style="font-size:15px;"> His heart lurched but he wouldn’t let that twist of emotion show. How in God’s name would he ever navigate through this mess? He felt as if he’d been thrown into the mouth of an active volcano. Everywhere he stepped he got burned. A lot like their marriage, really.
But information was power. He’d get the facts, a professional’s opinion and see what was what.
Laura was still looking at him, confusion and hurt brimming in her eyes. In the first three months of their marriage, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her, and vice versa.
Even now …
Needing to reassure her, he relented and let one palm slide down her arm. Immediately, that minimal contact sent up a flare and a throb that echoed like a warning bell through his blood. Setting his jaw, he put up both his hands and took a resolute step back.
“I’ll go speak to a doctor.”
“About the pregnancy test.”
His gut knotted and jaw tightened more.
“Yes. About that.”
He left her standing in a white hospital gown, uncertain, beside the bed. In the corridor, he took a moment to orient himself and order his blood pressure to drop. Laura might be the one who’d had a fall and lost her memory but he was the one feeling off balance. Still, there must be a rational, safe way to maneuver through this hopscotch of emotional landmines. And damned if he wouldn’t find it, and find it fast.
At the nurses’ station, Bishop made an inquiry and a man in a white coat studying a file down the hall was pointed out. He sped off.
“Doctor—” Bishop glanced at the name tag as he came to a stop “—Stokes, I’m Samuel Bishop. I was told you examined Laura Bishop earlier.”
The middle-aged doctor peered over his bifocals and set aside the folder. “You’re Mrs. Bishop’s husband?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
The doctor gave a knowing grin and they crossed the room, away from others’ earshot.
“Head trauma,” Doctor Stokes summed up. “Retrograde memory loss.”
Bishop nodded. “How long will it last?”
“Usually in these cases, memory returns gradually over the following days. It can take longer. In some rare instances it never returns.”
Bishop’s head began to tingle. He needed to clarify. “In rare instances?”
“Initial tests were free of fractures or contusions. She could stay overnight but, as long as she takes it easy and you keep an eye on her, there’s no reason she can’t go home. When she sleeps, wake her every three to four hours and ask those same simple questions—name, address—to be sure she’s stable. You can see your own GP for a follow-up.”
Take her home…?
Bishop scratched his temple. “Thing is, Doc, we’re not married anymore.”
One of the doctor’s eyebrows lifted. “Your sister-in-law hinted as much.”
“Ex-sister-in-law.”
The older man’s eyes conveyed his sympathies for the situation before he slotted his hands into his coat pockets. “Subtle jogging of the memory. Perhaps photos when you think she’s ready. When she’s in familiar surroundings, I’m sure more recent events will resurface soon enough.” Doctor Stokes seemed about to say more but then he merely tipped his head. “Good luck, Mr. Bishop.”
As the doctor moved off, Bishop fell back into a nearby chair. He’d need a whole lot more than luck.
His cell phone vibrated against his hip and he scanned the text from his second-in-charge, Willis McKee.
Where are you? A buyer’s on the line. Wants to speak with you ASAP.
Bishop’s jaw shifted. Already?
He’d listed Bishop Scaffolds and Building Equipment, the business he’d built to a multimillion dollar entity, only last week. At the price he’d set, he’d never expected such a quick response, and he wasn’t certain how he felt about it.
Over these past few months, since the finality of the separation had sunk in, he’d felt a certain restlessness. One chapter of his personal life had closed and he’d begun to wonder whether he needed a new challenge in his professional life, as well. But he hadn’t given a lot of thought as to which direction he should take.
Still, he was pleased he’d taken the initiative to move forward. He’d been seeing a nice woman for just over a month, too. Nothing serious; he wasn’t certain he’d ever do serious again. But he enjoyed Annabelle’s company. She wasn’t high maintenance. Didn’t ask the impossible.
Bishop snapped the cell shut.
And now Laura was back in his life, and given the doc’s opinion, who knew for how long? What the hell was he going to do? He couldn’t simply walk away. Then again, how could he stay? He was stuck like a bug under a shoe.
A tap on the shoulder brought him back and his head snapped up. When he saw Grace poised beside him, he groaned. At this moment, she was his least favorite person. What was new?
Grace made herself comfortable in a seat alongside him and laced her peach-tipped nails on her crisp linen lap.
“So now you know.”
He slid her a bland look. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
“She didn’t remember?”
“Laura thinks today is our three-month anniversary.”
“How are you celebrating?”
He pushed to his feet. “Don’t be smart, Grace.” He set off toward Laura’s room. He’d have to speak with this woman again and soon, but right now he didn’t trust himself to keep his hands from circling her throat. He didn’t care how much she disapproved of him; he should have been warned.
The only good thing to come from his and Laura’s bust up was getting rid of one very toxic influence in his life. Always sticking her nose in, stirring up trouble. Laura had defended her sister, but he wondered if deep down she wondered if she’d picked the short straw in the sister pool of life. Grace was one hell of a control freak.
Of course, he’d heard people say the same about him, but that was different. He had a business to run. People who relied on him to get things done right, and that meant the first time.
“I still think you could have saved the marriage.”
Grace’s silky words hit his back and, temper spiking, Bishop edged around. He set his hands on his hips to keep from making fists.
“First, redundant observation, Grace. There isn’t a marriage anymore. Second—” steam rising from his collar, he strode back “—are you trying to have me think you want Laura and me to get back together? Because I’d sooner believe in the Easter
