“No lies, Vanna. If Liz hears that, then finds out who you are to him, he’ll murder me if in his head he’s linked you and me.”
There’s truth in that I suppose.
It’s a waiting game just like I remember from before. I like it no better.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The incessant noise would drive me crazy if it weren’t that it shows my man is alive. I eye the large white dressing on his head, and then my eyes drop to the features of the face. I still love as much as the day I said my vows. His hair is longer now, down past his shoulders, when then it was military short. Idly, I think he’s probably had a patch shaved for his surgery, and wonder whether he’ll have to shave off the rest to match it. I hope he grows it again, as it suits him long.
All these thoughts go through my head as Mace and I sit in silence as hour after hour goes past, the only interruptions being the nurse coming in to check on the man lying so still in the bed.
“Did you see that?” Mace asks sharply but quietly. “His eyelid twitched. Liz? Lizard, Brother? Can you hear me?”
“Lizard?” I prompt him myself.
The man in the bed groans. Then his eyes start to flutter, then they open. They scan the room and land on me.
He groans again, then his lips slowly curve, and he breathes out a word that’s difficult to understand but sounds like my name. I draw in breath sharply as his eyes close, willing him to wake up and say it again. I hardly dare breathe, certain I imagined it.
Mace smiles at me, he’d heard it too.
Lizard sleeps on, I sit, hoping beyond hope I’d seen recognition in his face.
Next time he wakes, he seems more alert. He says something, but it’s unintelligible. He makes an effort and tries again. “Vanna.”
I’m still. He knows me. He. Knows. Me.
“You look different,” he mumbles. His head must pain him, as he reaches up his left hand to touch it. As he encounters strands of his hair, his brow furrows in confusion. He tugs at his dirty blond locks, then grimaces. “What the fuck is this?”
“It’s your hair, Brother,” Mace tells him, his tone light, almost playful with the relief Lizard is talking again.
“It’s not my fucking hair,” Lizard growls. Then his eyes sharpen, and he blinks rapidly as if trying to bring Mace into focus. “Who the fuck are you?” he asks. “I ain’t your brother. Haven’t got one.”
He recognises me, but not Mace? I see Mace’s eyes widen in shock, but I’ve been here before. At least this time, he knows me, and selfishly, for me, that’s enough.
“Lizard?” I ask slowly, bringing his attention back to me.
“What’s happened to me, Vanna?” He frowns. “How did I get here? I was on tour… then… I can’t remember. Am I stateside?”
This is everything I’ve wanted for twelve years. For my husband to recognise me. But something’s wrong, it’s as though the clock’s been wound back again. I reach for his right hand and grasp it, noticing he doesn’t squeeze back. “You had a brain tumour, Liz, but they’ve gotten it all out. It was benign, so nothing to worry about. Turns out that’s why you were having headaches.”
But my explanation isn’t accepted. “What are you talking about? Headaches? Can’t remember having any. Don’t know how I got here.” His eyes close in pain. “Where am I?”
I’m not sure what to answer, so settle for, “Home.”
“Good,” he breathes out. “Home until I ship out again. Where’s our baby, Vanna? Where’s little Cas? Has he grown since I’ve been gone?”
My eyes lock with Mace’s.
The nurse Mace had summoned enters. “Oh, you’re awake. Glad to have you back with us Mr James. How are you feeling?”
“My head hurts.”
“It will, I’m afraid, you’ve had brain surgery. The doctor has prescribed painkillers, there’s a morphine pump beside you.”
She places it by his right hand, but Lizard makes no move to use it. “Don’t want to feel sleepy.”
I’m about to tell Lizard he doesn’t need to stay conscious, rest is probably the best thing to help his recovery. Selfishly, I want to stay talking to him in case this memory recall is only temporary, but I stay quiet.
The nurse checks his eyes, then asks if he can move his fingers and toes.
After a moment, Lizard begins to get agitated when he realises he can’t move his right arm or leg.
“Lizard, the doctor warned the swelling on your brain might cause temporary lack of movement.” I try to calm him down.
“Temporary?”
“I’ll get the doctor to come and explain,” the nurse says calmly. “But you’re talking, and that’s a good sign Mr James. A lot of patients can’t when they first awake.” Then, she asks. “Do you know where you are?”
“I presume I was flown stateside after some incident or other. I’m in the hospital.”
She purses her lips but doesn’t contradict him. “And do you remember your name and personal details?”
He gives a slight grin. “I’m Norton James, otherwise known as Lizard. I’m twenty-six years old, I’m married to a wonderful woman called Vanna, and I’ve a two-year-old son named Castiel. And you,” he turns to Mace, his expression hardening. “Don’t know who the fuck you are and don’t like you sniffing around my wife. You can get gone.”
At that moment I know I’m going to lose it. I stand and run to the door and out into the hallway leaving Lizard with Mace and the nurse. My face is in my hands and my shoulders are shaking.
Mace has followed me out. “It’s okay, Vanna. It’s okay. Liz is going to be fine.”
I raise my head so he can see I’m half crying and half laughing hysterically. “He remembers me, but not you. He’s lost twelve years, Mace.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Vanna
“I’m sorry, Mace.” I make an effort to pull myself together, knowing I do have a habit of laughing at inappropriate moments. My relief at Lizard coming around and then recognising me had morphed into morbid laughter when it had really sunk in what his brain had done. Wiped the last twelve years, while allowing him to remember he was married with a child. A child who’s still two years old in his mind.
“Are you going back in?”
“Of course I am. That’s my husband in there.” I just needed to get myself back in control.
Mace stares at me, his gaze settling on me for a moment, and seconds tick by before he speaks. “This is a fuckin’ mess, Vanna. What do you want to do about Cas?”
I have no idea. Borrow a two-year-old so I don’t upset him?
“He needs to know, Vanna.”
But I’ve been here before. Telling him facts when he didn’t want to hear them.
“It’s different this time,” Mace insists, clearly reading my expression.
But what’s changed? He didn’t accept the truth back then. How can I explain to a dad that this teenager is his and he’s no longer two years old? Would he be able to cope with the truth? That the reason I look different is that I’m twelve years older, and his hair is long as he now chooses to wear it that way.
“Talk to him, Vanna. Try and explain to him.”
“What if I fuck everything up? What if he collapses again?” What if he can’t handle what he’s being told?
“He won’t,” Mace says with certainty. “The tumour is gone. Hopefully this memory loss is only temporary. The doctor said the op may have some effects until the swelling goes down.”
“What if it’s like last time, Mace? What if he never remembers again? I think I need to talk to the doctor or someone…”
Mace leans in. “A fuckin’ therapist made you give up on him. Go with your gut instinct this time, Vanna. I’ll stay out of the way as I’m agitating him, but I won’t go far. We won’t be giving up on him, and I won’t listen to any fuckin’ therapist who tells me to stay away from my brother.”
I bite my lip. “You really think it’s the right thing to do?”
“Vanna, he’ll see
you look older. The evidence is right in front of his eyes. You can’t rewind the clock, even if you wanted to. How else would you explain Cas?”
The door opens and the nurse comes out.
Mace turns to her. “He seems very confused.”
“It’s not unusual after this kind of surgery. I’m pleased with him actually, his eyesight, hearing, and speech check out which can all be initial problems after surgery. We’ll assess his mobility when he’s a little stronger.”
“Is it okay to talk to him? To bring him up-to-date with the years he’s forgotten?” I’m worried sick about setting him back.
“He may start remembering as you talk to him. It’s quite normal for someone to get muddled when they’ve undergone an operation like this and have difficulty placing names and faces. It’s certainly not unusual.”
I don’t think the nurse is right. That’s what I was told last time, give him time and he’ll remember. But they’d been wrong.
“What else can you do, Vanna?” Mace stares after the retreating nurse. His eyes appear to be on her ass. He turns back to me when she disappears around a corner. “Cas is going to want to see his dad.” He wipes his hand over his face. “Christ, but that kid has been through a lot. It’s going to hit him hard that his dad now remembers him, but only as a babe in arms.”
“A toddler,” I automatically correct. “Cas was eighteen months when Lizard went on his last tour. He’d all but completed six months when the bomb went off. Cas turned two while Lizard was still in the hospital.” I’d been too focused on keeping my husband alive to celebrate my son’s second birthday. Something I still feel guilty for.
“He’ll want you.” Mace gives me a prod to get me moving back into Lizard’s room.
I’m torn. Half of me longs to go back and talk to him, knowing he knows who I am. The other half knows our problems are far from over and wishes I could get into my car and put miles between us, but I can’t run from this. Pulling back my shoulders I step back inside.
“Vanna.” Lizard gives me a weak smile. “Come sit beside me.”
“How are you feeling?”
“The nurse gave me some shit instead of the morphine. The pain’s already easing. She said the weakness on my right side was normal. But fuck that.” His mouth twists. “What’s happened to me, Vanna? And you, your hair… I can’t get over it. How could it grow so long in six months?”
“You grew yours too. I like it.” I don’t know how to handle this.
His hand feels his straggly lengths, again pulling at it as if to prove it’s his. Then he frowns and snarls, “Tell me what the fuck’s gone on. How fuckin’ long have I been here if my hair’s grown out?”
“Shouldn’t you rest?” He’s only just come around from brain surgery, surely, he should rest for a bit? But in typical male fashion he dismisses my concern.
“I’m not waiting any longer. Tell me, Evangeline.”
When he uses my full name, I know he’s serious. I take his right hand and hold it tight, a liberty I never dreamed I’d be taking again and a feeling of rightness wars with the unease I’m feeling.
“You were hurt overseas.”
“Sort of guessed that.” He touches the bandage on his head with his left hand. “How bad, Vanna? Did it cause the tumour, or was that already in my head?”
“You were hurt badly. You sustained a traumatic brain injury. For a while it was touch and go, and we didn’t think you’d survive.”
“Christ.” He leans his head back and closes his eyes. “But I’m going to be okay, now? I feel so fuckin’ weak, Vanna.” His fingers twitch in my hand, but don’t tighten.
“You’re going to be fine, Lizard.” I put as much strength in my voice as I can.
“Worrying about me was how you got those lines on your face?” Now his fingers trace the etchings left by time. Again, with his left hand.
“Lizard. I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Spit it out, babe. Get whatever it is off your chest. You said I was fine, but what the fuck is it? Am I going to die?”
I take a deep breath. “You’re not dying. But this, this isn’t the first time you’ve been in the hospital. It’s the second. This time you had a brain tumour, and they had to cut it out. It was benign, and they got it all. No need for more treatment, you’ve just got to recover, okay?”
His brow creases. “The second time?” When I nod, he continues, “I don’t remember being in the hospital before.”
“It was twelve years ago.” I tell him the worst.
He inhales sharply, and his brow creases in confusion. “No.”
“Yes.” I don’t know what to say. How to explain.
His eyes examine me again, his brow creasing. “What’s the fuckin’ date?” he rasps.
I take out my phone and show him.
Again, his head rests back, and he closes his eyes. “How the fuck did I lose twelve years? Have I been in a coma and just woken up?”
“No,” I choke. “You’ve been living a good and full life. You’re the manager of a tattoo parlour—”
“I got my dream job?” That seems to brighten him up. “It pays the bills then?”
Instead of replying, I carry on, “You live and ride with a motorcycle club. The Satan’s Devils MC.”
His eyes are looking at me sharply. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m telling the truth, Lizard.”
For a moment he just regards me as though trying to judge whether I’m joking or not. Then, he sighs, and once more touches that bandage. “Christ, my head must be fucked up. I thought I heard you say I ride with a motorcycle club.”
“I did, Lizard. You do.”
“I’m dreaming, aren’t I? Having a fuckin’ nightmare. Pinch me, Vanna. I want to wake up.”
He’s in such distress, I sob, wishing I could. I try to drop the conversation, but he won’t let up, asking me to repeat what I’m telling him again and again.
Eventually, he touches his hair again. “I can’t compute it Vanna. Twelve years have gone past when I’ve been a fully functioning human being with a good job. Manager, huh?” He moves his head side to side very slowly. “Can almost accept that part. But riding with a motorcycle club? Living with them? Fuck babe, how the hell did I get mixed up in that shit?” He frowns. “They legit?”
I shrug. “They say they are, but they wear the one-percenter patch.”
His face tightens. “I got you mixed up in it too? You, and little Cas?”
“They’re good men, Liz.” I find myself defending them and then tell him the truth. “I don’t know how you joined them. Look, Liz. I really don’t know how to tell you this.” His intense stare makes me carry on. “After the first time in the hospital, Lizard, you lost your memory. You didn’t recognise me or Cas.”
His jaw drops. He’s quiet for a moment. “There’s more, isn’t there, Vanna. Tell me.”
“You were suffering.” I try to explain to him. “Living with us wasn’t helping you. I was your wife, but to you, both Cas and I were strangers. It was fucking with your head. You left, and your therapist said that was the best for you.”
“I couldn’t remember you? What the fuck are you saying, Evangeline?” His eyes are going wild.
“Liz, I think you should get some rest.” I’m worried I’m telling him too much, too soon.
“Evangeline,” he growls. “Tell me what the fuck you’re talking about. Now.”
It’s breaking my heart to tell him this. “You lost about five years. You couldn’t remember us meeting, marrying, or Cas being born.”
“Jesus H Christ. When did I recover? When did we get back together? How long did I forget you for? For fuck’s sake, Vanna. How could I forget you? Tell me, for the love of God. How long was it before I recognised you again?”
He’s getting agitated which can’t be good for him.
“Tell me. Fuckin’ tell me.”
Do I tell him or run away, as that’s the only way this conversation will stop? He�
��s not going to give up.
“Evangeline,” he snarls. “When did I remember you?”
The word comes out on a sob, though I try to swallow it. “Today.” My voice breaks. “Today, Lizard. This is the first time you’ve recognised me in twelve years.”
As the tears start flowing, he reaches over with his left arm and pulls me down against his chest, holding me as tight as a man who’s only just come out of surgery can, as if he’s never going to let me go.
We lie like that for a few minutes, my cheek against his heart, feeling it beating strongly. Me taking this chance in case I lose him again, hoping this time he’ll hold tight to the memory.
“Twelve years.” I hear his voice and feel it rumble against my skin. “Twelve fucking years we’ve been apart.”
“Ten,” I correct. “We tried for two years but couldn’t reconnect. It’s then you left me.”
“And went off to join a fuckin’ biker club.” Suddenly he tenses. “That shit stops now. Not getting you involved in something like that. The only good thing about us being apart is that I apparently didn’t drag you down with me.”
“Liz…” I want to defend his club, but he’s not finished.
“What have I missed, apart from Cas growing up? Have you moved on? Found a new man, Vanna? Tell me. Vanna. Fuck. It feels to me like I only left to go on tour six months ago, but we’ve…” His voice breaks, and then he continues, “We tried to make it work for two years, so ten I’ve been gone? I suppose I couldn’t blame you if you’re another man’s now. Is it that fucker who was in here before?”
“No.” I free myself from his hold so I can stare intently into his eyes. “No, Lizard. I still wear your ring.” I show my hand to him. “I’ve remained faithful. I never gave up hope.”
“What about me?” he says gruffly. “If I didn’t know I had a wife… Christ.” He huffs a mirthless laugh. “Don’t tell me there’s another woman I’ve laid claim to.” He raises his left hand and stares at it. “I don’t wear my ring?”
“They had to cut it off the first time, your hand swelled.” It had broken my heart, but it was necessary. “You didn’t find anyone else, Liz,” I reassure him fast, not telling him that, unlike me, he hadn’t remained celibate.
Satan’s Devils MC -Colorado Box Set: Books 4-6 Page 101
