Page 42 of Mistaken Intention

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you thinking of growing a beard?”

“I’m not sure.”

I smiled at him. The stubble suited him, and I had a feeling a beard would, too.

His headache seems to have passed and although he still has occasional bouts of dizziness, they’re very few and far between, and usually the result of him standing up too quickly. At the doctor’s request, Hunter brought him in some clothes, so he no longer has to wear a hospital gown during the day.

“More’s the pity,” he said, when I gave him the holdall and explained the contents to him. I couldn’t help blushing, but I don’t think he noticed. I had to admit – even if only to myself – I was going to miss the sight of his delectable ass.

As for his cognitive abilities, he’s still struggling. He has recall over certain things. For example, he knows what a cup of coffee is, and when I brought him one yesterday, his anticipation of how it would taste made me laugh. He knows my name and says it every time I come into his room… with the broadest of smiles on his lips. Even outside of his personal life, which is still a blank to him, there are holes, though. He can’t remember the name of the President, and when I showed him a photograph of the White House, he just said it was a big building… but he didn’t recognize it for what it was. We’ll keep working on it, and I’m sure he’ll get there.

In the meantime, the other problem is his short-term memory, which is absolutely shocking. He can barely remember anything for more than a few minutes at a time, and yesterday Idid some memory exercises with him, which he failed dismally, finding the whole thing exhausting.

We’re having fun together, though. I love how his face lights up whenever I come to see him, and the way he laughs so readily… even at his own predicament. We enjoy his moments of triumph together, and on the rare occasions when it gets too much, I do my best to distract him, so he doesn’t dwell on the negatives.

Of course, I realize these improvements – no matter how small – will one day lead to him being discharged from the hospital, and from my care, but I’m trying not to think about that.

“Nurse Emerson?”

I turn at the sound of Doctor Sweeney’s voice, surprised to see Hunter Bennett standing beside him. I haven’t seen him in person since the night of the accident. He’s still wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, but he looks a lot less stressed, which isn’t at all surprising. He smiles as I approach, looking down at me

“Doctor?”

“We’ve just been looking for you,” he says with a nod of his head.

“I was on my way to Drew Bennett’s room.”

“Hmm… can you join us in my office for a moment?”

“Of course.”

I follow them to the end of the corridor, going through the double doors that lead out of the department, and waiting while Doctor Sweeney opens the first door on the left. It brings us into a large office. Opposite us, the windows overlook the city, while the wall to the left is lined with bookshelves. I doubt he’s read very many of them. They look too new… too perfect. The wall to our right is filled with photographs and certificates and it’s to that end of the room that the doctor leads us, over to hisdesk. There are two seats on this side of it, and Hunter waits for me to sit in one before taking the other himself, while Doctor Sweeney lowers himself into the chair opposite, gazing at me, his eyebrows raised.

“Mr. Bennett called me this morning,” he says, glancing at Hunter before returning his gaze to me. “He’s suggested that, rather than his brother continuing with his treatment here in the hospital, it might be better if he could go home.”

I feel the panic rising inside me, my throat closing over and my palms sticky with sweat. I wrack my brain, trying to think of a reason – or an excuse – to keep Drew here, but I’m coming up blank.

“I—I see.”

“I think it’s an excellent idea. Drew’s general health has improved. There don’t seem to be any lasting physical effects from the concussion, and I can’t see a reason to keep him here in the hospital. As you know, I’ve always believed that – where the patient can tolerate it – the introduction of familiar objects and surroundings can aid in their mental recovery.”

“You think he’s ready for that?” I ask.

He nods his head. “As long as it’s done properly, yes,” he says.

Part of me knows he’s right. Doctor Sweeney has always advocated this approach, usually with outstanding success. The problem is, I know how scared Drew is. I’ve seen it in his eyes. And I promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

“In this case, though…” He holds up his hand and I stop talking.

“I haven’t finished yet, Nurse. Drew is still going to need professional help, and it’s obvious to everyone here, even after just a few days, that he responds better to you than he does to anyone else. So, his brother has suggested that you continue to care for him at his home.”

I turn in my seat, looking at Hunter. “You want me to come and visit him every day?”

He smiles. “No. That wouldn’t be practical. Drew’s home is in Newport. I couldn’t possibly ask you to drive down there every day to see him, as well as working here. That’s why the doctor and I were wondering if you could come to stay. I’ll pay you, of course, and Doctor Sweeney has agreed to release you from the staff at the hospital on a temporary basis.”

---