Hello, Again (Book 2)

The Hospital

KATHERINE

The only easy thing about arriving at the hospital was the valet. Between the frustrating traffic and the thoughts that flashed through my mind like bullets slicing through the air, it was everything I could do not to lose it at the receptionist that asked me for secondary ID when I asked to see Gregor Malloy.

"It's for security reasons, ma'am," the receptionist said. I wasn't sure if she was being apologetic or trying not to scowl.

But she won out and I handed over my old Pennsylvania ID. Serves me right considering my grandfather is a convicted criminal. And I guess, in his twisted mind, I'm to blame.

I made it to the third floor without incident, though not without remembering the last time I had been in the hospital. Right after Mom's accident. Her frail body laying out on the bed. The rush of love and fear that wove through me at seeing her that way. A part of me wondered if I would feel that way if I saw Gramps.

The white-walled halls were empty, but that would be expected on a Tuesday morning. Most people don't get to pick their schedules on the drop of a dime. And if Harry didn't come back to work in the office today, I might be called in anyway.

Room 364. The glass window in the door didn't give the right angle for me to see the bed, only the couch beside the long window overlooking the city. An officer guarded the door, though he looked pretty bored when I introduced myself.

"Can I see some ID?" He asked.

I fought the urge to scowl at the man. Before I could respond, Mom opened the door. "She's with me," she said.

The officer nodded and let me in. Good. Though getting through that barrier didn't make me feel any less jumpy or queasy. Mom didn't say anything, but looped her arm through mine as she led me over to the hospital bed, where she pulled the curtain aside.

I almost jerked backward, but Mom's arm kept me surprisingly grounded. Though Gramps had always been thin, his gaunt cheeks were plastered in bandages. Bruises bloomed from around the gauze, dark green and purple. His arm was bandaged and pressed against his chest. The only color on his face was the brilliant blue of his eyes staring back at me.

I pursed my lips together.

Mom nudged me. "Say something," she hissed in my ear.

I untangled her arm from mine, but I couldn't hear my thoughts over my heartbeat pumping in my ears. His gaze now was so different from the glare that he'd shot across the courtroom two years ago. A different emotion gleamed under his eyes that I couldn't pinpoint.

"Hello," he said quietly. His voice had the tell-tale rasp of cigarettes.

I nodded, but couldn't speak around the lump that formed in my throat.

He glanced at Mom, then back at me. "I wanted to see you," he said, "because Camille told me you could help me remember."

My eyes narrowed. "Remember what?"

"Everything," Mom said.

When she spoke, my eyes shot to her face, twisted with concern. She wrung her wrists as if expecting a fierce outburst of anger from me. And maybe rightly so.

"He lost his memory, Katherine," she said. "And he doesn't remember... anything... not even you or your history."

Right. That I'm a bastard.

I spun away, pressing my fingers into my temple. "And you want me to tell him?"

Mom's footsteps sounded behind me, then her warm arm wrapped around my shoulder. "Katherine, this is your chance to start over. Show him who you are..."

"So that when he does remember he can curse me out again?" I shook her arm free. A hurt expression crossed her features, but I didn't let it bother me. No, I may have gotten over what he did to me and Nick back when we were engaged, but I would not engage again. No.

"What about Erland, Mom?" I glared at her. "Why are you spending so much time with him when your son needs you?" I flung an arm out to gesture to Gramps.

Mom's face flushed red, and she seemed at a loss for a moment on what to say. Then, in a whisper, she said, "Really, Katherine, I thought you'd be more understanding. This bitterness isn't good for you—"

"And neglect isn't good for you either!"

Her jaw dropped. My anger fizzled. I scrambled to take it back.

"Look, Mom, I know it's been different these past few years. I didn't mean that. I was just saying—"

"I know what you were saying." Her brown eyes were narrowed slits, but she seemed to hold her composure, which only made my guilt crash down on my shoulders even harder. "I think it's best if you come back later, Katherine. I don't think you're ready to see him."

I couldn't argue with that. I tried to apologize, but I caught sight of Gramps behind her and the words stuck in my throat. Then I spun on my heel and walked out of the hospital room.

How had it been two years that I had felt such freedom from my past? When I handed my life to Jesus, everything made sense for one shining moment. What's different now?

By the time I got to my car, I felt like an uprooted rose bush. Beautiful to anyone watching, but prickly and in shock on the inside.

I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel and prayed silently. God, can you help me with this? What is in my heart that is doing this?

The bitterness that wound around me like ivy felt like a shadow of what I experienced after Nick and Victoria betrayed me. But we'd gotten past that. He'd made it up to me. But Gramps would never pay me back. Maybe he'd never apologize. Could I really forgive him now? At least, I thought I had...

I drove home in silence.

Thoughts wove through my mind like speeding cars around me. Then I settled on Victoria, and her beautiful fiery-haired child as it ran by on Sunday morning. I haven't spoken with her for more than all of one hour in all the years we've gone to church now. If we saw each other, it was a warm smile and a wave. She had a few friends, Matthew's sister Alice being one of them. Maybe I should get Victoria's number...

I pulled into the driveway of my house and I still wasn't decided on reaching out to Alice. But my attention was seized by the scribbled reminder Matt had left on the kitchen counter on a yellow legal pad: Betsy called because she couldn't reach you. Do you want her to go with you to the dress fitting?

Sure enough, when I checked my phone, I realized I'd left it on silent. Four missed calls from Betsy, and a text. Maybe she figured I wouldn't respond, so she left a note with Matt.

I typed out an answer: Yes. We need to talk. I have something to tell you.

My phone dinged in response before I could even put it down. Yeah, Betsy responded. Me too. I spoke with Rick, and I think I have a lead.