him the low-down on his small procedure.
Most importantly, throughout it all, he had remained stable and his observations had been normal. He was ready now. Anxious to leave the hospital walls and get home. Desperate to get back and see if being there would spark anything.
No memories had yet returned, despite Em’s frequent visits with accompanying photos and videos of their wedding and the opening of the Monterey. She’d been so keen to show him what they had done. What they had enjoyed. But it had been like looking at photos of a stranger, even though he was in them. It had left him feeling disconcerted. As if he was in a strange bubble.
The waiting to leave hospital was more than a little infuriating, and over the last few days he’d found himself snapping at various people. The psychology team had reassured him and Emily that this was normal, as he adjusted to his new self and situation, and offered to assess him every month, for as long as he felt the need to talk about it. Mood swings, apparently, were to be expected.
He wasn’t sure he did want to talk about it. Not to them, anyway. They’d already cottoned on to the fact that he didn’t seem delighted at the idea of becoming a father, and he’d grown to hate his sessions with them, knowing that they would return to the questions he dreaded. He’d even tried sharing his frustration with Emily, but it seemed as if she didn’t know anything about Serena.
Was that possible? That they’d been married for eighteen months and he hadn’t told her? That had kept him silent on all fronts and contributed to his anger.
So he was particularly pleased that today the doctors had finally decided that he could return home—with the understanding that he wasn’t to work for a further three months.
‘But I can go in and look around? Get familiar with what’s going on?’ he’d asked.
‘Sure. But no working. You won’t be covered insurance-wise.’
And with that dire warning they’d left his bedside.
And now Emily was at his side in the car, driving them home.
She seemed really nervous. Edgy. Fidgety. But he put that down to the fact that for the last few weeks the hospital staff had been around to look after him and make sure he was recovering properly. Now that safety barrier would be gone and it would just be down to the two of them.
Well...nearly three of them.
Sam swallowed and tried not to think of the baby. Emily was nearly eleven weeks now, and apparently she was booked in for a scan in a few days. He would have to go with her. Act the dutiful husband and hold her hand if she’d let him—he’d noticed a curious reluctance and hesitation on Emily’s part to be physical with him—whilst they squeezed on that cold blue gel and then smile inanely at the images on screen.
He so wanted to be happy about this. And a part of him was. But whenever he thought about them having a baby he pictured his baby sister Serena and what had happened to her when he’d been left in charge...
A car horn sounded, pulling him back to reality, and he flinched, looking across at his wife driving the car.
‘Aren’t you scared?’
‘Of what?’
He wanted to know if she was afraid of becoming a parent. It had to be a big deal for anyone, right? But something stopped him from asking that particular question.
‘Driving. After the accident...’
She shook her head, her honey-blonde hair shifting around her shoulders like velvet. ‘I was. Not now. But I’m being very careful. We can’t just stop doing things because they make us afraid.’
Depends what worries you.
He smiled and glanced out at the streams of traffic. He knew this road. Knew this area. But he had no idea where they were headed except for the fact that Emily was taking them home.
Home. Would he recognise it? Would it spark a memory? Something—even if it was a little blurry? The doctors at the hospital had told them both that the memories might return, and that they might either come all at once or he’d experience the odd one or two at strange moments, in totally unexpected ways.
Brains were mysterious creatures.
Pulling off the freeway, Emily took a slip road and drove for a few more miles through beautiful streets lined with lush green trees and neat sidewalks. He saw a young woman walking a poodle that had been groomed to within an inch of its life, trotting along like a dressage horse. He saw beautiful properties, secure within their walls and at the end of long driveways, as they drove on beneath the heat of the sun in their dark saloon car, and then suddenly they were slowing and turning into a driveway.
He looked up.
A majestic house sat before him. Perfectly white, it glimmered in the midday heat against the glorious blue sky backdrop. It looked palatial. Like something fit for a film star or a minor member of royalty.
This is ours?
He tried to picture himself wanting to buy this and could see its perks. It was prestigious, and screamed quality, with tall oak front doors and what seemed like hundreds of windows flashing reflections of the sun into his eyes as they approached up the long, smooth driveway. It was very different from his childhood home.
As they neared, he saw grey clothed staff come near the car and open their car doors.
‘Welcome back, Mr Saint! So good to see you up and about.’
He smiled at faces he didn’t know and stepped out, looking around him. Emily appeared to be much more comfortable with her surroundings than he did, and she quickly indicated to the staff to take their bags from the trunk.
The bags were quickly hurried inside as Sam looked about him at the gardens, which were lush with green leafy trees and all-white flowers and blooms. ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘You picked it. Don’t you remember?’
He heard the trepidation in her voice. The hope that he would remember. He hated disappointing her. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t.’
He needed control of his life back. Something he hadn’t had whilst he’d been stuck in a hospital bed as a passive observer.
‘Let’s go in. All your things are inside—there might be something...’
Something about the way her voice sounded made him look at her in question. Was it just the amnesia that was making him feel...? I’m in the dark...
It was a weird sensation, but the doctors had told him he would feel like this. That he was not to ponder on it, or worry about it, that it was normal. It was probably just him being over-sensitive right now.
Shrugging it off, he took her hand and clasped it tightly, kissing the back of it. Then he smiled at her and nodded. ‘Let’s do it.’
And they walked inside.
Sam had imagined that this would be a moment. A moment when a flood of memories would assail him. He would spot something—a chair, a table, a painting or piece of art, perhaps—that would ignite a memory that had lain dormant and hidden behind the wall.
But, looking around him, he felt—and remembered—nothing. He tried not to be too disappointed. But it was hard. He’d told himself in the hospital that when he got home he would remember. That walking through the door into familiar surroundings would give his brain the nudge it needed to start releasing the information he craved.
The fact that his brain was failing him—that his memories were refusing to leap to the surface of his mind—frustrated him. He was a man who had always been perfectly in control of everything, and the fact that he couldn’t even force his own brain to do something made him feel angry inside.
Emily let go of his hand and stepped away from him to lay her bag and keys down on a table. ‘Anything?’
Gritting his teeth, he shook his head, trying not to be angry with himself.