Page 22 of Love Wells Kept

“Morning, Mama,” Rhett whispers directly into my face, waking me up. His small hands are clammy on my cheeks, and his breath blows across my skin.

Without opening my eyes, I exhale deeply and wrap my arms around his body, pulling him into a hug that makes him groan. “Hey, buddy. I missed you.”

“Missed you. Did Daddy come home with you?”

My lungs deflate. “He needs a bit more time in the hospital first.”

“Is he sick?”

“No, baby. He’s not sick. He just…needs some time to get stronger.”

“Like Spider-Man?”

“Exactly.”

“Wait…” His hands press hard into my cheeks, making my lips pucker. “Does Daddy have superpowers?”

I fight to lift my head enough that my pursed lips make contact with his forehead, and I let out a loud smacking noise. He giggles and releases my grip while shifting so that he’s sitting square on my chest.

“Do you think he has superpowers?” I open my eyes as wide as I can in spite of the burning behind them. I need a cool eye compress stat.

Rhett considers my question for a moment. “Yeah. I bet he does.”

“I think you’re right. We’ll have to ask him when he comes home.” I grip his waist, hauling him off me and sitting up.

My entire body aches from the combination of days on end with little movement and spending last night sharing a twin bed with a preschooler who kicks a lot in his sleep. I yawn and stretch, listening to Rhett ramble off all the superpower possibilities Jackson might have as he gets dressed for the day.

Wearing Jackson’s shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, I follow my son downstairs and into the kitchen. I don’t know what time it is, nor do I particularly care, but only a couple ranch hands are still milling about the kitchen. And when they see me walk in—surely looking scarily similar to a zombie—they each grab a croissant from the island and skedaddle out of the room.

Beryl immediately stops what she’s doing and slings her striped tea towel over her shoulder. “Are you okay, honey? Tea? Coffee? Food?”

“I could use some water.” I plop into my chair at the kitchen table, and it’s not long before both Beryl and Cecily are joining me with earnest, sympathetic looks.

“I’m sure it was nice being back in your own bed last night.” Beryl reaches across the table to gently rub the back of my free hand with her thin, bronzed fingers.

“I slept with Rhett last night,” I murmur into the glass between hearty sips of the cold liquid. “I missed the kids so much. I’m glad they had you guys.”

“They always have us,” Beryl replies. “You all do.”

Cecily runs a hand over her stomach and leans back in her chair. “How are you holding up though? Aus told me about what happened after he woke up. I…God, I’m so sorry, Kate.”

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, still raw from all the anxious grinding I’ve done lately. “I hate knowing I’m not there…I feel like I should be trying to show him photos and videos, telling him stories, trying to help him remember. But he completely ignored me the entire time I was in the room yesterday…so…” I blink rapidly and fan my face with my fingers, willing myself not to cry. “So being there seemed like it was doing more harm than good. At least here I’m with the kids…and hopefully he comes around soon.”

Heavy footfalls end our conversation, and the three of us turn to look at the doorway as Odessa struts in. In the midst of everything, I forgot that spring break has officially ended, and she’s back in school. It seems like only yesterday she was Rhett’s age, and she spent all her time wreaking havoc on any ranch hands working in the barn or causing Beryl and me to trip over her in the kitchen.

Now she’s getting herself ready for school in the morning?

And like me, she’s wearing one of Jackson’s shirts she must’ve taken from his dresser while I was gone. Though Odessa’s always been tall, so is her dad, and his T-shirt is long enough to be a dress on her.

“Mom,” she says in a confused, excited voice, bunching up the hem of the shirt, then letting it go. “Does this mean—”

I interrupt. “Dad isn’t home yet. But yesterday the nurse said his recovery so far has been textbook—perfect. If he keeps going the way he’s going, he’ll be home in no time.”

I don’t know whether that’s true, given the memory issues now. He still has his strength and coordination, and his cognitive functions are at or above where they were expected to be, so that’s promising.

“Oh.” Odessa frowns. “Is he going to be home in time for my birthday?”

In theory, he should be home within the next couple weeks, so long as his recovery continues to go well and he works through the various therapies he needs. Especially since Blair, who’s a nurse practitioner, can take over his medical care. In practice, I doubt they’ll send him home with a woman he refuses to believe is his wife.