Forgiving Hearts: For Better or Worse Part 14

He went to open the door. "Thanks for coming, Colton." Jackson looked over his shoulder to make sure Sophia was out of earshot. Then he lowered his voice. "The ER called and said Hannah has been in a car accident. I was thinking it had to be a mistake, but they've got her driver's license."

Colton nodded. "Don't worry about anything here. Just get to the hospital. I'll check in with you later."

Jackson grabbed his coat off the rack and his keys off the table just as Sophia walked back into the room. From somewhere, he summoned a smile. "Have fun with Amanda, pumpkin. I'll see you later."

"Bye, Daddy."

The last thing he heard as he closed the door was Sophia asking Colton if he knew how to make fried egg sandwiches.

Jackson drank another cup of coffee he didn't want. He'd been sitting in the tiny waiting room opposite the nursing station of the intensive care unit for three hours. The doctor who spoke briefly with him after Hannah's surgery calmed the worst of his fears, but had been carefully neutral about her recovery.

Hannah was holding her own, but had slipped into a coma. Head injuries, he was given to understand, were difficult to predict. The first twenty-four to forty-eight hours were a critical time. From what Jackson could gather from the numerous internet searches he'd done on his phone to help pa.s.s the time, the longer she was in this state, the more problems she was likely to have.

Along with head trauma, she had facial lacerations and two cracked ribs. A nurse in the ER had added the information that the accident had occurred at five a.m. at an intersection a few miles away and involved only her car. Where had she been going so early in the morning? His gloomy contemplations were interrupted by the appearance of a woman in pink scrubs.

"Mr. Steadman, I brought your wife's personal items." She handed him a large plastic bag.

"Thank you very much..." His eyes strayed to her badge. "Amber."

The woman smiled. "You're welcome. I was working when your wife was brought in. Have you been able to see her?"

"Not yet. She's out of surgery, but they're still getting her set up in a room."

"I'm sure they'll let you in as soon as they can. I think ten minutes every two hours is the limit in intensive care."

"That's what they told me."

"Dr. Samuels tells me you're a friend of his."

Jackson nodded. "Yes, I am. He and Laurel are watching my daughter."

"Knowing Dr. Samuels, he's made sure everyone in ICU knows your wife is a friend of his. She'll get the VIP treatment." Amber walked to the door. "I'd be shocked if he doesn't show up here before long. He won't rest until he's checked out the situation himself."

It was another hour before Jackson was allowed to see Hannah. "See her" was a relative term. Not much was visible of the woman who still haunted his dreams. Her head was completely covered as well as most of her face. Tubes running from her mouth and nose led to a vast array of machines surrounding her bed. The only part of her that didn't have something taped on it was her left hand.

The friendly nurse who introduced herself as Marlie was adjusting a drip at the head of the bed. Jackson stepped closer and clasped Hannah's hand. Her skin felt cold and lifeless. There was no response to his touch; not even the flicker of an eyelid.

"You can talk to her, Mr. Steadman. They say that people in comas can hear what's going on around them." After a final adjustment, Marlie moved toward the sliding door. "I'll be back in a few minutes. If you need me, push that red b.u.t.ton on the wall behind you."

Jackson sighed deeply, rubbing his thumb over the top of Hannah's hand. "What have you done to yourself, Hannah? And why are you here?" He knew he was rambling, but couldn't seem to get his thoughts to cooperate. There were too many unanswered questions too many things he didn't know. Without answers, he didn't know how to plan didn't know what to do. The return of the nurse took him by surprise. Had it already been ten minutes?

"I'm sorry, Mr. Steadman, but visiting time is over."

Jackson bent down close to Hannah's ear. "I have to leave now, but I'll be back later."

When he reentered the waiting room, it wasn't empty. Colton was sitting in a chair, a Bible open on his lap.

"They let you see her?" he asked quietly.

"She's in a coma, but you probably already know that."

"I talked to Dr. Koutoucki. He's cautiously optimistic that she'll pull out of this. It's more a matter of how severe the head trauma is. I know it's difficult to see her like that, but she isn't in any pain and her body has time to heal."

"I appreciate you coming. I was getting tired of staring at these four walls."

Colton stood up. "Let's go to the cafeteria. I'm sure you haven't eaten anything."

Jackson ran his fingers through his hair and down his face. "All I've done is drink coffee. Really bad coffee."

"All the more reason to put some food in there with it." As they walked to the elevator, he went on. "Laurel said not to worry about anything. I took them over to your house and let Sophia get some clothes and toys before I came here. I wasn't sure how long you wanted to stay. Sophia was excited about getting to do a sleepover."

"I know I can't do anything to help Hannah, but I don't want to leave."

"I understand, Jackson. We'll take care of Sophia. They were making rice crispy bars when I left and have plans to go to a movie later."

Neither of them talked much during the meal. Back upstairs in the waiting room, Colton read from the Bible, and they spent time praying together. Jackson felt a lessening of the fear that had taken residence in his heart. All he could do now was leave Hannah in G.o.d's hands.

Jackson's level of anxiety wavered during the long days that followed. He spent every free moment at the hospital, fitting visits into his work schedule as much as possible. He would have spent the evenings there, too, but he had Sophia to think of.

Four days after the accident Hannah began to emerge from the coma. Because it happened in the middle of the night, Jackson wasn't aware of it until the following morning when he dropped by to see her on his way to work. When the nurse told him, he was expecting Hannah to be alert the way such things happened in movies. He was somewhat disappointed to find that the only change was her eyes were open. He found her blank stare harder to accept than when she'd just looked like she was sleeping.

The following evening he saw Dr. Koutoucki go into her room as he stepped off the elevator. Not wanting to intrude, he waited outside in the hallway. To his surprise, he heard the murmur of a female voice. It was weak, but sounded like Hannah. Was she talking? After a few minutes, the doctor emerged from the room. He motioned to Jackson to follow him down the hall.

"I was hoping to catch you before you went in. There's been a development in your wife's condition. It's not an unusual one, but it can be difficult for the family. The good news is she started talking this morning. She's not saying much, but she's aware that she's in a hospital. Cognitively, she appears to be fine. Unfortunately, she's displaying symptoms of amnesia, and it's causing her some anxiety.

"We told her some basic things like her name, where she is, and how she got here, but we don't want to overwhelm her. It's frightening to wake up and not know who you are. I don't think the amnesia is permanent; however, there are no definitive answers I can give you for when or how much she'll remember. Some things may never come back. When memories do return, they come in fragments with no connection to other events. This can be exasperating for everyone."

All Jackson could think about was how scared Hannah must be. "Will it hurt her to see me?"

"No, but be prepared; she may or may not remember you. In either case, don't give her too much information at first. Many patients experience high levels of stress when they realize they don't remember a spouse or other family members. If you have any concerns, just leave a note with the nurse. She'll see that I get it."

"Thank you, Dr. Koutoucki."

After the doctor walked away, Jackson took a deep breath. Give me the right words to say, Father. The first thing he noticed when he walked into her room was the absence of the large bandage covering her head. The second was that her eyes were closed. Not wanting to disturb her, Jackson sank down on the chair by the window and tried to order his chaotic thoughts.

He wondered what Hannah would think when she saw him. Finding out she was married would be a terrible shock on its own. He could only imagine her reaction to finding out her husband was so physically unappealing. A sinking feeling invaded his stomach. Would she be upset by his appearance? With a deep sigh, he turned to look out the window.

Hannah's eyes followed the doctor as he left the room and then focused on the dark red roses resting on the table next to her bed. A few of the buds were just beginning to open. The sight of them brought a smile to her face. Whoever sent them must know her, might even be someone special to her. Was she married? Her glance moved to her left hand there were no signs of her having worn a ring. Maybe she had a boyfriend. She frowned in concentration, trying to bring up a face. Nothing happened. Closing her eyes, she slumped back against the pillow.

She heard footsteps coming closer and then away again. There was the merest swooshing sound that the cushion of a chair makes when someone sits down. Whoever was in her room wasn't a nurse. If she opened her eyes, she'd have to talk. The few conversations she'd had so far had left her with a sense of failure and a throbbing headache. Right now, she didn't feel like making the effort.

Into her gloomy thoughts came the sound of a sigh. It wasn't a happy sigh, either. Was this unknown person upset with her? It must be frustrating to visit someone who couldn't remember your existence. Hannah vaguely registered the clatter of trays and the unwelcome aroma of food. Not again! Just the thought of eating made her sick. If she continued to pretend she was asleep, maybe they would leave her alone. Didn't they understand? She had no appet.i.te and even if she did, everything tasted the same.

Deeper tones joined the high-pitched chatter of the nurses. There was a stirring of activity outside the door, and then the sound of footsteps coming toward her. Hannah had forgotten about the person already in her room until she heard a voice speak from the other side of the bed.

"Are you just getting finished?"

"I had a board meeting. Laurel told me to tell you not to worry about dinner."

"I'm getting spoiled with all these gourmet meals. I'm never going to want to eat my own cooking again."

"Have you been able to talk to Hannah?"

"No, she was asleep when I came in."

"Stay as long as you need to. We'll keep a plate of food warm for you."

The footsteps receded, leaving the room in silence, but Hannah knew she wasn't alone. Only one person had walked out. The other person, a man, still remained by the window. Why didn't she recognize his voice? And who was Laurel?

Not able to contain her curiosity any longer, Hannah stole a glance at her visitor. He was turned slightly away from her, his attention on something outside the window. The dimness of the room accentuated the jagged scars and puckered skin running from his heavy brow to his jawline. Hannah quickly shut her eyes again, wishing the nurse would come. Who was this person and what had happened to him?

A chair sc.r.a.ped against the floor. Hannah willed herself not to move. When a hand closed over hers, she thought her heart was going to stop. It was all she could do not to s.n.a.t.c.h her hand away. If he didn't leave soon, she was going to start screaming. After what seemed like an eternity, her hand was released, and she heard the welcome sound of his departure.

For a long time after he left, Hannah stared at the roses. When the nurse finally appeared with her unwanted meal, she asked, "Do you know who sent me those flowers?"

"No, they were here when I came to work yesterday."

"I think there's a card. Does it say anything?"

The nurse walked over and looked at the card. "Just your name and room number."

Hannah frowned. "Do you know who the two men in my room were?"

"The only person I saw in here was Dr. Samuels. It's turkey and mashed potatoes tonight. I hope you're going to eat more than you did at lunch."

Hannah hardly heard her. Was the man with the scarred face one of her doctors? If so, why would he sit in her room? None of this made sense, and her head was starting to ache again. Waiting only until the nurse left the room, she pushed the tray of food to the side and closed her eyes.

When Jackson pa.s.sed the nursing station the next morning, one of the women sitting behind the desk stood up to greet him.

"Mr. Steadman, Dr. Koutoucki wants to see you before you go in your wife's room. Let me page him. He's somewhere on the floor doing rounds."

"Has something happened?" Jackson asked hurriedly.

"Your wife is fine, but you need to wait for the doctor."

Please, Lord, don't let Hannah be any worse. Another agonizing ten minutes pa.s.sed before the doctor made his appearance. Once again, he motioned for Jackson to come away from Hannah's room.

"Mr. Steadman, did you have any type of interaction with Hannah yesterday?"

"No. She was asleep when I went in. I waited about thirty minutes, and then I left."

"This is very difficult for me to say. Apparently, she saw you and got agitated. At this time, it's probably best that you don't visit her."

Hadn't he worried about this very thing? "Of course, if that's what you think is best."

"I know it's difficult, but this kind of thing happens from time to time."

He gave the doctor points for diplomacy, but Jackson doubted this circ.u.mstance came up very often. If Mitch.e.l.l had been in her room, Hannah's reaction would have been very different. "Would there be any harm in me writing her a letter? Just so she knows she's not entirely alone. I won't mention that I've been to see her."

The doctor's worried frown lifted. "None at all. In fact, that's an excellent idea."

As Jackson walked to the parking lot, he wondered if things could get any worse. Not only did Hannah not remember him, now she didn't even want to see him. Once inside the semi-privacy of the truck, he stared unseeingly through the windshield. Where was Hannah going to go when she was released from the hospital? There was no sign of Mitch.e.l.l, and if she continued to refuse to see Jackson, who was going to take care of her?

Jackson hadn't been able to reach her parents, but that didn't entirely surprise him. His dealings with his in-law's had never recovered from the strain of Hannah's decision to live with Mitch.e.l.l. Not only did they blame him for making her unhappy enough to leave, but they declared Jackson unsuitable to raise Sophia. When he refused to give them custody of their only grandchild, they washed their hands of him.

All the way from the hospital to the clinic, he prayed for a solution to this problem any solution that would prevent him from having to seek help from the man Hannah preferred over him.

The nonstop noise of the hospital was beginning to wear on Hannah. She wanted to be somewhere quiet where she could go more than an hour without someone poking her with a needle or asking her questions she couldn't answer. She also wanted to remember something, however small or insignificant, that would pierce the blankness of her existence. There must be someone who knew her. Where were her family and friends? Why hadn't they come to see her? Was she being shielded from some terrible truth?

The murmur of conversation outside the door got louder. Hannah was tempted to feign sleep. The false cheerfulness of the nurses grated on her. No one seemed to understand how empty she felt. Turning her head away from the door, she stared out the window.

As she watched the clouds move languidly across the bright blue of the sky, her frustration started to wane. She had to stop focusing on the negatives of her situation. Things could be worse; she could be paralyzed or still in a coma. A single tear slipped down her cheek. Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she should be thanking G.o.d that she was alive. The whisper of a laugh escaped her. Her memories only went back a few days, but she had one thing to hold on to. She hadn't forgotten who G.o.d is.

A few minutes later, Hannah heard someone come into her room. She turned her head expecting to see yet another nurse and met the friendly glance of a tall woman in casual dress. Was this someone who knew her?

"h.e.l.lo, Hannah. I'm Laurel Samuels. I heard about you from my husband. He's one of the doctors here. I hope you don't mind me coming to see you."

Something clicked in Hannah's brain. "You're Dr. Samuel's wife."

Laurel smiled widely. "Yes, I am."

"I guess you know I have amnesia. If I knew you before, I apologize for not knowing you now."

"We only met a few times so I wouldn't expect you to remember me."

"Is your husband one of my doctors?"

"No, but he's good friends with someone who knows you."

Hannah laughed. "That doesn't tell me very much."

"His name is Jackson. He can't come to see you right now, but he gave me a letter to give you." Laurel reached into her purse and took out a plain white envelope.

"That was nice of him and considerate, too. Reading is one of the few things I can do."

"Letters are underrated these days. My husband wrote me some beautiful letters when we were dating. I get them out every year on our anniversary and read them."

"That's so romantic!"