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After a brisk squeeze, the doctor released her and turned to Alan. “She’s going to be fine. Better than ever. Let’s go. I’ll tell the nurses you’re ready, Cate.”
They left, and Cate felt painfully alone. What kind of woman would be better than ever because she hugged her doctor? A frightened one who wasn’t sure people would return her affection? Cate shook her head and chose not to be frightened anymore.
STRIDING BESIDE Dr. Barton, Alan glanced back at Cate’s door. Her concern for Dan made him feel even guiltier about their fiscal jam. He had to fix it before she found out anything was wrong. He’d made his decision to help her, not to hurt her. He hoped he wasn’t kidding himself when he tried to believe she’d forgive him.
“Alan, slow down. You don’t have to worry about Cate.” Dr. Barton hurried, the sound of his footsteps ricocheting off the pale-blue walls.
Alan’s heart thudded in time, but he shortened his stride. “You don’t understand.”
“I do. She’s not the wife you knew, but she’s charming, and she wants her life back. She’ll benefit by returning to her old habits.”
Barton had to be right, and yet…“Is she more likely to remember at home?”
“Seeing the places and people she loved may stimulate her memory, but I can’t promise you. Just take good care of her. If she seems down or upset, and you don’t know what to do for her, persuade her to call me.”
Alan nodded. “As long as she tells me how she feels.”
“You’ll know. She isn’t a complete stranger. The Cate we know is still inside her. Are you afraid you can’t wait for her?”
What if he didn’t know the real Cate? Maybe she’d never told him how she truly felt. How much had they hidden from each other? Alan lifted his eyebrows. “I’ll wait.” What else could he do? Except patience had never been his strong suit. “Cate’s my wife.”
Dr. Barton’s thin smile implied he shared Cate’s opinion of that statement. What did they expect? He wanted the Cate he’d married. Did that mean he wasn’t a good man?
A good man’s wife would have told him about their unborn twins. She would have trusted him enough to share news that must have shocked her.
The day of the accident Cate had been angry enough, disappointed enough—maybe even hurt enough to believe he had no right to know about his own children. Why hadn’t he realized then how far apart they’d grown?
“Alan, I wonder if I should let you leave without talking to someone. You wouldn’t be normal if you weren’t unsettled about your future with Cate.”
“We have to make a future. Can a stranger tell me how to do that?”
Big talk from the little man who’d been the last to know.
Alan punched the elevator button. His lie about the business was no foundation for a new life. But he cared for his family, and he’d provide for his wife.
Bracing himself to start a future he only half trusted, Alan shook the other man’s hand. “I’m grateful for the care you’ve given Cate.”
“My pleasure. I’ll say goodbye here because I’m in the middle of rounds, but remember what I told you.”
“I will. I’m sorry if I’ve been abrupt.”
“You have a right.” The doctor pulled his pen out of his pocket. “You know my phone number, Alan?”
He frowned. “I can find it. Why?”
“If you need to talk, call me. Don’t fume about your problems alone. Dan and Imogen and Ford depend on you as much as Cate does.”
Barton’s grasp of his weakness made him smile. “Good advice. I’ll remember.”
The elevator doors jittered open, and he stepped inside. He avoided looking at Dr. Barton as he pushed the lobby button. The elevator jerked once before it began to descend.
The doctor might be right. He wasn’t himself, but his resolve built with every inch of space he put between himself and Cate’s room. Never, in all their marriage, had she leaned on him easily. She’d always held parts of herself back as if she had to force herself to share. Now, with their past and her memories beyond her reach, even she needed him. If she leaned on him, he’d support her.
He stepped off the elevator in the lobby to find Dan sprawled in a big chair. “I thought you wanted to wait in the car,” Alan said. “Why didn’t you come up?”
Faint color dusted Dan’s fuzz-covered, youthful cheeks. He shrugged with his mother’s reserve. “I thought you’d want some privacy. Besides you had to come through here sooner or later. Where’s Mom?”
“Waiting for a wheelchair. Why don’t we get the car?”
Dan tossed him the keys.
Alan caught them. “You can drive if you want, son.”
“I always make Mom nervous.”
“You’re a sensitive guy.” Alan garnered a sheepish grin from his son. Side by side, they pushed through the glass doors into light, warm rain and a rumble of dying thunder. “Where did you park the car?”
“This way,” Dan said and started toward the parking lot.
As he followed, Alan resisted an urge to tell his loose-limbed son not to slouch. He’d parked Cate’s SUV in a spot not too far from the entrance. They got in and Alan started the engine.
He parked beneath the canopy at the hospital entrance. A nurse pushed Cate through the doors in a wheelchair. His wife’s stiff posture suggested she remained a woman who accepted assistance only under duress.
“Boy, she’s pissed about the wheelchair,” Dan said.
“Have you ever said the word pissed to Mom or me before?” Alan opened his door. “Don’t say it around her.”
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