Will Be Yours Ch. 21

The quietness of the house was broken by the melody of a cello coming from the living room. Luke poked his head out of the bathroom, his face full of shaving cream and the razor in his hands. He had just put down the phone a couple of minutes ago. He wondered who it was again so early in the morning. Was it the hospital?

The thought made him drop the razor in the basin and grab a towel. He rushed to the centre table in the living room and picked up his phone, feeling relieved only when he saw Megan's number flashing on the screen. He dropped himself on the sofa and pressed the call button.

"Hi Meg." For the first time in so many days, his smile was genuine.

"Paul just told me Cynthia's awake!" she exclaimed. He had been on the phone with his best friend just five minutes ago.

"That's right," he said, wiping the foam from his face. Since she awakened, he had been sleeping at night on the spare bed the hospital had arranged for him in Cynthia's room. He had shopped for some clothes since he was going to stay there for a while, and on his way home that morning, he had also bought a shaving kit from a departmental store. He'd also had a big breakfast at Scott's house half-an-hour ago.

"Since when?" his sister screeched ecstatically.

"Two days. She's recognised all of us. She is responding to touch, to commands like 'raise your hand', and is mumbling feebly to questions." Luke dropped his head back, recalling the last two days. The day she woke up, he held his breath while Cynthia's confused gaze travelled across each of the people in the room. She said nothing, but when her eyes stopped on him longer than they should have, he did fear for a moment that she wouldn't recognise him. And then she'd tried to lift her hand, without taking her eyes off him. When Luke was by her side, she'd held his hand and drifted off to sleep. The next morning, she had spoken for the first time, calling out each of their names in a voice Luke barely recognised as hers.

As the day progressed, she'd been able to follow simple commands, and reply to questions with a shake of her head or broken words. At other times, she remained sedated, to keep the pain away, and help her rest.

"Oh god." When Megan sighed, he could sense the relief in her voice. She and Paul had been in constant touch with him, comforting him, giving him strength. When he cried, Megan distracted him and made him hope for the best again. When he felt frustrated, Paul gently reminded him that he needed to be strong for Cynthia.

His Cyn. The angel in his life.

People had trouped in to see her once word spread that she was awake. They mostly found her asleep, and only the lucky ones saw her eyes open or her lips moving. She obviously had a lot to say, but words didn't come easy to her. The best she could do at the moment was utter their names, whether it was Scott, or Becky, or her mom. And whenever she uttered his name, he felt all his sorrow, all his grief move aside to give way to the overwhelming sense of love he had for her.

"Is she off the feeding tube?" she asked. Luke wiped a bit of foam from the edge of his mouth with his thumb and rubbed it on his pants.

"Not yet," he replied. "They intend to, in a few more days."

"Is Dave still there?"

"Yes. Even if he does leave on work, he returns in a short time. Once she is more aware, more stable, they need to check what the damages have been."

"Has she spoken to you yet?"

"They have only been incoherent murmurs so far. She wants to say a lot, I understand that. But I'm ready to wait. There's no hurry." He smiled at the memory of Cynthia holding his hand, like she'd never let him go. "I can't explain how much I love her," he said softly.

"You don't have to," his sister smiled down the line. "You wouldn't have done so much for her if there wasn't selfless, unconditional love involved. And I'm sure there has been no major damage. She'll just be weak and incapable of day to day things for a few weeks, but she's going to be okay after that."

"You speak like you have a lot of experience with this."

"I don't. I just know. When do you think we should come to see her?"

"You have three kids, Meg." Luke pointed out. "I don't want you to leave them and come down here."

"It's an hour's flight," she said. "And I can at least send Paul to visit you, even if I can't make it. We also have to plan the party."

Luke frowned. "What party?"

"I'd told you we'd celebrate once she woke up."

Despite himself, Luke laughed. That was possibly the first time he truly laughed in more than three weeks.

"What?" Megan feigned innocence. "Did I say something funny?"

"No." Luke checked the time and rose from the sofa. "I'll call you later, Meg. I should return to the hospital now."

"No problem. I'll text you. Give Cynthia our love."

"I will. Bye, Meg."

Luke finished the rest of his shaving, and dressed quickly. The house did feel empty without Cynthia, but he had got quite used to it in the last few weeks. The boundaries still existed, though. He mostly restricted himself to the living room and the front porch of the house; whenever he needed to doze, he used the sofa, and the kitchen was hardly ever needed. He didn't know much about flowers or how to care for them, but whenever he returned to the house during the day, he sprinkled water on the potted plants on the windows and on the porch. The plants on the lawn got too much of water anyway, with the sudden rainfall every now and then. Cynthia loved her house a lot. It was her most important possession. She loved her shop too, but since she had taken over somebody else's business, she shied away from giving herself full credit. Her little house was the closest to her heart. Even without being told, he knew the amount of love she had poured into the place.

It was drizzling when Luke reached the hospital. On his way, he had stopped at Cynthia's flower shop and bought a bunch of daisies. Leah insisted he didn't have to pay but he still did. Cynthia wasn't yet in a condition to appreciate flowers or other kind gestures people had been showing her. But he still wanted to take flowers for her, so that she'd remain surrounded by things that made her happy.

"Good morning." The nurse greeted him when he entered the room. The place was bright and well-ventilated, unlike the ICU which felt like a concentration camp to Luke. He returned the greeting and looked for a place to put in the flowers.

"I was about to give you a call," she said to him, while noting things in the chart. "She's been calling out your name every now and then."

"Did she say anything?" he asked, moving closer to the bed. Cynthia's eyes were closed and she was breathing steadily.

"No." She finished her writing and looked up. "She might tell you."

Luke kept the bunch of flowers on the small table beside the bed, supporting it on the wall. The nurse smiled.

"I'll get a glass for that." With a nod, she turned and exited the room.

Luke sat on the edge of the bed, cherishing the look on Cynthia's face. She was still in pain very obviously, but she was also healing well. In the last two days, she had begun to look like her normal self- calm, peaceful. Heavenly.

"L-Luke...?" Her mouth parted and the faint word left her lips. Luke held her hand, smiling.

"Yes, baby," he responded. "I'm right here."

She didn't open her eyes. Only her lips moved very slightly as she tried to talk.

"I'm sorry." The words were slurry and barely audible, and Luke had to take his face close to her mouth to be able to hear her.

"What are you sorry for?" he gently asked. Cynthia swallowed slowly and he felt her breathing become rapid for a few seconds. Then she calmed down, and opened her mouth again.

"Sam..." The laboured words made Luke's stomach churn, while also relieving him at the same time. Her memory was perfect. She had forgotten nothing.

"He was here..." her voice came again, and the hand Luke held in his palm felt different for a little while. He looked at the patient monitor to find her heartbeats increasing.

"It's okay. Don't talk anymore. Please." Luke tried to soothe her and send her back to sleep. "You need rest."

He wasn't sure if she heard him, but she said nothing more. Unnoticed by him, her fingers had wrapped around his hand. Luke smiled at the sight, his eyes slowly travelling to the patient monitor again. Her heartbeats had returned to normal, her breathing was softer. Luke was about to leave the bed, thinking she had fallen asleep, when she spoke again.

"Luke?"

He leaned closer again, still holding her hand. "Yes, love?"

"Will you take me..." she croaked, her voice breaking off at places.

"Take you where?" he gently encouraged her.

"To Diana's grave?"

For a few seconds, Luke fumbled for a reply. Even in those moments, when she had evaded death by a whisker, she'd not forgotten about Diana or her rightful place in his life. The tears spilled over from his eyes and landed on the white sheet of the bed, as he looked away for a while, trying in vain to remain steady.

"Luke..." her feeble voice sounded again, and he inhaled deeply, sniffing back the sobs.

"I will," he croaked, nodding vehemently even though she couldn't see it, "I will take you anywhere you want me to. But first, you have to get well soon."

She fell asleep soon after, appearing serene and content. Luke wiped his tears off and brought her hand up to his lips, kissing it. He wished he could take her in his arms and hold her like there was no tomorrow. But he needed to wait. As of now, he was content watching her, finding solace in the knowledge that her pain would soon begin to subside. She was responding well to treatment. At night, he'd stay awake for a long time, staring at her from his small bed. He loved to notice her normal breathing pattern, something that didn't happen during her unconsciousness. Although the nurses were on duty, he'd still remain alert through the night, watching out for any movement, any sound. Cynthia often moaned softly in her sleep, and though initially he'd just leap out of bed and hold her hand, after Dave explained that it was normal, he had learned to be more in control of his anxiety.

Luke gently pulled his hand away from her hold, and rose from the bed. Along with the normal IVs, she was now also being given analgesic injections and sedatives, that kept her either asleep or drowsy. The first day, when Dave had asked her if she felt pain, she'd faintly nodded, and a tear had rolled down her temple. Luke's heart ached when he thought of that moment. She needed the sedatives, or the pain would kill her.

He found Cynthia's mom outside on the bench when he opened the door. She was talking to somebody over the phone. When she saw him exiting, she hung up and stood from the bench.

"Good morning," Luke smiled.

"Good morning," she returned his greeting with a smile. "Is she okay?"

"More or less. Why are you here? You could come in."

"I saw you with her. I didn't want to intrude in your privacy."

"You still haven't got used to being here, have you?" he crossed his arms and smiled. Bethany had noticed from the first moment that Cynthia didn't need her. She had so many people to take care of her and help and support her through her recovery. The doctors still had difficulty getting used to the fact that she had a mother, and preferred to talk to Scott or Luke. All that made Bethany feel like an outsider.

"Everybody loves her so much," she said sadly. Then she sat down on the bench again. "The whole town worries about her, prays for her, cares about her. And what have I done for her?"

She looked at his face and smiled wistfully. "I evicted her from the house, without wondering where she'd go. How long did it take me to realise my mistake? Three-and-a-half years."

Looking away, she wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. She leaned back in the bench, heaving a deep sigh.

"I'm the cruellest mother in the whole universe."

"You cannot turn back time," Luke said, sitting on the other end of the bench. "You cannot undo what you did to her. But you can start afresh. Just like Cynthia has. She's moved on so beautifully, without letting her past surface back. The town doesn't love her for nothing. There are very few people here whose lives she hasn't touched in some way."

"I can see that. I don't know if I even have the right, but I feel so proud of her."

"You should," Luke smiled. "She is an amazing woman. And it has a lot to do with her upbringing."

Bethany shook her head. "I used to think I've done a great job with my girls," she said. "But I ruined it all with one reckless action."

"At least you realise that you made a mistake." He looked up at the nurse as she returned to the room, carrying a glass in her hand. When the door shut, he looked at Bethany. "Move on, please. It's never too late to make a new beginning."

Bethany looked at him, smiling gratefully. "What you're doing for her speaks a lot about your upbringing as well," she said. "Your parents are lucky to have a son like you."

Luke waited for the nurse to pass before letting out a soft sigh. "So consider this a son's request to a mother," he said, angling himself towards her. "Please let go of the past. Cynthia has a new, different life. A life she created from scratch. Please don't keep dragging her back to what was."

Bethany nodded with a smile. "I won't," she said, her voice choking. "I want her back. I want us to erase the last few years and bond again. But will she ever be able to forgive me?"

"She doesn't blame you for anything. She's still a little sensitive about her past, but she has nothing against you."

Luke turned his face to look at the door of Cynthia's room. She wouldn't wake up in a while, but he would still be around, in case she needed him again.

"Why don't you go in?" he asked Bethany. "Sit with her. You'll feel better."

"Is she awake?" she asked hesitantly.

"No, she's asleep. But she may wake up any moment." He rose from the bench, looking inside the room through the wood-panelled glass door. "Please go in. You can talk to her if she wakes up."

Bethany got up to her feet, looking nervously at the door. Luke knew she had good reason to be hesitant. Cynthia had spoken only to him since waking up. No one knew how she'd react if left alone with somebody other than Luke.

"I'm around," he added with a smile. Bethany found her strength, and gently pushed open the door. Luke watched from the other side of the door, while Bethany went up to Cynthia's bedside. She had been in her room earlier, but never alone. Luke saw the fear and anxiety on her face, the hesitation in her hands as she wondered which part of Cynthia's wounded body to touch. If Luke hadn't known the truth, he'd have thought she was a new, unfamiliar woman, not her mother.

There was obviously a big distance between the two women. Cynthia had moved on alright, but when it came to her relationship with her mother, she was still raw. Although she tried her best to not show it, Luke could see the pain she still felt when she thought of her past and the way her mother had disowned her. Clearly, one weekend hadn't changed her feelings. He only feared her reaction towards her mom when she became more conscious since they hadn't had the opportunity to seek her permission before calling her.

He didn't have to wait long.

It was a week since her waking up. They had been trying her on having liquid and semi-solid food, but she had lost her appetite completely and each day was different from the other. The first day she vomited, resulting in a drastic rise in her blood pressure. The next day, she became agitated when her mom tried to feed her, and started pulling at the tubes attached to her arm. She remained sedated for the rest of the day. The day after she ate without a fuss, but complained that the chicken soup had no taste or smell. Luke, who had been feeding her, looked down at the bowl of soup in his hands. He had had a bit of the soup before giving it to her, and although it was a little bland, it tasted good and also had a lovely aroma. He said nothing about it while he fed her, but soon after he found Dave and spoke to him. The doctors spent the remaining day checking her up. Her vision and hearing had already been found undamaged, and her sense of touch was also unaffected. What she had lost was her sense of smell and along with it a good part of taste. They tried her on smelling everything, from coffee, to detergent, to perfumes, to flowers, to onions and eggs. They made her taste bitter chocolates, spicy food, saccharine-sweet cakes, and citrus fruits. But the result was the same. She smelled or tasted nothing.

No one told her openly about the damage, but she got the message anyway. She remained unmoved to a great extent, although he did find tear stains on the pillow and around the edge of her eyes. Dave had told them that the damage might not be permanent. If her lost senses did not return by six months or a year, they would know it was irrevocable.

"Good morning, sweetheart." Luke smiled as he returned from home after a shower, and entered the room that morning to find her staring into space. Her bed had been propped up a little. The nurse had also cleaned her and changed her clothes. Her head moved and she looked at him.

"Who informed mom?" she asked feebly, tracking him with her eyes. He had been expecting that moment. Luke replaced the old flowers with fresh ones, preparing himself for what was to follow.

"Who was it?" she repeated her question. Luke dropped the old flowers in the bin, and sat on the edge of her bed.

"It was my idea," he answered. "I thought she needed to know."

Cynthia closed her eyes for a moment, before opening them and looking out of the window.

"I don't want her here," she announced. Luke fumbled for a response. He didn't want to agitate her, and saying the wrong thing would do just that. But he didn't know the right thing to say either.

"Cynthia..." he began, hunting for the right words."She isn't here to stay. She'll go away once you're better."

She closed her eyes again in response. Luke couldn't bring himself to imagining what her mental condition was like. She had survived a near-fatal accident, dealt with a complex surgery, become conscious after three weeks to lose her sense of smell and taste and strength in her left arm. She didn't need to have somebody from her prior life around her, adding to the trauma.

"Cynthia..." he softly touched her hand when she didn't offer a reply. "Say something please."

"I don't want her here." She faintly uttered the words and promptly fell asleep. Luke waited for some time, hoping she'd look up again. When she didn't stir after several minutes, he quietly left the bed. Taking a few steps towards the door, he half-turned to look at her.

"I love you," he whispered, even though she couldn't hear.

Scott was approaching when he opened the door and stepped out.

"Is she awake?" he asked him.

"She was," Luke replied. "But she went back to sleep."

"She's so weak," Scott observed, looking through the door of the room. "But why do you sound so low? Did she say something?"

Luke sighed and walked over to the bench next to the door. He was still contemplating his next course of action after what Cynthia had just said.

"You were right," he said softly. "She doesn't like her mother to be around."

Scott came up to the bench and sat beside him. "What did she say?" he inquired.

"She said she doesn't want her here."

Hearing that, Scott leaned back in the bench. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. In the quietness, Luke heard voices from other parts of the building, along with other sounds that he didn't recognise.