by Wendy Hudson
She lightly pressed her lips to Darcy’s cheek and laid her head close on the pillow.
“I’m here, sweetheart,” she murmured. “I won’t ever leave you.”
Chapter 28
She was aware of the light first, and her eyes rebelled against it. Each sense caught up with the other, slow but heightened, as if she were trudging through quicksand and could feel every grain rubbing against her skin.
She heard the sound of her eyelashes brushing together as she finally opened her lids, blinking against the raw whiteness that surrounded her. The tip of her tongue found a crack in her lip as it searched for moisture, and heavy blankets weighed on her legs. Why couldn’t she move her legs? A hand, another hand, was in hers. It gripped tighter, and she focussed on each finger to return the embrace.
Then the hand let go. No. Don’t let go.
The moment of reassurance disappeared before a voice was close to her ear, a voice she knew and loved. “It’s okay, Darcy. Take your time. You’re going to be okay.”
Anja.
She wanted to reply, to cry, and to scream out as pain vibrated through one of her legs, but her lids drooped and she felt the blackness pull at her again. She fought it, clawed at the air, searching for the hand to hold on to again.
“What? Where…” The words shredded her throat.
“Shush, sweetheart. Here, try some of this…”
A straw parted her lips, and she sucked gratefully, the cool water offering life to her voice. “Anja…”
“I’m here, Darcy. I’m not going anywhere. Sleep now. There’s time for talking later.”
“Th…thank you. Don’t. Go.”
Darcy felt a warm hand stroke her arm, and a sigh of relief escaped. It didn’t matter what or where: She knew she was safe because Anja was with her. She could rest easy.
A rush of relief swept through Anja’s chest as she took a moment and stepped out of Darcy’s room. The doctor was checking her over, encouraged that her patient had woken, even if only for a short time.
She doesn’t remember.
At least she didn’t seem to right now.
She hadn’t screamed for Anja to get away from her. She was happy to have her there, reassured by Anja’s presence. She had asked her not to leave.
Who knew how much of her memory was gone or for how long? Was it only the crash that had disappeared, or was it more? Anja couldn’t just sit around hoping that the events of that night were lost to Darcy forever. She knew a trauma could blur the memories around and leading up to it, block out the pain and fear so Darcy wouldn’t have to relive it over and over. She also knew that at any moment those memories could resurface.
Could Anja do anything to stop it? Could she lead Darcy’s memory on a different path?
It might be possible if she could keep her story straight. Plant the facts so that Darcy would believe the version Anja wanted her to, then maybe she never had to know the truth about what had really happened. If Anja had the answers to make sense of it all, Darcy might stop asking questions. She might be relieved not to remember, and if it worked, Anja would have her second chance.
She had to try, to be brave and think of the payoff. A few more lies to satisfy Darcy’s curiosity, to put more time between them and that awful night. Surely the more time that passed, the less likely Darcy was to remember?
The matter of Eilidh kept threatening to poke a hole in her plans. She needed to keep them apart, at least in the beginning. If Darcy remembered about their cancelled date and the reason why, then a whole other story would need to be told.
Or maybe it was wise to preempt that? Admit she had been at the cabin that night with Darcy but claim she’d left early. She could say Jason had called and wouldn’t stop until she saw him. Maybe Darcy had encouraged her to go and hear him out, so she’d left Darcy and knew nothing of what happened next. She would claim to have no idea why Darcy got in the car…despite being drunk. It was surely safer to leave her wondering than taking the chance that Darcy would find out from Eilidh that Anja had been at the cabin. That she was the reason Darcy had cancelled the date. It would avoid Anja having to explain away another string of lies.
The Jason problem would remain, and she wondered if she could continue the façade that he actually existed. Could she explain his disappearance away? Anja could erase him in her mind as easily as she had drawn him, but he was very real to Darcy. She wondered if it served anyone for Darcy to find out otherwise.
Yes. She would continue to use Jason as she had all this time. He was an easy cover, already primed to be wholly dismissed from her life as a liar and a cheat. There was no need to add another dimension to her story. Their shared history was going to be difficult enough to fathom.
For now, she’d take care of Darcy, make her realise how much she needed Anja’s help and support to recover, show her the value in their bond.
Then she’d tell her the truth, on Anja’s terms.
However perverse the circumstances, the universe had offered Anja an opportunity to make it right. No matter what it took, this time she would.
Chapter 29
Every day for a week, Anja had been living on the brink. A ball of fear grew in her chest, threatening to burst every time Darcy asked a question about that night.
“Let me get this right. You were there, but left early?” She was propped up by a number of pillows, brighter and more alert than she had been since first waking. The bruising had started to turn shades of yellow and green that Anja found painful to look at. Darcy’s beautiful face was ravaged and torn…because of her.
“Aye. We’ve been over this a hundred times already.” Anja wheeled the lunch tray across the room, closer to the bed where Darcy could reach it.
“I know and I’m sorry. The police have put the fear in me though. I can’t understand what would have possessed me or what could have happened to make me get in that car pissed.”
“You might never understand. I think you need to consider that and stop torturing yourself.”
“Easier said than done. Do you think it was because of Eilidh?”
“Eilidh?” Anja’s eyebrow’s furrowed. She hadn’t anticipated this train of thought. “Why would it be because of her?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m throwing anything out there right now. Maybe when you left I got a bit tipsy, took an attack of the loneliness, and decided to go and meet her after all?”
“In your dressing gown? Sexy.” Anja winked. “I’ve seen you stupid drunk, my love, but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you drunk enough to be that stupid.”
“Ha. Ha.” Darcy was droll. “Maybe I thought the bikini underneath might do the trick.”
Anja remembered the bikini and the body it had scarcely hid.
Yes. It would’ve done the trick.
She perched on the edge of the bed and poured some grey-looking tea into cups for them both. “This is all speculation and maybes. Personally, I think you simply ran out of wine and decided to go get some more.”
“Fuck off. You said it yourself, even I’m not that daft. Plus, I had plenty of other booze in the house.”
Anja shrugged. “It’s no worse than some of your theories.”
“Well, it’s better than the alternative.”
“Don’t go there again.” Anja sighed. “It’ll do you no good.”
“What if they were there? The police are always talking about escalation—maybe it happened that night. If I was outside in the hot tub…alone, vulnerable, primed for stalkery advances.”
“Again with the maybes. You don’t even know if you were in the hot tub. You need to stop stressing and focus on getting better, Darcy. Nothing else matters right now.”
Darcy thumped her hand into the mattress in frustration, forgetting the cast that held her wrist together. “For fucking fuck… Ow.”
Anja wished she could be
ar some of the pain or take it away completely. She reached for Darcy’s good hand and squeezed. “See what happens when you let yourself get all worked up? I told you, now isn’t the time. We’ll figure it out when you’re better.”
“Fine.” Darcy half-heartedly yanked her hand away in a mock grump. “Whatever you say, boss.”
“Good. And yes, until you’re better, I am the boss. Now eat.”
She watched Darcy remove the plastic cloche on what would be another depressing lunch, and they simultaneously wrinkled their noses.
“Please can you find me something better than this? I’d kill for a cheeseburger.”
Anja laughed and peered under the pudding lid at something white and pureed. “What is that?”
“Exactly.” Darcy pushed the tray away. “Save me from further suffering.”
Anja stood and reached for her bag and coat. “Okay, but if I get caught the blame is all yours.”
“Or you could not get caught.”
Anja chuckled and shrugged on the heavy coat. “It’s a good job I love you.”
“Aw, you big softie. Come here.” Darcy reached out both arms, and Anja complied. She allowed herself to be pulled into the hug, to press her lips to Darcy’s hair and savour the moment of togetherness. A moment where everything was the same as before the accident. Unexpected tears slipped free, and she quickly wiped them away before releasing Darcy.
“Hey, you okay?” Darcy had caught her, and more tears threatened seeing the softness in her gaze.
“I’m fine. I’m being silly. I’m just so happy you’re all right. You know?”
Darcy brushed a thumb across the dampness on her cheek. “I know, sweetheart. And I’m happy to have you here with me.”
They smiled and held each other’s gaze a moment before Anja sucked in a breath and stood again. “Anyway, one cheeseburger coming up.”
Darcy groaned in anticipation. “This is why I love you too. Say you’ll marry me.”
Anja laughed and planted a quick peck on her forehead. “Tonight, I’ll go to the cabin as well. Grab those sloth pyjamas and some more of your toiletries.”
“And my phone?”
So far, Anja had managed to keep Darcy from it, prolonging the moment she would have to tell her about Eilidh’s involvement in saving her from the crash. She knew Darcy’s full attention would be lost then, and Anja would have to start managing their contact.
“You sure you want it? I’m not sure Facebook is going to help you heal.”
Darcy poked her tongue out. “No, but it might help with some of the bloody boredom. Plus, it means I can call my mum when I feel like it, not only when you’re here.”
It rankled a little that Darcy still hadn’t explicitly told her why her mum was unable to travel. She’d made vague excuses about money and work and reassured Anja that it was fine. She was a big girl and on the mend; she didn’t need her mum there. So the sister question still nagged at Anja: her age, and more importantly, her parentage.
“Of course. I’ll grab it. Anything else, Your Majesty?”
“Oh, I like that. Yes, you can keep calling me that. Chips. Don’t forget chips. And a milkshake.” She reached for her neck and forced a cough. “For my poor scorched throat.”
Anja rolled her eyes, offered a shoddy salute, and headed for the door. The cheeseburger and chips would be a minor respite from all the wonder and maybes. She needed something more to help Darcy settle on the one logical explanation for that night on her own terms.
That her stalker had shown up and she had fled.
It was the truth.
Just not the whole truth.
Anja knew exactly how to do it. A small, simple gesture that she was sure would work. A test of sorts. Either it would reinforce the theory or spark something in Darcy’s subconscious and backfire spectacularly.
She hated having to revert to her stalker persona for help. Every part of her wanted to leave that behind and do better by Darcy. To be better for her. It was so easy to slip back in to and would serve her purpose well. She swore to herself it would be the last time.
For now, it was a risk she had to take to release herself from the misery of wondering, waiting, afraid of the moment when it would all end.
“Cash or card?” The florist smiled Anja’s way as she put the finishing touches to the impressive basket. It overflowed with flowers and fruit, a box of chocolates, and a “get well soon” teddy bear.
“Cash.” Anja perused the message card options. Why were they always so impersonal and uninspiring, and why would you choose a card with a picture of flowers on it to go with a bouquet of actual flowers? It made no sense.
She withdrew a prewritten card from her bag, envelope firmly sealed, and handed it to the florist with the cash. It was elegant, traditional, and beautiful in an understated way—much the same as Darcy.
The florist tucked it safely in to the basket. “And we’re done.”
Anja surveyed the creation, delighted. “It looks amazing.”
“Thanks. You must really like this person, the amount of gifts you send.”
Anja shrugged coyly. “What can I say? I’m in love.”
Chapter 30
Pain throbbed from the tips of her toes to the tips of her fingers. Darcy glanced at the morphine button and considered it for a moment. She hated the murky place it took her, too much like those awful first moments when she’d woken up in the hospital bed. She decided against it; at least the pain reminded her she was still here. Still alive.
Anja’s departure left an uneasy feeling in her stomach. The room felt smaller, and loneliness enveloped her. It left her mind only one place to wander, despite her friend chastising that she should be focusing it on getting better.
How could she?
The events of that night tormented her. There was no respite. When her eyes closed, a blurred vision of terror invaded her dreams, shredded and torn. It offered no answers. Instead, it taunted and wrung her insides out, wound her so tight she woke rigid and in agony.
What the hell had she been thinking getting in the car drunk? No matter the circumstances, there was no excuse for such reckless behaviour.
Unless those circumstances meant life or death.
Her train of thought came back to the stalker. Had they been there? If they had, what the fuck had happened that the only alternative was for her to flee in her dressing gown and speed towards town? Where had she been going? To Anja’s, maybe? That seemed logical, because drunk or otherwise, she knew Anja’s was the safest place she could think of.
The police suspected a combination of black ice, her speed, and lack of control due to the alcohol had caused the crash. She would have to answer for the latter at some point in the future, and the thought filled her with dread. She’d never been in trouble before, at least not this kind of trouble.
Although the stalker situation had been explained to the police as a potential motive for her carelessness, without proof it was merely conjecture. All they would concede was there had been another set of fresh skid marks on the road which could—emphasis on the could—suggest a chase. They had a witness too, who although unable to properly identify the other car or driver had indicated that another vehicle was speeding too. That maybe it was trying to catch Darcy.
This had piqued her interest more than a little, because she knew she hadn’t been alone in the wreck. Well, she’d been alone in the car, but not afterwards. This mysterious witness had come to her rescue, freed her from the car, and no doubt saved her life. An unknown voice echoed in the back of her mind in the darkness of night. When the nightmares struck, it tried to offer her a thread of calm to clasp on to and told her she would be okay. She believed it. At first she’d wondered if she was imagining it, maybe making the voice up for comfort. Now she knew it had been her saviour.
The police wouldn’t disclose her details
, and all Anja knew was that a woman had been out jogging and come to her rescue. A healthcare assistant had told her that someone had sat with her through that first night, until her mother could be contacted, but then they had gone off shift and were unable to help with anything other than a rough description. She’d heard a rumour the person worked at the hospital, but with the way staff rotated, Darcy had been unable to confirm it.
It was difficult to stay positive, to not give in to feeling sorry for herself. The frustration of not knowing what had happened that night and why was enough to contend with. She refused to wallow on the injuries and discomfort. The injuries would heal, the pain would ease, but her memory may never be restored.
A nurse entered and offered her a cheerful smile. “Look at this.” She carried a huge basket in her arms. “You’re obviously very special to someone.”
Darcy awkwardly pushed herself higher in the bed with her good arm and peered in to the basket as it was positioned on her bedside table.
Is it from my mum? Work, maybe? Or the guys at the sailing club?
The nurse plucked the card from within and handed it to her, then winked and headed for the door again. “Let me know when you open those chocolates. They look fancy.”
Darcy’s hands shook as she stared at the card that lay in them. She didn’t need to open it: The picture would be the same. The message would be the same.
Still, she ripped open the envelope, and there it was—the sloth, the words. Only this time there was more.
One day you’ll see me.
One day you’ll know the truth.
Until then, feel better soon.
And know that I love you.
Love? Fucking love? If this was their idea of love, they could ram it up their arse. All the pent-up frustration tore through her, and she reached out unthinkingly, intent only on throwing the basket as far away from her as possible.
