This Reminds Me of Us Read online

  And what if she never remembers? What then?

  You’ll figure it out from there.

  But what if he didn’t? He rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow. When she saw the boys tomorrow, she’d remember. How could she not? Two humans she had birthed from her own body—there had to be some primal connection between a mother and her children, right?

  He was drifting into sleep when another errant thought woke him back up: she thought he might have cheated on her while she was in a coma? The old Serena would never have said such a thing. Was their marriage perfect? No. Nobody’s is. But it was solid. Oliver didn’t even lust in his heart after other women. Since the day he met her, Serena had been his be-all and end-all. He loved being a family man—a husband and father. His parents had been extraordinary role models. Their example hadn’t rubbed off quite as much on his younger brothers, but Oliver had exactly what he wanted inside the four walls of this house. Not once had he ever felt the need to look elsewhere.

  If he were more awake, he would have been able to fight off the next thought hurtling toward him. It wasn’t like him to go looking for trouble where none likely existed, but he was too utterly exhausted from the past four months to prevent the thought from crashing right into him.

  Had she cheated on him?

  Is that why the idea occurred to her? Granted, he wasn’t the most exciting guy in the world—a small-town firefighter who worked for his dad and wanted to send his kids to the same schools he’d gone to. But if it’s not broke, why fix it?

  But … Serena wasn’t from St. Caroline and, while she had loved it at first, maybe she was getting bored here.

  You’re letting your imagination run away with you.

  But was he? After all, Oliver wasn’t the most imaginative guy in the world—in addition to not being the world’s most exciting. He was steady, reliable, a good provider. He always did the things she liked in bed. Unless … no, he would have known if she was faking it.

  Oliver!

  Sheesh. He was yelling at himself. In his mother’s voice, no less.

  He reached over and pulled his laptop off the nightstand. He kept it there to give himself something to do besides stare at shadows on the ceiling when he couldn’t sleep. He flipped open the screen and began to scroll through the dozens of sites he had bookmarked over the past week, even though he knew he would find no new information on head injuries.

  Memory loss was a common aftereffect. It could go away on its own. Or not go away. No one at the hospital could say.

  Time will tell.

  He was so flipping tired of hearing that phrase. He had a life to live now, kids to raise now. He didn’t have the luxury of waiting for time to tell him anything.

  Stay hopeful. Things will work out.

  He shut the laptop and closed his eyes. In twelve hours, he was taking the boys to see her and they would be reunited as a family. Would things work out? Maybe tomorrow would tell.

  Chapter 7

  Serena was running through her mental list of all the things she needed to remember today when the door to her room vibrated with a series of scattered soft knocks like the pounding of tiny fists. Oliver was here. With the boys.

  Her boys.

  She took a deep breath. The door swung open slowly, then what happened next happened in a blur. Two human projectiles launched themselves onto the bed. Serena could almost swear their feet didn’t touch the floor on the way. She struggled to get her arms around them, worried that one or both might tumble off the narrow hospital bed and onto the floor.

  “Guys! Guys!” Oliver was shouting. “Careful!”

  There were arms around her neck and cheeks pressed up against her own. Dark hair and the scent of soap tickled her nose. She couldn’t tell who was who.

  Then her father-in-law, Tim, peeled one of the boys off her chest—Mason, she saw—and set him gently on his feet on the floor. Tim leaned in to plant a kiss on the top of her head.

  “Welcome back,” he said.

  Cam tightened his grip on her neck.

  “Are you okay?” Oliver mouthed.

  She nodded and tugged Cam loose. “Hey there.” She ran a hand through his dark curls and the look of sheer unconditional love on his face took her breath away. His blue eyes brimmed with tears, his love for her about to overwhelm his emotions. She pulled his head back down to her neck. Over Cam’s shoulder, she saw his brother standing patiently next to the bed, waiting his turn.

  Her heart broke at the thought of these two boys—children—waiting for months to see their mother. And already she could see the differences between the two. Cam with his emotions right on the surface, clung to her like his life depended on it. Mason, on the other hand, had Oliver’s dark, inscrutable eyes. He had rushed the bed with his brother, but now he seemed to have regained his composure. He watched her closely, almost as if he wasn’t sure she really was his mother. She gave him a smile, but his expression remained unchanged.

  With her free hand, she patted the mattress. “Sit up here, sweetie.”

  Oliver lifted Mason up so he was perched stiffly on the edge of the bed.

  “You’ve both grown so much,” she said.

  Her words seemed to relax Cam and he released his death grip on her neck. She knew about Cam’s recent growth spurt but what about Mason? Had he grown in the past four months? At their age, it seemed likely. Right? But she watched as a thin film of skepticism shaded Mason’s expression. Maybe not.

  “I’m in kindergarten now,” Cam announced.

  “I know you are.” She smoothed a dark curl from his forehead. “You’re a big kid now. And you’ll have to tell me all about it.” She glanced at Mason. “And I want to hear all about second grade, too.” She remembered that his favorite subjects were “recess and gym.” “How’s recess this year?”

  Mason frowned. “Every day is a giant four-square tournament. I don’t like it.”

  “Why not?” She reached over and folded her hand around his.

  “The girls are better at four-square,” Cam answered the question for his brother.

  “Oh.” She kept her gaze on Mason. “Well, I’m a girl. Maybe I can give you some pointers when I get home. Okay?”

  Mason gave a grudging shrug of the shoulders.

  “Are you coming home today?” Cam continued.

  She switched her gaze to Cam’s hopeful face. He was like an open book, his thoughts translated without hesitation into words. He takes after me. Mason on the other hand clearly was more like Oliver, a man who kept his own counsel and played his emotions close to the vest. She and Ollie were the classic “opposites attract” couple.

  “No, sweetie, I can’t come home today.” His face fell. “The doctor wants to make sure I’m strong enough to take care of you two.”

  “Uncle Matt’s been helping to take care of us,” Mason said.

  “And Aunt Becca!” Cam’s voice was suddenly excited, and Serena felt a twinge of jealousy.

  And who exactly was Aunt Becca? Neither of Oliver’s brothers were married. Were they? She shot a help me out here look towards Oliver. But his back was turned as he spoke quietly to a nurse who had entered the room. She wracked her brain, trying to come up with a person in St. Caroline named Becca. Rebekah Trevor? Dr. Trevor’s adopted daughter? But no way she and Matt were married. If someone had gotten Matt Wolfe to settle down, she’d definitely remember that.

  “And Jackie’s coming for Christmas!” Cam added.

  “Jackie …?”

  There was a puzzled frown on Cam’s face. “Jackie. You know. Uncle Jack and Aunt Becca’s daughter. Our cousin.” The note of pride in his voice was unmistakable.

  A wave of disorientation started to lap at her feet. Jack was married? And for long enough to have a child? She and Oliver had spent the bulk of their study sessions preparing her for the boys. They’d spent less time on other family members because she remembered them. Or thought she did, anyway.

  She glanced helplessly over at Ol
iver, who was still deep in conversation with the nurse, when Tim Wolfe rescued her.

  “Who’s ready for some turkey?” he boomed, reaching out to lift Cam off the bed. “Guys, why don’t we go down to the cafeteria and find a table while daddy helps mommy get ready?”

  After Tim and the boys left, the nurse returned with a wheelchair. Serena swung her legs over the edge of the bed, then walked cautiously and deliberately toward it. Her stamina was improving, but slowly. Oliver steadied her as she sat down.

  Can we leave the wheelchair outside the cafeteria?” she asked. “I don’t want the boys to see me in it. I think I can walk that far.”

  “Understood.”

  She felt him release the brake with his foot as the nurse held open the door. The hallway outside was bright and busy, as usual. Nurses and orderlies scurried back and forth. The elevators at the end of the hall opened and closed, disgorging visitors.

  She wanted to leave the hospital. Every day since she’d awakened, her homesickness became more acute. She struggled not to indulge it, since the two-bedroom apartment she was homesick for was apparently not her home anymore. But anyplace would be homier than a hospital.

  Oliver pushed the wheelchair onto an empty elevator. When the doors opened three floors down, she could push herself up and out of the wheelchair and make a run for it. She longed to be outside—she hadn’t been outside in months—feel the warmth of the sun on her face, or the coolness of a breeze skim her arms.

  But when the doors opened, she didn’t make a run for it. She knew that the odds of her making it all the way outside without falling were low. And then she’d be stuck here even longer. Tomorrow, she was scheduled to be moved to the rehabilitation wing, to transition her to home.

  Oliver pushed the wheelchair off the elevator and the aroma of food hit her nose immediately.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked as he wheeled her down the hall.

  “I’m too nervous to be hungry.”

  “You’re doing fine.”

  The question hung, unasked, in the air. She answered it anyway.

  “I’ll remember them, Ollie. It’ll happen. I know it.” I love kids. She always had. She’d even nannied for a family in Switzerland the summer between her freshman and sophomore years of college, much to her parents’ chagrin. Her father had lined up an internship for her at a bank in Brussels, but by then she was certain she had no interest in banking.

  “So you didn’t … when you saw them …”

  “It’ll happen,” she repeated, with more conviction this time. She was their mother—at some point, the memories would come flooding back. How could they not? And I adore kids. Of that, she was certain.

  “What if you don’t?”

  He slowed the wheelchair to a spot next to the wall outside the cafeteria, engaged the brake. She took his outstretched hand and pulled herself up to standing. She lifted her eyes from the plaid flannel of his shirt to his face.

  “Then we go from there. I’ll get to know them all over again. I mean, what choice do we have?”

  She saw his head start to shake, but then he caught himself. His head dipped forward and caught her lips in a kiss. He murmured words into her mouth.

  “We’ll fake it until we make it.”

  Another thing she was certain of—“fake it until you make it” was the most un-Oliver Wolfe sentiment she could imagine.

  The hospital’s cafeteria was surprisingly crowded and it took Oliver a moment to spot his father and the boys.

  “They’re over there, about halfway across.” Serena pointed.

  She leaned on him as they threaded their way slowly through the cafeteria tables, dodging people carrying trays laden with slices of turkey, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce. It didn’t take long before Serena’s breathing grew labored, punctuated by sharp intakes of breath. He slowed to a stop.

  “Do you need to rest?”

  She took several deep inhales. “No. I’m good.”

  “I can go get the wheelchair.”

  “No.” Her words were more forceful this time. “I don’t want them to see me that way.”

  They moved forward again, even slower this time. He was thankful that she was moving to the rehabilitation wing the next day. A more intensive physical therapy regimen was waiting for her there. The doctor was hopeful that she’d be ready to go home in a couple of weeks—in plenty of time for Christmas.

  Fingers crossed. Oliver wasn’t sure he could pull off Christmas on his own. Definitely didn’t want to do Christmas without her.

  He looked across the sea of tables. His father and the boys were waiting patiently for them. That’s when it hit him. This was their first Thanksgiving without his mother. The first of many holidays without her. He thought back to a year ago, when she was newly diagnosed and they were all so irrationally optimistic. His breath caught in his throat at the memory of their hopeful innocence. They told themselves that she would beat the odds. They would get through this, together. Life would go back to normal.

  It didn’t work out that way.

  This is your new normal.

  The toe of his boot bumped the heel of Serena’s slip-on shoe and they both stumbled. He caught her, his hand holding tight to her waist.

  “I’m okay,” she said.

  “I’m sorry. I got distracted there for a moment.”

  “Your mom,” she said quietly. “I thought it, too, as soon as we walked in here.”

  “Yeah.”

  She wrapped her arm around his lower back and pulled herself into him.

  “I’m sure she’s watching over all of you.”

  That would be nice. We could all use the help. But he left those words unspoken. He’d been holding up well these past months, as far as the boys were concerned. He did his best not to let them see how worried he was. When he got too close to the edge, he called someone to come stay with the boys and then drove out into the countryside or took the boat out alone until he felt centered again. He had to be strong enough for all three of them—and when he couldn’t be, he had to fake it until the moment passed.

  He was relieved when they reached the table with no further incident. “I’m going to carry you back,” he whispered into her ear as he helped her into the chair next to Cam.

  The table was small and square. His father had commandeered a fifth chair from an adjacent table. Three half empty water glasses sat in wet rings on the tabletop.

  Oliver remained standing. “Grandpa and I will go get the food, okay?” He locked eyes with Serena for a split second. If she was nervous about being left alone with the boys, she didn’t show it.

  It took two trips to bring back plates for all five of them, heavy on the mashed potatoes for Mason, no gravy for Cam. Cam chattered away nonstop about school and television shows, and for once Oliver allowed it. The point of the day was for them to be together, as a family. Going with the flow was not really Oliver’s style, but he knew he had to endure it today.

  “Uncle Mattie said there’s going to be live fire training soon,” Mason piped up when his brother slowed for air.

  “Week after next,” Tim confirmed.

  “Can I come watch?”

  “Bud, that won’t be safe,” Oliver said.

  “I promise I won’t be underfoot.”

  “It’s against the rules, Mason,” Tim said.

  “But you’re the chief, Paps. You make up the rules.”

  “And it’s against my rules. It would be against any fire department’s rules.”

  Mason’s lower lip jutted out into a pout. Mason was already showing signs of following his grandfather, father, and uncles into firefighting. Oddly enough, Oliver understood his mother’s desire for Jack, his youngest brother, not to go into the “family business.” As much as he loved being a firefighter, the thought of his kids doing it filled him with abject terror.

  You don’t know true fear until you have kids.

  His mother had said those words to him the day Mason was born. You were rig
ht, mom. Racing into a burning building was nothing compared to the thought of Mason driving someday, falling and breaking an arm, getting his heart broken for the first time … all the things parents can’t protect their kids from.

  “Can Aunt Becca watch us?” Cam asked.

  “We’ll see,” Oliver answered, then turned to his dad. “You want me there, too?”

  “I need you back at the station soon.”

  Oliver shot a quick glance at Serena.

  “You don’t need to come here everyday,” she said. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been doing if you haven’t been going in to the station.”

  “He painted our room,” Cam said.

  “He painted everything,” Mason muttered before putting another forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

  Serena reached over to touch his arm. “You don’t need to be here every single day,” she reiterated. “I’m going to be exhausted from all the physical therapy anyway.”

  “I won’t send you out on calls until Serena comes home,” Tim added. “But I need an extra set of hands around the station.”

  “I know you do. I know we’re short-staffed.”

  Oliver also knew that if Serena hadn’t pulled through, he would have had to leave the fire department entirely and find a safer career—for the sake of his sons.

  Tim Wolfe pushed back his chair and patted his belly. “Who has room for pie?”

  The boys’ arms shot into the air.

  “Alright then, you two can help me carry these trays over to the conveyor belt. Then we’ll go check out the pie selections.”

  Oliver started to stand up, intent on helping, but Serena tugged him back down. “They’ll be fine. Kids that age like being helpers, having some responsibility.”

  “They’ve had plenty of responsibility recently. Although Mason still bristles at having to put away his laundry.”

  There was a long moment of silence before Serena spoke. “Are you saying I used to spoil them?”

  “All three of us were spoiled.”

  Oliver wasn’t a man who didn’t understand—let alone appreciate—all that his wife did for the household. On the contrary, he now felt a little guilty that—knowing firsthand what she did—he hadn’t pitched in more at home. But Serena always seemed to like being a stay-at-home mom. She never had much good to say of her job on Capitol Hill. And the job she had in St. Caroline? No way she missed that. Then she got pregnant with Mason on their honeymoon, and they were both thrust quickly into parenthood.