EACH TORMENTING BEAT OF TY’S heart struck his head like a sledge hammer. He closed his eyes against the pain and tried to concentrate on something else. Like the stunningly beautiful Emma, his supposed wife, whom he taught how to kiss. What else did I teach you?

He took a steadying breath but couldn’t stifle the groan any movement caused. An unexpected wave of nausea added to his distress.

She immediately sat beside him on the bed. “Do you need the pain drops Doc left?”

“No. Just give me a minute.”

She sat and waited.

Even in his debilitated state, he recognized the embarrassment she tried to hide as she recalled their relationship. Her answers were straightforward and sincere and she didn’t hesitate when he appeared to be in pain.

Is it possible she does love me? Do I…did I love her?

He opened his eyes and found her worriedly searching his face, the fatigue and concern more evident viewed this close. Because of me.

“I’m sorry.”

She blinked twice. “For what?”

“…Not remembering.”

She gave a one-shoulder shrug and looked away, but not before he saw the look of sadness pass over her features. “Not your fault.”

His head pounded, but he needed answers. “Maybe if you told me more about us, it would help me remember.”

She ducked her head and looked at him from the corner of her eye, chewing on her lower lip, a look so seductive it made his breath hitch and the pounding in his head kick up a notch.

He had an instant of…something…that vanished before he could put a name to it. A momentary flash, a memory perhaps? Had he seen her do that before?

The struggle to latch on to it compounded his headache to the point he feared he might lose the only thing on his stomach…the water and medicine he recently downed. He clamped his jaw shut, willing the nausea to go away, dismayed when it became evident it was too little, too late.

He rolled over and tossed the meager contents of his belly. Right into her lap.

She leaned forward and cradled his head, her voice compassionate and calm. “This too shall pass.”

He had no time to consider her composed reaction. His stomach convulsed again and again, the pain in his head so extreme he trembled like a frightened child. No wound he had ever suffered – that he could remember – compared.

The spasms finally subsided and she gently placed his head on the pillow. He heard the swish of material as she moved away. Too miserable to contemplate her actions, he assumed she wanted to get as far away from him as possible. He didn’t blame her.

He gritted his teeth as another wave of nausea loomed.

And then she returned, a cool rag brushing over his face, across his mouth, down his neck, each stroke soft and soothing. A delicate, flowery scent teased his nose.

“When you’re ready, we’ll try some water to rinse your mouth.”

He didn’t trust himself to speak and movement caused pain so he grunted and hoped she understood.

Apparently, she did because a moment later her hand slid behind his neck and gently lifted. “Just enough to rinse your mouth.”

The goblet touched his lips and he obeyed her instructions, swishing the cool liquid around in his mouth, then wondering what to do with it. Please don’t tell me to swallow this nasty tasting crap.

“Spit it back in the glass.”

He tried to, but mostly it dribbled down his chin and onto his chest. He didn’t care.

It shamed him to no end to disgrace himself in such a manner and she had to clean him up. If it bothered her at all, he couldn’t tell.

A moment later, her hand slid under his neck again. “The pain is obviously worse than you let on so you will take the pain drops Doc left. He said it tastes awful but will help you sleep and that’s the best thing for you right now.”

She leaned forward to help him and another wave of queasiness hit, but, thankfully, passed without incident.

“If it doesn’t stay down, we’ll just do it till it does.”

He dutifully opened his mouth and swallowed, praying the nasty shit would stay down the first time. She eased his head back on the pillow and he took a slow, deep breath willing his body to relax and the trembles to cease. He moaned when the cool rag touched his face again, amazed something so simple could be so comforting. He wanted to apologize for being helpless, for ruining her dress, but the words wouldn’t form, and his eyes refused to open so he slowly surrendered to the darkness enveloping him.

 

He dreamed his fingers threaded through strands of burnished silk soft as a cottony cloud. Something about it soothed him, kept the disjointed, lightning fast images that floated through his head from bringing back the pain. As long as he focused on the silk, the pain abated.

From a distance, a light sound intruded, causing the fantasy to drift away. No. The pain will come back.

He fought to keep it, but the dream slowly faded as he came awake and cautiously opened his eyes. A dull ache replaced the incessant throbbing but his mouth and lips were parched as the West Texas desert. He tried to moisten his lips with his tongue but he couldn’t produce any spit.

A soft snore drew his gaze to the side. The lamp burned low on the bedside table. She sat slumped over in the chair, upper body lying on the bed, his fingers entwined in the glossy curls laying over her shoulder.

How can anything feel this soft? He ran his fingers through her hair, suffered another of those miniscule, painful flashes, but this time, it was less than when he tried to remember. Because the silk takes away the pain.

She moved, and since his fingers were tangled in her hair, it pulled, startling her awake.

He didn’t have time to pretend sleep.

Voice groggy, she looked up. “Are you okay?”

“Thirsshty.” The lack of moisture made speaking difficult and even to him, his voice sounded gruff and slurred.

She disentangled his hand, turned up the lamp and filled a glass with water.

“It’s clean,” she said as she slipped her hand under his neck. “In case you are wondering.” She raised his head and tipped the glass. “Drink slowly. One sip at a time and swish it around your mouth before you swallow.”

He did as she asked and sluggishly downed the contents, heaving a sigh of relief when it didn’t immediately return. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He paused. “Sorry I woke you.”

She responded with a simple wave of her hand and a yawn.

He closed his eyes a moment to regain focus, then looked at her. “This isn’t the first time you slept in a chair.” The statement came out very matter-of-fact because he intuitively knew the answer.

“I wanted to be here in case you needed anything.” Her pale face, haggard with fatigue, nonetheless held strength of spirit and determination.

“You’re tired. Even I can see that.”

“I’m all right. How’s your pain? Do you need anything?”

He suddenly noted the difference in clothing, causing his cheeks to burn. “I ruined your dress.”

A tiny smiled softened her features. “It isn’t ruined, Ty. A little soap and water and its good as new.”

He liked the sound of his name on her lips. Soft and sweet, her voice flowed through his broken body like Doc’s healing tonic. Then another realization hit him. “This is your bedroom.”

“It’s – was – ours.” She looked down then up at him. “I know you don’t remember, but I do.”

She chewed her lower lip, and he found himself focusing on it. I taught her to kiss.

She clasped her hands in her lap. “Doc said it will take some time. We just have to be patient.”

She didn’t sound patient. She sounded exhausted. “I’m weak as a kitten. Help me move over.”

“Why?”

“You need some rest and you can’t get it sleeping in that chair.”

“I might hurt you.”

He hoped his attempt at a smile didn’t look like a grimace. “Em, a fly could hurt me right now.”

She gasped. “Y-you called me Em.”

“I’m sorry…does that bother you?”

The look of hope on her face hit him hard in the gut. Suddenly, he wanted to remember, wanted to be the man she loved.

“N-no. You call me that sometimes.”

“It wasn’t a conscious thing…calling you Em, I mean. It just happened.”

“I-I know. I’m not – I know.”

“Help me scoot over.” He pulled the covers back and saw he had nothing on underneath. He jerked them up again, face so hot, he thought his fever returned. “I’m sorry…I didn’t realize…”

She smiled and his heart thumped wildly, and the pain in his head kicked up a notch.

“We’re married, Ty.” She glanced at his waist, “I’ve seen it before.” She looked longingly at the bed, then back at him. “Are you sure I won’t bother you?”

“I’m sure. It’s my left side that’s hurt, you’ll be on the right.”

The simple task of scooting across the bed drained him of all energy and his head pounded. “Damn.”

She immediately checked his wounds. “Did something happen? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine. Just weak. Head hurts like a bitch.” He didn’t open his eyes as he murmured. “Sorry. I cussed again.”

“Well, hell.”

He heard the smile in her voice.

“No damn cussing allowed.”

Eyes closed against the pain, he attempted a grin. “Lay down, Em.”

“Fine, but first you need to take your pain medicine.” She reached for the bottle and spoon.

“No. If I get still it will ease up and I can go back to sleep. I don’t like how the medicine makes me feel.”

She covered her mouth as she yawned. “Okay. I’m too tired to argue.” She stood and headed toward the dressing screen in the corner and paused. “It will be dawn soon, no point in getting undressed now.” She turned down the lamp, sat on the edge of the bed and removed her shoes. “I’ll just rest for a bit.”

She lay with her back to him. “I’ll give you a shave tomorrow. I’m not liking this whole bearded look.” She yawned twice and quickly fell asleep, unaware of the calloused fingers entwined in the healing silk of her hair.