Mind Over Marriage

Chapter 14
She pulled the cord furiously, sending the drapes flying and closing out the dull gray light of the late afternoon. She wanted it dark, as dark and as black as she could get it, so dark she couldn’t see what was in front of her, so dark she wouldn’t have to look at the truth.
She remembered all of it now—the baby, the complications, how poor her chances of conceiving were.
And the divorce.
Kelsey squeezed her eyes tight, feeling hot tears burning down her face. She still had trouble believing, still couldn’t accept what she knew was true. It was as though the earth had shifted and thrown everything off kilter, as though everything she had believed in had suddenly been thrown asunder. Only this morning she’d thought she had everything—a home, a husband, a baby on the way. Now what did she have?
She turned from the window, her gaze stopping at the new bed just a few feet away. She and Coop had shopped for that bed together. They had tested mattresses, compared prices and chosen just the right one. It was their bed, the bed they slept in, made love in—the bed they shared as husband and wife.
Except they weren’t husband and wife. They were divorced, had been divorced for over two years. This wasn’t her home. He wasn’t her husband. Coop had been deceiving her all this time—acting out, pretending, letting her believe they were still married. They all must have been in on it—Gloria, Mannie, her father, her family. What kind of nightmare was this?
She closed her eyes, feeling the burn of tears. Why did she have to remember? Why now, when she had been so happy, when she thought she was finally going to have what she always wanted? Why couldn’t the memories have stayed buried just a little while longer? Was she destined to always lose what she wanted most?
She squeezed her eyes even tighter, her hands balling into fists. She wanted to run, wanted to hide in the dark, to block out everything and forget again. She’d thought remembering the loss of her baby had prepared her to face the rest of it, that there could be nothing that would shock or hurt her again. How wrong she had been. Cooper Reed wasn’t her husband any longer, and that cut to the quick.
Coop. Her friend, her lover. He’d been so wonderful since the accident—so attentive and kind. What had he thought when he heard she believed they were still married? How shocked he must have been, how surprised and astonished. The wife who had turned him out of her life was now calling for him and needed his help.
She could almost chart in her mind how the events had progressed, how Gloria and the others had talked with him, convinced him of the importance of her remembering on her own. Why would he have agreed to such an elaborate charade? How could he have pretended all these weeks? Out of a feeling of obligation, out of pity?
Like segments of her scattered memories, the pieces were finally fitting into place. The empty house, the lengthy hospital stay, the separate bedrooms and that damn futon bed. Oh, God, she understood it all now. It hadn’t been a matter of adhering to doctor’s orders. It hadn’t been concern for her health or anxiety over her recovery. It had been the fact that they were no longer husband and wife.
She thought back to that night in the shower, thought of her bold actions and foolhardy attempts to seduce him. She wanted to die. How awful that must have been for him then, and how humiliating it was for her now. Time after time he’d rejected her, had let her down as gently as he could. The feeble excuses, the unreasonable concerns—they all made a pathetic sort of sense now.
She turned and walked out of the bedroom and down the long, dark hall, feeling humiliated. She passed the empty bedrooms, one after the other, remembering the plans they’d had, the children they’d anticipated. Only those hopes and dreams had died with their infant son. Their lives had taken a different direction after that, a different course.
The past had found her again. She could remember everything in detail now—the crushing blow of the baby’s death and the terrible depression she’d felt when the doctors had delivered the news about her slim chances of ever conceiving again. It had been more than she could take.
Coop had wanted a family. She knew how disappointed he’d been. On top of everything else, on top of the grief and the guilt, she’d felt like a complete failure, eaten up with self-pity. He’d wanted children, lots of children, and that could never happen because he’d been stuck with a barren wife. He’d deserved better. He’d deserved a wife who could give him what he wanted, a wife who could give him children, and she’d thought she never could.
“Oh, God.” She groaned, the tears tasting bitter on her tongue. Her hand drifted to her belly. What kind of perverse joke was being played on her? What kind of grotesque farce was being carried out? She’d been given the child only to discover she no longer had the man.
Staring through the gloom of the empty living room, she thought of the furniture that once had been there, the furniture that was now crowded into her small apartment in Santa Ynez. This house wasn’t her home, wasn’t their home—and hadn’t been for a very long time. She couldn’t stay here any longer. It felt cold and empty—as cold and empty as she felt inside.
She rushed into the bedroom, yanked open the closet doors and pulled her clothes to the floor. They were her clothes, her belongings. She remembered wearing them, buying them. They belonged in the cramped closet in her bedroom in Santa Ynez, not here, not in Coop’s house, not in the house where he had taken pity on her and lived out a lie for the last two months.
She pulled out a large suitcase from the back of the closet and carried it to the bed. Slowly, she began to gather up her clothes, folding them and stacking them neatly inside. She remembered the first time she’d packed to leave this house, remembered how lost and angry she’d felt. Her baby had just died, she’d disappointed her husband, and her hopes had been dashed.
She had practically pushed Coop into a divorce after that, had wanted him away from her and out of her life. It had never been a matter of not loving him, but rather a matter of loving him too much. She’d loved him too much to saddle him with a woman who could never give him what he wanted.
She sat on the edge of the bed. The child inside her was still too small for any outward sign to show—the child she and Coop had made, the child her doctors had said would never be. The marriage might be over, the charade at an end, but the baby inside her was real, and it was growing.
She remembered Coop’s reaction when he learned about the baby, remembered his stunned silence and look of shocked surprise. No wonder he’d been speechless and confused. Pregnancy wouldn’t have even been a consideration when he’d taken her to bed. He might have agreed to pretend being her husband, but a baby hadn’t been part of the bargain.
Coop. Maybe he’d only been trying to help. Maybe he had been concerned about helping her regain her memory, but she couldn’t help feeling betrayed. How could he have kept the truth from her all this time? How could he have told her he loved her, made love to her, made her believe she was his wife? How could he have made it all up?

“Kelsey?” Coop slipped the key out of the lock and shut the front door behind him. “Kelsey? Sweetheart, where are you?”
He’d headed right home after the meeting in Gloria’s office, feeling better than he had in a very long time. He knew what he wanted, knew what he had to do to get it, and after so many weeks floundering in uncertainty, the certainty was almost liberating.
He tossed his keys on the hall stand and he headed for the kitchen. “Kelsey?”
It wasn’t even five yet, but the thick, heavy fog hanging low to the ground had blocked what little sunlight remained, making the house dark and full of shadows. He peered into the breakfast nook, seeing the teacups and crackers on the table.
“Kelsey?” he called again, glancing through the nook and into the empty kitchen. “Babe? You home?”
He glanced at the dishes on the table again, feeling the skin at the back of his neck start to tingle. There were two cups. She’d had tea with someone. Who, and where were they now?
He turned, walked to the entry, turned and scanned the empty gloom of the living room. He thought of the story he’d told her the day he’d brought her home from the hospital, about getting rid of furniture and plans to redecorate. It was just one of the lies he wanted to be rid of, one of the long list of distortions and misrepresentations he’d been drowning in.
He headed down the hall, walking in long, urgent strides. Passing one bedroom after the other, he couldn’t shake the rising feeling of uneasiness. The house was too quiet. It felt too empty. Maybe it had lacked furnishings for over two years, but there was a vacantness that didn’t feel right.
He stopped at the doors to their bedroom. There was no trace of light, no hint of movement from inside. The tingling at the base of his neck had become a prickle, ominous and uncomfortable.
“Kelsey?” He pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold.
It was dark in the room, but he could feel her presence as surely as if the sun was shining through the windows. He felt for the wall switch.
“No.”
His hand stilled at the sound of her voice. “It’s dark.”
“I want it dark.”
He could make out her faint profile silhouetted against the draperies. She was standing in the corner with her arms crossed over her chest. The sight of her standing there in the darkness gave him a bad feeling.
“Oh, God, what is it?” he asked without preamble. “What’s happened? Is it the baby?”
“The baby,” she murmured, her hands dropping to her abdomen. “The baby is fine.”
A wave of relief washed over him, but it did nothing to calm his sense of dread. Something had happened. It might not be the baby, but it was serious.
“I saw the cups in the kitchen,” he said, trying to think what could have gotten her this upset. “Somebody came by today?”
She nodded her head. “Holly, from across the street.”
“Oh, yeah?” He started slowly across the room toward her.
She turned and stared at him through the shadows. “Yes.”
Her stance, the tone of her voice, everything about her made him stop in his tracks. “Kelsey, what is it? What’s happened? Did Holly say something to upset you?”
“No, Holly’s terrific. She’s pregnant, too, as a matter of fact.”
“Then for the love of God, tell me what is it,” he pleaded, hearing the panic in his voice. “Kelsey, please, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
“I’m scaring you?” She laughed, a harsh, sneering sound. “What have you got to be afraid of, Coop?”
Coop started toward her again, but his knee collided painfully with something in the darkness and he stopped. He fumbled for the lamp beside the bed. The tiny bulb flooded the room with a dim glow. “A suitcase?”
“My suitcase,” she corrected. “It’s heavy. I’d like you to put it in the car for me.”
“A suitcase,” he murmured, feeling as though he’d been punched in the stomach. “Why? Where are you going?”
“Home,” she said in a flat voice.
Coop swallowed hard, his mouth feeling as dry as a desert. “Home? What are you talking about?”
“Look, Coop, you don’t have to do this any longer,” she said, pushing past him and heading for the door. “It’s over. I know.” She stopped at the door and turned to him. “I remember.”
Her words shot across the room like a bullet, hitting him straight in the heart. The blood drained from his hands, from his heart, from his brain.
“You remember?”
“I remember,” she repeated, her voice void of any emotion. “Everything.”
“Kelsey,” he murmured, rushing to her. “Kelsey, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything, Coop,” she insisted. “I remember. There’s no need to keep pretending any longer.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Yes, I do,” she interrupted. “You forget, I’m a nurse, I’ve seen cases like this before. I know how these things go. Don’t overwhelm the patient with too much too soon, don’t force them, allow them to recall on their own.” She held out her hands in a mocking, careless shrug. “And look—it worked, I’m cured. You did a good job, all of you. Gloria, Mannie, the whole family. I appreciate the effort, I really do, but it’s not necessary anymore.”
He didn’t believe her nonchalant words or her casual gestures. She was hurt and in shock. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. Her whole world had been torn apart—their world together. He longed to go to her, to gather her in his arms and comfort her, but every movement she made told him she wouldn’t welcome anything from him at the moment.
“We...we need to talk,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I want to explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain,” she maintained, giving her hair a toss.
“But there is,” he insisted, his voice turning desperate. “I want you to understand. Everyone was so worried about you. And then, when you woke up, you didn’t remember. They—the doctors, your dad, everyone—we just wanted to do the right thing. I just wanted to do the right thing.”
“The right thing,” she repeated, nodding. “Yes, well, I can understand that. You wanted to help. I appreciate it.”
“Please, Kelsey,” he said, stepping forward and reaching for her. “Sweetheart—”
“No,” she snapped, dropping the calm facade for an instant. “Please, don’t touch me.”
He could see her composure slip, could see her lips quiver and her eyes turn shiny with tears. “God, Kelsey, I’m so sorry,” he said, reaching for her again.
“I said,” she snapped, jerking away from him, “don’t touch me.” She glared at him, a tear spilling to her cheek and cascading to her chin. With an impatient hand, she batted it away. “I don’t want you to ever touch me again.”
Coop’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. He’d come home determined to tell her everything. He’d been ready for her shock, anger and outrage, but he hadn’t been prepared for this. This had come right out of nowhere, something out of his worst nightmares, and he wasn’t sure what to do.
“Kelsey—God, Kelsey,” he beseeched, his voice cracking with emotion. “Please...don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what, Coop? Don’t be honest? Don’t face reality? Keep pretending?” She took a step forward. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re not married anymore. I know that now—I’ve remembered. There’s no need to keep up the act. It’s time for me to leave.”
“I know you’re upset,” he said as she started for the door again. “Please just stay for a little while. Talk with me.”
“Talk? About what?” She looked at him. “I know you think you have to explain, that you have to help me to understand, but it’s not necessary. I understand, honestly, I do. I just want to leave now. I want to be alone, to go back to my real life.” She started down the hall. “Let’s just forget about this, about what happened.”
“You want to forget me? Forget us?”
She stopped. “There is no us.”
“Bull,” he said, moving across the carpet and down the hall toward her. “You’re just going to waltz out of here, forget the last two months ever happened?”
She spun around, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. “The last two months weren’t real. They were made up, just another part of my recovery—like taking a pill or going to physical therapy.”
“You can’t believe that.”
“Of course I believe it,” she shouted, her voice echoing down the empty hall. “I believe it because it’s the truth.”
“Kelsey,” he said in a tightly controlled voice. “You’re upset, you’re not thinking straight. I mean, when it started out you were in the hospital—I wanted to help, wanted to do whatever I could to help you get better. But you can’t believe that everything after that was—”
“Was what?” she demanded. There were no tears, no trembling lips or quivering voice. “An act?”
“You know better than that.”
She stopped, drawing in a shaky breath. “You should have told me. I can understand in the beginning, but all this time, letting me go on believing...” She shook her head. “Once the memories started to come back, you should have told me the truth.”
“I wanted to. hundreds of times.” He hesitated, searching for the words. “I... was just so afraid.”
“Afraid? Of what?”
“Of losing you.” He reached for her, catching her by the upper arms. “I love you, Kelsey—you have to know that.”
“No.” She shook her head, pulling away. “No, no, no. Don’t say that to me.”
“I say it to you because it’s true.”
“I don’t want to hear this,” she said, turning and running for the door. “I’ll send my father down for my things. I’ve got to go.”
He caught her at the door, pressing his palm flat against the wood, making it impossible for her to open it. “I love you, Kelsey—I always have, I always will.”
“Let me go, Coop,” she pleaded, looking at him.
“How can I?” He let his hand slide down the door. “You’re my wife, Kelsey, in all the ways that matter—and you’re carrying my baby.” He let his hand settle on her abdomen. “This child—this child is a miracle.”
“This baby was more than you bargained for.”
The harshness in her tone made him pull his hand away. “What are you talking about?”
“I remember what the doctors said. They hadn’t given us much hope another pregnancy would be possible.”
“Which only goes to show you nothing is for certain—a diagnosis or a divorce.”
“Look, Coop, I—I don’t blame you about the two of us...being together,” she stammered. “I take responsibility, too. I mean, I wanted...well, I thought we were...” She shook her head, and took a deep breath. “You had no way of knowing there could be a child.”
Coop stepped back. “You think that’s what this is all about? The baby? You think I want you only because of the baby?” His gaze narrowed. “Are you forgetting who walked out on who?”
“I’m not forgetting anything,” she said, pulling the door open. “Including the fact that you let me go.”

“It’s been two weeks, don’t you think- it’s time we talked about it?”
Kelsey glanced up from the spot on the carpet she’d been studying for the better part of the hour. “And what good do you think that would do?”
Gloria poked at the small pile of paper clips on the blotter with the tip of her pencil. “Well, if nothing else, it would make me feel like I was earning my fee.”
Kelsey made a face. “I thought this was supposed to be about what I was feeling?”
“Okay,” Gloria agreed affably, leaning back in her chair. “So tell me.”
Kelsey had to laugh, although there hadn’t been much to laugh at in her life for the past few weeks. She’d left their house—Coop’s house—and driven to the small apartment in Santa Ynez. The building had looked neat and clean with its fresh paint and carefully manicured lawn, just as she’d remembered leaving it. She parked at the curb out front. She could see the door to her unit, apartment 2B, but for some reason she hadn’t been able to bring herself to go inside.
She knew what waited for her in there. She remembered the TV dinners alone, the extra shifts at the hospital, the lonely existence before the accident. She lived her life through others, borrowed their joys, not really having anything of her own. It seemed so bleak now, so barren after the months she’d had with Coop, after all she had and all she’d lost.
Life with Coop had been an illusion. Maybe his intentions had been good—maybe his intentions had been the best—but the fact remained what she thought she had, what she thought was real didn’t exist.
“What do you want me to say?” she asked Gloria, taking a deep breath. “I’m disappointed? I’m hurt? Fine, I’ll say it. I am disappointed, I am hurt.” She sat up in her chair, cocking her head to one side. “Are you satisfied?”
“Why don’t you tell me about the hurt.”
Kelsey rolled her eyes, reaching for her purse on the floor next to the chair. “Forget it, Gloria, I don’t want to do this now.”
“Okay,” the doctor said, nodding and slowly leaning forward. “So if not now, when?”
“So...maybe next time,” she said, imitating Gloria’s voice as she stood up.
“Kelsey, I think you’re making a mistake.”
“How, by dealing with my own problem?”
“If that’s what you’re doing, that’s great. Is it?”
“Look, I know everyone was just trying to help me get better. I understand that, I don’t blame anyone—you, Mannie, my dad, Coop—I really don’t. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. How would it make you feel if you woke up tomorrow and found out that all this time you really weren’t a shrink at all?”
“It would shake me up pretty bad,” she admitted, tossing her pencil onto the blotter. “So tell me, what shook you up more, finding out about the divorce or finding out you maybe didn’t want it?”
Kelsey shook her head, laughing as she rounded the chair and headed for the door. “Gloria, Gloria, Gloria. Spoken like a true shrink—so many questions.”
The doctor shrugged, letting the barb bounce off her. “My questions wouldn’t bother you so much unless you had a problem with what the answers might be.”
“I’ve got no problem answering questions,” Kelsey claimed, turning at the door and walking several steps toward the desk. “Ask away.”
Dr. Crowell pushed her chair back from the desk and slowly-rose to her feet. “Are you in love with your husband, Kelsey?”
Kelsey’s smile quickly faded. “You blew that one, Dr. Crowell—I don’t have a husband.”
“You have Coop,” Gloria pointed out, walking slowly around the desk. “And you’re going to have his child.”
“You’re wrong,” Kelsey said, her hand unconsciously settling over her stomach. “I lost Coop—twice.”
“You’re sure about that?”
Kelsey held a hand up. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“I thought you said you weren’t afraid of the answers.”
Kelsey drew in a deep breath. “I just...don’t want to talk about Coop.”
“He loves you very much.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head, turning for the door again. “I don’t want to hear this.”
“No, I don’t suppose you do.” Gloria sighed, leaning against the edge of her desk.
Kelsey stopped in her tracks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, come on now, Kelsey,” Gloria said, crossing her arms. “You and I have gotten to know each other pretty well in the last couple of months. We’ve talked a lot about your feelings for Coop during that time.”
“I thought he was my husband.”
“And so now your memory has come back and you remembered you don’t love him?”
Kelsey’s shoulders slumped, and she slowly walked to the chair. “I never stopped loving Coop,” she said, slinging her purse into the seat. “Never.”
“And the divorce?”
“Coop wanted a family. I didn’t think I would ever be able to give him that.” She looked at Gloria, tears stinging her eyes. “How could I tie him down, keep him from what he wanted?”
Dr. Crowell reached for the box of tissues on her desk and offered it to Kelsey. “Maybe he wanted you more than he wanted a family.”
Kelsey shook her head, pulling several tissues from the box. “No, I didn’t want him to stay with me out of pity.”
“So you believe he just felt sorry for you, is that it?”
“Something like that.”
“And what about now? He tells you, me, anyone who will listen that he loves you. Is that just pity?”
Kelsey frowned. It sounded so... so different when Gloria said it. “He loves the baby,” she said lamely, trying to focus. “It’s the baby he wants.”
“Okay, let me make sure I understand this,” Gloria said, nodding and making a play of mulling it over. “Coop doesn’t love you, he’s just saying that, but you love him enough to set him free, only he doesn’t want you, what he wants is your baby.” She gave her head a confused shake. “Is that it?”
“Yes—I mean—” Kelsey let out an impatient breath. It sounded so silly the way Gloria put it, so ridiculous. “I mean, no—”
“Tell me something, Kelsey,” Gloria said, pushing herself away from the desk. “I’m curious. What would have happened two years ago if you had found out Coop was sterile?”
“What?” Kelsey blinked.
“Children mean a lot to you, don’t they?” Gloria challenged. “You want a family, isn’t that right?”
“Well, yes, of course.”
“So if you found out Coop couldn’t impregnate you, would you have wanted to stay married to him?”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Kelsey shook her head. “No, you don’t. I know what you’re doing. You’re taking everything I say and twisting it, making it sound ridiculous, and it isn’t going to work.”
“It isn’t?” Gloria asked skeptically.
“No!” Kelsey straightened her shoulders indignantly and snatched up her purse again. “I let Coop go because I loved him.” She took a step forward, her chest rising and falling with emotion. “And you’re forgetting, Doctor—he let me go. He didn’t stop the divorce. You don’t let go of someone you love.”
“Well, I’m confused then.” Gloria shook her head, walking slowly around the desk and sitting down again. She shrugged. “I mean, isn’t that what you’re doing right now?”