Sexy Hart (Sexy Series) (39 page)

“Thank you.”

I open the door and step out, noticing the sound of my footsteps on the gravel; it’s not something I’ve really thought about before, but it’s such a familiar sound, a sound I usually hear when I’m with, or about to see Oliver. It’s an exciting sound, though today, it’s excruciating.

Slipping my key in the lock and opening the door, I am welcomed, achingly, by the scent of his house, and of him. His aftershave has a permanent presence here and it feels so wrong that he’s not moving around the house, I can smell him so clearly, so vibrantly - it’s seems inconceivable that he’s laying so still in a sterile room at the hospital when the house seems so full of his energy.

As my chest constricts and I begin to tear up, I remind myself that I need to get back to him, and that I must keep going. Get moving. I run upstairs, trying to ignore the many things that remind me of him, to his bedroom, where I head straight to his wardrobe to pull out a blanket. They might not let me put it on him, but if they will, it would be so good for him to smell home and feel that familiarity.

I decide to take one of his hooded sweatshirts to wear, myself. I didn’t even think to bring a sweater from home as it’s a fairly warm day, but the hospital will probably be chilly and it’ll comfort me to be wrapped in Oliver. As I pull the sweatshirt from the hanger, I’m distracted by the small cupboard within the wardrobe, housing his aftershave. I slowly open it up and take out the bottle, spraying it once onto the sweater.

As I return the bottle to the others, I notice a small bag behind them, and curious to know what it is, I pull the bag out to find three, navy blue ring boxes.
Our new wedding bands and my engagement ring. This is where he hid them. I press the bag against my chest and close my eyes, dropping my head back onto my shoulders and holding back the tears, remembering that wonderful day. We
will
wear them. Everyone knows now, so as soon as he comes around, we can put them on.

I close the wardrobe, sobering
myself, taking the blanket, hoody and rings from the bedroom and I run down the stairs, suddenly desperate to get back to Oliver to tell him that I found his hiding place. I run out of the front door, slamming it behind me and hurl myself into Daniel’s posh Bentley.

“All done?” he asks.

“Yes, let’s try to get back as quickly as we can.”

“Not a problem.”

Daniel really is fantastic in a stressful situation and he returns us to the hospital in the quickest time possible. It’s extremely early in the morning on a Saturday so the roads are quiet, thank goodness, and I’m just so relieved to be back here to stay with Oliver. I definitely don’t want to leave this hospital again, without knowing my Oliver is back and will be fine.

He drops me outside so I don’t need to wait for him to park, and as I step out, he calls to me. “Go get back to your husband,” and he winks, “congratulations, Clare. You’re so right together.”

I smile sadly and nod, gratefully. Bea must have told him at some point during the night, and as much as it hurts, I love that he has acknowledged it, it makes me feel a little warm in an otherwise stone-cold situation.

When I return, Alexia is
laying on the seats outside the room and immediately sits up when she sees me.

‘Hey, you okay?”

“Yes, thank you - anything happened?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

I smile and thank her before going through to the room again. Emily and Edward have moved back to their chairs nearer the end of the bed, and Bea is sitting by Oliver’s side. They all smile as I enter.

“That was very quick,” Edward says, softly.

“I know, but it’s so early, and Saturday, too, so there was very little traffic. So I popped to Oliver’s house to get him a blanket that will remind him of home. Do you think they’ll let me put it near him?”

“Oh, how thoughtful of you,” Emily says with a kind smile, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

She asks the doctor who agrees, although we can’t drape it over him, we could rest it near him, possibly folded on the shoulder of the arm with no tubes. So I walk over and do just that.
“It’s Saturday?” Bea asks, a delayed reaction.

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god,” she says putting her hand over her mouth and standing, “I feel awful, it’s Daniel’s birthday and I haven’t even said anything.” I gasp, I had totally forgotten, too.

She stands to leave the room to see him and I stay next to Oliver, wearing his hoody, clutching the bag with the rings. “Hi, handsome, I’m back,” I say, running my fingers up his forearm, still utterly disturbed by his swollen and bruised eyes. “I’ve changed out of the dress now, I look a bit less glamorous in my
tracky bottoms and your ‘Abercrombie’ hoody, but I’m comfy, at least.” I sit down before I continue and hold his hand, dropping the ring bag into my lap.

“I also found your secret hiding place. You probably know everyone knows about us now, so when you wake up, we can put our new rings on. I brought them with me and I’m going to leave them on the table. You better wake up soon, darling, because I can’t wait to wear mine and see you in yours.”

I look down at his hand, feeling defeated at his lack of response, and I run my fingers over his old wedding ring. I lean down to kiss it and wrap my hand around his. I feel so helpless, there’s just nothing I can do.

Two doctors enter the room and address us, Bea following them in. “We’d like to talk with you about how Oliver has progressed so far,” one of them says, and Emily immediately stands and rushes over to the bed, next to me. She rests her hand on my shoulder, and wraps an arm around Bea as Edwards joins us.

“Please, take a seat and we’ll talk it through.”

Edward moves the chairs over to Oliver’s bed and they sit with me, eagerly listening.

“Mrs. Hart, I don’t believe we had a chance to meet yesterday,” one of them says, before they both introduce themselves as a neurosurgeon and a doctor from the trauma team, and shake my hand. How absolutely bizarre that the first time someone calls me Mrs. Hart in the UK, my darling husband is laying before me in a coma, not able to share the moment with me. Well, not that I’m aware of, anyway.

The doctors continue, addressing all of us. “Right, so the monitoring is showing us that there has been a significant decrease in swelling already, which is good news. So we will be thinking about slowly reducing the
Propofol, later or tomorrow to bring Oliver out of the induced coma, but as the brain’s inflammatory response to an injury tends to peak after two or three days, we will keep monitoring and maintain a lower body temperature, and he will remain on the anti-seizure medication, as we have previously discussed, for a longer period of time.”

“So does that mean he can wake up?” Emily asks.

“It means that once the level of Propofol has been reduced significantly, it will be down to his body to come around. We can’t tell you how long that will be and it is unlikely that he will just come around suddenly, the recovery of consciousness will be gradual and can take anything from hours in the mildest cases, to months, or even years in worse cases. Some people only recover to a point, never fully regaining awareness of their surroundings. As Oliver has made good progress thus far, we can hope for the former, but we cannot guarantee anything at this point, unfortunately - it’s very much a ‘wait and see’ kind of situation.”

We all nod. I felt slightly positive at the start, but the mention of the possibility of him never regaining consciousness shot that down immediately. I’m not entirely sure what this means. I’m pleased he’s going to be weaned off the drugs, but I want them to wake him up! I suppose it’s something, we can watch to see if he reacts to anything which is more than we can do now.

It’s all just so baffling. This time yesterday I was happily saying goodbye to him at home, and right now, I’m listening to doctors talking about brain trauma, inter cranial pressure and induced comas in reference to Oliver. I feel slightly numb.

“Do you have any questions, Clare?” Edward asks, snapping me out of a confused daze.

“Um… , I don’t think so, um, I don’t really know, I just don’t think I understand anything,” I say, shrugging my shoulders and unexpectedly bursting into tears feeling frustrated and lost.

Bea hugs me, and I her, as the doctors nod, sympathetically, not saying anything to make it better. I want them to fix him! I want them to tell me he’s going to be okay, not that something seems good but who knows if he’ll ever be the same again.

“At the moment, that’s all that we can tell you. We feel that the progress is promising, we’ll just have to see how things pan out after the Propofol has been reduced. We will let you know when that will start.”

“Why is he on anti-seizure medication? Is he likely to have seizures?” I ask, sniffling.

“Yes, seizures are a fairly common occurrence after a brain injury. There’s no specific time for these to occur, it could be very soon after the accident, or a few months later, so he will remain on the medication for some time.”

“Okay, so even if he wakes up and goes home, he’ll stay on the medication?”

“Most likely.”

“Okay.”

“Is there anything else?” The neurosurgeon asks as we all look blankly at each other, shaking our heads.

“Thank you,” says Edward, appearing to be searching for questions, but coming up with nothing.

The doctors dismiss themselves and we remain seated, silently, mulling over what they have said. A few minutes later, Emily speaks up, softly. “Oliver will be back with us in no time, you’ll see.”

I smile and nod, appreciating her positivity.

“He will, mum,” Bea says, comfortingly, “I’m going to go back out to Daniel for a little while, maybe get some fresh air. Would anyone like a coffee or anything? Did you eat anything, Clare? We all need something.”

I shake my head,
eating is the last thing on my mind, I couldn’t eat a thing. “Nothing for me.”

“Nor me,” Emily says with a smile.

“I’ll get something in a while, darling, don’t worry about us. You go and have a little break with Daniel.” Edward says, gently and Bea nods, taking a look at her brother before disappearing out of the room.

After checking if his parents mind, I resume my position of last night… this morning… whenever it was, resting my head on the bed, my face in Oliver’s palm. I talk away to him, very quietly, as Emily and Edward comfort each other, having short sleeps in their chairs at the end of the bed.

I fall asleep like this again, feeling a little more comfortable in these clothes, able to curl up in the chair a little easier. Bea comes in and out sporadically, checking on him, and the rest of the morning remains this way. Daniel has been in a couple of times, too, as long as the room doesn’t get over crowded and no one is feeling unwell, apparently it’s okay. If anyone has a cold or anything, they aren’t allowed near because he’ll be susceptible to pneumonia very easily like this, so they say.

There is such a huge amount of information to take in and it’s massively overwhelming at a time when you just want to collapse and succumb to this feeling of grief. I know he’s still here, and I do keep getting little bouts of positivity, but I can’t talk to him, I can’t live my life the way I would normally be…
oh shit, I hadn’t even thought about the Cakery…

I lift my head from Oliver’s hand, quickly replacing it with my hand and turn to see if Bea is still in the room, and I see her sitting next to her sleeping dad, Emily is in the corner again, looking up at the ceiling.

“Bea, shall I send a text to Jessica? I hadn’t even thought about the shop.”

She raises her eyebrows and shakes her head, “No, I hadn’t either, and I wouldn’t have, had you not mentioned it. I think I’m on another planet at the moment.”

“I know. It’s understandable. I’ll go outside and do it, and get myself a drink of water. Will you hold his hand? I don’t want him to be on his own.”

She tilts her head to one side and smiles, sadly. “Of course I will. You’re so in love, you two, aren’t you?” she says, knowingly but seemingly appreciating the fact.

I nod, silently, trying not to cry again, as I release his hand and step away, letting Bea take my place.

Walking through the double doors, I head straight to the loo before returning and seeing Daniel laying on a row of chairs and as I step closer to him, he immediately wakes and sits upright. He must have taken Alexia back to my
maisonette already because she’s not here. “Oh, it’s okay, Daniel. Go back to sleep, I’m just coming out to call work.”

He scratches his head and squints as if he’s woken from a very deep sleep. “Oh, no…” he says, croakily, “I called them, don’t worry.”

“Did you? Oh, Daniel - you think of everything. You’re very sweet. Thank you.”

“Not a problem. Are they here yet?”

“Who?”

“Luke and Til… they should be getting here soon.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so… did they tell you what flight they were on?”

“Well, they couldn’t get one, so Luke called up a friend of ours, do you remember Sebastian from Aspen?”

I think back to our wonderful trip… Oliver and I… mmm. “Oh, um… the one from the bar that came back to the house and taught us all of those champagne drinking games?”