“Package for Mrs. Olivia Jackson. Could you sign for me, please?”
The courier handed his electronic device and stylus over to Xander for his signature, then passed Xander the large flat envelope he’d had tucked under his arm. With a cheery “Thanks” and a wave, he was gone.
Xander slowly closed the front door and turned the envelope over in his hands. “Oxford Clement & Gurney” was printed on the envelope. Family law specialists. A frown furrowed his brow as he stared at the black print on the white background. He repeated the name of the firm out loud, knowing that there was something about it that was familiar. But no matter how hard he reached for the key in his mind to open that particular door, it remained firmly closed and out of reach.
Family law specialists—what on earth would Olivia be needing them for? The envelope was poorly sealed, just a slip of tape holding it down in the center of the flap. One small tug would be all it took to open it and check the contents inside. Maybe he’d find something that would fill in some of the gaps in his Swiss cheese for brains. But what if he didn’t like what he discovered? And how would he explain to Olivia that he’d been prying in her personal mail? There was no question it was addressed to her and not to him.
Maybe something had been going wrong in their marriage before his accident. Maybe things weren’t as he remembered and that was why Olivia remained cagey about the past six years. He hadn’t pressed her too hard for any of it, and he now wondered if that wasn’t in self-preservation. Were there things he really didn’t want to know? Things he was actively suppressing?
The doctors said there was no permanent damage to his brain from the accident and only time would tell if the amnesia would be permanent or not. It was vague and frustrating as hell to know that he had no timeline to full recovery. But perhaps he didn’t want to remember. If things hadn’t been good between him and Olivia, to the extent that she’d been talking to lawyers, then could he have chosen to forget?
Even as he chewed the thoughts over and over in his mind, he couldn’t believe that could be true. Or was it simply that he didn’t want to believe? Without his memory, without her, what did he have left?
“Argh!” he exclaimed and tossed the envelope onto the hall table in disgust. “It’s in there somewhere—I know it is,” he raged.
He went through to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of cold water and downed it quickly. His hand shook as he put the glass back down on the counter and grimaced against the all-too-familiar shooting pain in his temple that was the precursor to another headache. He reached for the painkillers Olivia kept on the counter for convenience’s sake and quickly threw a couple of them down with another drink of water, then went and lay down on one of the large couches in the sitting room. He’d learned the hard way that the only thing that would rid him of the headache was painkillers and sleep. With any luck, when he awoke, Olivia would be back home with some answers for him about the envelope that had arrived.
Eight
Olivia came in through the back door and was surprised to find the house silent. Had Xander gone out for a walk by himself? Fear clutched at her throat. They’d discussed this and agreed that he wouldn’t go out on his own just yet. Even his physical therapist had agreed it probably wasn’t a great idea until he was a bit stronger, at least not without a stick and Xander had flat-out refused to use one of those.
“Livvy? I’m in the sitting room,” he called out. Olivia felt her entire body sag in relief.
“Coming,” she answered, putting down the few extra grocery items she’d bought to cook a special dinner with before going to find him.
He was reclining on the largest of the couches in the sitting room, late-afternoon sunlight spilling over him and, no doubt, responsible for the flush on his cheeks. Even so, she automatically put a hand to his forehead to check for fever. Xander’s hand closed around hers.
“Still expecting the worst, Livvy? I’m just a little warm from the sun. That’s all.” He sat up and tugged her into his lap. Catching her chin between his fingers, he turned her face for a kiss. “Now, that’s the proper way to say hello to your husband,” he chided gently.
Her lips pulled into a smile and she kissed him again. “If you say so, husband. So, have you been behaving while I’ve been gone? No wild parties? No undesirable behavior?”
“All of the above,” he answered with a cheeky grin. “I wish.”
His expression changed under her watchful gaze. “What is it? Did something happen? Did you hurt yourself?”
He rolled his eyes at her. “No, I did not. But there was a delivery for you. An envelope from some law firm in town.”
Olivia stiffened and got up from his lap, her movements jerky and tight. “An envelope?”
She turned away from him and closed her eyes. Hoping against hope that the thing hadn’t triggered any memories for him.
“I left it on the hall table.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Man, I feel so groggy after these naps. They’re going to have to stop.”
“Did you have a headache?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you know the naps are the only thing to really get rid of them. Maybe it’s the painkillers that leave you feeling dopey. We can talk to the doctor about it if you like, maybe ask about lowering the dosage?”
“Good idea.”
He got up from the couch and walked through to the kitchen. She heard him pour water into a glass. While he was there, she quickly went into the hall and retrieved the envelope.
“I’m just going upstairs to have a quick shower and get changed,” she called out. “I’ll be back down in a few minutes.”
Without waiting for a response she flew up the stairs and into the bedroom. She grabbed some jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt and carried them and the envelope into the bathroom, where she closed and locked the door. She turned on the shower, then sat down on the closed toilet seat and tugged open the envelope, allowing the contents to slide into her lap. Her heart hammered an erratic beat as a quick scan of the letter from her lawyer confirmed that the two-year separation that was required under New Zealand law before a couple’s marriage could be dissolved had passed. Also enclosed was a joint application for a dissolution order for her signature. It had already been signed in advance by Xander.
Olivia looked at the date he’d signed the paper. It was the same date he’d crashed his car. That meant the document had been lying around somewhere, waiting to be actioned. A shiver ran down her spine. What would have happened if it had been sent to her more promptly? If she’d received it before Xander had woken from his coma and asked for her? She’d probably have signed it and returned it to her lawyer and it would have been duly processed through the court.
She reread the cover letter more carefully. In it, her lawyer apologized for the delay in getting the documentation to her. Apparently a changeover in staff had meant it was overlooked. Just like that, her life could have been so drastically different. She and Xander could already be divorced, rather than still very much married.
Bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed hard against the bitterness. She had to put a stop to the divorce proceedings somehow, but how? She couldn’t instruct Xander’s lawyers for him. How on earth was she going to get around this? Not signing the papers was a start. She shoved them roughly back into the envelope and folded it in half as if making it smaller would diminish the importance of its contents, too.
She’d have to hide it somewhere where Xander would never think to look. She opened the drawer on the bathroom vanity where she kept her sanitary items and slid it into the bottom. There they’d be safe and he certainly wouldn’t accidentally come across them.
She quickly shed her clothing and dipped under the spray of the shower before snapping the faucet off and drying and dressing to go downstairs.
“Good shower?” Xander asked as she came into
the kitchen. “I started scrubbing the potatoes, by the way. Earning my keep.”
“Thanks,” she answered as breezily as she could manage given how she’d rushed through everything. “Good to see you have your uses.”
And so it began anew, the teasing. The easy banter that had been one of the threads that had bound them together through the days before they’d become parents. Before everything had become so serious. Before they’d been driven apart.
A light spring rain meant they couldn’t eat outside tonight, so Olivia laid the table in the dining room, setting it with their best cutlery and the crystal candleholders they’d received as a wedding gift from her father. Her fingers lingered on them, remembering how they’d originally been a gift to her parents for their wedding and, in particular, remembering the words her father had shared with her when he given them.
“I know your mum would have wanted you to have these, and I hope you and Xander can be as happy together as your mother and I were. We didn’t have as long as we should have had, and I regret not telling her every single day that I loved her, but you can’t turn back time. Don’t leave love unsaid between you and Xander, Olivia. Tell him, every single day.”
Recalling his words brought tears to her eyes as she leaned forward and lit the candles. She’d gotten out of the habit of telling Xander she’d loved him, long before Parker had died. She’d been so absorbed in her work at the high school and their renovations on the house. Then her pregnancy and subsequently their new baby. Loving Xander had never stopped, but telling him had.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she whispered as she blew out the match she’d been using. “I let us all down, but I’m not going to do that again. This time I will make it work. I promise.”
And, later that night, when they went to bed, she curled up against Xander’s back and whispered to him in the darkness.
“I love you.”
His response was blurred with weariness as he mumbled the same words in return, but it was enough—for now.
* * *
The rain had cleared by morning. After breakfast, Olivia suggested they go for a walk on the beach. With Xander’s balance and strength improving daily and his coordination almost back to normal, she was sure they’d be able to tackle the softer sand areas. If it proved too much, at least they were only a block away from home. Worst-case scenario, she’d leave him on a bench seat, get the car and pick him up. Not that he’d admit defeat or even let her consider doing something like that, she thought to herself as she finished stacking the dishwasher.
“Ready?” she asked as she straightened from her task. Olivia looked at Xander, who was leaning up against the counter, watching her.
“Never more so,” he said. “It’ll be good to get out. Home is great, but I think I’m beginning to suffer a bit of cabin fever.”
She’d expected as much, and dreaded it. Living as they had, cocooned together on their property, had been remarkably simple. Her brief weekly updates to Xander’s boss, and her reiteration that he wasn’t up to visitors or calls just yet, had meant his colleagues hadn’t called to talk to him. And with Xander not being cleared to drive yet, his independence had been severely curtailed. Making it all the easier to keep up the pretense that their marriage was in healthy working order.
But was it a pretense? It didn’t feel like it. Not when they spent their nights wrapped in each other’s arms, their days either in the cottage together or with her painting while he did his physical therapy. She knew this was an idyll that couldn’t last forever. Real life would have to intrude eventually, even more quickly if, or when, he began to recall the years he’d lost. She’d have to talk to him soon. She’d have to find a way to present the truth without all the ugliness or the pain or the accusations.
The downhill walk to the beach was a gentle one, the last few hundred meters on level ground. Getting back up the hill toward the house might be another story, but she decided to tackle that when it was time. A bit of an example of how she lived everything in her life right now, she realized.
A brisk breeze blew along the beach, so there weren’t too many people about. Just a few hardy souls like themselves, wrapped in light jackets and enjoying the fresh air.
“I forgot how good it feels to be out on the beach,” Xander commented as they strolled slowly along, arm in arm. “Although I miss running along here like I used to.”
His eyes were wistful as he watched a guy power along the beach with long graceful strides, his leashed dog running right alongside him, tongue lolling in its mouth.
“You’ll get that back, I’m sure,” Olivia said with a squeeze of his arm.
“We should get a dog,” Xander said, his eyes on the retreating figure of the runner. “In fact, didn’t we have a dog?”
Olivia felt a chill go through her that had nothing to do with the wind that tugged like a mischievous child at her hair. And here it was, the moment she’d been dreading. Having to tell him the truth, or at least a part of the truth about a returning memory from the time he’d lost.
She took a deep breath before answering. “Yes, we did have a dog.”
“Bozo?”
“You weren’t too impressed with the name, but that’s what he came home from the pound with.”
A smile spread across Xander’s handsome face, and his gray eyes glinted with satisfaction. “I remember him. But what happened? He was young, wasn’t he?”
Yes, he was young. Only a year older than their son had been when they’d both been hit by the speeding driver.
“Yeah, he was just a puppy when I brought him home. He was only four when he died.”
She held her breath, fearfully wondering if he would press her for more details and praying that he wouldn’t at the same time. Her prayers were answered.
“We should get another dog. It’ll be good for me, get me out of the house to exercise regularly—and you, too,” he said with a wink as he hugged her in close to his body. “I know you—when you’re working on your paintings nothing else exists, right? You neglect yourself when you’re working.”
Olivia swallowed against the lump in her throat. She’d been working the day Parker had died. She’d sent him out of the studio because he was playing havoc with her concentration. If she’d only allowed him to play around her, he would still be alive today.
She’d found it hard to get beyond that guilt. In fact, she doubted she ever would completely. Logically she knew it was a combination of events that led to tragedy that day, and that no single action was at fault, but it didn’t stop her wondering how things could have been different.
“Speaking of neglecting yourself. How are you doing? Not too tired? Maybe we should head back,” she said, turning the subject back to Xander. It was far easier than allowing the focus to be on her.
When Xander agreed to turn back she was surprised. It wasn’t like him to concede anything—and it worried her. Back at the house she went to make them coffee while he rested in the hammock on the patio. When she came out again, he was asleep. He’d pushed himself too hard on the sand, she thought as she settled down at the table and watched him. He was still a little pale, but his cheekbones were less prominent than they’d been when he’d come home from the hospital, his shoulders a little heavier.
Slowly, he was gaining weight and condition again, but he still had a long way to go. The body’s ability to heal never failed to amaze her. It was his mind that remained an unknown. The sense that she was living on borrowed time bore down on her. She just knew she’d have to find a way to tell him the truth soon.
* * *
It was the small hours of the next morning when Olivia woke in her bed with a sense that something was very wrong. She reached out for Xander and only felt the space where he should have been sleeping. In the gloom, she could see their bedroom door was open. She quickly got up from the bed and flew to th
e door. She could hear Xander, his voice indistinct as he muttered something over and over again.
Where was he? She followed the sound, feeling her heart pound in her chest as she realized he was in the bedroom that had been Parker’s. What had driven him there? At the doorway she hesitated, wondering what she should do. Turn on the light? Wake Xander? But if she did that, it might leave him asking questions she had no wish to answer right now.
Cautiously she stepped into the room.
“Xander?” she said softly and placed a hand on his arm.
He muttered something under his breath, and she strained to hear it—her blood running cold in her veins as she made out the words.
“Something’s not right. Something’s missing.”
His head swiveled from side to side. Even though his eyes were open, she knew he was still asleep.
“Everything’s all right, Xander. Come back to bed,” she urged gently and took his hand to lead him back to their room.
At first he resisted, repeating the words again, but then she felt his body ease and he followed her back down the hall and into their bed. She lay on the mattress, tension holding her body in its grip as Xander slid deeply back into a restful sleep. She didn’t know how long it was before she managed to drift off herself. All she did know was that the writing was on the wall.
While his conscious memory was fractured and had wiped the slate clean of all memories of their son, his subconscious was another matter entirely. Deep down he knew something was out of sync with their life, which begged the question: How much longer did she have before he realized exactly what it was?
Nine
Xander watched through the studio’s French doors as Olivia worked, lost in concentration and in the composition of another piece for her exhibition. He loved observing her when she was unaware of his scrutiny. It gave him a chance to see her as she really was and not the face she projected to him each morning and through each day.
The Wife He Couldn't Forget Page 7
