Mind Over Marriage

Chapter 5
“There, how does that feel?”
Kelsey tested the seat belt and shoulder harness that anchored her in the seat. “Feels good.”
“Sure they’re not too tight?” Coop asked, wedging an extra pillow between the door panel and her cast. “Because I can loosen them a little.”
Kelsey watched as he fidgeted over her, tucking and adjusting, moving the seat and repositioning her heavy cast. She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m fine, really. Quit fussing.”
Coop leaned back. He was fussing, too much, probably, but he was edgy and uneasy. It had taken a small miracle to prepare for her homecoming, but with the help of Mo and Kelsey’s two sisters, they’d managed to get things done. Her clothes hung in the closet next to his, and her toothbrush was in his medicine cabinet. Yet despite their efforts, the house looked a far cry from the way it had when she’d lived there. She’d no doubt have questions, but he’d cross that bridge when they got to it.
“Sorry,” he said, releasing a deep sigh. “Just want you to be comfortable.”
“It’s a twenty-five minute flight—thirty tops. I’ll be fine,” she insisted, settling in the seat. “I still don’t know why you didn’t just let me ride to Santa Barbara with you yesterday.”
“I told you, because I wanted to fly you in the copter.” He turned and gave the hard cast on her leg a small rap with his knuckles. “You wouldn’t have been very comfortable in the car with this thing.”
“I wanted out of this place so badly,” she mumbled, peering at the towering hospital building, “I would have been willing to walk.”
“Well, you’re not going to be walking anywhere for a while,” he said, taking a blanket and tossing it over her lap. “You’re going to rest. Otherwise I’ll haul your cute bottom right back here.”
She laughed, reaching up and pushing his long hair from his forehead. “You’d have to catch me first.”
He saw the sparkle in her eyes and felt emotion swell in his heart. He was almost used to being around her again, of her wanting to touch and tease and kiss him again—almost. “Feeling a little feisty this morning, are we?”
She started to laugh again, but something distracted her. As he watched, the smile on her lips faded, and her expression grew thoughtful.
“What is it?” he asked, wondering if a memory had been triggered, if something had come back.
“Your hair,” she murmured absently.
“What about it?”
Her fingers drifted to his sideburn. “There’s a little gray in it.” She lifted her gaze to his. “In the sunlight, I can see it. You’ve got gray in your hair.”
He smiled, but the look in her eyes concerned him. “How nice of you to point that out.”
“No,” she said, ignoring the humor in his voice. “I...I never noticed before.”
“Just be grateful it isn’t stark white after the scare you gave me,” he said dryly, hoping to coax her out of the somber mood.
But his teasing couldn’t budge her. Instead, her hand went to her own hair. She putted a long strand from behind her shoulder and examined it. “Is there a mirror in here?”
“What are you doing?” He knew exactly what she was doing. He gently pulled her hand away. “You don’t have any gray hair.”
“I want to look,” she insisted, grabbing her hair again.
“Kelsey, stop,” he said, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a shake. “What is it? What’s the matter? You’re getting upset. Why?”
She looked at him, her eyes filled with emotion. “I...I hadn’t thought to notice before. I mean, I looked in the mirror this morning—I brushed my hair, brushed my teeth, but I didn’t even pay attention. There are so many things I never paid any attention to before....”
Her voice drifted off, and she gave her head a shake. She was upset, and it had to stop. Time had passed, time she didn’t remember. But that was hardly news to her now. She would remember someday, but until then she had to find a way to live with the gaps, to live with the little surprises she was bound to encounter. She had to stop breaking down at the slightest provocation, had to stop allowing emotion and fear to interrupt and interfere. This was a great day—she was going home! The memory loss had cost her enough already. She didn’t want it to cost her the joy of this day, as well.
“Tell me,” he prompted. “Why the sad face?”
“It’s nothing,” she insisted, pulling away just a little. She hated the fear that nibbled at the edge of her consciousness, hated feeling emotional and out of control. “It’s just... It still throws me, I guess, coming face-to-face with something I’ve forgotten. I mean, it’s been almost a week, you’d think I’d be used to it by now. Yet it still gets to me. There is part of my life—” She stopped, searching his face. “Parts of our life that are missing. A million little things. Like whether I have gray in my hair or not. Just little things that are gone, and it unnerves me when I come across them.”
“You know, it’s not going to be that way forever,”he reminded her, all too aware of what it was going to cost them both when she finally did fill in all those blanks. “There’s every reason to believe those memories will come back.”
“Oh, I know,” she said, running her palm along his cheek. “And I do believe that, I really do. It’s just a little unnerving when you assume things are one way, and then you find out they’re not that way at all. I just don’t know what to expect anymore.”
Coop felt her words like a blow. She believed they were married, and someday she was going to realize the truth. That realization was going to do more than unnerve her, and he just hoped he would be given a chance to explain.
“Maybe the best thing would be to try to take things as they come,” he suggested.
“Like gray hair?”
He heard the teasing tone and sagged with relief. “You don’t have gray hair,” he stated flatly, slowly releasing his hold on her arm and helping her settle in the seat again. He didn’t want to think about the risks that lay ahead. It was enough to get through one emotional hurdle at a time, and taking her to the house they’d once shared as man and wife was going to be a high one. “I’m the only one getting old around here.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Kelsey laughed, glancing down at the long strand of her hair lying across the front of her robe. “But when I get home I’m getting in front of the mirror and taking a good look—see if I really look the way I think I do.”
He reached out suddenly, catching her chin in his hand. “If it means anything, I think you’re more beautiful now than you’ve ever been.”
The passion in his voice took her by surprise, and the smile slowly faded from her lips. “Coop,” she murmured. “I love you.”
“You two ready to go?”
They both looked up as Dr. Mannie Cohen came across the hospital helipad toward them, his white coat flapping against the wind.
“Just about,” Coop said, stepping out of the passenger compartment of the helicopter as the doctor approached. “Just have to get the engine warmed up, then we’ll be out of here.”
Dr. Cohen nodded, turned to Kelsey and ducked his head inside the aircraft. “How are you feeling?”
“Like a million bucks,” Kelsey said, smiling as she leaned forward to greet him. The move was a little too sudden, though, and sent a shooting pain down her leg, a not-so-subtle reminder of just how much recuperating she had left to do. She groaned, her smile cracking and slowly fading to a grimace. “Well, maybe a few dollars short of a million.”
Dr. Cohen smiled. “So it isn’t necessary for me to remind you to take it easy?”
“No,” Kelsey said, rubbing the muscle along her thigh. “I think I get the message.”
“You’ll need these,” he said, holding up the manila folder he carried in his hand. “They’re your release papers. I wanted to bring them personally.” He handed the folder to her. “You’re officially sprung.”
Kelsey looked at the papers, and then into Mannie Cohen’s round, smooth face. “Thank you,” she said, her throat tight with emotion. “You’ve been great—about everything. I really appreciate it.”
“Thank me by taking care of yourself,” he said, giving her arm a comforting pat. “And remember, bed rest for the first week, keep your activities at an absolute minimum, then just slow and easy after that. Got it?”
Kelsey smiled. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it.”
“And I’ll be monitoring your progress with Dr. Crowell, so if you don’t keep your appointments, you’ll have me to contend with.”
“Anything but that,” she teased dryly.
“Regular meals, plenty of sleep,” he continued. “And I want you here in three weeks for a checkup.”
“All right, all right,” Kelsey said, rolling her eyes. “You know I got all this when we went over it the first time.”
He arched a brow and gave her a deliberate look. “Yes, and we all know how quickly patients tend to forget the promises they make before being checked out.”
“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I won’t forget.” She glanced at Coop. “I’ve got too many people around to remind me.”
Dr. Cohen followed her gaze. “Yeah, I guess you do.” He turned to Kelsey. “He’s a good man.”
“I know,” Kelsey mused, watching Coop as he walked around the helicopter, making small adjustments here and there. “Sometimes I think I’ve got to be the luckiest woman alive.”
“And the other times?”
Kelsey looked at Dr. Cohen. “Other times, I know it.”
Dr. Cohen leaned close, his hand covering hers, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “Good luck, and promise you’ll call me if you need anything. Promise?”
Kelsey covered his hand with her free one. “I promise. And thanks again.”
Dr. Cohen walked to the front of the aircraft, where Coop stood waiting.
“She looks good,” he commented. “You’ve been good for her.”
Coop drew in a deep breath and shook his head. “Let’s see if you feel the same way when you see her in three weeks. I’m not sure I can pull this thing off.”
“Look,” Dr. Cohen said hesitantly. He shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “I don’t pretend to know what went on with the two of you, what happened with the divorce and everything, but I’ve had time to watch you together, to see they way you are together—”
“You’re right, Doc,” Coop said, cutting him off. He didn’t want to talk about what he had lost, what once had been there, but disappeared. “You don’t know what happened.”
“The kind of love I see in Kelsey’s eyes when she looks at you isn’t something that changes.”
Coop’s hands balled into. fists and he walked several steps from the helicopter. “Damn it, Doc, don’t do this,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve got to walk away from this thing. She’s going to remember, and everything’s going to be back the way it was before the accident. Nothing’s going to change.”
“Maybe,” Dr. Cohen said thoughtfully, following him across the pavement. “But maybe something could come out of all this. Maybe the two of you...” He stopped, looking into Coop’s angry eyes. “Maybe it’s not too late for a second chance.”
Coop stared at Mannie Cohen’s full cheeks and round blue eyes. He didn’t want to hear about what if or maybe. He’d had two years to think about what had happened and the choices he’d been forced to make.
The good doctor might mean well, but he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen the hope drain out of her and the love die in her eyes. She might have forgotten the past for a while, but there would be no going back. Soon they would be face-to-face with the truth—she no longer loved him.
“Look, Doc, I know you mean well, but I just don’t see it happening for us again.” He turned, faced him and extended a hand. “I, uh, I know I got hotheaded at times, said a lot of stupid things, but you saved her life, and I appreciate everything you did.”
Dr. Cohen nodded, taking Coop’s hand. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing—for Kelsey, I mean. Turning your life upside down, putting your feelings aside—it takes guts.”
“Guts?” Coop laughed sadly, shaking his head. “I don’t think so. You see, Doc, when it comes to Kelsey, I’ve always been a pushover.”
Dr. Cohen nodded solemnly. He gave Kelsey a wave, turned and headed across the helipad toward the hospital. Coop watched for a moment, thinking about the flight to Santa Barbara and what the next few weeks would hold.
It was too dangerous to think this grand drama they were acting out was anything more than a scheme, a program, a plan to enable Kelsey to get better. He couldn’t afford to start fooling himself.
“He’s a good doctor,” Kelsey said as Coop stepped inside the helicopter and checked her harness again. “I was lucky.”
“Yeah, well, I guess we all get lucky once in a while,” he mumbled, securing the hatch on the overhead storage bin.
“I know we’ve worked together before,” Kelsey mused thoughtfully. “I just wish I could remember where or when.” She shook her head, then gave Coop a determined smile. “But I’ll just take it as it comes. I’ll remember when the time’s right.”
He glanced at her and smiled, too. “See? Now was that so hard?” He made another quick scan of the compartment, then looked at her again. “Things look okay in here. Ready to go?”
“What do you think?” She laughed, catching the edge of his leather jacket and pulling him close. “I seem to remember we were working pretty hard at starting a family when all this happened. We both wanted kids.” She smiled, bringing her mouth to his for a gentle kiss. “I take it that hasn’t changed.”
The smile on Coop’s face stiffened, and he felt the steady rhythm of his pulse stumble and become erratic. Some lies were harder to tell than others, and this was a killer.
“No,” he whispered against her lips. “Wanting kids hasn’t changed.”
He let her lips find his again, but he took no joy in the tender kiss. Sadness and guilt weighed too heavily in his heart. He tried to tell himself he hadn’t really lied, that the desire to have a child had never changed. But a sin of omission was a sin nonetheless. Someday she would know the truth again, would know a child of her own was just not in the cards.
“Take me home,” she murmured.
He slowly nodded, stepped out of the passenger compartment and secured the hatch tight. He climbed into the pilot’s seat and began flipping switches and pushing buttons. He pulled on the headset, then brought the huge turbines above them to life. They were going home—home to the house they had hoped to fill with children. The rooms sat empty now, dark, cold, and lifeless, like his hope for the future.
He signaled to Kelsey they were about to take off. She waved, smiling and excited, and for a moment he wished he could forget all those painful memories, too. Her eyes were alive with the promise of what could be. He felt old and tired with the knowledge of what was.

“Some redecorating?”
“Yeah,” he said, shoving the key into the dead bolt lock and twisting it. “We, uh, started a while back.”
“A while back?” she repeated in disbelief. “How far back?”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled vaguely as he pushed her wheelchair through the open doorway and into the tiled entry hall. “A while—I don’t remember.”
“You never mentioned anything about redecorating,” she mumbled, peering through the foyer into the living room. This was not the house she remembered, not the home she and Coop had made for themselves. “My God,” she gasped, her eyes growing wide. “Why...why didn’t you say something?”
“I don’t know,” he said irritably. Defensiveness made him snap. The words had a hard edge. “I didn’t think about it, I guess. I did have a few other things on my mind, you know.”
“You just assumed I’d remember?” she snapped back, matching his sharp tone with sarcasm.
He closed his eyes, hating everything about the situation at that moment. They had never redecorated. It had been another lie, another excuse to pile on top of the ones he’d told her already. But he hadn’t exactly been given much choice. He’d had to explain the empty house some way, and the truth wasn’t exactly available to him at the moment.
“You’re right,” he said with a tired sigh. He set the brake on the wheelchair. “I should have said something. I guess I just wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”
“No,” Kelsey said quietly, covering his hand with hers. She drew in a deep breath and shook her head. “It’s not your fault. It caught me by surprise, that’s all, and I overreacted. Just something else I wasn’t expecting.”
Coop quickly turned away, heading for the door. He didn’t want to see the emotion in her eyes, didn’t want to see the remorse or regret. He hated it even more when she put the blame on herself, when she apologized as though she was the one telling lies.
“I’ll, uh, bring in the other stuff,” he mumbled.
“The place is so...so empty,” she said after a moment, glancing through the archway to the vacant formal dining room. She turned back just as he made his way inside with a heavy suitcase in one hand and a pair of crutches in the other. “What happened to all our stuff?”
“It’s not empty,” Coop insisted, as though saying it with force and conviction would somehow make it true. “We still have a lot of stuff.”
“We do?” she asked skeptically.
“Sure we do—in the family room and the bedroom.” He deposited everything inside, then closed the door behind him. “It’s just the whole project is taking longer than we expected, you know, to get at the painting and papering.”
“And all the other furniture?” she insisted, curiosity getting the best of her. “The couch, the sofa? And...” She turned and stared at the dining room again, then gasped loudly. “My mother’s hutch! My God, Coop, where’s my mother’s hutch? Don’t tell me I got rid of that. It was all I had of hers.”
“The hutch,” Coop said, remembering the cherry wood china closet Kelsey had cherished so much. “No, no, God, no. It’s just...well, it’s out...” His heart raced, leaving him light-headed. “Being...refinished.”
“Refinished?”
Coop shot her a dubious look, uncertain she would buy the explanation. “Yeah.”
“Well, thank God for that,” Kelsey said, letting out a deep sigh. “The car was bad enough, but if I’d gotten rid of my mother’s hutch, too—well, I really would have had to be crazy.”
“Yeah, well,” Coop said again. He felt almost giddy with relief. “You should know you’d never do anything like that. And you’re not crazy.”
“No?” she asked dryly. “Well, I’m glad one of us doesn’t think so.” She drew in a deep breath, gesturing to the empty rooms. “So, what about the rest of the stuff?”
“The rest,” Coop repeated, his momentary burst of elation suddenly deflated. “Well, let’s see...the rest of it. Uh, what we kept we put in storage.” He released the brake, then pushed her down the hall toward the family room and bedrooms. “What we didn’t we sold in a garage sale and will replace.”
“Wow,” she murmured, looking at the sparse furnishings. “This is really quite a project. Whose idea was it—yours or mine?”
“I dpn’t know,” Coop said, stopping at the counter that divided the family room and the spacious kitchen. “It was just sort of a mutual thing, I guess. You hungry?”
Kelsey shook her head. “No, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m actually feeling a little tired.”
“No problem,” he assured her, thinking that was about the best news he’d had all morning. Scrambling for excuses and explanations had left him exhausted, and he wouldn’t mind some time alone to collect himself and get focused. He pushed the wheelchair into the hallway toward the master bedroom. “You take a nap, and I’ll bring you a tray later.”
“Hmm,” she mused, turning and smiling at him. “You waiting on me. I think I could get to like this.”
He pushed her past the bedrooms that sat empty, grateful he’d at least had the foresight to close the doors. She didn’t need to know right now that those rooms would never be occupied by their children—and he didn’t need any reminders of that right now, either.
“Here we go,” he said, wheeling her through the open double doors of the bedroom suite. “All ready for you.”
Kelsey leaned forward, her jaw dropping. “What’s all this?”
“What’s what?” Coop asked innocently as he quickly crossed the room, pulling open the drapes over the French doors to reveal a breathtaking view of Santa Barbara and the Pacific Ocean.
“This,” she said, pointing to the elaborate hospital bed in the middle of the room.
“The bed? What about it?”
She glared at him. “A hospital bed?”
“Dr. Hamilton recommended it,” he offered meekly. “I, uh, I thought you’d be...happy.”
“Where’s our bed?”
He thought of the king-size white enameled iron bed they had shared during four years of marriage. Kelsey had left it when she’d moved out, and he’d given it away soon after that. He hardly could have offered her the lumpy futon he’d been sleeping on ever since.
“Oh, I, uh, moved it,” he said evasively, making a vague gesture toward the garage.
“Then move it back,” she insisted. “I want to sleep in my own bed—with you.”
This was the moment he had been dreading, the moment that had kept him awake all night. Just how was he going to convince her they couldn’t share a bed and make it sound not only believable, but plausible?
“This will be much better for you,” he insisted, starting the speech he’d rehearsed a million times. He walked across the room and picked up the remote control device, moving the bed into various positions. “See how great it is? You can fall asleep looking out at the ocean.” He pushed a few more buttons, elevating the foot of the bed. “I know how hard it is for you to get comfortable with that thing on your leg. This will be great for that. You’ll rest much better in this than our old bed.”
“It’s so...so ugly.”
Coop turned and gave her a stern look. “Of course it’s ugly, it’s a hospital bed. What did you expect?”
“I expected my own bed.”
“Well, aesthetics aren’t what I’m concerned about right now,” he said. “I’m concerned about you being able to rest comfortably.”
Kelsey watched as he turned to the controls and manipulated the bed. “Where will you sleep, then?”
Coop’s hands froze. He could feel her eyes boring into his back, but he didn’t dare turn around. She’d always been able to read his expression, and one look was all it would take.
“In one of the spare rooms,” he said in a flat voice.
“What?”
Coop steeled himself, carefully schooling his expression, and turned. “Just for a while,” he insisted. “What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is if I’d wanted to sleep alone in a hospital bed, I would have stayed in the hospital.”
Coop tossed the remote control on the mattress. “Look,” he said, walking to the wheelchair and kneeling in front of her. “You’re exhausted. Let’s talk about this later, okay?”
Kelsey closed her eyes. She was exhausted—exhausted, disappointed, confused and annoyed. And damn it, she felt like crying again.
“I just want my life back,” she whispered, hating the tears in her eyes.
“I know,” he said, slipping a hand under her chin. “And you’ll have it back, too—just not in one day.”
“You’re right, I know,” she said, leaning her head back and looking at him. “Was I always such a pill, or is this a new thing for me?”
He smiled, stood and wheeled her to the side of the bed, then gathered her in his arms. “To be as big a pain as you are, years of practice are necessary.”
“Thanks a lot,” she said, giving him a swat and smiling despite how lousy she felt. “Like I’d believe anything you said, anyway.”
His smile threatened to crack just a little. If she only knew how fast and loose he’d played with the truth in the past several days.
He carefully settled her on the bed, adjusting the cast on the mattress. “How does that feel?”
“Okay, I guess,” she admitted reluctantly, lying back against the pillow. Actually, it felt wonderful, and she wanted nothing more than to sink under the covers and sleep for about a week. “I still don’t see why we have to sleep in separate rooms.”
“It’s just easier this way,” he said as casually as he could. He wanted to move the conversation away from their sleeping arrangements. “We’ll both rest better, and if you need anything...” He reached for the nightstand beside the bed. “Just ring.”
Kelsey laughed when she saw the small brass bell he held up. “You’ll be my butler?”
“Why not?” He laughed, handing her the bell. He lowered himself to the edge of the bed, tucking the covers around her. “I’m already your slave.”
Kelsey reached over and ran a hand up his arm. “I really am sorry about all this. I guess I just expected too much. I thought if I was home, things would start to feel normal again.”
“I know you hate hearing this, but it’s—”
“I know, I know,” she said with a tired laugh, cutting him off. “You don’t have to say it. It’s going to take time. I understand that.” Her smile faded, and she raised her head. “I just get impatient, that’s all. Impatient and frustrated.”
“Well,” he said in a soft voice. “If it’s any consolation, I get impatient, too.”
She settled against the pillows again. “I just want things to be the way they were, instead of all mixed up and confused.”
“Things seem confusing now because you’re exhausted,” he whispered, catching her hand in his. “It’s been a big morning for both of us. Why don’t you try to get some rest? I’ll check out the fridge and see what I can rustle us up for lunch.”
“Coop?” she said when he moved to leave.
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad to be home.”
Coop watched as she drifted to sleep, feeling his chest constrict. He envied the peace he saw in her face, the tranquillity that came with not remembering the pain and the sorrow of the past few years.
A safe place. That’s what Gloria Crowell had said Kelsey had wanted—a safe place to hide from the pain and the fear.
He leaned down and kissed her gently on the cheek. She’d come back to him—for a while, anyway—because he made her feel safe, and as much as he wanted her to heal and get better, a part of him wished it could stay this way forever.