Chapter 15
Abigail stared straight up, tracing the perpendicular lines of the ceiling tiles with her eyes.
Was it weird that this hospital room was the only home she remembered?
It wasn’t so bad, really.
The doctors and nurses were nice. The food was fine. The view of the mountains was beautiful.
But now they said it was time for her to go home.
Wherever that was.
“Ready for this?” Simeon bustled into the room, followed by a nurse pushing an empty wheelchair. For her, Abigail realized.
She nodded mutely, in spite of the lump of apprehension snaking around her stomach.
Staying here didn’t seem to be an option. And she had nowhere else to go, aside from with Simeon.
His family had been regular visitors while she’d been here, but when she’d asked why her own family hadn’t come at all, Simeon had told her that her parents died when she was a little girl and she didn’t have any other family. She felt like the knowledge should have made her sad, but she supposed it was hard to miss what you didn’t remember.
“Can you get in the wheelchair yourself, or do you want me to help you?” Simeon asked.
“I can do it.” Abigail slid her feet over the side of the bed. She braced her right hand against the edge of the mattress, careful not to jounce her left arm. She’d learned the hard way that moving that arm caused the pain in her screwed-together collarbone to flare. But as she pressed her weight into the bed, pressure exploded in her ribs, and she couldn’t help crying out.
“I’ve got you.” Simeon stepped forward, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her gently to her feet. Carefully, he turned her, then supported her weight as she lowered herself into the wheelchair.
“Thank you,” she panted as Simeon let go and gathered the bag of clothing and toiletries his sister Lydia had brought earlier in the week. He walked alongside as the nurse pushed her out the door and down the hall.
Her apprehension grew as they approached the doors. She was going to a home she didn’t remember to live with a man she didn’t remember—not just to live with him, to be his wife.
She didn’t even know how to be a wife.
“I already pulled our vehicle up.” Simeon pointed to a black SUV.
The nurse steered her to it, and Simeon opened the passenger door, then set down her bag and helped her up out of the wheelchair and into the vehicle. He leaned across her to buckle the seatbelt, and that fresh, earthy scent she’d already come to associate with him lingered even as he moved away.
For some reason, it made her feel more comfortable about going home. Like she’d be safe and cared for with him.
Simeon closed her door and turned to say something to the nurse. Abigail studied him as he talked. She could see why she’d been attracted to him in the first place. He was tall—though not quite as tall as his brothers—and fit. His dark hair was short—but not too short—and dark, contrasting with the bright blue of his eyes. If she had to guess, the eyes were probably what had gotten her first. Not their color, but their kindness.
Then again, what did she know? Maybe she wasn’t the type of woman who cared about kind eyes.
She dropped her head back onto the seat. This was all so confusing. Simeon had explained to her about the amnesia. He’d said there was no way to determine what had caused it—or whether she’d ever get better.
So what was she supposed to do, just go through life without knowing who she even was?
Simeon’s door opened, and Abigail jumped. She hadn’t noticed him walking around the vehicle.
“This is Brampton.” Simeon gestured out the window as he pulled away from the hospital. “We live in River Falls, which is about an hour away.”
Abigail nodded, watching the scenery, trying to pick out something—just one thing—that felt familiar.
Simeon pointed out a few landmarks along the way—a place they apparently liked to hike, a restaurant they’d gone to a few times, the spot they’d once run out of gas and had to call his brother Zeb to rescue them—but mostly he was silent, and Abigail was grateful.
“And this is River Falls,” Simeon said after a while.
Abigail sat up, peering out the window.
Simeon slowed the vehicle as he turned onto a street lined with quaint buildings. “My office is a couple of blocks that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction. Abigail nodded. He’d mentioned he was a Christian counselor. “That’s Joseph’s vet clinic.” Simeon pointed to a sign that read River Falls Veterinary. “And there’s Daisy’s Pie Shop. We’ve spent probably hundreds of hours in there.”
Okay, she liked pie. That was good to know.
“That’s Ava’s photography studio. Henderson’s Art Gallery. The Book Den. You work there.”
“I work?” It hadn’t really occurred to her to wonder what she did.
“Part-time. Ruth—” He seemed to catch himself. “She’s your boss. Anyway, she says to take as long as you need to recover.”
Abigail nodded, although she wondered how she was supposed to go back to a job she didn’t know how to do.
Simeon kept pointing out the sights, looking at her hopefully with each one, as if expecting something would jar her memory. “And there’s Founder’s Park,” he said as they crossed a bridge. “We’ll have to take a walk there. You love the flowers, and they should be in full bloom now.”
“Mmm.” Abigail peered toward the riverfront park. It did look pretty, but it didn’t fire any spark of recognition.
They drove in silence for a few more minutes, until Simeon pulled the vehicle into the driveway of a modest two-story house, its blue paint cheerful without being overly bright.
“And this is our home.” He turned to look at her with an eager smile.
“It looks nice,” she said politely.
Simeon’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes skipped away. “It is,” he said softly. “Sit tight for a second, and I’ll come help you out.”
Abigail obeyed, mostly because she was still examining the house. Had she picked out the wicker chairs on the porch? Had she planted the flowers that lined the walkway? Had she hung the wind chimes that tinkled in the breeze?
It was like she wasn’t connected to anything—like she might float away.
Simeon pulled her door open. “Ready?” He held out a hand to her.
She nodded and took it, its solidity making her feel at least a little anchored to something solid.
Simeon helped her out of the vehicle, then wrapped an arm behind her back and ushered her toward the front door. She was a little woozy after spending so many days in bed, and she found herself leaning into him despite the ache in her ribs.
He held her as he unlocked the front door, then led her inside. Together, they stood in the small entryway as she gazed around the space. To the left was a comfortable looking living room, to the right a stairway leading up.
“It’s nice,” she said again.
“Do you want a tour, or do you want to rest first?” If Simeon was disappointed by her reaction, he didn’t let on.
“Maybe rest.” Suddenly the thought of seeing the whole house—of searching each room for some hint of who she was—seemed overwhelming. “If that’s okay.”
“Of course.” Simeon turned them toward the stairs. “I’ll take you up to the bedroom.” He kept his arm firmly around her as they climbed the stairs, and Abigail thought briefly that it might not be the end of the world to be stuck with him forever. It was clear that he was kind and caring.
He led her past what looked like a spare room, an office, and a bathroom before they reached the last room off the hallway. “This is our room.”
The doorway wasn’t wide enough to fit them side by side, and he dropped his arm from around her back to gesture her inside.
She stepped through the door but then froze.
He’d said our room. As in both of theirs. But there was only one bed.
She supposed that made sense, given that they were apparently husband and wife.
She ran her right hand over her left, rubbing at the wedding ring that proved she was indeed married, whether she remembered her husband or not.
“This is the closet.” Simeon’s voice came from the other side of the room, but Abigail couldn’t take her eyes off that bed. She reminded herself that Simeon had slept in the chair next to her bed every night in the hospital. It was practically the same thing.
“Abigail?” Simeon’s voice drew closer, and she forced her eyes to him.
His gaze tracked to the bed, his expression sinking for a moment. But by the time he turned to her, he’d put on a gentle smile. “I’ll sleep in my office for now. Until . . .” His eyes dropped from hers, and the blank space he’d left hung heavy with the possibility. Until she got her memories back? Or until . . . What was the alternative?
“It’s your bed,” Abigail protested. “I’m the one who should sleep somewhere else.”
“Abigail.” Simeon wheezed as if she’d knocked the wind out of him. “It’s your bed too.”
“Oh. Right. I just meant—” But she had no idea what she meant. No idea what anything meant right now.
The heaviness of exhaustion descended on her, and she looked for somewhere to sit down.
“Sorry. You wanted to rest.” Simeon took her good arm, leading her toward the bed. “I’ll wake you for dinner.”
He pulled the blankets down, then eased her onto the bed and tucked them around her.
“Oh.” She couldn’t help the sigh. “Much more comfortable than the hospital bed.”
Simeon chuckled, lifting a hand as if to brush the hair off of her face. But he dropped it before it reached her. “Sleep well. I love you.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d said it since the accident—or even since she’d woken up this morning.
And she knew she should say it back. After all, she was his wife. She must love him, right?
But her lips remained closed.
Because she didn’t know.