For Better or Worse (Book 2 in the Forgiving Hearts Trilogy) (12 page)

Back in the hotel room she was beginning to hate, she ate the hamburger she’d picked up and counted the money in her purse. She had enough to stay in her present location for another few days. Where she went after that was still uncertain. Shoving the wad of cash back in her wallet, she reached inside the shopping bag next to her.

She ran her hand slowly over the black leather and the shiny gold lettering. Opening the cover, she immediately noticed the stiffness of the pages, so different from the ones in Jackson’s Bible. Perhaps in a few years, her pages would be soft and worn from use like his. For some reason that thought made her happy.

Her phone vibrated. Here was the daily text from Mitchell. He was less upset by her leaving and more annoyed that she’d taken all her money out of their account. Ignoring his message, she turned to the book of Genesis and started to read.

Just before she fell asleep, she prayed. “Dear God, thank You for getting me here safely. Please forgive me for the terrible mistakes I’ve made and the pain I’ve caused Jackson and Sophia. For too long I’ve lived for myself, and it’s brought me nothing but trouble. I know I can’t fix the past, but from this point forward I want to be the person You want me to be. I can only do that if You help me. Amen.”

Two days later she was no closer to making a decision on when to contact Jackson, but she did find a part-time job at a family-owned donut shop. The pay wasn’t great, but she got all the donuts and coffee she wanted. The man who hired her met her at the back door the following morning, a cheerful smile on his face in spite of the early hour.

“Hey, Don.”

“Come on in, Hannah,” he said. “I’ll show you where you can put your things and then we’ll get started.”

She followed him down a short hallway and into a tiny office. After putting her purse in the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet, she trailed Don to the serving area. He handed her an apron and a cap adorned with the Island Donuts logo. Once she put them on, he started at one end of the counter and worked his way to the other. It didn’t take long for Hannah to understand how to operate the commercial coffee makers and check-out registers. After all, she’d worked in a grocery store for three years. Just as they were finishing, a woman joined them. Don put his arm around the woman’s shoulders.

“Hannah, this is Connie. She also happens to be my wife. She’ll be working with you this morning. If you have any questions, just ask her.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Connie.”

The other woman clicked her long fingernails on the counter and glanced at Don with a teasing smile. “You never could resist a pretty face, could you?”

Don kissed her on the nose. “I hired you fifteen years ago, didn’t I?”

“And married me two months later.”

“The best thing I ever did.”

“That’s so sweet,” Hannah said.

Connie laughed. “Like most men, he knows when to turn on the charm.”

“That’s my cue to leave you two girls alone. I’ll go check on Jerry. He was complaining about not having enough custard or something.”

After Don left, Connie explained, “Jerry is Don’s brother. The two of them make everything we sell. People come from all over to buy our donuts. You’ll see what I mean in about thirty minutes.”

Once the early rush began, Hannah barely had time to breathe. For almost two hours the pace never slowed down. There were times when Don couldn’t keep the donut bins filled fast enough. By mid-morning, there were only a few customers. Hannah made sure all the tables were clean, and the trash was picked up off the floor. In the afternoon, a tour bus pulled in. Within minutes the dining area was full again, this time with elderly couples demanding fresh coffee and varieties of donuts she’d never heard of.

By the time her shift ended, Hannah’s legs were on fire. Limping to the car, she dropped onto the seat and eased aching feet out of her shoes. Had she really become this soft?
This is what comes from being a kept woman with no responsibilities and no purpose.
A long soak in the bathtub relieved the more pressing pains, but she was too tired to eat. All she wanted was sleep.

The harsh blare of a horn in the parking lot woke her hours later. Hannah glanced at her phone and groaned.
Mitchell again!
He hadn’t been this attentive when she’d been with him. Sitting up, she texted him back.

Leave me alone, Mitchell. I’m not coming to New York or anywhere else. Call one of your other girlfriends. I know you’ve got at least two to pick from.

I have friends that are women. You don’t seem to understand the difference between that and a girlfriend which is what you are.

I am no one’s girlfriend anymore.

But you’re still someone’s wife, aren’t you? Have you contacted Jackson yet? I’m sure he’ll take you back.

Leave Jackson out of this and quit pretending that you care what I do or where I go. It’s a waste of time. I’m shutting off my phone now.

Don’t you dare

That was all she saw before the screen went black.

Walking over to the table by the window, she opened the packaged tuna sandwich she’d purchased from the convenience store next door. Her mind slipped back to the first time Jackson asked her to make tuna casserole. Strangely enough, it was one of his favorite things to eat.

She’d been working in the kitchen, but it hadn’t taken long for her attention to wander from the noodles cooking on the stove to the scene taking place in the backyard. Through the window, she could see Jackson pouring water from a miniature watering can into Sophia’s outstretched hands. On her face was the innocent joy that only a child can achieve. Hannah’s glance moved to Jackson and the look in his eyes brought a lump to her throat.

Later when they ate dinner, he thanked her for making one of the best meals he’d ever had. It wasn’t until she was washing dishes that she found the can of tuna sitting on the counter. The sight of it made her cry. Jackson hadn’t wanted her to feel bad so he hadn’t said anything.

She walked away from a man who cared enough about her feelings to do that for a man whose definition of commitment was keeping the same vehicle for more than a year.

Chapter Seven

Jackson was in the midst of a dream about Hannah. Rare was the night when she didn’t invade his sleep. In this one, he’d come home from work to find her waiting for him. In his excitement, he reached for her. At the same moment, Mitchell appeared behind her. He motioned to someone behind him, and Sophia moved out of the shadows. In her hand, she carried a pink suitcase. Jackson tried to stop them from leaving, but his feet wouldn’t move. All he could hear was Hannah saying, “She’s not your daughter,” over and over.

He woke up bathed in sweat and his heart galloping as if he’d just finished running a race. Rolling over, he grabbed his phone.
Six-thirty
. He might as well get up and take a shower. Sophia never slept past seven.

When he walked back into his room, Sophia was sitting in the middle of the bed.

“Good morning, pumpkin. Feeling better?”

“Yes, Daddy, my ears don’t hurt as much now.”

“I’m glad. What can I fix you for breakfast?”

“Can I have a fried egg sandwich?”

“Sure. While I’m fixing it, you need to make your bed and get dressed. Don’t forget to comb your hair.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

On his way to the kitchen, Jackson’s phone rang. Taking it out of his pocket, he looked at the number. It wasn’t anyone he knew. With a shrug, he touched the answer button.

“Mr. Steadman, this is Monica Waters. I’m a nurse in the emergency room at St. Francis. I’m calling to tell you that your wife was involved in a car accident this morning.”

Jackson hesitated a second and then asked, “Are you sure you have the right person? My wife isn’t even in Georgia.”

“The woman was identified as Hannah Steadman from a driver’s license found in her purse.”

It had to be a mistake. How could Hannah be here?
Realizing he’d kept the woman waiting again, he said, “Is she okay? Can you tell me anything about her condition?”

“All I can tell you is that she’s in surgery. Her doctor will be able to answer any questions you have once you arrive.”

Thoroughly frightened now, Jackson said, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He absently set the phone on the counter and tried to think. He couldn’t take Sophia with him to the hospital.
Was this the weekend Colton and Laurel were going out of town?
If they weren’t available, he’d have to try Taryn. With a long sigh, he picked up the phone again.

“Hey, Jackson. Laurel and I were just talking about you. Are you and Sophia up for a movie later on this afternoon?”

“I would have loved that, but something’s happened. I need to get to the hospital quickly. Is there any way you can watch Sophia?”

“I’ll be right over to get her.”

“She hasn’t had breakfast.”

“No problem; we’ll take care of that. See you in a few minutes.”

Jackson rubbed his hands over his face. He hardly knew if he was coming or going.

“Daddy, is my breakfast ready?”

He swung around to find Sophia behind him. “I haven’t fixed it yet. Listen, pumpkin, I’ve got to leave right away. Mr. Colton is coming over to get you and take you to his house.”

“When will you be back?”

“I’m not sure. Get your jacket. It’s raining.” As he followed her down the hallway, he heard the doorbell. “Hurry, Sophia. Mr. Colton is here.”

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 pass 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 button 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 God’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.