Page 36 of Serious Cowboy
Her brother shocked her with his calm response. “No biggie. We’ll work it out.”
Gradually, as a psychologist came to visit, how much of his memory he still might have started to be explored. Initially, he shared memories of his childhood, many incidents that he’d had at school—mostly innocuous—that Callie had never heard. But then, he mentioned his parents and their fighting.
“I don’t know why they stay together when they can’t get along,” he said one day, and Callie ached for him.
He talked about his teenage years, about teachers he liked or disliked, about projects he completed. Zeke became more animated as he discussed those.
“I made this working train set out of matchsticks and used a battery to engage the engine. It even had tracks for it and everything.”
“And it worked?” the psychologist, Dr. Demas asked him.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, his midnight blue eyes sparkling. “Totally.”
Zeke still became worn out incredibly easily and took at least two naps a day. Martha told Callie that was normal for any patient recovering from a physical trauma.
“And with added memory loss, that saps him of even more energy.”
Sometimes Callie would hang out when he slept, but oftentimes, she’d go have lunch or even a nap at her hotel room. And sometimes she needed to work. But she always returned and remained at the hospital throughout the day, afraid that her missing any time might hamper his progress. Zeke was improving, but it was by inches.
On the tenth day after he’d regained consciousness, she’d been strolling down the hallway, and when she noticed that his lightswere still out, paused long enough to answer a text from her BFF.
Daisy: How’s your man’s recovery going?
Callie: Slowly but surely.
In actuality, it felt much more like it’d been occurring at a snail’s pace. Some days it was harder to be patient than others.
That was when she heard a groan, followed by a shout of, “No. No, no,no…”
Sprinting down that hallway, she whipped herself into his room, flipping on the lights as she did. He flinched away from the harsh overhead lighting, so she moved to his bed and turned the much dimmer one over his bed on instead.
“What is it, Zeke? Are you in pain?” But one glance at him said that he was. No, not just pain but agony.
“Maria,” he mumbled, his voice full of horror. “Did she really die?”
Cassie froze solid. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t blink, couldn’t move.
“She… she was my wife, but… I think I remember her dying. In childbirth with Hadley, our baby girl. And the baby… Hadley died, too. Is that right? Tell me that’s not actually what happened.Please…” His voice broke on the last word, but he deserved to know the truth.
“I’m so sorry, Zeke, but yeah, that’s what happened.”
A howl of despair poured out of him that sounded more like a wounded animal than a human, and Cassie broke free of her paralysis to hold him in her arms. His pained cry caused thenurse on duty to running into his room, but Callie waved her off, even as sobs broke from Zeke like a tidal wave of sorrow.
Cassie sat with him, gently rocking him for the next hour until he literally cried himself back to sleep, the grief that had flowed out utterly exhausting him on every level. Since it was late afternoon and he’d been sleeping as long as twelve hours at a time, she collected her things and went to her hotel.
She’d shed a couple of tears just listening to him because it was impossible not to be affected by someone she cared about experiencing that degree of anguish. The loss of his wife and little girl had been so enormous, so significant to the rest of his life. To relive it now as if for the first time must’ve been awful.
Callie felt a little fearful of the impact it would have when she entered the hospital the subsequent morning. Ever since she’d known him, he’d been this silent pillar of stoicism, rarely if ever showing emotion. Would he clam up now? Not want her around? Would he act ashamed or embarrassed?
Would he reject her altogether and order her not to come back?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Amnesia was sucha bizarre condition to deal with. Zeke had come to with no concrete memories of who he was, what he’d done, or how he’d arrived at a hospital. The strangest part was being aware that the place he’d be brought towasa hospital, but having no idea how he knew that. For that first day, his brain had felt like scrambled eggs more than an essential organ used to access information.
He could tell the medical staff his favorite color but not the date. He could identify an ink pen but not his own name. It’d been the most discombobulating experience he’d ever had to cope with, and when he finally began to recall parts of his life, he felt relieved. Zeke had been so anxious to regain his identity.
That had turned out to be both a blessing and a curse. Not all those memories were happy or positive. Many, in fact, were unhappy. But the point was that they were his. Like filling in a piece of art that was paint by number, an overall portrait of who he was had begun to emerge, and just getting that far allowed him to feel some of the basic comfort he’d been seeking.