The Husband She Couldn't Forget

“Melanie?” His voice moved boulders in her.

“Yes?”

“My foot hurts.”

She looked down and realized she was standing on tiptoe on his toes. “Oh my goodness, I’m going to kill you. No! That’s a figure of speech. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

He laughed now, sidestepping his foot from beneath hers. “I think I’d better sit down.”

“Of course. Come over here to the couch. I’ll get some ice.”

“It’s just a head butt. You didn’t hit me with a Crown Victoria. Now that needed some ice.”

Melanie hurried across the hall to the break room and was back in a few seconds with an ice pack.

Rolland had sat on the couch with his head back. A knot the size of a pea had formed on his forehead close to his hairline.

“A Crown Vic hit you? Who drives those these days?” Melanie studied the knot, trying to decide how to apply the pack that was now freezing her fingers.

“Old people. Well, in my case their granddaughter who wanted to sneak out on the town. They’re paying for my care and offered a healthy settlement, which I accepted.”

“I’m glad you’re being taken care of.”

He touched her wrist. “You sound like you really mean that.”

“Of course I mean it. Everyone here wants the best for you.”

“Melanie?”

“Yes,” she said, holding the pack by her fingertips.

“I think we might need to cover that with something or when you take it off, you might peel off my new skin.”

Mortified, Melanie stepped away. She was standing between his legs. Looking down into his eyes, all she wanted to do was cup his face and ask him where had he been all her life?

She knew the thought was irrational and she’d have a serious talk with herself tonight over sushi. But for right now, she was not going to cause him further harm.

“Rolland, I’m a very capable rehabilitation specialist. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I’ve clearly started on the wrong foot. I’m going to get a towel, apply this pack and then call someone to check out your head.”

“That’s not necessary, Melanie. I’ve had worse injuries playing football.”

Melanie hurried to her desk and opened her lunch bag. “So you remember playing football?”

“Yes, when I was a kid. I remember running with the ball and laughing. But not my name, the team and all that. A cloth napkin,” he asked, once she wrapped the pack and put it on his head.

“They make me feel special.” Melanie tried not to look down at him.

“I feel pretty special for you letting me use it,” he said.

“And you should,” she tried to joke. “I don’t usually do wound treatment. But considering I caused this bit of trouble, I’m obliged to help you.”

“Thanks,” he said smiling.

“So what do you hope to learn, Rolland?”

“How to cook. Add numbers.”

“Like nine plus seven?”

“That’s going to take me a few minutes. Write numbers. I recognize it’s a number, but I can’t write it for anything.”

“The alphabet.” Melanie listened as he recited the whole thing without stumbling. “Backwards.”

“You’re kidding.”

She smiled, surprised at herself. “Yes, I am. What else can you identify that you want to learn?”

“I want to find out about my old life. Was I married? Did I have a family? Where are they? Did they look for me? I want to learn how to drive. I love cars.”

“Well,” she said. “Some of those things are on my list, too. Learning how to use numbers so you can dial a phone and cook are very important.”

“Do you use lists a lot?” he asked, gazing up at her.

It occurred to Melanie that she didn’t have to stand over him and hold the ice pack. “Yes, for everything. It helps you stay on task and helps me track your progress. You don’t like lists? Here, hold this.”

She guided his hand up to hold the ice pack and went back to her desk and sat. Feeling silly for leaving him on the couch alone, she took her pad and the contract she had every client sign.

“Lists are fine, but you have to keep them in the right, what’s the word?”

“Perspective?” she offered.

“Right. Everything has a right perspective. So let’s get started. Am I going to learn how to cook first or drive?”

She laughed. “No, but I was thinking, the most important thing for you is to always know your way home, right?”

“I don’t know that I’ll ever find my home, Melanie.”

Her heart pounded. “You—you will, Rolland, and you know, I’ve found, a home is wherever you make it. But first thing’s first. I’m giving you a contract and by tomorrow I want you to read it and sign it. If you don’t understand something, just ask me and I’ll explain it to you.”

“I’ve got homework already, Melanie Wysh.”

“That’s right. Now, here’s a compass. Let’s go get lost and find our way back. I just need to do one thing.”

She went behind her desk and changed her pumps to sandals.

Coming back to his side he looked down at her. “You’re short.”

“Thanks, Rolland, that was honest.”