Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“I didn’t hang up on you,” I interjected. I had to make sure she understood that. “I was startled by a couple of the children from the village. They broke through the bushes and ran into me. I dropped the only sat phone we had into the river. It was an accident. We were in the middle of nowhere and had no communications for days. When I sent Tommy for supplies, he called and left you a message, but I don’t think you ever got it.”
She shook her head, putting the pieces together. “I was already in the hospital. My mother had my tablet and phone. I’m sure she deleted everything to do with you. She gave me new ones with new accounts—she said they were a get-well gift. I’d been carrying the other ones in my bag when I was hit, and she said they were damaged beyond repair. I should have known better than to believe her.”
“Don’t blame yourself. The bitch and her fucking sidekick thought of everything.”
I ran my hand down her thick hair, stroking the silky curls. “Emma told me about the accident. I wish I had been there for you.”
“I don’t remember much about it—even now. Only bits and pieces.” She rubbed her head. “When I woke up, I was in the hospital, and things were so confusing. I was in pain, scared. I had no idea why, and not being able to remember such a huge part of my life was so frightening.”
“Emma said you were in pretty bad shape.”
“There was so much I couldn’t remember. Emma looked different than I thought she should. It was the wrong time of year. My head ached all the time, my leg was in a cast, and I had bruises everywhere. My entire body hurt. They told me I’d been hit by a car, but I couldn’t remember that. The last things I could remember clearly were going out with Bradley to dinner and being at work. I couldn’t remember going to Calgary or anything in between.” She shook her head. “Emma was hurt, and when I finally saw her, she seemed withdrawn. And my mother was always around, hovering, and kept her from saying too much, and then Emma stopped coming to see me.”
“She didn’t want Emma saying too much. She was afraid it would trigger your memory.” My anger started to build as I thought of the lengths they had gone to in order to separate us.
“I know that now.”
I kissed her head. “Emma was injured too, and I know you two aren’t as close as you had been, but I think you can rebuild your friendship.”
“I want to.” She looked sad. “When she was here last week, she told me she’d had a miscarriage because of the accident. I wish I had known and could have been there for her. We cried together when she shared.”
“I’m glad you’re reconnecting.” I pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I think with Emma out of the picture, your mother and Bradley were more than happy to fill in the missing details—at least, their version of the details.”
She became quiet, playing with my bands and thinking. When she spoke, her voice was forlorn as she processed thoughts in her head.
“They didn’t tell me very much, and the times I was alone, I tried to remember on my own, to try to fill in more of the empty spaces, but nothing ever came.”
“How often were you alone?”
“A lot,” she admitted. “My mother left often to come here for her obligations, and Bradley flew in and out. Ronald never came, not that I wanted him to.” Her voice was wistful. “I spent a lot of time in the hospital room alone.” She paused. “I cried a lot at times. I didn’t know what I was crying for, but I couldn’t stop. I think–I think maybe I was crying for you.”
I swallowed the thick feeling in my throat. I hated knowing that. The fact that she was alone in a strange place, with no one to comfort or care for her the way she should have been cared for, made me angry. The fact that she needed me and I wasn’t there upset me. I pulled her head to my chest, stroking over her skin gently.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
Her voice was muffled in my shirt. “You didn’t know.”
“No, I didn’t. If I did, I would have moved heaven and earth to get to you.” Tilting up her head, I laid my forehead on hers. “It kills me to know you were hurt and alone.” I brushed my lips on her temple. “I will never fucking forgive your mother for that.”
She looked up at me, determined. “I won’t either.”
“I should never have left you. I should have stayed when you asked. I did so many things wrong. I’m not sure I can ever forgive myself.”