by Tara Randel
“Mitch? Are you listening?”
He shook off his innermost fears and tried to pull a convincing smile.
“Sorry. I zoned out there for a minute.”
Sympathy crossed his mother-in-law’s face. He’d come to really resent that particular look. On anybody.
“I’m sure once you remember, you’ll get the camera back.”
To be honest, he was almost glad it had gone missing. Soon, though, he would have to find out if he could still take photographs.
“You’re probably right.”
Pleased by his answer, Samantha went on to fill him in on town happenings. He’d missed a lot while he was gone; only this time, it mattered. After nearly two years, he wanted to catch up on events in Cypress Pointe.
“Your parents will be stunned to see you. What do you think your father will say?”
He shook his head. His dad would probably berate him on how his foolish “hobby” had nearly gotten him killed.
He pushed away from the wall. “I need to run. It was good catching up with you.”
“Don’t let Zoe discourage you, Mitch. You belong here.”
“Yes. I know.”
On wobbly legs, he made it to the front door. At the last moment, he paused. A strange sensation niggled at him. He turned to find Zoe watching him from the kitchen entryway. Her closed expression made him curious. Once, he could read every emotion on her face. Not any longer.
“You’ll call me about the doctor’s appointment?”
“I said I would.”
She nodded. “We’ll make plans for you and Leo after the visit.”
He nodded and walked out into the bright sunshine. He didn’t want to argue. The visit had taxed his strength and he wasn’t up to exchanging words with her. It was enough that she would accompany him to see the doctor. Her presence alone would give him the moral support he was, if a little begrudgingly, acknowledging that he desperately needed.
He’d already had enough negative diagnoses to last him a lifetime. You may never walk without a cane. Your memory may never resurface. Your brain may never function properly.
Maybe this was all true, but it was not going to keep him from his son.
Chapter Five
PUTTING THE CAR in Reverse, Zoe mulled over the last few hours. The doctor’s visit turned out to be more complex than she’d expected.
Not that she’d had any clue as to what would happen. But after listening to Dr. Warren evaluate Mitch, Zoe didn’t know what to feel. To avoid a sense of helplessness, she’d taken notes while Mitch sat beside her, taciturn, with few comments to share. The doctor had tried to get Mitch to engage, but that stubborn frown never left his face. He’d always been a horrible patient.
When Mitch had called her with the appointment date for Thursday, the reality of his health became tangibly real. She’d jumped on the internet to find out all she could about brain injuries, only to be overwhelmed by the information. She had no idea where Mitch was in the recovery process, nor what treatments he’d already undergone. He was tight-lipped about his time overseas, so she could only imagine what he’d endured prior to returning to the States.
“How do you feel about this doctor?” she asked as she pulled out of the medical complex once they’d finished setting up future appointments.
Mitch stared out the window. “Fine.”
“Considering he didn’t have any records from when you were previously in the hospital, he seemed to sum up the situation well.”
Mitch shrugged.
As they had talked, Mitch revealed that he’d had to relearn how to walk once he’d woken from the coma. Her chest had hurt as she listened to his monotone voice relay the early days after the accident. He’d spent hours, first with a walker, shuffling up and down the hospital hallways, until he’d graduated to a cane. He couldn’t be sure of the timeline since his memory was still spotty.
His vision, Mitch admitted, had been affected but was getting better. She’d been shocked because he never mentioned the problem. The doctor concurred after an examination. With one good checkmark next to his name, Zoe could breathe more easily.
The doctor ordered a CAT scan to evaluate the progress of the brain injury, along with physical therapy for Mitch’s leg and arm, as a beginning treatment plan. Once he read the scan, he hoped to have an additional diagnosis but was clear about them not getting their hopes up yet. When he mentioned seeing a neuropsychologist, Mitch’s shoulders had gone rigid.
“Dr. Warren said the CAT scan will probably give him a better idea of your prognosis.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mitch idly rubbing his scalp, his face still a blank mask.
“Next week, we’ll have a better idea of your recovery.”
Silence filtered through the car, heavy and uncomfortable, before Mitch finally spoke.
“Just drop me off at Wyatt’s and we’ll call it even.”
Zoe pressed her lips together. Held her tongue. All this was new to her. Mitch had been dealing with doctors and hospitals and who knew what else on his own for months now. She didn’t want to add to his stress by asking endless questions.
“Sure. Do you want me to drive you to the imaging center next week?”
“Don’t you have to work?”
“I can juggle my schedule.”
His voice grew tight. “I’ll let you know.”
She pulled into the driveway of Wyatt’s cottage and put the car in Park. “Do you need any—”
“I can take care of myself,” he snapped.
She tried not to show any outward sign that his mood upset her. From what she’d read, patients with these types of injuries were sometimes irritable, likely to lash out at those caring for them.
Which she was barely doing.
Guilt consumed her. They’d agreed to get Mitch set up with the doctor before trying to deal with their personal problems. She’d thought that was a good idea at the time; but now?
Pasting on a sunny smile, she said, “Well, call me if you need anything.”
“I’d like to see Leo.”
Another area where she had to tread lightly.
“The sitter is with him this afternoon. If you want, I can swing by after work and bring you to the house.”
“You don’t trust me with him?”
“He doesn’t know you yet.”
“And he won’t if you keep me away.” His good leg bounced in place. She’d noticed this week that when he was tense, he grew fidgety.
The dark circles under his eyes, the restlessness and the way he favored the cane had her worried, but she also knew Leo was the one bright spot in Mitch’s day. But until they had a better idea of his recovery, she couldn’t chance leaving Leo alone with him.
“Are you sleeping?”
He looked away.
“Eating?”
No answer.
Shaking her head, she put the car in Reverse.
He sat forward in his seat. “Hey, what’re you doing?”
“Taking you to get some food.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Really? When was the last time you had a decent meal?”
“Zoe,” he nearly growled. “Leave it alone.”
“Can’t. Not if you want to be in better shape to spend time with Leo.”
He clamped his mouth shut and sank back against the seat. Yeah, it was low using their son to get him to go along with her, but it was the only leverage she had.
An hour later, he’d devoured a big late-morning breakfast and she’d driven them to the beach-access parking lot. She turned off the ignition and shifted in her seat to face him.
“Not hungry, huh?”
“Don’t start.”
“Then, from now on, be honest with me, Mitch.”
After a couple of
long static seconds, he nodded.
“Want to go sit on the bench by the sand?”
Instead of answering, he opened the door. She quickly scrambled from behind the wheel. He was already heading to the bench when she joined him, but she made sure to let him make his unsteady way on his own steam.
They sat for a few minutes, watching the scene play out around them.
Little children scampered about, mostly followed by mothers with a frazzled look Zoe recognized. Leo was already too curious for his own good; she couldn’t imagine what it would be like when he could really toddle around.
The green-blue water lapped against the sugary white sand, calm in the sea-scented breeze. Seagulls squawked, hovering in the sky until finally diving to snag food just below the water’s surface. One little boy held up what Zoe thought might be a sandwich, but his mother quickly snatched it away. If the gulls knew there was human food offered nearby, they wouldn’t leave the youngster alone, which created a mess for everyone in the vicinity.
“Do you bring Leo here?” Mitch asked.
“Sometimes. He’s still too busy putting everything in his mouth so I err on the side of caution.”
“Sand isn’t the most appetizing.”
“The one time he did get some in his mouth he tried spitting it out. I was trying hard not to laugh at his hysterical facial expression while at the same time telling him, no.”
“He listens well?”
“He does, but he is very inquisitive. I’m constantly watching him so he doesn’t get himself into trouble.”
“Isn’t that part of growing up? Making new discoveries?”
“He’s only a year old,” she replied, tone dry. “He still needs guidance.”
Mitch sent her a black look. “Are you laughing at me?”
She grinned. “Not really. I just know if you had your way, you’d encourage him to try new things, even though he’s still too young.”
“Believe it or not, I’m not totally clueless. I can wait until he turns two.”
Zoe glanced at Mitch’s handsome face. Despite the paleness and general look of exhaustion, she saw real humor light his eyes for the first time since he’d been home.
“I always imagined I’d have to keep an eye on you two. I have a feeling there are going to be a lot of don’t-tell-Mom moments in my future.”
“Does that mean you won’t fight me about being active in Leo’s life?”
“Not unless something happens to warrant it.”
Zoe reached out to touch his arm, then pulled back. Touching probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Not yet.
“Mitch, I get the feeling you’d rather not talk about it, but at the doctor’s visit today, you didn’t seem very...interested with your treatment.”
He gazed out over the water. “I’ve had my fill of being poked and prodded.”
“But you do want to improve, right?”
“More than you know.” His words, though impassioned, where spoken so quietly she had to strain to hear his voice.
“So you do what the doctor says.”
“I think I have a much more detailed concept of what my prognosis will entail. Therapy. Tests. Appointments. And all the while questioning if I’ll remain in this condition permanently.”
“Which you’d hate.”
“Exactly.”
A shout drew Zoe’s attention to the water. A boy splashed his mother while she tried, unsuccessfully, to scold him.
“At the risk of sounding overly optimistic, think positive.”
“I’ll try,” came his droll reply.
“Seriously, Mitch, do you feel any better since the accident?”
Mitch tapped his cane against his good leg. “The biggest positive change is my vision. Otherwise, I’m not healing as quickly as I’d like.”
“See, that’s a step in the right direction.”
He stopped tapping and gazed in her direction. “You always were a cheerleader.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing. I’ve always been a glass half-full.”
“And what happens if my recovery is half-empty?”
“Then we keep working.”
His gaze captured hers. “We?”
Her stomach fluttered—was it because she didn’t want to discuss the state of their marriage, or admit she still found his dark brown eyes compelling? For all they’d disagreed about the direction of their lives near the end, there was no denying they shared wonderful memories as well. “We, as in for Leo. So his dad can be a healthy part of his life.”
Mitch turned away, his easygoing features now gloomy. “Right. Part of Leo’s life.”
Zoe thought about how bad stress was for Mitch and decided to change the subject. Since they hadn’t made any decisions, now was not the best time to start. He’d had a tough morning, and with the future appointments lined up, it wouldn’t get easier anytime soon.
“So, there’s a bonfire Saturday night,” she said instead.
“Wyatt mentioned it.”
“Maybe you’ll go?”
“I...” He tap-tap-tapped his cane. “Probably not.”
“You should go.”
“And you shouldn’t push.”
She held her hands up in retreat. “Fine. I just thought being around people might be good for you.”
“To give them fodder to cringe and try to make small talk when they don’t know what to say? Like Lucy at the restaurant today?”
Their waitress, a friend to both since high school, had been nosy and took too many furtive glances at Mitch. Since his hair hadn’t had time to grow out yet, the scars were still visible. He’d lost weight, his skin tone sallow. If Lucy had been tongue-tied, maybe Mitch was right, and other friends would have the same reaction.
“You’re underestimating people.”
“And you’ve always lived in a bubble.”
Okay, that was true, but hurtful, because he probably didn’t mean it in a good way.
“On that note, it’s time to leave,” she said in a crisp tone. “There are people in Cypress Pointe who actually value my opinion.”
He winced as he pushed himself up from the bench to lean on the cane. “Sorry, Zoe.”
“No, I don’t think you are. You always thought my projects were cute while you were off gallivanting with the rich and famous. I make a difference here, Mitch. A difference you’ll notice if you bother to stick around.”
Face hot, she turned and stomped back to the car. Remember, he’s lashing out because of his injury. That may be true, but it didn’t hurt any less.
* * *
HE PROBABLY SHOULDN’T have come to the bonfire tonight, but Mitch needed to make amends. Zoe had been faithful about coming to his doctor appointments, and what had he done? Given her a hard time. She didn’t get the pain he lived with daily, but that didn’t mean he should push her away. They were practically divorced. At least, he thought they were. Zoe hadn’t been clear on the status of the paperwork, a detail he needed to get to the bottom of. And she had a job. She didn’t have to be chauffeuring him around from one consultation to the next.
But he was relieved she’d volunteered.
Why? When spending time with her would only make the final split, when it came, more painful? Because it would come. She’d been clear about that. They may be parents, but they wouldn’t be filling the roles as one happy family. Besides, he couldn’t be the partner she needed, not when his future health challenges were looking dismal. He hadn’t been the best husband when he was healthy. What did he have to offer her now?
In light of the constant pain and uncertainty of his recovery, he wanted some part of his life to be familiar. To have Zoe around, like it had once been. Even if it was only to drive him to the medical center. The fact that she was willing to put up with him gave him hope that he might be okay as a fa
ther even if he’d flunked at being a husband.
And right now, he needed hope above all else.
Standing on the edge of the rowdy group surrounding the just-lit fire, Mitch debated the wisdom of showing up this evening. Young guys traded jokes and talked sports while the moms and dads talked about their kids and their jobs. So different from the world he’d been living in six months ago. There, people worried about where they would live or if they had enough food to survive. Could he make the transition back to this life as he’d once known it?
He had to try, for the sake of his son. So, he’d pulled on a pair of worn jeans and a black polo shirt, then slipped on a pair of comfortable shoes. Sitting alone on Wyatt’s porch wasn’t an option tonight. Part of getting back to normal was at least trying to act normal, at least he assumed. Between the accident, finding out he was a father and returning home to a wife who had lost all faith in him, normal was a relative term.
He’d grown tired of his own company, especially as he racked his brain for a tiny piece of the puzzle that was the accident. The sense of uneasiness he’d experienced ever since leaving Jordan hadn’t abated. And what made it worse was that he had no idea what to be uneasy about. He remembered driving away from the camp, but to where? He recalled laughing with someone, but whom? The inability to call his memories into play frustrated him more than his physical limitations. His gut churned with an urgency he could not ignore.
And if he brought this up? People might surmise it was because of his head injury. That he didn’t want to face the reality of the accident. But he knew better. Something was up.
Last night, he’d just started to doze off when a strange thought had filtered through his brain: This was going to be your last assignment. You were returning home to fix things with Zoe.
He’d awoken with a start. Repeated the thought over and over in a nonstop loop. Was it true or wishful thinking? He needed to get his memory back for more than solving the mystery of what had happened that day. He needed to find out if the thoughts about Zoe were what had driven his last actions. And if the words were indeed accurate, he needed to figure out what fixing things for them meant. Coexisting? Co-parenting? He didn’t have a clue.
Through the throng of townspeople, a figure approached Mitch.
