Chapter 35
35
JADE
A steady beep wakes me from what feels like the best sleep I have had in months.
So good, I can’t remember going to bed last night, or if I remembered to lock the front door.
Not fully awake yet, I don’t understand the artificial smell of antiseptic I’m surrounded by.
Did I do the cleaning yesterday?
My head is fuzzy. I don’t remember.
Why can’t I remember?
I try to open my heavy eyelids that feel like anchors, but I struggle.
Attempting to try again, I crack them open and the fluorescent lighting is so harsh it forces me to close them.
“She’s waking up again.” I hear a warbled-sounding voice.
“Jade, baby.” I recognize that voice in an instant.
Owen .
“Sweetheart.”
My mom.
I groan as I try to move, stopping when a sharp pulling pain pinches my back.
What’s going on? Where am I?
Then I’m pulled under into a black inky sea.
Like a newly formed butterfly, I flutter my eyelids, hoping they take flight and open fully.
I’m so tired, and my body feels like a dead weight.
“Will she stay awake this time?” I hear a woman’s voice ask.
I want to reply and ask who is waking up, but my head is pounding.
My mind focuses on the firm tone of Owen’s voice. “Her body needs the rest. She’s exhausted.”
I don’t know how long it is until I try to pull open my eyes again and when I finally do, I’m greeted by an overwhelming sight of Owen on one side of me and my mom on the other. It’s only when I glance down that I realize I’m in a hospital bed.
How the hell did I get here?
“Hey, sweetheart.” My mom’s eyes are watery, worry lines etched deep across her forehead.
Blinking, I look around the room and a strange sense of panic riots through me.
“Do you remember anything?” my mom asks softly.
“No.” I cough, my throat dry. The rasp of it is muffled by the oxygen mask I’m wearing.
I reach up to remove it, but Owen does it for me. “Hey, Hotshot.” He smiles, but I can see the concern written all over his face as he lifts the mask carefully up over my head.
“What happened?” I cough again. The pain in my back and shoulders hitting me from every angle makes me moan in discomfort.
“I’ll let Owen explain everything,” Mom says as she leans down and kisses my cheek. “I thought I’d lost you.” She pauses as if she’s trying to push down her emotions. “I’m going to give you two some space, and I’ll let the doctor know you are awake.” She squeezes my hand before she leaves us.
“I’m so thirsty,” I croak.
Always looking after me, Owen helps my stiff body to sit upright, and I groan as pain makes itself known in places I didn’t know were possible. Owen then tips a cup of cold water to my lips, and my mouth and tongue jump with joy as it hits them like a tidal wave. Water has never tasted so delicious.
Leaning forward, Owen kisses my forehead. “I thought I’d lost you, too. I love you so much.” My body may hurt from physical pain, but Owen’s voice sounds tortured, making my heart ache for him.
But wait, lost me?
“What happened? Why can’t I remember how I got here? Oh my God, where’s Poppy?”
“She’s fine,” Owen reassures me. “She’s safe with Aunt Babs.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, I realize that my chest feels bruised, like I’ve been in a fight with a raging bull. I pull my hand to it and notice the IV in the back of my hand.
“Tell me why I’m here, Owen?” I beg, already feeling exhausted and confused.
He clears his throat. “Your jet had a flameout.”
“Did it?”
“You had to eject.”
I punched out? “Where?”
“Over the mountains. ”
“What mountains?”
“The Welsh Mountains. You ejected over Snowdon. You were missing for a couple of days.”
I rub my head, frowning. “Why don’t I remember?” My head is pounding. It feels as if it’s been battered by a sledgehammer.
“They think you hit the side of your head as you ejected. Your helmet saved your life. You have a severe concussion and you’ve been in and out of consciousness. You are so lucky. You could have broken your neck or your back.”
Owen keeps filling me in on my injuries. “Your shoulders are badly bruised from the harness straps.”
“Are my collarbones okay?” That’s one of the most common ejection injuries.
“Nothing broken. You’ve had an MRI, and I read your chart.” He smiles cheekily. “The important muscles of your neck and lower thoracic spine will be tender. The doctors think you could have some damage between your spinal discs, but nothing physiotherapy won’t fix.” That’s a lot of important information I may have to ask about again as I struggle to process it.
I let the details simmer. “You said I was missing for two days?”
“Yeah.”
I feel hot and bothered by that information.
“Then they brought you here to the hospital in Wales,” he adds.
“Why don’t I remember being in the mountains?” I rub my head.
Owen pops an eyebrow. “You have a severe concussion, Jade. They couldn’t find you because your personal locator was tampered with.”
“Why would someone do that?” My head is a jumbled mess. I bounce to the next question. I have so many. “Who found me? ”
“Mountain rescue. You’ve been all over the news.”
I feel dizzy. “Oh God, the tabloids will love this.” I rub my forehead. I’ll never be able to keep them at bay now.
“Blake did a press statement outside the hospital earlier today. It’s official. I’m the fiancé.” He puffs out his chest.
“You won’t be allowed to continue living in with me now.” I laugh, then grimace as my body aches from the small vibrations of movement.
“We’ll get married quicker then,” he states confidently.
I hold my hand up. “My ring,” I say, aghast. I must have lost it during the crash; the crash I remember nothing of.
“It’s here.” Owen fishes his dog tag out from under his tee shirt and nestled between the two tags is my ring strung from the chain. “They found it in your bra.”
I watch Owen sliding my ring off the thin gold chain. He refastens his necklace, then holds the gold and emerald gem between his fingers. “Shall we?”
I scrunch my nose up to say yes and smile.
He looks worried when he says, “But I have one condition.” The mood in the room drops a few degrees as Owen’s demeanor changes.
“What’s that?”
“I have to tell you something first. But I’m not sure you’re ready for more information.”
I worry about what he might have to say. Is something medically wrong with me? Am I paralyzed and haven’t realized it? I wiggle my toes to check I can feel them. Relief overwhelms me as I feel the sensation of my toes rubbing together. “Tell me,” I say boldly.
“It was my fault your plane crashed.”
I scoff. “Not possible.” Then he tells me the shitshow his life turned into after I left Castleview Cove, but I struggle to retain all the details.
I don’t remember his silent episodes or the calls from his friends telling me he was sick. In fact, I don’t remember days before my apparent crash. Not one memory. The last thing I remember is driving back from Castleview Cove.
It’s as if someone opened up my brain and scooped the memories out.
When he’s finished, ignoring the ache in my shoulder when I move, I reach up and brush the scruff of his beard. “I don’t blame you, Owen. For any of it. You’ve been through so much. I am so sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”
“I should be the one telling you that. You are made from titanium. You’re bulletproof.”
“I’m unbreakable.”
The love he has for me makes me feel indestructible.
“We’re unbreakable,” he says with confidence. His eyes soften around the edges as his shoulders sag with relief. “I think Richard must have hired someone to tamper with your jet and personal locator beacon,” he whispers. “I will never forgive myself for getting you involved in the mess.”
“There will be an investigation,” I reassure him. “They will find whoever did this to me, but it could also have very well been an accident, Owen.” But if someone is responsible, and they find out who, then there will be a prison sentence awaiting them. “None of this is your fault,” I say again, hoping he hears me this time. “When are we getting married?”
Owen laughs as I inject my lighthearted question amongst the madness.
Leaning closer, Owen kisses me gently on my lips. “As soon as you are well. ”
“I love you, Owen. I don’t want to wait.” Then I see his knuckles. “What did you do?”
“I had a fight with a stone floor.”
“Shame it wasn’t Richard’s face.” I make him chuckle.
“That might still happen.”
A bright voice chimes from the doorway. “Isn’t this wonderful? She’s awake.” Owen moves to the side and a vibrant, smiling doctor, dressed in bubblegum-pink scrubs, moves cheerily into the room and then picks up my chart. “Now, let’s check you over.”
After what feels like hours, Dr. Griffiths, who insists I call her Bethan, is satisfied with my vitals, and she finally says, “If you remain stable for the next day or so, then you will be discharged. I am referring you to the physio to help strengthen your back muscles and, apart from the bruising, it will be like it never happened.”
According to my brain, it didn’t.
“You can return to active flying duties once you pass your Air Force back-to-work medical.” I don’t want to think about getting back in a plane. My body feels battered. “But you will most likely be off work for months with your concussion.” The doctor lays her hand on my shoulder. “You were very lucky. Someone was watching over you, Ms. Sommers.” Her warm eyes make my body relax.
I am very lucky.
She gives my hand a gentle pat, and just as she’s leaving the room, Bethan turns and adds, “And you’ll be happy to hear that the baby is just fine. You have a lucky baby, too.”
Owen makes a noise I’ve never heard before and I fix my gaze on him, worried I’ve missed something important. My brain is still on its own time frame, so I may have.
He takes my hand in his. “You’re pregnant, Hotshot.” His voice is so soft and low that I have to ask him to repeat what he said.
“We are having a baby.” His grin is wider than a mile.
“How did this happen?” I ask in a daze.
My mom, who is sitting on the far side of the room, Bethan, who is still standing in the doorway, and Owen burst out laughing at my shock.
“Well, when a man…” the doctor begins to explain.
I wave my hand at her to stop. “I know that. I mean, I had a contraceptive shot before I went to Cyprus.”
“It’s not always 100 percent effective and extra contraception is recommended for the first seven days.”
“Right,” I reply as I try calculating. “So, I’m about twelve weeks?” I might cry, I’m so happy.
“We made our little bean in Cyprus,” Owen says with a wink.
I reach out to grab his hand and with the other, I lay it over my stomach. “A miracle from the Greek goddess, Aphrodite,” I whisper, then I’m worried, and I ask two questions in quick succession. “And everything is okay? Are you sure?”
Owen squeezes my hand, leans down, kisses me on the lips and says, “You had a scan and everything is perfect, Hotshot.”
“I’ve not had any morning sickness.” I suffered terribly with that when I was pregnant with Poppy.
“Maybe it’s a boy.” Owen soothes my concerns with a soft voice and caring touch. “Girls cause chaos and mayhem,” he jokes.
Emotional, hormonal, and physically drained, I burst into tears at the realization of what we both could have lost had everything gone differently.
As soon as I am out of this hospital, I’m going to celebrate the life I still have and the new life growing within me .
“I need to see my Pop-a-doodle,” I say to Owen as I wipe the tears off my face.
“She’ll be here in half an hour.”
“Then everything will be perfect.”
“And we’ll be complete.” Owen lays his hand over my stomach. “My family.” He lifts his hand to reveal my poppy stone sitting perfectly on top of the bedsheet.
“Our lucky family,” I correct him.