know I can’t do this without you. I can’t be strong right now. Not without you.”

  She kissed him, once, twice, and the third time lingered. Pulling back, she put her forehead to his, cupped his face with her left hand, and stroked her thumb over his lips. “I love you, Marcus.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “I’m sorry you had to see that. But I’m not sorry you were there, because in my heart I knew you were there. I knew you were taking care of me. I believe that, and I believe it saved me.”

  Her words soothed something in him that he hadn’t realized was hurting. A sob worked its way up his throat. She hushed him as she pulled him closer. Lying back, she held him against her as everything he’d kept buried came to the surface. She’d had a fairly good cry earlier in the day after being startled. Apparently he was taking his turn now.

  “And you accuse me of bottling things up,” she whispered after a few minutes.

  He laughed quietly and reached for a tissue. “We’re a matched pair, you and I. Snotting on each other.”