by Tina Cambria
To us.
Was there still even an us to toast?
And as she deeply inhaled the fragrance that burrowed straight into her brain, a series of images briefly hovered in her thoughts. She and Kyle were laughing. They were talking about mysteries and thrillers—yes, they both liked the same kinds of books and films. And he was saying something about wanting to be a success in his own right, wanting to make it on his own.
An unfamiliar sensation caught at her chest, making it difficult to breathe for a second. She wanted to be with Kyle. No matter what they were doing. It was that desire to be with the person you loved for every moment that time and schedules allowed. To tell him about your day, to hear about his day, to share laughter, to cry together if things weren’t right, to rejoice in the extraordinary and mundane alike.
I’ve truly been in love with Kyle all along, but the car crash temporarily stole my memory of it.
He must have worn the fragrance in the now-spilled container when they were on their honeymoon. But he must not have worn it since then. And it was just like the neurology doctor said. At some point, some—or all—of her memories might be spontaneously triggered by a certain smell, a certain taste, even a certain sound. But the doctor had given no guarantee that anything like that would ever happen.
And yet it had finally happened.
She couldn’t give a play-by-play account of the entire week she’d spent with Kyle in Vegas, but she’d just relived enough of it to know that they’d been the real deal.
She’d had everything she could possibly want. And it was gone as quickly as it had come.
* * *
Even though the pillow-top mattresses at the ski resort were considered to be the most comfortable in town, Kyle awoke repeatedly during the night, his thoughts stuck on losing the new family he thought he had, his stomach in knots at the prospect.
Last evening, when he’d arrived home from work with flowers and the hope of rekindling the romantic connection with his wife, he’d been rocked by Walter Ferguson’s almost unbelievable claim that he—and not Kyle—was the father of Danielle’s baby.
Now, he was kicking himself for running out on her. He’d never been the type to back down, to refuse to stand up to a bully, to settle things any way but fair and square.
But this was an assault of a different type. It was a near-stranger swooping in to steal everything that was most precious to him.
His wife. Their baby.
And did the aggressor even have the right to do it?
Why hadn’t Danielle denied the entire incident outright? She didn’t remember it, but yet she didn’t completely dismiss the likelihood that it could have taken place.
No way she still had lingering feelings for Walter Ferguson. Or was that why she left open the possibility that something could have happened with him? Deep in her heart, maybe she knew that she’d be open to Walter if he finally got off his butt and took the next step.
As much as he loved Danielle, he couldn’t remain married to her if she wasn’t truly in love with him.
If she was in love with another man.
But he still cared about her. And he knew that feeling wasn’t going away.
What they’d had together was so different from his experience with his former fiancée. She was a nearly-faded memory, a random blip in his life. A party girl for those fun-loving college days and not all that much of a loss when she threw him over for his buddy. Now, she was no more significant to him than whatever grade he’d received on his first freshman accounting quiz.
It wasn’t the same with Danielle. He wasn’t going to get over her in a hurry if he lost her to another man.
Stepping into the shower, he tried to let the steamy air clear his thoughts. He should never have let her leave Las Vegas without him. He should have pushed her for a decision right then. Did she want to be his wife, or should they file the annulment papers immediately?
As soon as those opinions formed in his head, he immediately dismissed them. That wouldn’t have been the make-all-these-problems-go-away solution. Because he wanted to believe Danielle really had been pregnant with his baby when she left Las Vegas for Colorado. Even if she’d decided the marriage should be annulled, he still would have been responsible for the baby.
Not just responsible, but affectionate and loving too. He wouldn’t have been able to walk away from his son or daughter.
Still, the question remained—who was the father of the baby?
As much as he wanted to know, there was no way he was going to allow Danielle to undergo a procedure that might cause a miscarriage, just so they could find out right away who the father was. The risk wasn’t justified.
As he toweled off from his shower, guilt overcame him for leaving her alone last night.
Hurrying to the night table, he grabbed his phone and sent a text message to her. Just making sure she was okay. Letting her know he’d stop by the apartment that night to talk. But he wasn’t sure if he’d be staying.
That would really be up to her, wouldn’t it? She was the one holding all the cards now.
* * *
As Danielle forced herself to eat a healthy bowl of oatmeal, she couldn’t help pondering how she’d managed to allow her life to get so messed up. Married somehow, pregnant definitely, but completely confused as to how it had all happened.
Was this some kind of cosmic punishment for wanting a little more out of life than a steady job and a male companion who was into taking her hiking or out to dinner—but nothing more magical or intimate? That had pretty much been the status of her life the last couple of years in New Loudon.
As much as she loved teaching high school English and drama, there was that secret longing deep in her soul to do something out of the ordinary. A secret longing that had pulled her to travel more than a thousand miles from home, all the way to Los Angeles and the lure of Hollywood, just for the chance to show off her acting skills and have some fun while achieving success.
When it hadn’t panned out, was it all that surprising that she’d jumped at the chance to feel really alive and bank a lot of cash at the same time? A tingly sensation coursed down through her middle as her thoughts drifted to her initial encounter with a handsome stranger named Kyle who had a money-making proposal.
She pictured him driving across the desert with her at his side, laughing and telling her about the ridiculous plan his boss had dreamed up, and how it was going off the rails because the female co-worker had come to her senses. She could smell that fragrance from the spilled bottle, smell it gently enveloping her in his SUV and beckoning her to join him for a week of fun.
Now, she remembered thinking that maybe she’d gotten the acting bug out of her system. But right next to her was something—someone—who could easily get into her system. And she’d wanted to give him that opportunity.
A ding from her cell phone broke into her train of thought. Her breath caught as she saw a text message had come in from Kyle. Asking if she was okay and if he could stop by for a little while after work.
For a little while…
She took that to mean that he had no interest in staying the night. Even in his separate bedroom. He didn’t even want to stay in the same apartment with her.
Could she change his mind? She had to change his mind. There must be some way—she didn’t know what it was, but she’d do anything to figure it out—to work things out between them. To prove that she really did love him.
If anything had happened with Walter, she hadn’t wanted it. For God’s sake, she couldn’t even remember it. And it had supposedly happened after her memory-forming capability was entirely back in action. So, it had either been a traumatic event that she’d now blocked out, or it hadn’t even happened.
She prayed that it hadn’t even happened.
But that could only be proven after the baby was born. Not unless she wanted to risk a potential miscarriage just to be able to tell Walter that anything to do with her baby was none of his concern.
She couldn’t take that chance. Even if she stood to lose Kyle because they couldn’t yet be sure who the baby’s father was. As much as she wanted to be Kyle’s wife, she couldn’t jeopardize an innocent life to hold on to her man.
Texting a quick reply to Kyle, she stared numbly at her phone’s display screen and reviewed her response. Yes, and Yes. She’d simply let him know that she was fine, and she didn’t mind if he stopped over after work.
Didn’t mind? It was more like she was practically dying to see him. Dying to work out a way to let him know that her memory was slowly coming back.
And the memories were good.
First things first. It wouldn’t hurt to make their home seem like a welcoming haven where he’d want to spend time with her. She pulled the vacuum cleaner from the hall closet and ran it over every square inch of floor in the apartment. Then she wiped down and dry dusted every flat surface in the place.
The apartment smelled out-and-out lemony, and she hoped Kyle would take that as a welcoming aroma. But then she thought of another aroma that would be even more enticing.
She could almost hear Nana Rose talking about how it was hard to resist a tantalizing whiff of pot roast. Searching online, she found a recipe that took four hours. There was just enough time to drive to the store for the ingredients and have it ready for Kyle when he walked in. She could only hope that the comfortable atmosphere would relax him enough that he’d be willing to hear about her emerging memories and her wish to start things fresh with him.
With pot roast, onions, potatoes, and carrots jotted down on a sheet of scrap paper, she headed to the local market. By the time Kyle usually arrived home from work, the apartment was filled with traces of mouth-watering scents, there wasn’t a visible speck of dust to be found, and Danielle was freshly showered and changed into a casual—but what she hoped was an attractive—outfit of jeans and a loose-fitting tunic.
At a couple minutes after six, a tentative rapping at the front door was followed by Kyle opening it and hesitantly stepping inside. “Smells good in here.” The slightest hint of a smile stole across his face.
“Pot roast. I hope you like it.”
“It’s one of my favorite meals.”
Thank you, Nana.
Maybe the comfort food would help to soften his feelings. She checked herself. What was she thinking? Something as serious as his wife possibly getting pregnant by another man, and she thought a plate of beef could make everything right.
No, it wouldn’t, but maybe it could help to smooth the way. She had no other options at the moment. “Come on in, Kyle. Do you need to freshen up before we sit down to eat?”
He shook his head. “Just let me wash my hands. I’ll use the bathroom down the hall.”
Before she could say anything further, he strode past her. No welcoming kiss, not even a dutiful peck on the cheek. Making things right with Kyle was going to take a whole lot more than a meal of meat and vegetables.
He returned to the dining room, looking oddly at Danielle. “How come the bathroom smells like after-shave?”
“Oh, I-I’m so sorry. I was trying to find a bandage after I accidentally cut my finger this morning, and I knocked over a little bottle in your medicine cabinet.”
Should she tell him about the memories that had begun flowing along with the stream of liquid fragrance in the bathroom sink? Maybe it was already too late.
Still trying to decide as she picked up the platter with the pot roast and vegetables from the kitchen counter, she carried it toward the table.
“Hey, that looks kind of heavy.” Kyle stretched out his hands to take the platter from her. “Let me help.”
Releasing her hold to him, she turned to scan the kitchen counter and make sure nothing else needed to be carried to the table. Without warning, a stabbing pain shot through the right side of her torso, powerful enough for her to cry out and clutch the side of the counter.
“What’s wrong?” Kyle quickly placed the pot roast on the table and hurried to her side.
“I’ll be fine,” she gasped between heaving breaths. “As soon as this pain eases up.”
“No messing around. I’m taking you to the hospital right now.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Have you had any bleeding in addition to the abdominal pain?” The triage nurse at the hospital remained calm, but Kyle was sure her face reflected concern as she assessed Danielle’s condition.
“No—nothing like that,” Danielle said. “Just a sudden attack of searing pain on my right side.”
Protectively grasping her forearm, Kyle said, “Don’t say just when describing your pain. Not when the baby could be at stake.” As far as he was concerned, pain that contorted his wife’s face the way it had back in their apartment was something to be taken seriously.
“The absence of bleeding is a good sign.” The nurse reviewed the notes she’d entered into the computer in the private triage area of the Emergency Department. “And you said your due date is May 8th?”
Danielle and Kyle nodded simultaneously.
“So, the date of conception was roughly…mid-August,” the nurse continued. “And that means you’re in approximately the sixteenth week of pregnancy.”
Even without any medical training, Kyle knew enough to understand that the baby was way too immature to survive outside the womb.
“That puts you nicely into the second trimester.” The nurse cast a glance at Danielle. “I’m going to send you straight to the maternity unit upstairs. There’s an obstetrician on duty who can give you a thorough exam. And that’s where the specialized equipment is that can help to determine the baby’s status. I’ll call someone from Patient Transport to take you right up.”
As the nurse’s fingers flew over her keyboard, Danielle whispered to Kyle, “Didn’t you say August 15th was the date we met and got married?”
He nodded absently. That had been the best day of his life thus far. And today had the potential to be the worst day. If anything happened to the baby…
A few minutes later, Danielle sat in a wheelchair on the maternity floor, with Kyle tagging behind as a nursing assistant motioned for the orderly to take her to an exam room part-way down a shiny corridor. Passing by patient rooms, he couldn’t help but notice flower arrangements surrounded by teddy bears and balloons. Happiness all over the place.
Would there be teddy bears for their baby? He silently prayed that there would be. And then it clicked—yes, it was definitely their baby.
He had been the one right outside the bathroom door when Danielle had found out she was pregnant. The one who’d been at her side when Dr. Chartoff had confirmed the diagnosis. The one who’d scoured the town searching for coffee-chocolate chip ice cream when nothing else would do to satisfy her hormone-driven cravings.
What made a father anyway? A scrap of DNA? Or was it the love, the nurturing, the guidance? Protecting a tiny life from harm and then having the strength to let go when his son or daughter crossed the threshold into adulthood. And being around for the long haul, always ready to lend support in a crisis, no matter how old his child got.
Now that he faced the possibility that the baby might be lost, he knew he wanted—not just wanted, but needed—both Danielle and their child in his life. No matter who had actually contributed the DNA that had combined with hers to create this new life. He wanted to help raise this child.
If Danielle wants me in her life. And in the baby’s life.
Sweat seeped from his pores, underscoring his anxiety over the situation. But he had to remain calm for Danielle. As deep as his emotions were running, he knew she had the most at stake right now. The bond between mother and child. It was one of the strongest connections in the entire world, if not the absolute strongest. And she’d already imbibed that potent combination of unconditional love and concern for her baby.
The nursing assistant directed Danielle to a chair in the examining room and then checked her temperature and blood pressure. “All normal,�
� she said, nodding.
He assumed that was a good sign. A fever never meant good news. And he was sure that blood pressure too high or too low could also signal some kind of problem.
“Dr. Sloan will be in to see you shortly,” the nursing assistant said, after instructing Danielle to change into a paper gown and sit on the exam table.
No one asked him to leave, so Kyle stayed in the room as Danielle quickly changed and settled on the paper that covered the exam table. It made a crinkling sound, and he wondered if there was anyone alive who associated getting onto a doctor’s exam table with fun. Most likely not.
He caught a quick glimpse of Danielle’s growing belly and fuller breasts right before she pulled the paper gown completely over her front. That brown line running downward from her navel was still there and even a little darker than when he’d first noticed it.
She sure looked pregnant. How could there be anything wrong with the baby?
Taking in her expression, he could tell that she was frightened. “You all right?” He squeezed her hand and suddenly flashed back to another day in another doctor’s office. When they’d first visited Dr. Chartoff for official confirmation of the pregnancy.
Waiting for the doctor to examine her and pinpoint her due date. And that strange feeling of jubilation he’d gotten when the doctor had given them the good news. Kyle had sincerely thought it was good news. In less than two months, he’d found a woman who was smart and dependable, but with the perfect smattering of high spirits. And she’d agreed to marry him, even though it started out as a temporary escapade.
Although it had been an unexpected shock to learn that they were going to be parents so soon into their relationship, he had looked on it as a blessing in disguise. Perhaps the baby would cement their still-fragile bond—a bond made especially fragile by Danielle’s memory loss.
So, when she looked at him now with suddenly reddened eyes and whispered, “I don’t want to lose the baby,” a vise clamped his heart. He loved her so much. The only thing he wanted was to prevent her from being hurt. Even if she didn’t want to stay married to him, he didn’t want her to experience the heartbreak of a miscarriage.
