Asher (Ashes & Embers Book 6) Page 7

  My mind spins with all the phone calls I’m going to have to make. To Kenzi and Tor. To my sister-in-law, my parents, my siblings, our friends. The list is endless. But before I even start all that, I agree with Sherry. I need to try to tell Ember I’m her husband.

  Panic chases the excitement I should be feeling away, ringing a monstrous bell of reality in my head.

  My wife doesn’t know who I am.

  My wife doesn’t know who she is.

  After Sherry walks away, I lean back against the wall, deflated like a punctured balloon. I knew amnesia was a possibility, but I refused to let myself believe it could happen.

  I believed there was no way, no matter what, Ember could ever forget her life or her loved ones.

  And especially not me.

  Chapter Eight

  “I’m back,” I announce casually as I enter her room. As if I ran out to pick up a pizza and my wife isn’t sitting here after waking up from an almost eight-year coma with memory loss.

  Act normal, Sherry suggested. Don’t let her see you upset.

  Easier said than done.

  I feel her eyes on me as I cross the room and sit in the all-too-familiar guest chair that’s still close to her bed.

  “I was hoping we could talk, if you’re okay with that. Nurse Sherry is right out in the hall, so if you feel scared or uncomfortable, she’ll come in immediately and I’ll leave. Okay?”

  Her forehead creases. “ ’kay.”

  “I want you to know you’re safe. I know you’ve gotta be scared out of your mind, and I wish to God you weren’t. But you’re safe.”

  She blinks.

  My husbandly instincts take over. “Can I hold your hand? I think it might help you feel better. It’ll make me feel better too.”

  Her head tilts. “ ’kay,” she whispers.

  When I gently take her hand in mine, they tremble simultaneously against each other.

  And when she squeezes my fingers, I can’t hold back the sob that catches in my throat or the desperate smile on my lips.

  “Do you remember anything? Any...one?”

  She moves her head slowly from side to side.

  “Do you remember your name?”

  She moves her head no again.

  Fuck.

  “Your name is Ember Valentine. It’s a really pretty name.”

  “Em. Ber.” A slight, crooked smile curves her lips, and my heart literally jumps at the sight of it.

  “And my name is Asher Valentine.”

  I give her a few moments to see if she makes the connection with the last names. I pray for even the tiniest spark of recognition.

  There’s none.

  I take a deep breath.

  “I’m your husband,” I say softly.

  Her eyes go so wide, they almost consume her entire face.

  Her hand stiffens in mine. No longer trembling. Just completely still.

  She blinks, then looks toward the door as if she wants to run out of here.

  Away from me.

  I wonder how many times my heart can break before it’s shattered into nothingness.

  “Do you want me to get the nurse?”

  Gripping my hand, she studies me like I’m an alien who fell out of the sky and landed next to her bed. I can’t read her face at all, and it’s making me crazy because I know all her facial expressions. I could always read her like a book.

  “You?” she says in her whispery, scratchy voice.

  “We’ve been married for eighteen years and together for twenty-one years.”

  She gasps and jerks her head back into the pillow.

  I can’t tell if she’s horrified, shocked, or thinking she hit the jackpot.

  “No.”

  Even though I know her ability to speak properly has been affected, it does nothing to lessen the blow.

  I swallow hard as she squirms her hand out of mine and hides it under her blanket.

  “I know this is all scary for you, but you’re going to get better. I promise.”

  Glaring at me, she presses her lips together. I’m catapulted back in time when Kenzi would make the exact same face as a toddler right before throwing a tantrum.

  “No you.”

  “It’s okay to be confused and scared. But ya know what? Everything is going to get better soon. I’m going to take care of you just like I always have.”

  “No.”

  I flash her a grin, hoping it’ll win her over like it used to.

  “Trust me, you really do like me. I know you don’t know that right now, but you’re crazy about me.”

  “Ew.”

  Once upon a time—a lifetime ago—she told me she fell in love with my smile long before we spoke one word to each other. She told me it made her heart warm and fluttery.

  Now—nothing.

  Oh, the little things in life we take for granted...never realizing how hugely important they truly are.

  “No,” Ember says for at least the tenth time as the doctor explains the extensive treatment plan he’s outlined. I’m overwhelmed myself and wish I had asked Tor and Kenzi to sit in on this discussion with me. Ember will have to endure almost every kind of therapy imaginable. Physical. Neurological. Psychological. Speech. Occupational. Family.

  The list of things she has to relearn and overcome is a mile long.

  It’ll take approximately six months of various stages of intensive treatment and therapy before coming home can even be considered, and then more therapy from there.

  With no guarantees what the extent of her recovery will be, or if she’ll ever regain her memory.

  “It’s normal for her to go through a range of vastly different emotions and moods—sometimes on an hourly basis. Her personality will be flat and disassociated. She may come across as uncaring, even rude and irrational, at times. She may be crying one moment, laughing the next, then furious for no reason a few minutes later. It’s all normal. She will experience confusion and disorientation. We expect that behavior to subside in a few weeks, or possibly months. There’s no way to know at this early stage, but once she starts therapy, we should see improvement,” the doctor explains as Ember pushes the channel button on the television remote repeatedly, watching the scene on the screen change rapidly from one show to the next.

  I have a feeling that’s how she’s seeing things in her own head right now.

  “What about visits from family? She doesn’t seem to like me very much at the moment.”

  “It’s going to take some time for her to feel comfortable with anyone. Everyone is a stranger to her. Visits will be limited to no more than three visitors at a time, for very brief periods. Don’t try to force her to remember anything or anyone. Just smile, keep conversations light. Don’t let her see that her behavior is upsetting to her guests. If the visits agitate her too much, they’ll need to stop.”

  “I agree,” I say.

  “It’s extraordinary that she’s coherent and can speak. As I said, this is all remarkable.” He closes his folder. “I’m very optimistic about her long-term recovery.”

  “I am too. I’m just worried about the memory loss. And the detachment.” I glance at Ember, who’s still engrossed in the television, oblivious to the fact that we’re talking about her.

  “Understandable, but not at all uncommon.”

  The doctor and I stand and walk out to the hallway together.

  “Level with me,” I say as soon as we’re out of earshot from Ember. “What are the real chances of her memories and her personality ever coming back?”

  “Off the record? I’d say it’s fifty-fifty. We just don’t know. It could take days, weeks, months. I’ve seen patients start to regain sporadic memories years later. Some never regain their memory. There’s simply no way to tell.”

  “So my wife could be gone forever?”

  “It’s best not to think about things like that right now, Mr. Valentine. You’ll drive yourself crazy if you do.”

  Too late. I’m already on that never-ending
road trip.

  I spend the day with her, vacillating between moments of incredible happiness and cold, hard fear. When she’s smiling, everything feels right again. Ember’s back. I’m not alone anymore, begging and praying and hoping for her to be okay.

  But when she talks and looks at me with zero filter to buffer her words and expressions, it’s like my heart is slowly being dug out and ripped from my chest.

  Things will get better.

  I’ll walk through any hell for her.

  Love always finds a way. It’s like water and air. Eventually it seeps through.

  “Whas that?” The framed photographs on the wall have suddenly caught her attention.

  “Pictures of us.”

  “Who?”

  “Our family. Do you want to see them closer?”

  When she nods, I grab one of my favorite photos of us sitting in the grass with five-year-old Kenzi. I don’t think she’s ready to know that her own daughter is now an adult.

  I hand the frame to Ember, and she holds it in her hands, studying it intently.

  “Thas you?” She points to me in the photo.

  “Yup. That’s me.”

  “Who’s her?” She lays her finger over her own face.

  “That’s you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. That’s you.”

  “Thas me, Ember?”

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes move to Kenzi, who’s sitting in her lap in the photo. We’re all smiling and laughing. A perfect little family having a perfectly happy summer day at the park. We asked a random woman to take our picture. I remember that day like it was yesterday. We fed the ducks, and Kenzi wanted to bring one home and let it live in the bathtub. Ember came close to letting her.

  “Who is little?”

  I take a deep breath to brace myself for what may come next. “That’s Kenzi. She’s our daughter.”

  Her hands tremble as she clenches the frame. She turns to me with such a look of overwhelming confusion in her eyes that I wish I hadn’t let her see the picture.

  “Daughter?”

  “Yes. See, she looks like you. She loves you and misses you very much.”

  The picture falls from her hands into her lap, and she begins to shake her head wildly back and forth.

  “No no no no no,” she sobs.

  Without thinking, I sit on the bed and pull her into my arms, gently cradling her head in my hand to stop her thrashing.

  “Shh...don’t cry. It’s all going to be okay.”

  Clinging to my shirt, she buries her face into my chest. She’s like a bird in my arms—frail, delicate, and trembling.

  But damn, having her so close is pure heaven, and I don’t ever want to let go.

  “Nobody...in head. Gone.”

  “It’s okay,” I whisper, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “You’re here. I’m here. You’re going to get better.”

  She turns, and her forehead presses against the side of my neck, awakening a thousand memories. I close my eyes and savor the warmth of her familiar flesh against mine.

  “Scared.”

  Me too.

  I hold her a little tighter. “Things will get better. The doctors have a great plan. You have family who loves you. When you’re ready, they’ll be here. We’re all going to be here for you.”

  After a few minutes, her trembling subsides. The grip of her fingers on the collar of my shirt loosens. Her gasping sobs turn to soft, even breaths.

  She’s fallen asleep against my chest, wrapped in my arms.

  All I can do is hope it’s a sign that the heart always knows where its home is, no matter what.

  Chapter Nine

  “Your mother’s awake.”

  I spent almost forty minutes on the drive from the hospital to Kenzi’s house rehearsing how to tell her the news about Ember. But as soon as she opened her front door, my mind turned into a blank wall.

  “Wh—what?” She stares at me with her mouth half-open as I walk into the foyer and head for the living room. This is a conversation I need to be sitting down for.

  Kenzi follows and sits beside me as Tor wanders in with the cat perched on his shoulder.

  “Dad? What did you just say?”

  “Your mom’s awake.”

  “What?” they say in unison.

  “The medication worked. She just...woke up.” I exhale a sigh that’s been pent up in me for hours and look from Kenzi to Tor, who are both wearing equally shocked expressions. “She’s talking a little and is aware. It’s surreal.”

  “Oh my God.” Kenzi gasps and covers her mouth with her hand.

  Tor puts the cat on the floor then sits between us, putting his arm around Kenzi. “Ash...you don’t look too good, man. Have you been sleeping at all? When did all this happen?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I haven’t been sleeping. I don’t even know what day it is.”

  “Mom’s awake?” Kenzi repeats. “Like really awake this time? Not staring at the ceiling?”

  “Yes. She’s completely wide awake.”

  “Holy shit,” Tor says. “How is she? Did you say she can talk?”

  “Can we go see her? Right now?”

  “No, you can’t visit yet.”

  “Why not? Daddy, I need to see her.”

  I run my hand through my hair and squeeze the back of my neck. My head is suddenly pounding, my heart racing. “There’s more. Give me a minute to get my thoughts together.”

  “Dad, you’re scaring me.”

  Exactly what I was afraid of. Traumatizing my little girl even more than she’s already been since the day Ember fell off that cliff.

  “Give him a sec, Kenz.” Tor kisses her cheek then puts his free hand on my back. “Relax, bro. You’re all tweaked out.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. This is...”

  It’s indescribable.

  “Don’t apologize. Your wife just came out of a fucking coma. You can be as fucked up as you need to be. We’re family.”

  I nod and lean forward, resting my elbows on my legs. “Everything’s happening so fast. The doctors and nurses are shocked. She’s very weak but coherent. She’s having trouble talking, but the fact that she can talk at all is a miracle. She definitely understands what we’re saying and what she wants to say.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Tears of happiness glimmer in Kenzi’s eyes, and it’s literally destroying what’s left of my heart. “This is amazing, Dad. All these years, you were right. I’m so crazy excited, I’m actually shaking. Look.” She holds up her hand to show us how it’s trembling.

  “I can’t wait to see her and hug her and tell her all about my life and Tor and the baby and just everything. Can we go first thing in the morning?”

  I put my hands up. “Hold on, sweetheart. She…she doesn’t remember anything. Or anyone. She has no idea who she is or who I am.” I swallow hard as I watch the joy fade from my daughter’s bright-green eyes. “She doesn’t remember any of us. Yet.”

  Yet. Three letters holding up an immense amount of hope.

  Kenzi clutches Tor’s arm like he’s a raft and she’s drowning in an ocean.

  “That’ll come back, though, right?” Tor asks. “It’s just a temporary thing?”

  “The doctors don’t know for sure. We can only take it day by day and hope for the best.”

  Kenzi blinks, and a tear slides down her pink cheek. “She won’t remember me? At all?”

  “I’m sorry, love, but no. She doesn’t remember anything about her own life. She doesn’t even recognize herself in photos yet.”

  That little word is now my new lifeline.

  “Jesus Christ, Ash. I’m so sorry. This has gotta be fuckin’ killing you.”

  “Yeah. It is. But she’s awake, and it looks like she’s going to be able to get better with lots of therapy. That’s what matters. I’m not giving up on her.”

  “No way, man. I’ve seen this stuff on TV. Memories come back. I’m sure hers will.”

  Kenzi sh
akes her head and wipes at her face. “What if they don’t? Then what? She just walks around like a...” She stares around the room. “Like a zombie with no memory? Will she ever be happy like that?”

  I jerk my head up. “She’s not going to be a zombie. She’ll go through intense therapy and should be totally functional within a year or two.”

  “See?” Tor says. “That’s better than any of us ever imagined.”

  “Totally functional with no idea who she is? Or who we are? How will that work? Will she even want to be around us?”

  “Kenzi,” Tor says softly. “Let’s focus on now. Your dad doesn’t need to hear all this.”

  “But what if she doesn’t ever get her memory back? That’s terrifying. Will you be okay with that?”

  I don’t even have to think about the answer to that.

  “Yes. Because she’s alive, and hopefully she can live her life as a normal person instead of trapped in some crazy sleeping limbo. No matter what, I’m going to help her get through this. We can make new memories.”

  That simple, right, Ash?

  “I didn’t mean that you should ever abandon her, Dad. I’m worried about you. And her. And us. I guess when you said she was awake, I thought finally, my mom is back, and everything will go back to normal, and we can all be happy again.”

  “That can definitely still happen, babe. Let’s try to focus on that.”

  Kenzi runs her fingers under her eyes, wiping away tears mixed with smeared makeup. “I’m sorry. You’re right. This is such a shock. I still want to see her as soon as possible. I’m her daughter...mothers and their children have a special bond. Maybe it’ll jumpstart something in her brain.”

  I don’t have it in me to tell Kenzi that Ember didn’t recognize her at all in the photo, even as a little girl. I honestly can’t picture Ember accepting that a beautiful, twenty-one-year-old married woman is her daughter right now. Ember probably doesn’t even have any idea what her own age is.

  “When I visit tomorrow, let me ask her if she’s ready to meet you. I have to warn you, she’s very detached. I’m worried about you getting too upset while you’re pregnant.”

  “The baby and I will be fine, Dad. I’m way more worried about you.”