Ever, Sarah (34 page)

The front? Well, that’s where the right went in pushing the wrong out as far as I was concerned.

“You don’t know me at all.” I said hoarsely, well aware he couldn’t hear me.

I looked briefly at the detective at the front door, who was still pointing the gun at a motionless Kevin.

“Can someone help me please? Help him. Help him, please.” I was begging now.

The chaos that ensued was nothing short of a circus. The police, without hesitation, ushered the ambulance attendants over to where Brad lay. I was pulled back to allow them access to attend to him. I closed my eyes and prayed so hard my eyes hurt and my head pounded in my temples. All I wanted was for him to be okay.

Police, detectives, ambulance attendants, CSI—fiber and analysis—collecting every bit of evidence they could. The detectives didn’t let me leave with the ambulance, although I fought tooth and nail to be with Bradley. They needed me to stay and explain the file, the red festering eyes. They wanted to know every detail on how the dead man came to be lying in my kitchen with a fatal wound to the neck.

The dead man was evil. I told them. I just kept on repeating that over and over. I think I did this to make my guilt a little less intense.

Was I sorry I killed him?

I haven’t come to grips with that yet, but I am glad I never have to worry about him hurting us again.

What did he say?

Did he confess?

I lied of course.

I told them he told me everything.

He told me how he used women. How he lured them in with sweetness and lies. I told them how he drugged me and most likely did the same to them. I didn’t owe him the truth; I didn’t owe him anything.

The only people I owed anything to were the women who died so I didn’t have to, who deserved a chance to live their lives and never got that chance. They did nothing wrong…their only fault is that they needed someone. He saw that about them and used it to his advantage.

I owe my mother for being there, always, and Bradley. Especially Bradley, who believed me through everything and gave me back my life.

Talk about fate taking a wrong turn, I found myself sitting in a chair next to Brad’s bed in the hospital. Waiting.

Ronnie…’mother,’ kept me company while I refused to leave Brad’s side. I had a cot brought in so that I could stay with him. The hospital staff tried to give me a little grief, stating Brad needed quiet time, but my hand shot in the air effectively silencing them.

My ‘mother’ said, “I wouldn’t, she’s been through hell and back.” And that gave me the time with Brad I needed.

She kept trying to get me to eat, but I had no interest. Funny, I never thought I’d have no interest in food. Of course I ate some soup and a few bites of a sandwich here and there to appease her.

She had just walked out the door, and the room was rendered silent by her absence.

Silent except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor attached to Brad. That was a noise I loved; his steadily beating heart.

When I looked at his face, a thousand emotions flooded into my brain at once.

While his face was so serene, torment ran through every fiber of my being.

His breathing was even. His chest rose and fell with long breaths and when I bent in low, I’d close my eyes as I felt it fan my face, so happy I still had him with me.

His eyelids fluttered, and I stopped breathing for a moment.

I silently prayed, please
this
time.

Please God this time.

And as if my prayers were answered, he slowly opened his eyes. He briefly stared at the ceiling, then closed his eyes tightly. I sat staring like an idiot as his thick black lashes fluttered again, and I could see he was trying to focus. I watched his pupils slowly get bigger and then shrink.

Sensing his discomfort, I jumped up and rushed over to the windows, quickly closing each blind, casting the room into semi-darkness.

Then walked back to my chair and sat up straight, my eyes never leaving his face. There was a stiffness in my spine that I attributed to the great amount of tension I’d been under, and the uncomfortable chair I’d spent the better part of the past four days sitting in.

His lids fluttered again. But this time, this time, they opened. His piercing blue eyes slowly scanned the room. I watched him, as though in a trance. He turned and they slowly settled on me. I kept looking at his pupils opening and closing, slowly trying to focus on me.

“Hey babe.” He mumbled somewhat incoherently. His voice was gravelly and thick.

I let out a muffled gasp and my hand slapped over my mouth as quick as silver. I remembered that that was also something my father used to say.

“Bradley?” I whispered. Knowing he most likely had the headache from hell, so I tried to hold back my excitement.

“Sarah.” The sound passed through his lips so softly. It was like a song. I closed my eyes briefly wishing we could be away from here, far away.

“I’m here. I’ve got your hand. Do you feel me?” I asked. The creaking sound that left my throat was more of a choking sound than my actual voice.

“I feel you.” He murmured, then stillness. His chest rose and fell in even breaths once again and I sat back, despondent. I wanted him to wake up. There was so much I wanted to tell him. I needed to apologize for so much. I needed to know I would have a chance to make him love me again, like he used to. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was for letting that man into our lives.

I sat and waited for hours, wanting, no, needing more. I don’t know when, but sometime during the night I fell asleep in the chair. My arms rested on the edge of the bed ready, poised for any movement. I was bent over, my head laying on the edge of the mattress.

“Sarah.” His voice was clear, lucid.

I slowly opened my eyes.

His fingers reached for me and grazed my face. Within seconds wetness from my tears cascaded down my face.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

“I’m here, Brad.”

“Is the baby okay?”

At first I didn’t think I’d heard him right. I shook my head, trying to clear away the cobwebs of sleep.

“Brad. I’m okay.” I thought he must be delirious. I reached out and held my hand over his brow and was happy to find his skin was cool under my hand. Damp, but cool.

“Thank God.” He whispered, his voice craggy and coarse. “Is she okay?”

I was so confused. He woke me in the middle of the night and I wasn’t prepared to answer questions that came from a mind under siege.

I looked at him, dumbfounded. Thinking he must be referring to someone else.

“Is who okay, Brad?” I asked him.

“The baby.”

Those two words had the power to knock me over.

“What baby? Brad, it’s me, Sarah.” I was sure he was confused.

“Our baby.”

My whole body went numb taking my brain cells hostage.

“When you fell, did you lose the baby?” he rambled.

I choked back a sob.

I was trying hard to come to grips with the fact that he too may lose his memory. I knew the brain was a mysterious organ all too well.

I was prepared, to some extent, that he too would be missing parts of himself, and may sound a bit weird and more than a little confused.

What a pair we made the two of us.

I almost laughed out loud.

“Shhh Brad, you just need to rest, everything will be okay. Just sleep. I’ll be right here.” I said reassuringly, rubbing his forehead, then his face.

Four days of stubble had grown in and I got a glimpse of what he would look like with facial hair. I smiled a bit as I ran my fingers over the growth. I was so lucky to have a man who would look gorgeous no matter what. Facial hair, shaving his head; no matter what, this man would look just as perfect.

I leaned in and kissed his warm lips as I have done countless times since he’d been brought here. They were a little chapped so I opened my ‘lucky’ Chapstick and slowly ran it along his lips. Then to make sure it penetrated, I kissed him again. There was little else I could do but wait. I was getting good at the waiting. And praying, holy cow, I was praying so much God himself must be saying ‘Jesus Christ’.

I watched his chest rise and fall steadily and sat back down in the chair, preparing myself for another four to five hour haul before I saw him open his eyes again. Praying…sorry God…that the next time he’d wake up for good.

I knew the doctors said this would happen. I knew I was supposed to remain patient until his body healed itself. I shuddered to think how many days and nights he spent at my bedside just hoping I would open my eyes.

I suddenly remembered his words.

Baby?

Where would he get that idea from?

I shook my head as I stretched my arms above my shoulders. I was getting stiff from sitting so long, so I stood and walked over to the window.

It would be light out soon. I glanced back at Brad as I tried hard to fight off tears that I knew were just waiting to spill, mostly due to stress and anger. I wish I could just cry one big cry and get it the hell out of me.

I looked a mess and I didn’t care. The only thing I wanted now was to have Brad back again, to his normal self. I needed him and it scared the hell out of me not knowing whether or not he wanted me back.

Baby?

I thought for a few seconds, trying once again to put together a puzzle that I couldn’t visualize in my mind. I hated that I wasn’t able to remember my life. I didn’t know the joys, the sadness…the emptiness.

Emptiness?

I suddenly remembered a conversation I had overheard.

Okay—a conversation I eavesdropped on.

“She’ll come around soon enough Mr. Brad.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“Why would you be worrying about such a thing?”

“I’m just afraid if she finds out what really happened…”

“I’m sure you’re getting yourself all worked up over nothing. She’ll remember it the way she should.”

“Neither you nor I want her to remember everything.”

Remember what?

What in God’s good name where they talking about?

My curiosity overruled any good judgment I might have had and I walked back over to Brad’s bed. Before I could think it through, I gently shook his heavily sleeping body.

“Brad?” I whispered.

His eyes moved and slowly opened.

“Was
I
pregnant when I fell?” I know it was totally out of left field, but I had to know. Of course I realized my method was a bit unorthodox and this was the last thing that Brad needed to hear.

“Brad?” I said again, close to his ear.

“Yes. Is the baby okay?” He admitted.

I stood up straight as a rail and my body went numb.

I was pregnant when I fell.

I…I was pregnant when I fell?

That is what Terry and Brad were talking about when I overheard—listened in—on their conversation.

“Oh, Bradley. I’m so sorry.” I wailed softly and began weeping. Each tear representing something I lost. My memory, Brad’s love and trust, a baby I don’t remember anything about. A baby I would never get to hold and love. How many more hurdles was I expected to jump?

I was overwhelmed with pain and sorrow, all due to the choices I made.

“Sarah.” Brad’s voice startled me and I turned to face him.

One look in his eyes told me he too felt the pain of our loss.

“I’m so sorry.” I sobbed.

“Don’t be. We can try again.” He gritted his teeth, looking very much in pain. I know his head must surely be pounding, but there was another kind of pain, one he felt in his heart, “I love you, Sarah.”

You know how many hurdles? As many as it takes!

I gave into the wave of emotion that just washed over me.

“I love you too.” I said between sobs.