The Lion's Den (Faraway Book 2) (6 page)

“I know.” I was exhausted, and I didn’t want to have this conversation, not tonight, anyway. I would have it with her, though. If for no other reason than the fact that she deserved so much more than I had to give her.

“Since Tyler died, you haven’t been the same.” She took another sip, and I stayed still. “It’s been over two years. I’ve waited for you to come back, but now I think you’re not going to.” She sighed, and in the dim light of our kitchen, I knew I wasn’t coming back.

“I don’t know what to say, Lynn.”

“Tell me the truth. Is there someone else?” She stared into my eyes, searching for the truth I’d been keeping from her.

“No. Honestly. There’s no one else.” The absence of any recollection on Meredith’s face wounded me again in my memories. “But since Tyler fell over dead on the side of the road, I’ve felt like both of us deserve more. He was my best friend. He was here, going out for a run, and then, he was gone.” Her eyes didn’t waver from mine. “If I died tomorrow, would you memorialize me as perfect in your mind, or would you remember all the nights we sat on the couch and watched television without saying a word to each other?” She closed her eyes, and I knew she was going to cry. “There’s more out there for both of us.”

“Fuck you,” she said and stood. She put her wine glass in the sink and walked up to bed.

Brad Walsh

THE DOCTOR THOUGHT MAYBE TWO
more days. I scrubbed the blood off the stairs. My arm ached before I got to the second step, and the guilt came back again. I’d searched her closet, her car, every file in her desk, and her checking and credit card statements. It wasn’t until I sat in the bank with her empty safe deposit box on the table in front of me that I’d admitted I was crazy. Meredith wasn’t the type of woman who’d have an affair. It was beneath her.

This jealousy was because of Dharma, who, no matter how many fucking times I told her not to, continued to text me.

Dumb bitch.

She was going to be gone as soon as I got back to the office. Meredith and I would start fresh. We’d be a team again.

Meredith looked worse than I thought she would when I picked her up from the hospital, and I questioned whether the shore house was a good idea. On our wedding day, her father had told me, “If she’s ever in trouble, take her to the water.” I’d nodded at his advice but had no clue what the fuck he was talking about.
Should I take her to the shore and baptize her?
I was just happy to have Meredith. Her mother had said, “You’ll never be able to control her. Your only hope is to contain her.” I assumed it was more of the rhetoric Meredith hated from her mother. She’d made the woman out to be a dream crusher, the dreaded and droning voice of reality that had sucked the life out of Meredith and her father.

With Liv glued to her side, Meredith moved gingerly from the wheel chair to the Escalade. My wife was pale and unsure of her footing. It was as if losing her memory had disabled her physically. She was still so beautiful, though. On the unmarred side of her head, wisps of hair fell across her face as if she’d been lounging on the beach, letting the wind dry her hair after a swim in the ocean. Her eyes, even exhausted, were still the bright color that changed from blue to green and somewhere in between, depending on what she was wearing and what she was thinking.

She could have died.

I forced the idea from my mind as I helped the kids into the car.

The drive was quiet, and the kids didn’t ask any questions. They would have never asked a question again for their mother to be with them, I thought. They were at peace just in her presence.

As soon as I climbed into the car, I took her hand in mine, and as I drove, I sneaked glances at her. We were still on the highway when I saw her eyes drifting shut. She tilted her head toward me, hiding her bruises from the sunlight, and I squeezed her hand to let her know I was there.

When we parked at the house I’d rented for fifteen days, I knew it was the right decision. She needed to be away from our home and away from the memories that threatened to unravel us. I would fill her mind with our children and our marriage as it was meant to be. I would make sure that if—when—the horrible images returned, none of them would matter because Meredith and I belonged together.

I settled her into a lounge chair on the deck with a perfect view of her beloved Atlantic Ocean. She was nauseated and not interested in dinner, and every move she made, I watched in fear of her memory coming back.

“I finished getting the kids set up,” I said and walked out onto the deck she was on.

“That’s so much work. Did you make all the beds?”

I laughed. “No. I hired people to do all of that and stock the refrigerator.”

Meredith smiled at me as if this made much more sense than what she’d originally assumed.

“I invited Jenna and John and the kids down tomorrow.”

“Oh . . .” The ocean breeze surrounded us, and she pulled her hoodie up around her neck.

“Don’t you want to see her?” I’d secretly love if their friendship ended. Jenna was nothing but trouble.

“I would love to see her. I’m just not sure I’m up to a party.” She bit her lip and looked over the railing at the horizon.

“Mer, Jenna doesn’t drink anymore.”

The terror returned to her eyes. “What?”

“There was an accident. She was driving drunk. She still walks with a slight limp, and she never drinks.”

“Oh.” The color drained from her face. I’d never seen her so lost. Even after the death of her father, Meredith was never like this. She rested her face in her hands and sobbed. I lifted her legs and rested them on my lap as I sat on the end of her lounge. “How can I not remember that? How can I not know what Santa brought my children for Christmas last year or the song Liv sang in the talent show?”

“You hit your head. Hard.”

“Or that! How could I forget that?”

The guilt creeped back up and lodged in the back of my throat. I swallowed it down. “I don’t know,” I whispered into the wind. I turned back to Meredith and added, “You’ll remember everything you need to.”

“It’s terrifying.” Meredith stared out at the ocean. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the only visible part of the water was the breakers crashing on the shore in the darkness.

I needed her to stay with me forever and know how much she loved me. How happy we were the day she’d walked down the aisle. Even if she’d never wanted an aisle in the first place. She had to focus on how we’d laughed during our first dance as husband and wife. I wanted her to have the happy memories, and I wanted her to forget the rest.

“When your father died, I thought it would break you,” I said, and she looked back at me with surprise clear on her face as if I'd read her mind, or heard something that was never meant to be said.

“I did, too.”

“You amazed me. You were pregnant with James, and you never complained—not once. You never sat down. You never stopped comforting your family and his friends. I kept thinking, ‘When I leave this earth, I hope she’s still here, because she’ll make sure life goes on.’”

“He would never have let me give up.”

“And you’re not giving up now. We’re going to come out of this stronger than we were before.” Meredith’s eyes lingered on me. The quiet unnerved me. That and what she was thinking in her empty mind. “Just trust me. I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

I kissed her and went inside to charge my phone. Meredith sat in silence for the next two hours. I knew without asking that she was trying to force the memories to return, which was exactly why I didn’t take her back to our house. The stairs, the foyer, even the swing set might trigger her recollection. I would avoid it as long as I could. I sent an e-mail inviting ten other families for a party at the shore house the next day, and then I ordered food from a local restaurant so she wouldn’t worry about cooking. We would make new memories.

Meredith woke up with a headache, took some painkillers, and went back to bed for a while. Jenna was the first to arrive. By the time the third family walked through the door, she was shooting daggers at me from her angry eyes.

“Are you a fucking idiot?” Jenna asked, overflowing with disdain.
Are you a drunk?
“She had a hole drilled in her head less than a week ago. She doesn’t need—She can’t handle a party.”

As if she were on my side, Meredith emerged from the bedroom wearing the bikini I’d packed for her and a sheer cover-up. When she saw all the people, she crossed her arms over her chest.
Why cover up?

Meredith was engulfed by well-wishers, and I realized Jenna was right. It was a lot of people and not everyone was here yet. I didn’t care, though. It would also keep Meredith’s mind off her mind.

More families showed up, bringing small gifts, get well soon flowers, or kid’s beach toys with them. Eventually, when the house got too crowded and too loud, we moved outside. The adults settled in chairs and loungers on the deck, and the kids ran down the small wooden ramp to the beach.

Sarah had Liv take a group picture of all the adults with the ocean behind us. I sat down and pulled Meredith onto my lap. Liv still had the camera, so I asked her to take a picture of us. The new us.

Liv looked at the back of the phone and then at Meredith.

“I love you, Liv,” Meredith said, and Liv snapped the picture.

Sarah took her camera back and raved about Liv’s photography skills. “I’ll text you a copy,” she said to Meredith, and Meredith turned to me.

“Do you know where my phone is?”

“It’s in the bedroom, but it needs to be charged.”

“You thought of everything.”

I kissed her cheek and told her I loved her.

When the party settled down and everyone went home, I took my wife to bed. I watched as she changed out of her bathing suit and brushed her teeth. Even with her hair shaved on one side, she was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever known. I stood behind her at the bathroom sink and pushed her hair to the side. I let my lips fall to her neck, and it reminded me of when we were first married. She stiffened immediately.

“Brad, I’m not—”

“I’ll be gentle.” I kept my lips moving gently across her skin.

“It’s been such a long day. I don’t feel well.”