Page 22 of Your Love (Merrimack Mavericks Hockey #3)

Chapter 22

“Broken”

Kerri - Age 19, 1989

C onfusion and fear swirl in my head as I try to process what is going on. Since my accident, my thoughts have been jumbled, and my memories are fuzzy, but I was starting to feel more like myself until that man walked into my hospital room. When I think about it, my heart races, and every nerve in my body comes alive with the urge to run.

Why did my parents allow him into my room? Haven’t I been through enough already? The bruises on my body healed long ago, but I will never forget the brutal things he did to me.

My hands tremble as I tightly grip the sheets of the bed, anxiously waiting for someone to explain this situation. From behind the closed door, I can hear hushed whispers between my parents and doctors. Someone needs to tell me what’s going on now.

The door creaks open, and my nurse enters. She moves with grace and efficiency, and I can’t help but think that she reminds me of Alice, the housekeeper on “The Brady Bunch.” A slight smile tugs at my lips, grateful for the memory and a small reminder that I’m not going crazy.

Her gaze flickers over the machines surrounding my bed, monitoring my vitals. I feel like I’m in a sci-fi movie, hooked up to all these wires and tubes. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?” I ask.

“The doctors will be in to speak with you soon, Kerri,” she replies in a stoic tone before turning back to her duties. Great. Nurse “Alice” is a vault of secrecy.

“How’s your pain?” Her question catches me off guard since I’ve been so distracted from the stranger’s visit earlier. But now that she mentions it, my body is shaking with pain. It’s like every nerve ending is on fire, and my bones scream in protest. My muscles ache, and even my skin and hair seem to hurt, if that’s possible. “It’s about a nine out of ten,” I respond honestly.

“The doctor ordered something for the breakthrough pain. I’ll be right back.”

Less than two minutes later, she reappears with a small needle filled with clear fluid. As she pushes it into my IV, I feel a wave of relief wash over me. The pain that had been searing through my body begins to dull, and my muscles relax heavily into the bed. As the pain fades away, so does my ability to keep my eyes open.

I want to speak to my parents and ask them what is going on, but for now, I’m content with this momentary reprieve from fear and discomfort. With a heavy sigh, I allow myself to give in to the effects of the medication and drift off to sleep.

“Kerri,” a soft voice speaks into my ear as a familiar, soft hand brushes the hair from my forehead. My heavy eyes flutter open, and I see Mama’s sweet smile hovering above me. “How are you feeling, Pumpkin?”

“Better now, I guess,” I answer. “Can someone explain to me what’s going on?”

Mama looks at me with nothing but adoration shining in her blue eyes—the same color as my own. But behind that adoration, I note sadness, as well. Whatever they are about to tell me is not going to be fun to hear. “The doctor spoke to the on-staff psychiatrist, and they’ll be into talking to you in just a little while.”

My eyebrows rise to my hairline. I wasn’t expecting that answer. “Psychiatrist? Am I crazy?”

She tilts her head to the side and brushes my forehead gently. “No, honey, you’re not crazy. You’ve been through a lot in the last couple of years.” She pauses before continuing as if trying to decide if she should tell me anything else. “They can explain it better than I can, but it seems that your brain is scrambling two different experiences right now.”

“Scrambling two different experiences? So, I’ve been in another car accident?”

“Let’s just wait for the doctors to get here to talk to you, honey.” She smooths my hair down and offers me a sip of water, which I accept because although I’m frustrated with her non-answer, my throat feels like cracked concrete right now.

A few minutes later, Daddy enters the room with two men, one of whom I recognize as the doctor who’s been taking care of me for the last couple of days. The other man doesn’t spark any recognition. He’s not wearing a lab coat like the other doctors— just a button-down shirt and slacks, giving a more relaxed appearance. He must be a psychiatrist.

“Hello, Kerri,” he says smoothly. “I’m Dr. Redmond. I’m working with Dr. Sparks to help you understand what’s happened to you since your accident.”

Finally, some answers. I sit up a bit straighter. The pain tears through my chest at the movement, but I want to look this man in the eye as much as possible. “What exactly do you mean what’s happened to me? I felt fine until you guys let that lunatic walk into my room.”

A heavy, suffocating silence falls like a thick blanket over the room. Dr. Sparks mirrors Dr. Redmond’s stark expression as they share a meaningful glance before returning their attention to me.

“Well, that’s what we need to talk to you about,” says Dr. Redmond in a calm yet serious tone.

He pulls up a chair to the vacant side of my bed and takes a seat. His presence is comforting despite the gravity of the situation. “Please indulge me and answer some of these questions. I know you’ve already answered most of them since your accident, but I need to make sure I have a complete understanding of what happened.”

I nod and brace myself for the inevitable onslaught of probing questions.

“Do you remember why you’re here in the hospital?”

“I do,” I reply with confidence, focusing on keeping my voice steady. “I was in a car accident.’

“Now, Kerri, this is very important,” he says. “Do you remember the accident, or are you going along with what others have told you happened?”

My mind races as I try to recall every detail since that terrifying moment when our car was smashed into by another vehicle. The screeching of tires and the blinding flash of headlights flood my memory. But what happened after that? It’s all a blur. “I’m not sure,” I admit hesitantly. “There’s a gap in my memory that I can’t seem to piece together.”

Mama’s hand, warm and reassuring, lands softly on my shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze. I turn to her, feeling vulnerable and lost in this sterile hospital room.

“Do you remember the last time you were here before this accident?” Dr. Redmond asks gently.

I struggle to recall any memories of being in this place before—the familiar smells of antiseptic and the constant beeping and swishing of machines surrounding me. It’s all hazy, but slowly, a memory surfaces—my father’s worried face, my sense of guilt and sadness for causing it. “I remember being attacked,” I say quietly.

Dr. Redmond leans in, his voice lowered almost to a whisper. “Do you remember who attacked you?” His words are like sharp needles, piercing through my skin and stirring up emotions I tried to bury deep down.

The words escape me with a sigh as I answer the question. “My boyfriend,” I say through my gritted jaw.

“Do you remember his name?”

I let out a huff of frustration because, of course, everyone knows his name, but I have to say it anyway.“Beau.”

The doctor stands up and gestures for everyone to follow him outside. “Okay, Kerri, can you give Dr. Sparks and me a moment alone?”

I force a smile and nod, though inside, I feel like screaming. “That’s fine.”

“May I speak with your parents as well?” the doctor asks, his voice dripping with concern.

I roll my eyes and reply icily, “Be my guest.” At this point, it’s clear to everyone that my patience has run out.

Desperately trying to distract myself, I take a few more sips of water and halfheartedly tune into the familiar sound of Dr. Doogie Howser’s voice on the television. But even his cherubic cheeks and obscure medical knowledge can’t hold my attention for long. Thankfully, the group returns after what feels like an eternity. Mama and Daddy hover at the foot of my bed while Dr. Redmond takes center stage once again.

“I think I have an idea of what’s happening. It seems your brain is confusing two separate traumatic events that you experienced in the last couple of years,” he gently explains, his voice low and soothing. “I don’t mean to upset you, but you have to listen and understand that this will get better.”

I chew on my thumbnail nervously. How could my brain be playing tricks on me?

“From what your parents have shared with me, it appears that you were in an abusive relationship two years ago. Your boyfriend, a man named Beau, physically assaulted you to the point where you had to be hospitalized.” The sound of my mother’s quiet sobs next to me solidifies the gravity of his words. “You dated him for a few years.”

“I know all this. I don’t know why we’re going through my backstory,” I snip.

“Listen to the doctor, Kerri,” my father says gently.

I try to focus on his words, but my memories are foggy and fragmented.

“Do you remember moving to a different town with your grandparents after Beau put you in the hospital?” he asks.

I furrow my brow, trying desperately to recall anything from that time. But it feels like trying to grab at smoke—every time I think I have a memory, it slips away.

“I...can’t quite get a clear picture,” I admit, frustration creeping into my voice.

“That’s not uncommon after a brain injury,” Dr. Redmond explains calmly. “But the reality is that you’ve been living with your grandparents for quite some time now. You even completed your first year of college.”

A wave of nausea rolls through me. How much time have I lost? I cling to Mama’s hand, grateful for her grounding presence as panic threatens to overwhelm me.

This time, it’s Daddy who speaks. “During the time you’ve lived in Merrimack, you’ve made some pretty great friends,” he says. “You started dating someone new.”

My head shakes immediately. “I wouldn’t start dating,” I argue. “I’m not ready. I’ve sworn off relationships.”

“That was true at first,” Mama interjects. “But you and he became very good friends and eventually started seeing one another.”

Before I can fully process what she’s saying, Dr. Redmond speaks. “I’m told that is the man who came to see you today.”

My trembling hands instinctively fly to my face, covering it as if to block out the words being spoken.

“Maybe we should take a break?” My father’s concerned voice breaks through the chaos in my head. “We can talk about this later.”

“No,” I plead, my voice desperate and shaky. “I want to hear this. All of it. Please, keep going.”

Daddy nods, his face lined with worry as he tries to fill in some details. “His name is Christian Landry, your boyfriend of several months. You’ve talked all about him to us, and you seem to care for him deeply. Your grandparents are very fond of him.”

Dr. Sparks interjects. “It appears that, for some reason, your brain has convinced itself that he’s the one responsible for putting you in the hospital. But that’s not true.”

My frustration and confusion boil over as I exclaim, “I don’t understand why I can’t remember any of this!” My mind feels like it’s drowning in a sea of missing memories and false beliefs.

“Your brain is still recovering from everything that it’s been through, and your memories will start to come back.”

How long would that take? I want to scream, but instead, I ask weakly, “How long?”

He hesitates before answering, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “That’s the hard part,” he admits with a sigh. “It could be tomorrow, or it could be several weeks or even months.”

I can’t hold back my reaction any longer. The tears come pouring down my face, wracking my body with tremors. It hurts physically and emotionally, knowing that I’m missing chunks of my own life. Not just memories but people, too. I have a boyfriend I don’t even remember. Friends I don’t remember. I’ve created an entire life—and I can’t recall any of it.

My father’s voice, warm and comforting, surrounds me as he leans in to kiss the top of my head. “It’s going to be okay,” he reassures me. “We’re here to help you. You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

I desperately want to believe him. Daddy has never told me a lie, so I know in his heart he believes it. But what if I never get better? What if I never remember?

“What about this other guy who was here? My…boyfriend,” I ask.

My mom’s gentle voice joins in, her tone soothing like a lullaby. “Landry.”

I let the name roll around in my mind, but it remains utterly unfamiliar to me. “Do you know him? Is he a nice person?” I inquire, hoping for any connection.

“We hadn’t met him until today,” Mama says. “But your grandparents can’t stop raving about him, and they say the two of you are inseparable. We have every reason to believe he’s a good person. But if you don’t feel comfortable seeing him again, we will tell him to go home,” she adds, her eyes filled with concern and love. “The most important thing is your recovery, and I’m sure he would agree with that.”

I turn to face the doctors, my palms sweaty and my heart racing. “What do you think?” I ask them, my voice trembling with fear and uncertainty. “Would it be better for my recovery if I see him and talk to him?”

“I believe it would,” Dr Sparks responds calmly. “Perhaps not today or even tomorrow, but when you’re ready, it would be beneficial to speak with him. He holds the key to unlocking the last year of your life, and confronting those memories may help you move forward.”

“Are Nana and Papa coming back?” I ask Mama.

“No,” she says with a heavy sigh. “They had to go back to the farm. Landry was helping out there, and once they finished their duties, he came here to visit.”

I worry my bottom lip with my teeth, trying to contain the anxious thoughts swirling in my head. “Can I call them before seeing him again?”

Mama smiles kindly at me. “Of course you can.”

“I just have so many questions...” I trail off, unable to form coherent sentences. “Maybe he can come back tomorrow?”

My head is too thick and confused for today, but I know deep down that I need to speak with Landry. If what the doctor said is true, he holds the key to unlocking my recent past.