Mind Over Marriage

Chapter 3
“Coop, sweetie, I can hardly believe this.”
Coop leaned his forehead against the hard plastic molding that enclosed the pay phone in the lobby and pictured Doris DeAngelo on the other end of the line. “I know, I can hardly believe it myself.”
“But she’s...she’s out of danger now, isn’t she? I mean, she’s going to be all right?”
“Oh, yeah, the doctors seem confident she’ll make a full recovery,” Coop assured her. He’d neglected to mention anything about memory loss to Doris. It was just too confusing and too complicated to get into on the phone. “But it may take some time. Anyway, I’m going to be up here for...” His voice trailed off, and he brought a hand up and rubbed his eyes. “Well, I’ll be up here—I’m not sure for how long. Hold down the fort for me, will you?”
“Don’t I always?” Doris asked affectionately. “I’ll line up someone to take the flights, don’t worry—but Coop, honey, would you like me to come up?”
Coop closed his eyes, taking the offer for what it was—a show of affection. A part of him would have liked nothing more than to have Doris’s broad, understanding shoulder to cry on. They might rib each other, sparring and scrapping, but the fondness between them was real.
“No,” he said with a tired sigh. “I’m okay, but I appreciate the offer.” He opened his eyes and saw Mo Chandler step off the elevator and start across the lobby toward him. “Besides, I need you to make sure I’ve still got a business to come back to.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Doris assured him. “I can’t afford to let this place go under. Where else would I find a cushy job like this and a boss I could push around as easily as you?”
Her words were full of humor, but Coop heard and understood the emotion behind them. “Thanks, Doris.”
“Take care of her, Coop,” Doris said, serious. “Kelsey’s one of the special ones.”
Coop drew in a deep breath. “You won’t get an argument from me on that. Talk to you later.”
Coop slipped the receiver onto the hook and turned to Mo. “Doris DeAngelo,” he said, by way of explanation. “I don’t know if you remember her.”
“Sure I do,” Mo said, nodding and remembering Kelsey mentioning the name earlier. “Works for you, right?”
“Right,” Coop agreed.
Mo hesitated. “Dr. Cohen said he talked to you, that you agreed to... well, that you agreed to help.”
Coop gave him a deliberate look. “You didn’t really doubt that I would, did you?”
“No, not really,” Mo admitted, dropping his gaze to the shiny tiled floor. “But I realize it’s a lot to ask, getting you up here, asking you to—to go along with this. Especially after...”
Coop put a hand up, stopping him. “This is for Kelsey. You know I’d do anything if it meant helping her get better.”
Mo blinked. “You know, I don’t know if I ever told you...I mean about before, about what happened. I don’t know if I ever said how sorry I was. Kelsey was in such bad shape, took everything so hard. I know you were hurting, too, though.”
Coop struggled, not wanting to think about the unhappiness that had touched so many of their lives.
Swallowing the hard lump of emotion in his throat, he gave Mo a gentle pat on the shoulder. “It was a long time ago. Water under the bridge.” He took a deep breath, forcing the memories beneath the surface, and nodded toward the open elevator door. “Come on, show me where her room is.”
Mo hesitated. “You know, it’s late. She might be asleep by now. You could probably wait, if you wanted, until morning. Give yourself a chance to...to rest up a bit.”
Coop looked into Mo’s tired eyes and smiled. He understood and appreciated the reprieve his former father-in-law was offering, but he also knew it would only be putting off the inevitable. Awake or asleep, he had to see Kelsey now—tonight. He could talk all he wanted about water under the bridge, about things being over and done with, but the fact was, the bridge had collapsed and she was back in his life for real.
“No,” Coop said, shaking his head. “I want to see her for a little while, anyway, even if she is asleep.” He stopped, the hand on Mo’s shoulder pressing firm. “You understand.”
“Yeah,” Mo mumbled, stepping inside the elevator and pressing the button for the eighth floor.
They made the ride in silence, both staring at the row of numbers above the door. When number eight glowed bright, a loud ping sounded, and the elevator eased to a stop.
“It’s this way,” Mo said, pointing to his left as they stepped out of the elevator and into the corridor. “In the isolation ward.”
Coop turned and gave him a puzzled look. “Isolation?”
“Her doctors thought it would be better this way,” Mo explained. “With her being so hazy about everything—the hospital and all the people. They just thought the fewer visitors she had, the less confusing it would be.” As they passed the nurse’s station, he nodded to the woman sitting behind the desk. “It’s pretty much just me and the other kids who visit.”
“I see,” Coop said quietly.
They came to a stop outside her room. Coop stared at the door, wondering for a moment if he had enough courage to walk inside. He’d been handed some rough assignments as a SEAL, but he couldn’t remember one as tough as this.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll be down the hall in the waiting room,” Mo said awkwardly. “I’ve, uh, been spending the nights there, so if you need me...”
Coop nodded, reaching for the handle of the door. He felt a little like a prisoner about to face the firing squad rather than a husband about to see his wife.
He could have waited, could have walked away and put this off until the morning, but that only would have delayed the inevitable. Besides, when it came to Kelsey, he’d never been able to walk away, never been able to put a hold on his feelings. He’d promised to play a part from his past for the sake of her future, and once it was over, it would be Kelsey doing the walking—away from him again.

The door quietly drifted closed behind him. The room was dark—too dark after the bright lights of the hall—and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. Coop stood in the darkness, listening to the quiet hum of equipment and machinery from somewhere in the shadows, feeling apprehension grow thick and dry in his throat.
Objects in the room began to slowly take shape, transforming out of the gloom like an image in a photographer’s darkroom emerging on a print in a chemical tray. He could see two hospital beds, one empty, one partially obscured by a curtain that had been drawn around it. A small light showed from inside the curtain, creating a delicate radiance that glowed in a soft circle along the cloth.
Coop felt the apprehension in his throat growing as he stared at that faint, dim light, knowing Kelsey lay just on the other side. He’d spent the last two years trying to forget her, trying to stop himself from thinking of her as his wife. Yet now all that would have to change. He would have to ignore the years that had passed, overlook all that had been said and done and pretend it was the way it used to be—at least until she remembered.
He moved silently across the room, but his legs felt leaden and numb. The hard rubber soles of his boots sounded bleak and hollow against the floor’s slick surface.
What would she see when she looked at him? What reaction would he trigger? Would those sleeping memories suddenly be awakened? Would she remember everything and send him on his way, or would she look at him and see her husband?
He thought of their life together, of the hundreds of little details and half-forgotten customs and patterns that had made up their four years of marriage. Would he remember enough? Did he remember what it felt like to be her husband?
He tried to ready himself, tried to get into the right frame of mind, to psyche himself up. He was going to see her again, and he had to be prepared—but when he stepped around the curtain and looked into the face of the woman who once had been his wife, he realized he hadn’t prepared himself enough.
Surrounded by pillows, Kelsey lay sleeping peacefully to the quiet drone of the monitors and machines that were positioned around her bed like sentries on guard. Her long, blond hair splayed out across the pillows like a golden halo around the face of an angel. And that’s how she looked—angelic. She looked as he remembered her, like Kelsey, his Kelsey, beautiful and familiar.
She looked like his wife.
He stood at the foot of the bed, watching her sleep and feeling life returning to those parts of him that had been dead for two long years. Memories assailed him from all sides, spanning the spectrum of human emotion from hurt to healing, happy to sad. A million tiny snippets traveled through his brain like pictures in a photo album, bringing back a life and a love he’d thought were lost to him forever. She was like an oasis in the desert, like the sun after a long winter night, and for the first time in two years, he felt he was where he was meant to be.
He slowly moved around the bed, weaving his way through the monitors, taking care not to wake her. He reached for a chair beside the bed, slid it close and sat down. He welcomed the quiet moment, welcomed the opportunity to study her.
He could see the evidence of injury along her forehead and cheek, could see the outline of the heavy cast that encircled her leg. A large bruise marred the delicate skin above her brow, and a number of small cuts and scrapes had left her cheek and arms marked and discolored. His heart twisted tight in his chest as he thought of the trauma she’d been through, of the tons of concrete and rubble that had buried her alive.
Children. Mo had told her she’d been in that collapsed building trying to help children. There wasn’t a doubt in Coop’s mind she would have given her life that day if it meant a child would have lived—no doubt at all.
“Kelsey,” he whispered. He reached for her hand, slipping it into his. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”
And he was sorry—sorry about so much. He wasn’t a man given to tears, and the stinging sensation in his eyes felt strange and unfamiliar. He felt like crying for all the hurt and the pain he’d been unable to protect her from.
“Coop? Cooper?”
At the sound of her voice, his heart lurched in his chest, ramming violently against his rib cage. “Right here,” he whispered, squeezing her hand tight. “I’m right here.”
But there was no response. She’d only been mumbling in her sleep, calling out from a dream, unaware he was there.
He settled back in the chair, slowly stroking her hand and giving his heart a chance to find its normal rhythm again. There would be time later to talk, to start the playacting. For now, it was enough to sit there, to watch her chest rise and fall with life and to know she was all right.
She stirred. Her head shifted back and forth on the pillows, and her nose twitched. Before Coop could react, before his heart could beat or his pulse jump, he found himself looking into her sleepy blue eyes.
“Coop?” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
“Hi, babe,” he said, reaching out and running a finger along her cheek.
Babe. He’d forgotten he used to call her that.
“Oh, Coop,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. She reached up, slipping a hand around his finger, and her eyes glistened bright with tears. “Coop, tell me it’s really you, tell me I’m not just dreaming again.”
“It’s me,” he whispered, watching as his fingers naturally interlocked with hers. Seeing the emotion in her sweet face, hearing it in her voice had tears smarting in his eyes.
“Oh, Coop.” She reached out, pulling on his sleeve and causing him to shift from the chair to the side of the bed. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad, too,” he whispered, finding it a little unsettling how easy it was to slip into the role of her husband. “You gave me quite a scare.”
“Oh, Coop.” She sighed, pulling him close. “I love you so much.”
Her declaration had been as honest as it had been sudden, and it made him feel sick inside. If her doctors had thought the mere sight of him would jolt her memory into place, they’d been sorely mistaken. This was a woman in love with her husband, and she had no qualms about telling him so.
“Kelsey,” he said, feeling more like a traitor than a friend trying to help. She looked so soft, so vulnerable, and the lie felt so ugly inside him.
“Hold me, Coop,” she murmured, brushing her lips against his. “Hold me tight.”
“Kelsey,” he mumbled again, his pulse throbbing hard and fierce in his neck. She was so close he could feel the softness of her breath along his cheek. He felt himself catapulted back in time, to when she was his wife and the most natural thing in the world had been to comfort and to hold her.
“I missed you so much,” she murmured against his mouth. “I love you.”
Almost instinctively, he found himself responding as she pushed her mouth to his. The kiss was warm and sweet—almost chaste, but it sent a jolt of emotion through him that had every nerve in his body reacting.
“God, Kelsey,” he said with a raw voice. Her lips were warm and wet, and the taste of her moved through his system like a rocket to the heart. He had agreed to pretend, agreed to go through the motions of being a devoted husband again, but a part of him had never let go, a part of him had never been able to sever the bond they once had shared. “I...I love you, too.”
He kissed her this time—a long, tender kiss fraught with all the emotion churning around inside him. He’d known the charade would be difficult, but he realized now it was not for the reasons he thought. Playing the part of her husband was surprisingly easy. The hard part was remembering he was acting.
“Let me look at you,” she said finally, pushing him away. She surveyed his face carefully.
Coop felt every muscle in his body grow tense as she cupped his cheeks with her hands and slowly perused his face. Would she notice something different? Would she realize he didn’t look quite the same?
“You look exhausted,” she murmured, her thumbs brushing the tender area beneath his eyes. “I’ll bet you haven’t slept in days.”
Coop released a long sigh, his body relaxing. “It’s been a while,” he admitted. “But you’re the one who needs rest.” He settled her against the pillows again. “Go back to sleep.”
“I don’t want to sleep, all I do is sleep,” she murmured. “Besides, I don’t want you disappearing on me again.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, brushing her hair from her face. “You’re stuck with me.”
She breathed out a sigh, smiling at him. “And I feel better already.”
Coop closed his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. He felt dazed, as if reality had taken a holiday and left him scrambling. “Good. Now tell me how you really feel.”
Her smile stiffened a little. She really didn’t want to tell him her head throbbed and the ache in her leg was slowly driving her crazy. “I’m fine,” she lied. “Really. Especially now that you’re here.” Uncomfortable, she changed the subject. “Tell me, how did they finally track you down?”
Coop sat up. “Track me down?”
“Yeah, I told Dad if Doris didn’t know where to find you, no one would know.”
“Oh, right,” Coop said with a nod. “I got tied up with the rescue teams out on the rigs. They took some big hits during the storm. Things were a real mess for a while. I, uh, didn’t have a chance to check in.”
Kelsey laid her head against the pillows and stared at the ceiling. “Oh, right, the storm.”
Coop saw the tiny line between her brows deepen. He remembered that tiny line. It had always been a sure sign something was bothering her.
“It kind of shut everything down for a while,” he explained, doing what he could to keep his tone conversa-. tional. “Communications have been a real problem. I came as soon as I heard.”
She turned her head, giving him a sad smile, making the tiny line deepen. “You knew I’d be waiting.”
He nodded, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, I knew.”
Her smile slowly faded. “Have you had a chance to talk to the doctor?”
Coop nodded. “I talked with Dr. Cohen before I came in.”
“He told you, then?” she asked hesitantly, glancing away. “About the memory loss? How mixed up I get?”
She didn’t have to tell him how frightened she was—it was there in her eyes and in her voice. He found himself leaning close, gathering both her hands in his. “We talked about it, yes.”
“You know, it’s nothing to worry about,” she said, struggling to sound convincing. “This sort of thing happens all the time.” She pulled against his hold and struggled to sit up. “I’m going to be all right, though. Dr. Cohen said I would, so you don’t have to worry. I’m going to get better and remember.”
“Hold on, hold on,” Coop insisted in a soft voice, hearing the panic in her voice. He guided her head carefully onto the pillows. “What Dr. Cohen said was that you needed rest. We can talk about all this in the morning. Right now, I want you to close your eyes and get some sleep. You look exhausted.”
Kelsey sank back, her eyes filling with tears. She was exhausted—her small burst of energy was gone, and suddenly she felt drained and weak.
“I... I hate this,” she confessed, her bottom lip quivering. “I hate feeling useless and weak all the time.”
He leaned down and gathered her close. “You’re not useless, and you’re weak because you need rest. Give yourself some time, give yourself a chance to get your strength back.”
She was quiet for a long time, but Coop could feel the tension in her body, felt the force with which she held him. She was terrified, and struggling desperately against it.
“You know,” he whispered, responding as a husband comforting his wife, “we’re going to get through this. It’s going to be all right.”
“But, Coop, it’s...it’s so awful.” Like water bursting through a levee break, she collapsed against his shoulder and allowed herself to cry for the first time since she woke up and discovered her whole world had changed. “I—I get so scared, so mixed up. Some things don’t seem to make sense. There are details I can’t remember. I feel so alone, so scared.” She clutched at the worn leather of his flight jacket. “What am I so afraid of?”
It seemed natural to hold her, to stroke her long, silky hair from her face and to soothe her with soft words in her ear. She needed support, needed reassurance, needed soft, soothing words. It didn’t matter at the moment what was real and what wasn’t. What mattered was that she needed comfort, and he could give it to her.
“You’re frightened because you’re tired,” he whispered, feeling her body tremble beneath him and wanting nothing more than to take away the fear. “You need to go to sleep, and I promise you will feel better in the morning.” His arms tightened around her. “We’re going to get through this, I promise. I’m right here with you, and everything’s going to be all right now.”
Gradually, bit by bit, the trembling stopped. He could feel her body relax, could feel the tension slip from her muscles.
“Don’t leave me, Coop,” she mumbled sleepily against his shoulder. “Don’t leave me alone.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
He hesitated for only an instant. “I promise.”
She was quiet for a long time—so long he began to think she’d fallen asleep. Suddenly she lifted her head.
“Don’t tell anyone, promise me?” she pleaded. “Dad, or the family—don’t tell them I cried, that I was afraid.”
Coop smiled, stroking her long hair. It was so like her to be worried about everyone but herself, for her to be the little mommy again.
“It’ll be our secret,” he whispered, emotion making it difficult to get the words out.
She drifted to sleep then, her body growing limp and relaxed in his arms. He didn’t want to think too hard about how natural it felt to soothe and comfort her—not now, with the darkness surrounding them and her sleeping so peacefully in his arms. He couldn’t afford to, couldn’t risk reflecting on why there had never been another woman, why he hadn’t remarried and started a new life with someone else. This wasn’t the time for him to speculate on how he could live in a separate world from hers, lead a separate life and yet still feel a bond.
He’d given his word, had promised to do what he could to help her get better. There would be time later to debate the wisdom of that decision, to argue the pros and cons, to contemplate his misgivings. Right now he was content to be where he was—holding her, giving her comfort where he could.
He sat in the darkness, listening to her steady, even breathing and the quiet purr of the monitors around the bed. She might have been the one suffering from amnesia, but he was discovering there were gaps in his memory, as well. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel needed by her. He’d forgotten he could bring her comfort and solace by his mere presence.
She stirred against him, murmuring his name in her sleep. It had been a long time since he’d held her, since they’d touched and kissed and behaved like a married couple.
His hand paused as he stroked her hair. Except they weren’t a married couple any longer, and it was important he remind himself of that. He was going through the motions, doing and saying the things he had to in order to keep up the pretense, to prevent reality from crashing down on her and destroying any chance she would have of getting better.
He shifted, feeling the hard metal frame of the bed cutting into his back. He suddenly felt restless and uneasy. He didn’t want to think about what would happen when she regained her memory, didn’t want to think about what her reaction to him might be. How would she feel when that door in her brain finally opened, when the memories came flooding back? Would she think of this night? Would she remember how he’d held her and kissed her and acted out a lie?
She murmured his name again, and he pressed a gentle kiss into her satiny hair, whispering soft, soothing words. Would she be willing to listen, would she appreciate and understand? Or would she want him out of her life forever—again.

“It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal?” Kelsey folded her arms across her chest and gave him a killing look. “You tell me I sold my Bug and I don’t have even the vaguest recollection of any of it. You don’t call that a big deal?”
Coop slowly lowered his coffee cup to the narrow table that separated them, wishing there was some way to start the morning all over again. He’d stayed in her room until she was soundly asleep, then joined Mo in the waiting room where they’d spent the night talking and trying to get some sleep. Just before dawn, after Mo had left for home to get a quick shower and shave, he’d returned to Kelsey’s room to be there when she woke up and to share a breakfast tray.
It was obvious she was feeling better. Her color was good, and she looked rested and beautiful as they sat on the bed together and talked. Things had been going fine until the subject of her VW came up.
He still remembered when the men from the junkyard had arrived to tow the thing away—Kelsey had cried all morning. She’d had the car since college and had stubbornly refused to let him replace it. When the car finally gave out about six months before the divorce, he’d almost been grateful. He’d hoped the new luxury car he’d bought her to replace it would boost her sagging spirits, maybe start some good feelings between them—but it had been too late.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he insisted, pushing the table to one side.
“No?” she said stiffly. “Then how did you mean it?”
“I just meant I don’t think you should let it upset you.”
“Well, it does upset me. I loved that car. How could I have just sold my car and not even remember?”
“You didn’t just sell it,” he insisted. “It was old, it died. We had to replace it—there was no other choice.”
She knew she was overreacting, knew she was making too much of it, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. “Maybe it could have been fixed.”
The feeling of déjà vu was hard to ignore. He’d had this conversation before. “Kelsey,” he said in a carefully controlled voice. “It wouldn’t run, it couldn’t be fixed. There was nothing else to do but tow it to the junkyard.”
The moment the words were out, he regretted them.
“The junkyard?” She gasped. “I sold my Bug for junk?”
He scooted closer. She was so upset, so agitated, and it made him feel helpless and awkward. This had happened so long ago, it felt strange rehashing it now. He had to keep reminding himself the past was her present, that what he’d had two years to come to terms with was all new to her.
“If it’s any consolation, it was my idea,” he said, pushing a strand of hair from her forehead. She tried hard to mask her fear with anger, but it was there in her eyes—the same fear he’d seen last night—and it touched at something deep in him. “You didn’t want to do it.”
She looked at him, feeling like an emotional wreck and hating it. “I don’t even remember. How could I not remember something like that?”
A hard knot of emotion twisted tight against his heart. There was so much she had to remember, so much she would have to face and learn to deal with all over again.
“The doctor said there would be gaps. He told us both to expect them,” he reminded her, pulling her arms loose from across her chest and gathering a soft hand in his. “This just happens to be one of them.”
“One of them?” she snapped, struggling to pull her hand free. She didn’t want to be comforted, didn’t want to be treated with kid gloves. She wanted out of the bed and out of the hospital. “You make it sound like I forgot to jot something down on my shopping list. Coop, huge portions of my life are gone, and damn it, I want them back. I want them back.”
“I know you do,” he said, ignoring her protests. “I do, too. But getting angry and upset isn’t going to bring them back.”
“No? Then what, Coop? Tell me, what will make me remember? Tell me and I’ll do it—I’ll do anything.”
As elusive as her memories were, his were flying at him with breakneck speed. He remembered her temper, her flashes of anger and how she could come out fighting when she felt herself backed into a corner. It was part of what had made them such a good balance for one another—her fire a complement to his steady, more sedate disposition.
“Filling in the blanks,” he said, bringing her hand slowly to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on each fingertip.
“You make it sound so easy.” She sighed.
The brilliant flash of anger had died as quickly as it had flared, and the fear was once more evident in her eyes.
“What’s so hard?” he asked simply. “We come across something you’ve forgotten, I’ll fill in the blanks—and I’ll keep filling in the blanks until you know everything.” It shouldn’t have pleased him so much to see the tension slip from her body, but it did. It made him feel better knowing he could comfort her, that he could make a difference in how she felt. It made the deception more palatable somehow, made it seem less like lying and more like helping. “And one of these days, we’re going to fill in a blank, and it’s going to bring all of it back.”
She looked at him with such large, hopeful eyes, it made him want to believe, too.
“You think so?”
“I really do,” he said, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded.
Kelsey slumped against her pillows, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’ve been such a pain. I’m sorry.”
“Stop it,” he insisted. The thought of her apologizing to him made him uncomfortable. He quickly released her hand, reaching for the table and sliding it in place. “What have you got to be sorry for?”
“For brooding about everything,” she said with a tired sigh. “For fussing and whining like a baby.”
Coop picked up her fork from the breakfast tray and handed it to her. “Well, you have been kind of whiny,” he conceded, hoping to tease her out of the mood.
“No, I mean it,” she insisted, taking the fork from him and dropping it on the tray next to her plate. “You’re tired, and you’ve been through a rough time yourself, and yet you rush up here to be with me—and what do I do? First I cry all over you like some kind of emotional basket case, and then I bite your head off.”
“Yeah,” Coop agreed, grabbing a slice of toast from the tray and taking a bite. Crying had always embarrassed her. To a little girl who had convinced herself at the age of eight that she had to be strong for the sake of everyone else, tears were a cardinal no-no, a sure sign of weakness. “You know, now that I think about it, you have been kind of a pain in the neck.” He took another bite of toast. “I take it back. You should apologize. I mean, you’d think you were flat on your back in a hospital or something.”
Kelsey laughed at his teasing, giving him a playful swat over the table. “You’re not supposed to agree with me.”
Coop popped the last of the toast into his mouth and gave her an innocent look. “No?”
“No. You’re supposed to object and tell me I’m all wrong, that I’ve been nothing but charming and could never be a pain in the neck.”
He considered this. “In other words, you want me to lie to you, is that it?”
In a move that seemed to defy her impaired condition, she reached across the table and grabbed his shirt, pulling him toward her. “Actually, I just want you.”
Coop looked into her clear blue eyes and swallowed hard. Suddenly everything had changed. The light banter, the teasing, the easy conversation were gone, and the border between past and present blurred. “Is—is that right?”
“Yeah, that’s right. And when it comes right down to it, what are a few gaps, a few blank spots? I remember you, that’s all that’s important. The rest is mere details.” She pushed her mouth to his in a kiss that was as passionate as it was sudden. “Coop,” she whispered against his lips. “Let’s make love.”