Page 34 of Love Wells Kept
The sun hits with a fury the second we pull out of the underground parking garage, and I wince like a vampire, instantly drawing my free hand to cover my eyes as I blindly feel with the other to put her Polaroid back. Already the throbbing in my head is more intense. God help me, I hope it’s only temporary because I’ve been cooped up in a hospital, and not because my brain injury means I can’t handle the brightness of midday sun.
“Here.” Kate nudges my arm. “Wear my sunglasses. See if it helps.”
Despite the fact that they’re turquoise aviator frames, I slide them up the bridge of my nose and breathe a sigh of relief when they do, in fact, help with the hammering in my skull.
“Thank you.”
“They look great.” She giggles. “Definitely fits with your hospital escape outfit. A T-shirt, sweatpants, slippers, and women’s sunglasses. Hot.”
“Don’t forget the jewelry.” I hold up my left arm, adorned with a white hospital bracelet, and I watch Kate’s eyes lock on my hand. Despite all this time without wearing one, the indent of a wedding band remains. “I…sorry I don’t have a ring.”
She shakes her head. “That’s a silly thing to be sorry about. They had to cut it off because it was practically embedded in your finger. And even if that weren’t the case, I don’t expect you to wear a ring to symbolize a marriage you don’t remember.”
Those words burn and churn in my gut. Will not remembering ever feel like less of a betrayal? “Even if I don’t remember taking vows, I’d stand by them.”
“I know you would. Memory loss or not, you’re a good man, Jackson. The best, actually.” Her gentle touch grasps my hand and an oddly familiar energy pulses through my veins. “Besides, if there’s any type of band that should be in the back of your mind if you’re thinking about being unfaithful, it’s a castration band. And I think you know me well enough by now to know I wouldn’t play about using one.”
Sure enough, there’s a phantom pain in my groin at those words, and I shudder with a nervous laugh. Kate tips her head to look at me with a smirk. It’s cute and wicked, and I wouldn’t put it past this woman to castrate any man who messed with her.
Especially after I saw the way she took no shit from anyone in the hospital. Not mean. Never mean. Kate simply wasn’t going to listen to excuses or be given the runaround when it came to anything I needed.
“I knew you were getting out of there today,” she says once the car’s been quiet for a moment. “Sorry to burst your bubble. But I figured you’d realize it when we pulled up to the pharmacy in a second, and I happened to have your prescriptions in my purse.”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t bat an eye. You have everything but the kitchen sink in that thing.” I roll the window down a crack to catch the breeze against my face. “Although, you could make up for lying by ‘forgetting’ to fill my painkiller prescription.”
“Fat chance. You need those, and I’ll stand there watching you swallow it, if I need to.”
Well, it was worth a try. With a huff, I slump deeper into the seat, and when we pull up to the pharmacy a minute later, she slowly pulls her hand from mine. I feel that loss down to the marrow of my bones.
How this woman can have me genuinely fearing castration one minute and missing the warmth of her touch the next is beyond me. But the moment she’s dropping back into her seat, I’m reaching for her.
—
Hours after leaving the hospital, Kate woke me from my routine afternoon nap, announced we were almost home, then watched me with the eye of a hawk as I took my medications while cruising down the bumpy, windy dirt road.
The sky in this valley is overcast, and the afternoon sun is hung low enough in the sky it’s filtered through towering, dense treetops. I carefully examine every crooked tree, every bend in the road, every sign, waiting to see if something clicks. If anything on the route to my family’s hundred-year-old cattle ranch—a road I’ve surely driven thousands of times—is memorable enough to send my memories flooding back.
Then we slow to a crawl, turning onto what appears to be a driveway.
“I recognize that sign.” Bewildered, I stare up at the carved wooden sign hung high above the driveway. Given that Wells Ranch is etched into the timber, it’s not exactly a monumental moment that I have a gut feeling I know this place.
Kate slams on the brakes, and I lurch forward in my seat. “You do?”
“I do. It was in a dream I had the other night.”
A wave of hope washes over us, so deep I could drown in it, until Kate continues down the driveway and I watch the naïve hope dissipate from her big doe eyes the moment it becomes clear this version of myself has never seen the ranch that raised me. In the hospital, I often tried picturing this place, but it felt as if I was looking through chunks of broken glass.
The car comes to a stop in front of a large white house with gable roofs sheeted in metal and a welcoming front porch. Thick greenery, painted with a small smattering of early spring blooms, is nestled at the base of the porch, and the late sun casts overwhelming shadows over the lawn and gravel driveway. Everything is almost familiar, but not at all what I had imagined.
“This is home,” Kate says on a sigh. “It feels weird introducing you to the house you grew up in….”
“It feels weird knowing I’ve lived here my entire life but I don’t have that home feeling.”
She turns the key to shut the car off, and twists in her seat to look me in the eyes. “Yeah, I can imagine. Want to sit out here for a minute? Or head inside? I told everybody to leave you alone today, so it should only be Beryl and the kids.”
Anxiety burrows into the most vulnerable part of my heart. I’ve been informed I’m a bit of a superhero around these parts, and I’m sure Kate meant it to be a confidence-booster, but it only ups the ante. If these kids were used to an absent father, they wouldn’t expect much. They wouldn’t be entirely crushed when I inevitably under-deliver and struggle to remember the most basic information about them. Thankfully, Kate almost never stops talking about them, so at least I have their names memorized.
“Odessa knows about my fucked-up head?”
