The Hour of Dreams (17 page)

“Will the memories come back?” my mom asked.

“Well. It’s hard to tell. If the memory loss is due to the seizures, it’s possible. If it’s because of the blood loss, then we won’t know.”

I felt myself worrying over the “we won’t know” part, but then reminded myself that there was a bigger issue, and it involved just getting Wes healthy. Nothing else was as important as that.

Dr. Lyon excused himself, and my mother and I slowly entered Wes’ room. Inside, his bed was tilted up so that he was sitting more upright, but he looked oddly still. When he heard us enter, he turned his head slowly and smiled softly. My mom gave me a shove in the back and then took a seat in the corner.

Dr. Carter hung up a chart and nodded to Wes. “I’ll leave you two alone for a bit,” he said, making his way past me and patting me gently on the shoulder.

I approached Wes’ bedside, wanting to hug him tightly, but I held back. Instead, I took his hand again and was relieved to feel him hold mine firmly in his palm. My gaze settled on his, and for a long moment we stared at each other.

I searched for the right words. As usual, I couldn’t put my thoughts together, but his familiar voice cut through the silence.

“Will you tell me what happened?” he asked.

The appropriateness of the question and the absurdity of the answer caused me a chuckle. “It’s a long story.” I smiled.

“I’m still trying to piece things together,” he murmured.

“More importantly, how are you feeling?” I asked, rubbing his arm.

“Well, it’s odd not to hear your accent. Or Dr. Carter’s.”

I guessed that would be strange.

“Other than that, a little achy. But not as much as the first time around.”

“I’m glad you’re going to be okay,” I whispered.

He nodded, but it looked labored. He must have still been in a lot of pain.

Not wanting to overwhelm him, I figured I’d let him take things as slowly or as quickly as he wanted.

“Can I get you anything? Help you in any way?” I asked.

“Well, I’d like to know what happened. How I ended up here.”

That I could do, but I wanted to make sure I did it the right way.

“I can help you with that,” I started, releasing his hand. “But first.” I held my hand out formally. “I’m Sophie.”

His gaze traveled to my outstretched hand and he weakly took hold of it. “Nice to meet you, Sophie.” The sound of my name coming off his tongue sent a warmth through my body. Even as new as it sounded.

After looking at him for a long moment, I realized I could really help him, but I’d have to leave for a little while. “I have an idea,” I said, hopeful. “I’m going to get some stuff that will help you remember. And we’ll do this together. You just rest and let your body heal. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

He bit down gently on his bottom lip. “I’ll be here,” he said, offering a slight smile.

Knowing I had a plan, I kissed him on his forehead and, after being released, left the facility with my mom. I still wasn’t cleared to drive yet, and she wanted to keep an eye on me.

First, she took me to Healey’s to pick up some books. As soon as we entered, Dawn attacked me with a huge hug. Her brother Danny and Mr. Healey were there too, but they were much more reserved. My mom had told them I was having dizzy spells and that’s why I’d been away from work for so long.

Dawn, however, knew otherwise. “I was so worried,” she whispered in my ear. “You better not die on me.”

The abruptness of her words caused me to laugh. “I’m serious,” she said. “You better be around long after I have this baby. When it keeps me up or gives me hell, I’m bringing it to your house.”

My mom jumped in. “Or my house. I’ll be happy to help you. Tom and I both would gladly lend a hand.” Dawn had almost become a sister to me, and I knew my mom’s offer was genuine and that it made Dawn feel better.

After many assurances that I was fine, I began my search. I remembered shelving several non-fiction books that would be good. Wes loved airplanes, and told me many times how mesmerized he had been by them over the years, so I grabbed a reference book that chronicled the progression of airplane design. I thought he’d find it interesting to see how far aircraft had come. I also found a book on cars that not only had several well-known antique and modern models, but ones that Wes had actually owned. Then I went to our used DVD section and found one from World War I, one from World War II, a Vietnam movie, and a modern war movie. Then I picked my favorite romance movies from the fifties, eighties, nineties, and the millennium.

After Healey’s, my mom drove me home to grab the medical book that Wes had first showed me to prove how old he was. It was the one with the picture of Wes and Dr. Carter, who was then Dr. Thomas, back in 1939.

I also brought our wedding pictures, though they were not something I had planned on showing him until he asked.
If
he asked, since I wasn’t even sure whether he knew we were married.

As we drove back to the medical center, I thought about the other item I had, and was truly thankful to have written it: my journal. All this time, I’d thought it might someday be used to help
me
remember our lives, but now it was going to be used to help Wes remember.

By the time we arrived, a few hours had passed and I had a tote full of stuff. Inside, Wes was now dressed in his signature Henley and sweats, and it was comforting for me to see him looking like his modern self.

Dr. Carter informed me that they had run some more tests, which came back clear, and had started a short, initial round of basic physical therapy. Apparently Wes’ joints and muscles were in a lot of pain. Almost as bad as they had been with his hemophilia, prior to his initial transformation. Dr. Carter said the pain would subside with medication and therapy. Something Wes hadn’t needed in years. I wondered how he felt about that. Dr. Carter gave several instructions on how to manage the discomfort, and listed a regimen that Wes would follow over the next several weeks.

Once we were alone, it was going to be just me and him for the rest of the night. There was a small sofa, a chair, and two hospital beds side by side, which had been left in the room while I waited during Wes’ transformation.

As I glanced around, trying to decide where to sit, Wes tried to stand up from his gurney. He winced, and instinctively I hustled to his side to help him. “Where are you trying to go?” I asked.

“The sofa,” he said, gritting his teeth in pain.

I led him there slowly, but through the walk he maintained a stoic, determined expression. Once seated, he smiled and chuckled, letting out a deep sigh.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Well, I certainly feel a hundred years old now.” I started to laugh, but the idea startled me and my eyes widened. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Dr. Carter thinks I’ll be back to normal soon.”

I shook my head to clarify. “No, I wasn’t—I don’t care whether you stay like this. I mean, I do, but…”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry.
I
care. But I’ll be fine.”

After a moment of awkward silence, I asked him what he wanted to do first.

“I have a few questions,” he started.

“Okay.” I took a deep breath, wondering where he would start. “Go for it.”

His gaze traveled down to my left hand. “Are you married,” he asked.

Oh,
geez. Really? The first question?
I cleared my throat and his gaze fell. “It’s okay. You don’t have to answer that.” I tried to remember what he said about his relationship with Amelia. He said he’d loved her the moment he saw her, but that he’d never really had a chance to tell her. So maybe he thought I was just his caregiver or good friend, rather than assuming
we
were married.
Obviously.

“No, I want to answer that, but it’s a long story. First, why don’t I get you caught up?”

His gaze met mine again, and I knew Wes well enough to know he was blazing with curiosity. But what was I to do? Spring it on him? Not yet. Besides, I wanted him to love me for me. Not because we were married.

He studied me for a long moment, probably wondering why I was hesitant, and then nodded. “All right. Let’s get started.”

“Okay. I know you like a lot of things, including history. I brought books and movies that will catch you up on the gist of things. And then I brought some of my personal favorite movies that will get you up to speed on culture. And after that, I have a surprise for you. Which do you want first? History, or culture?”

“Let’s do culture, since they’re your favorites,” he murmured agreeably.

I was amazed that he still seemed to be my Wes, even though he didn’t know it. I smiled. “Great idea.” War movies would have been too heavy to start with, anyway.

We watched two movies that night before he became stiff and uncomfortable. I helped him get up and walk around the room and to his bed. He was surprised to learn that I was planning to stay in the room with him overnight, so I gave him the choice.

He nodded approvingly as I played up the nurse card, figuring he still associated me with Amelia. And then it hit me that he was, and still is, pretty traditional, so he was probably starting to suspect that we were married, but he didn’t let on as I helped him get situated.

In the morning, he underwent more tests and more physical therapy while I took a shower. The facility wasn’t set up for overnight patients, but it did have nice bathrooms with large showers, and some rooms with beds for scientists who pulled all-nighters and for the occasional test subject.

Eager to get back to Wes, I kept my shower shorter than planned, but took a little time drying my hair, trying to make a good impression. I was, after all, wanting him to be in love with me. That meant a little effort in looking attractive.

Satisfied with leaving my hair down, bangs casually swept to the side, I returned to find Wes resting. And staring at me more than usual. Perhaps the modern look was too much. I busied myself with tidying up, trying to distract myself from worrying over his reaction to the real me.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

I turned to find him resting with one arm folded behind his head.

“You?”

“Very,” he said, forming a small smile.

We ordered Chinese food for lunch and watched the two romance movies. Afterward, he looked at me and smiled. “That tells me a lot about you…and cars.”

“How so?”

“Well, it appears you like guys who are tough, underdogs, and a hero in some way. And sensitive.”

“Hmm. Actually, I do. I never thought of it that way, but I guess all those movies do have that in common.” And so did Wes. I smiled inside and then redirected his attention. “What about the cars?” I asked.

“The cars are amazing,” he answered.

“Which brings me to my next batch of goodies. Look at these.” I pulled out the books on cars and airplanes, offering them to him. He reached for the aircraft book, with eyes full of awe.

“How did you know?” he asked, flipping through it.

“Let’s just say you told me a lot about them.” I left out the part about how they freak me out.

He looked through each picture as if he’d discovered the rarest gems in the world. “I can’t believe it. Look at that design.” He was stopped on a page showcasing a private jet.

“You’ve flown some of them, you know.”

He looked at me with shock, then sadness, making me wonder whether I’d pushed him too far. He was holding up so well, considering, but maybe realizing how much he’d forgotten was just as traumatic as having no memories at all.

But then I realized he’d have many more years to create new memories. He could fly as much as he wanted. And that was encouraging.

“I’m sure it’s just like riding a bike,” I offered encouragingly.

He blinked and glanced my way. “I hope so.”

He put the plane book down and skimmed through the car book, almost as amazed, and set them both aside, vowing to go back and read them in more depth another time.

“What next?” he asked with purpose.

All that was left was my journal and the war movies. I wasn’t ready to reveal the contents of my journal, but war movies now seemed depressing.

As I was thinking, he chimed in. “History is next, I believe.”

I shook my head. “Yeah, it was, but I don’t think it’s a good idea after all.”

“Why not?”

“They’re sort of downers. Well, not sort of. They’re definitely downers. I’m not sure you want to watch people fighting and dying.”

“I really don’t,” he said. “But if I’m going to be reminded of what kind of society we live in, I’d better learn. Unless you have a history book I can read tonight, then I guess I’ll be watching a movie. But if you don’t want to stay—”

“No. I’ll stay,” I said, a little too eagerly.

A
fter the war movies, we both lay around, somber and quiet. It was obvious that Wes was still processing everything he’d watched and read, so I wanted to give him time. Even as the silence took over, the time with him was comforting. In the morning, we were awakened by Dr. Carter. Wes was in for more testing, so I went to make some calls in the lounge area. Mr. Healey and Dawn had wanted updates, so I gave them an abbreviated version.

When I got back into the room, Wes was finished with his testing and was going through some physical therapy with small weights and bands for his leg muscles. After about thirty minutes of work, I noticed some small beads of sweat just above his brow. Shocked, I stood closer.

He looked at me with caution. “Amazing,” I whispered.

“What?” he answered, looking himself over.

“You’re sweating.”

He looked unsurprised, but Dr. Carter hurried over, equally amazed. “He is, isn’t he? That’s a good sign. A very good sign.” He started writing notations on his chart, while Wes continued to look confused.

“Is that strange?” he asked.

I laughed. “No. Well, sort of. After the first transfusion, you never sweated. And now you do. It’s…”

“Weird?”

“No, it’s normal.” I smiled.

“Okay,” he answered, shrugging. “So I guess it’s normal that I feel like taking a shower to freshen up.”