Will Be Yours Ch. 17

Remembering what he had told her about the website that morning, Luke opened his contact list again. The advantage of working as a business consultant was the number of useful connections he had made over the years. He planned to take Cynthia to Birmingham for a meeting with the web designer. He could picture the website in his mind's eye. It would be stunning, sexy, and very, very attractive, just like Cynthia.

After exchanging a few texts with the best designer they had worked with, Luke put the phone back in his pocket, leaving the sofa to head into the kitchen. At one glance, anybody could tell that no man lived in that house. Things were organised and well kept, and he noticed it all the more in the kitchen. Most of the furniture in the house, except the bed and the sofa, looked previously owned. She still had a small box TV on top of the cabinet, which reminded him of the TV they used to have at his childhood home. At one point, they only had two channels. But then his dad brought home a satellite dish that somebody was throwing away. And suddenly, instead of two channels, there were 200 channels. He could get tons of American music channels- early hip hop, music television, stuff like that. They were also one of the first families to get a microwave oven around the same time, and it made him feel like the richest kid on earth. When in reality, they weren't rich all. They just got lucky sometimes.

Cynthia's house was like his childhood home. There were few modern conveniences, unlike his apartment that had a modular kitchen. Her kitchen had a few wooden shelves and racks on the wall, rows of drawers below the counter, a modest gas stove that was rusting near the edges, an old oven, and a small fridge. He had noticed the magnets on the fridge while taking out the cheese. She obviously loved fridge magnets. There were floral shapes, pictures of kittens, along with famous quotes. He recognised one of the quotes and also realised why she had stuck it at a place where she'd see it all the time.

'The winds that sometimes take something we love, are the same that bring us something we learn to love. Therefore we must not cry about something that was taken from us, but yes, love what we have been given. Because what is really ours is never gone forever.'

Bob Marley. Luke smiled while staring at the words. There couldn't be truer words to express what he had been feeling ever since he met Cynthia. Life had taken away Diana, but it had given him Cynthia— a woman who was extraordinary in her ordinariness.

In so many ways, Cynthia reminded him of his simple, fun-filled childhood days. The three room house where they lived as kids was hardly enough for nine people, but that never bothered them. He loved the fields where he learned to ride horses, the football grounds where he played his very first games, the movie theatres where he and friends would sneak in to watch 'grown-up' films. He also loved the lake, where he learned to fish and to swim. But most of all, he loved their no-frills, ordinary living. Their dad's stories, their mom's cooking, the protectiveness of the older siblings towards the younger ones, the love and togetherness in all that they did... everything was still so dear to him. They were still as close and tight knit, but he sure missed those days.

Cynthia, and this town, took him back to those gentler, kinder times. He was sure he'd have healed much earlier if he had come here years ago.

He took out the chopping board and began to peel and cut the vegetables. He knew Cynthia's love for roast duck, although she never openly admitted it because it reminded her of her mother. He also knew she'd love this innovative roast duck recipe that Diana had taught him. It was Diana's own recipe. Before that, he'd had no idea that cheese could go with roast.

He thought of Cynthia again. It was 2 p.m. Luke wondered if she was still at the flower market. She had said she'd come straight home from there. The slow roast would take at least an hour, so he decided to wait for some more time before putting the duck in the oven. Meanwhile, he planned to set the table.

Leaving the vegetables on the chopping board, Luke came out into the dining area. In the far end of the room, her cycle caught his attention. He used to have a cycle when he was a boy. It was red and yellow in colour, and had been gifted by his dad on his 8^th birthday. He loved to ride it all over the neighbourhood and around town, and show off to his friends who weren't yet that lucky. He could buy another bicycle, and he and Cynthia could ride their bikes together through the town.

The scented candles were on the table, waiting to be fixed into the candle stand he had fetched from the cabinet in the living room. Clearing the fruit bowl, the salt and pepper tray, and the water bottles from the table, he put the candle stand in the centre and put in the two candles he had bought. He'd light them when she came home.

The washing machine pinged, and Luke headed in that direction to turn it off. Almost at the same time, he heard a car stopping in front of the house. Overjoyed that Cynthia was home so early, Luke rushed to the front door and opened it. He saw Scott running across the lawn up to him.

"You have to come with me," he said, looking worried.

"Where?" Luke asked, glancing inside the house. "I mean, Cynthia should be here in a little-"

"Luke." Scott grabbed his shoulders. "We have no time to waste. Come on."

Confused, Luke slowly turned and headed back inside the house, before grabbing his wallet and turning out the light.

"What's wrong?" he asked while locking the front door. Scott had reached his car by then and got behind the wheel. The heavy rain had turned to a very light drizzle, but the sky was still overcast. Luke got in next to Scott. Something did not seem right.

"Scott, will you tell me what happened?" he asked again, fastening his seat belt. "Where are we going?"

"You'll get to know in a while." Scott's reply was brusque, and he hardly looked anywhere except the road ahead. He drove through the heavy and slow traffic, occasionally cursing when he couldn't go faster, while Luke leaned back in the seat, unable to help the little worry growing inside him. When Scott's phone rang, he turned to look at him, trying to understand what was going on.

"Hi mom," he spoke down the line, without taking his eyes off the road. "Yes, you heard that right... I'm not sure. We're on our way. I've instructed the car to drop the boys at your place.... No, you don't have to come. Just feed the boys, it will be enough...."

Luke saw Scott pause and his face sadden for a moment. "Thanks, mom," he finally said, "I'll get in touch later."

"Scott," Luke said softly, visibly afraid now. "Is everything okay?"

Scott didn't reply. He slowed down, took a left turn, and halted as they approached a blue and white building. It looked like a hospital.

"Is the A&E department this way?" Scott asked one of the guards at the main gate. The guard nodded and Scott rounded the building, before stopping in front of a flight of staircase leading up to a glass door. There were nurses and other medical staff inside.

"What are we doing here?" Luke's anxiety was at its peak now. "What happened, Scott?"

Scott let go off the wheel and unfastened his seat belt.

"I got a call from the hospital sometime ago," he finally said. Then he lifted his face and looked him in the eye. "Cynthia has met with an accident."

---

Luke followed Scott inside the hospital, feeling too numb. He wasn't sure he was seeing or hearing anymore. His hands were cold, and his steps were unsteady as he walked behind Scott like an automaton. Scott's words still hadn't registered. Cynthia had made love to him that morning. They had showered and eaten breakfast together. She was supposed to return early and then they would enjoy a romantic dinner. No, there was some mistake there. It couldn't be Cynthia.

Somewhere along the corridor, they met a nurse, and Scott asked about Cynthia. The nurse nodded in comprehension, crushing the hope Luke had been holding on to. She took them through a number of passages, until they met a doctor.

"Hi Scott." The doctor sounded grave when he saw them approaching. He was tall, possibly middle-aged, with greying hair at the temples. He seemed to know Scott, but then, everybody in the town knew him.

"Dr Baker, I got a call from here about Cynthia," Scott asked at once. "What happened?"

"Yes. Cynthia." The doctor's reply was grim. "It was a terrible accident. The car probably skidded down the road, hit a tree, and upturned. The rescue team had to cut open the car to be able to reach her."

Luke didn't want to believe he was hearing that. He hoped it was just a nightmare he'd wake up from.

"Oh god." Scott tipped his back, his eyes closed. Then he looked at the doctor again. "Is she conscious?"

Dr Baker's lips were a straight line as he shook his head. "No, she hasn't shown any sign of consciousness as yet. We've kept her in the Critical Care Unit, under observation. She's got a broken leg, several open gashes—"

"Can I see her?" Luke was surprised to have managed to form a coherent sentence. The doctor looked at him for the first time, rejection on his face.

"No," he shook his head again. "We don't allow anybody in at this stage."

"Please." Luke's voice choked even as he fisted his hands by his sides to hold back some of the fast-diminishing control. "Just once... I want to... see her... please."

"He's Luke Harris." Scott told the doctor. "Her boyfriend."

Dr Baker's gaze softened and he nodded with a smile.

"Come with me," he said, and Luke followed him. The doctor led him through a door, and pointed to a small, glass window in the distance.

"We cannot allow you to go in," he said, "You can see her through the window." He gently patted him on the shoulder. "We know it can be shocking, but remember you have to be strong. Go ahead, I'm right here."

Luke gulped slowly, willing his legs to move. Suddenly everything was moving in slow motion. Luke walked closer to the glass window. Each of his steps seemed to last an eternity, each of his heartbeats making him tremble. The sound of his shoes filled in his ears. He leaned, taking his face near the glass window. And then he jumped back, covering his mouth with his hands, eyes wide in horror.

(To be continued)