Free The Way Home by Jean Brashear Page B

now—”
    “Sam,” she barely managed to say. “I need Sam.” She attempted to scramble away, but she was so dizzy.
    “Put her down.” Sam’s voice. Safety.
    The man’s grip tightened. “I didn’t hurt her. She just—”
    But his hold was so confining, and she was struggling, crying out, “Sam—”
    Blue eyes, anguished.
    “Please,” she gasped. “Please let me go.”
    He released her abruptly.
    And Sam drew her close. She buried her face in his shoulder and trembled.
    “I think you’d better go now,” Sam said.
    “The hell I will,” the man James replied. Her husband. How could she not remember him? Her children, but they were no longer babies. She’d hurt them, hurt him.
    Hurt, hurt, only hurt…
    The darkness won.
     
    C ELE , THEIR TOUGH little Cele, was sobbing in her brother’s arms.
    His tough little Cele, perhaps he should say. Bella hadn’t recognized her any more than him or Cam.
    And he’d caused all of this, every bit of the pain. He was the one who’d faltered. Who’d forgotten Bella, the real Bella, long before she’d forgotten him. The pain was crushing. For a second, he wondered if he might be having a heart attack his chest ached so fiercely.
    How did it feel when a heart died? If he never got Bella back, he might as well—
    Cut the crap. You’re all those kids have now. And you’re used to shouldering heavy loads.
    He opened his arms to one heartbroken young woman and a boy trying very hard to be a man. “Come here,” he urged. He caught them close, both of them, though Cam hadn’t accepted a hug in years. He’d been a good dad, he thought, but Bella had been the nurturer, the one to dry tears and talk out broken hearts.
    Sorry, kids, but you’re stuck with me. For now, he corrected. Bella would remember. She had to.
    Agony roasted his insides as he recalled the terror on Bella’s face. Never once in their lives together had she feared him. Had any reason to.
    And she’d called for that son of a—
    Ruthlessly, James made himself relax. The poisoned barb was still there, but he’d survived tough times before, tougher than this.
    No, not tougher. He’d had Bella then.
    He embraced his children. Lowered his head to theirs. “We knew this could happen,” he began. “But it’s going to be okay, I swear it.”
    Cele looked up with tear-stained cheeks. “Will it, Daddy? How can she not remember us? We’re her children. She loves us—”
    They were grown now, but they wanted his reassurance, however rocky he felt on the inside. “She does love you,” he said firmly. “This is simply a medical problem, and she’s just not well yet. But she will be.”
    “You can’t promise that.” Cameron’s face revealed his yearning to be wrong.
    “Your mother will get better.” She had to. “She’s a very strong woman, and you are her world.”
    “You are, Daddy, more than us. Everyone knows how in love you two are.”
    Please make it true. That years of devotion will win in the end. “Children are special,” he said. “We’ve got all sorts of weapons in our armory.”
    “Like what?” Cam was obviously shaken by the events.
    I understand completely, son. Never in my life would I have imagined Bella shrinking from my touch.
    He exhaled as he cast his thoughts about. “I hesitate to call this a war…more like a campaign….” His eyebrows rose. “That’s it, exactly. Hearts and minds.”
    “What do you mean?”
    He smiled, more out of hope than assurance. “There’s a saying about conducting a war by setting out to win over the population rather than by fighting on the battlefield.” He chuckled at their perplexed expressions. “We don’t push to make your mother remember us.”
    “What?”
    “Nope,” he said, warming to the notion. Any plan was better than the misery of inaction. “We hang around for a while. Make ourselves useful. Let Bella get to know us instead of pressuring her to remember. She loved us once.” He glanced from one to the other.