For Better or Worse (Book 2 in the Forgiving Hearts Trilogy) (13 page)

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

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

“Are you just getting finished?”

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

“I’m getting spoiled with all these gourmet meals. I’m never going to want to eat my own cooking again.”

“Have you been able to talk to Hannah?”

“No, she was asleep when I came in.”

“Stay as long as you need to. We’ll keep a plate of food warm for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I think there’s a card. Does it say anything?”

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

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

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

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

* * * *

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

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

“Has something happened?” Jackson asked hurriedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know it’s difficult, but this kind of thing happens from time to time.”

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

The doctor’s worried frown lifted. “None at all. In fact, that’s an excellent idea.”

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

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

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

* * * *

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

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

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

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

“Hello, Hannah. I’m Laurel Samuels. I heard about you from my husband. He’s one of the doctors here. I hope you don’t mind me coming to see you.”

Something clicked in Hannah’s brain. “You’re Dr. Samuel’s wife.”

Laurel smiled widely. “Yes, I am.”

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

“We only met a few times so I wouldn’t expect you to remember me.”

“Is your husband one of my doctors?”

“No, but he’s good friends with someone who knows you.”

Hannah laughed. “That doesn’t tell me very much.”

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

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

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

“That’s so romantic!”

“I think so, too. Anyway, I just came to introduce myself and deliver Jackson’s letter. I also brought some paper and a pen in case you want to write back to him. If you decide to do that, just give the letter to my husband. He’s in and out of here all the time.”

“Why can’t Jackson come in person?”

“He thought this would be a better way for you to get to know him again.”

“I wonder if he’s the one who sent the flowers.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve got to go now. It’s almost time to pick up my friend’s daughter from preschool.”

Hannah smiled shyly. “Thank you for bringing the letter to me.”

“You’re welcome. Bye for now.”

After Laurel left, Hannah slid her fingers under the seal and took out a folded sheet of paper. The handwriting was surprisingly neat for a man. 

Dear Hannah,

I’ve tried to imagine how you must be feeling, but of course, I can’t fully understand. I can, however, let you know that you’re not alone. You have people who love and care about you. Beyond that, and more importantly, you have God. He’ll never leave you or forsake you. Please don’t ever forget that. 

I suppose the next step is to introduce myself. My name is Jackson, and I’m a friend of yours. I met you for the first time on a Christmas morning when we were both about five years old. I had dragged my dad outside into the cold to try out my new bicycle. I almost made it to the stop sign at the end of our street when I spotted a neon pink knitted hat bobbing up and down on the other side of the hedge about ten yards ahead of me.

I don’t know why, but I slowed down. Then the hat turned the corner and there you were. When you smiled at me, I ceased to be aware of anything else. I didn’t pay attention to where I was going or my dad’s warning shout before I ran into the back of our neighbor’s delivery van. Dad wasn’t too thrilled nor was Mr. Baker who owned the van. I wasn’t worried about the van or my new bicycle. I was upset because I’d made a fool of myself in front of the cutest girl I’d ever seen.

I didn’t dare look in your direction because I just knew you’d be laughing. That’s when I heard this sweet voice ask me, “Are you okay, little boy?” I looked up and you were right beside me. When I didn’t answer, (mainly because I was in shock at finding you so close), you turned to my dad and asked if I was always like that.

Thought it pains me to admit it, I was “like that” around you for a long time. The story of when I did work up the courage to speak to you is a subject for another letter, if you decide after reading this one that you’d still like to hear from me.

Wishing you all the best,

Jackson

Psalm 121: 1-3

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved; He that keepeth thee will not slumber.

When she got to the end, Hannah was smiling. Although she couldn’t recall the actual incident, Jackson’s descriptions made it easy to picture the scene in her head. Instead of leaving her discouraged and confused, his letter gave her hope. She’d begun to think she didn’t have anyone and then like an answer to her prayers, Jackson appeared.

Pulling the movable table over the bed, she grabbed the pen and paper Laurel had left. The first line was easy enough to write, but what came after
Dear Jackson?
Biting the end of the pen, she went back and forth on what to say. She was waking from a nap when Colton strolled into her room several hours later.

“Hi, Hannah,” he said, holding out a large, well-shaped hand. “I’m Dr. Samuels. My wife, Laurel, came to see you earlier today.”

Hannah smiled sleepily. “You’re the one with the nice voice.”

He laughed. “It helps to have a nice voice when you’re a doctor.”

“Your wife brought me a letter from Jackson.” She reached for the folded paper on the tray. “Could you give this to him?

“I’ll be glad to. He wasn’t sure how you’d feel about getting a letter from him.”

“Oh, I enjoyed it. I hope he writes to me again.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“What’s Jackson like, Dr. Samuels?”

He slid the paper into his pocket. “That’s something you’ll have to discover for yourself.”

She sighed deeply. “I have to discover everything.”

“Jackson is a good place to start.”

“Why? Was he my boyfriend before this happened?”

“Don’t worry about what he was.”

“That’s easier said than done. I can’t help but be curious about him. It’s not like I have lots of other things to think about.”

Colton laid his hand on her arm. “I know it’s hard to be patient, but you know what they say. Good things come to those who wait.”

As she watched him go, Hannah took out Jackson’s letter and read it again. Her eyes lingered on the signature. She wasn’t alone anymore; she had a friend.