Winning Back His Wife Read online

  A protest sat on the tip of Cullen’s tongue. He hadn’t lived in Hood Hamlet long, unlike several of these guys who’d grown up on the mountain. He’d climbed and drunk beer and watched sports on television with them, but he relied on himself and didn’t ask for help. He didn’t need help. But Sarah did. He swallowed the words he normally would have said and tried a new one instead. “Thanks.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” Hughes said. “Let’s go.”

  Cullen nodded once.

  “I’m in.” Paulson, carrying his gear, fell into step with them. “So Sarah... Is she family? Your sister?”

  “No,” Cullen said. “Sarah’s my wife.”

  * * *

  Where am I?

  Sarah Purcell wanted to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt as if they’d been glued shut. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t open them.

  What was going on?

  Something pounded. It took her a minute—maybe longer—to realize the pounding was coming from her head. Maybe she shouldn’t try opening her eyes again.

  Her head wasn’t the only thing hurting. Even her toenails throbbed. But the pain was a dull ache as if it were far off in the distance. Much better than being up close and personal like a battering ram of pain pummeling her.

  She’d been hurting more. A whole lot more. This was...better.

  White. She’d been surrounded by white.

  Cold. She’d been so cold, but now she was warm. And dry. Hadn’t she been wet? And the air... It smelled different.

  Strange, but it felt as if something were sticking out of her nose.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  She didn’t recognize the noise, the frequency of the tone or the rhythm. But the consistent beat made her think of counting sheep. No reason to try opening her eyes again. Not when she could drift off to sleep.

  “Sarah.”

  The man’s voice sliced through the thick fog clouding her brain. His voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. Not surprising, given she had no idea where she was or why it was so dark or what the beeping might be.

  So many questions.

  She parted her lips to speak, to ask what was going on, but no words came out. Only a strangled, unnatural sound escaped her sandpaper-dry throat.

  Water. She needed water.

  “It’s okay, Sarah,” he said in a reassuring tone. “You’re going to be okay.”

  Glad he thought so. Whoever he might be.

  She wasn’t sure of anything. Something told her she should care more than she did, but her brain seemed to be taking a sabbatical.

  What had happened?

  Clouds had been moving in. A horrible noise had filled the air. Swooshing. Exploding. Cracking. The memory of the teeth-grinding sound, worse than two cars colliding on the freeway, sent a shudder through her.

  A large hand covered hers. The warmth of the calloused, rough skin felt as familiar to Sarah as the voice had sounded. Was it the same person? She had no idea, but the touch comforted and soothed. Maybe now she could go back to sleep.

  “Her pulse increased.” Concern filled his voice. He seemed to be talking to someone else. “Her lips parted. She’s waking up.”

  Not her. He couldn’t mean her.

  Sarah wanted to sleep, not wake up.

  Someone touched her forehead. Not the same person still holding her hand. This one had smooth, cold skin. Clammy skin.

  “I don’t see a change,” another man said, a voice she didn’t recognize. “You’ve been here a long time. Take a break. Eat a decent meal. Sleep in a real bed. We’ll call if her condition changes.”

  The warm hand remained on hers. Squeezed. “I’m not leaving my wife.”

  Wife.

  The word seeped through her foggy mind until an image formed and sharpened. His eyes, as blue as the sky over Glacier Peak on a clear day, had made her feel like the only woman in the world. His smile, rare to appear but generous when it did, had warmed her heart and made her want to believe happy endings might be possible, even if she’d known deep in her heart of hearts they didn’t exist. His handsome face, with its high forehead, sculpted cheekbones, straight nose and dimpled chin, had haunted her dreams for the past year.

  Memories rushed forward, colliding and overlapping with each other, until one came into focus.

  Cullen.

  He was here.

  Warmth flowed through her like butter melting on a fresh-from-the-oven biscuit.

  He’d come for her. Finally.

  Urgency gripped Sarah. She wanted—no, needed—to see him to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

  But the heavy curtain, aka her eyelids, didn’t want to open. She struggled to move her fingers beneath his hand. It had to be Cullen’s hand, right? Nothing happened.

  A different machine beeped at a lower frequency. Another machine buzzed.

  Cullen.

  Sarah tried to speak again, but couldn’t. Whatever was stuck in her nose seemed to be down her throat, too. No matter. She was so thankful he was with her. She needed to tell him that. She wanted him to know how much...

  Wait a minute.

  Common sense sliced through the cotton clogging her brain.

  Cullen shouldn’t be here. He’d agreed divorce was the best option. He no longer lived in the same town, the same state as she did.

  So why was he here?

  Sarah forced her lips apart to ask, but no sound emerged. Her frustration grew.

  “See,” Cullen said. “Something’s going on.”

  “I stand corrected, Dr. Gray,” the other person said. “This is a very good sign.”

  “Sarah.”

  The anxiety in Cullen’s voice surprised her as much as the concern. She tried to reconcile what she was hearing. Tried and failed. She wanted to believe he cared about her and that even if they’d both given up on marriage, their time together hadn’t been so bad he’d wanted to forget about everything.

  Maybe if she could open her eyes a little she could let him know that.

  Sarah used every bit of strength she could muster.

  A slit of light appeared. So bright. Too bright. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  The light disappeared as darkness reclaimed her, but the pounding in her head increased. No longer far away, the pain was in her face, as if someone were playing Whac-A-Mole on her forehead.

  She gritted her teeth, unsure if the awful growling sound she’d heard came from her. Everything felt surreal, as if she were a part of some avant-garde indie film. She wanted out. Now.

  “It’s okay, Sarah. I’m right here.” Cullen’s rich, warm voice covered her like one of his grandmother’s hand-sewn quilts. “I’m not leaving you.”

  Not true. He had left her.

  As soon as she’d mentioned divorce, he’d moved out of their apartment in Seattle, taking everything of his except the bed. After completing his residency, he’d taken off to Hood Hamlet, Oregon. She’d finished her PhD at the University of Washington, then accepted a postdoctorate position with MBVI—Mount Baker Volcano Institute—in Bellingham, a town in northwest Washington.

  Another memory crystalized.

  Sarah had been developing a program to deploy additional seismometers on Mount Baker. She’d been trying to determine if magma was moving upward. She’d needed more data. Proof one way or the other. Getting the information meant climbing the volcano and digging out seismometers to retrieve data. Putting in expensive probes that provided telemetered data didn’t make sense with their limited funding and the volatile conditions near the crater.

  The crater.

  She’d been at the crater rim to download data to a laptop and rebury the seismometer. She’d done that. At least, she thought so. Everything was sort of fuzzy.


  Apprehension rose. Anxiety escalated.

  The rotten-egg scent of sulfur had been thick and heavy in the air. Had she retrieved the data or not? Why couldn’t she remember?

  Machines beeped, the noise coming faster with each passing second.

  She tried to recall what had happened to her, but her mind was blank. Pain intensified, as if someone had turned up the volume to full blast on a television set, then hidden the remote control.

  “Sarah.” His voice, sharp-edged like fractured obsidian, cut through the hurting. “Try to relax.”

  If only she could. Questions rammed into her brain. The jackhammering in her head increased tenfold.

  “You’re in pain,” Cullen said.

  She nodded.

  The slight movement sent a jagged pain ripping through her.

  Her throat burned. Her eyes stung. The air in her lungs disappeared when she exhaled. Inhaling, she could hardly take a breath. A giant boulder seemed to be pressing down on her chest.

  “Dr. Marshall.”

  Cullen’s harsh tone added to her discomfort, to her fear. Air, she needed air.

  “On it, Dr. Gray.”

  Something buzzed. Footsteps sounded. Running. Wheels clattered against the floor. More voices. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, nor did she care.

  She gasped for a breath, sucking in a minuscule amount of air. The oxygen helped. Too bad the hurting more than doubled.

  Make it stop. Please, Cullen. Make it...

  The fear dissipated. The pain dulled. The boulder was lifted off her. By Cullen? He used to take such good care of her, whether she wanted him to or not. If only he could have loved her....

  Floating. Sarah felt as if she were a helium-filled balloon let loose and allowed to float away in the sky. Up, up toward the fluffy white clouds. But she didn’t want to go yet. Not until... “Cull...”

  “I’m right here, Sarah.” His warm breath fanned her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

  Promise.

  The word echoed through her fuzzy brain.

  Promise.

  They’d promised to love, honor and cherish each other until death do them part. But Cullen had withdrawn from her, putting his heart into his all-consuming work and nothing into her. He’d seemed so stable and supportive, but he wasn’t as open as she’d originally thought, and he’d held back emotionally. Still, they’d shared some wonderful times and adventures together. A year living in Seattle. Climbing, laughing, loving.

  But none of that had mattered in the end. She’d brought up divorce, expecting at least to discuss their marriage. Instead, he’d said okay to a divorce, confirming her fear that he regretted his hasty decision to marry her. Not only had he been willing to let her go without a fight, but he’d been the first one to leave.

  That was why she couldn’t believe Cullen was promising to stay now. Maybe not today, but tomorrow or the next day or the day after he would be gone, leaving her with only memories and a gold wedding band.

  The knowledge hurt, a deep, heart-wrenching pain, worse than any physical pain she’d endured.

  I’m not going anywhere.

  A part of her wished Cullen would remain at her side. A part of her wished marriage vows were more than words exchanged in front of an Elvis impersonator. A part of her wished love...lasted.

  But Sarah knew better. She knew the truth.

  Nothing ever lasted. No one ever stayed. Even when they promised they would.

  CHAPTER TWO

  CULLEN LOST TRACK of time sitting in Sarah’s hospital room. His friends returned to Hood Hamlet after driving his truck to Seattle so he’d have transportation. They supported him via text and phone calls. His family offered to come, but he told them no. They didn’t need more grief in their lives, and that was all they would find here, in spite of Sarah’s progress.

  This small room, four walls with an attached bathroom, had become his world except for trips to the cafeteria and a few hours spent each night at a hotel. And his world revolved around the woman asleep in the hospital bed.

  He rubbed his chin. Stubble raked his fingertips.

  Maybe that was why this felt so strange. He was married to Sarah, but she’d stopped being his wife nearly a year ago. In Hood Hamlet she hadn’t existed. At least not to anyone he knew. Not until her accident.

  He rose from his chair, wishing he could be anywhere but here. Not even the familiar artificial lighting and antiseptic smells brought him comfort. He’d spent more time at hospitals than anywhere else the past six years—longer if he counted his four years at medical school. But nothing could quiet the unease tying his stomach in figure-eight knots.

  His anxiety made no sense.

  Sarah’s condition wasn’t as serious as her initial prognosis had indicated. Antibiotics had cured an unexpected infection and fever. The nasogastric tube had been removed from her nose. Her cuts had scabbed over. The incisions from her surgeries were healing. Even her closed-head injury had been relatively minor, with no swelling or bleeding.

  Surely that had to mean...something. Time to settle matters between them? Cullen wanted to close this chapter in his life.

  The woman lying in the hospital bed looked nothing like the beautiful, vibrant climber he’d met at the Red Rock Rendezvous—an annual rock-climbing festival near Las Vegas—and married two days later. He wanted this injured Sarah to replace the image he carried in his heart—make that his head. Her long chestnut-colored hair, clear green eyes, dazzling smile and infectious laughter had been imprinted on his brain along with memories of hot kisses and passionate nights. She was like one of those adrenaline-rushing, stomach-in-your-throat, let-me-off-now carnival rides. The kind of ride that looked exciting and fun from a distance, but once on, made you wonder what you’d been thinking when you handed over your ticket.

  That had been his problem with Sarah. He hadn’t been thinking. She’d overwhelmed him. Too bad he couldn’t blame eloping on being drunk. Oh, he’d been intoxicated at the time—by her, not alcohol.

  Cullen crossed the room to the side of her bed.

  He’d been trying to forget Sarah. He wanted to forget her. But thoughts of her entered his mind at the strangest of times—on the mountain, at the hospital, in bed. But he knew what would stop that from happening—divorce.

  After the divorce things will be better.

  These past months the words had become his mantra when he was frustrated or lonely.

  Sarah’s left hand slipped off the edge of the bed. That didn’t look comfortable. He placed her arm back on the mattress. Her skin felt cold.

  Cullen didn’t want her to catch a chill. He pulled up the blanket and tucked it under her chin.

  Sarah didn’t stir. So peaceful and quiet. Words he would never have used in the past to describe her. She’d been fiery and passionate, driven and always up for a challenge or adventure. Nothing, not even the flu, had slowed her down much.

  The silence in the room prodded him into action. Staring at Sarah wasn’t what the doctor ordered. Her doctor, that was. Dr. Marshall hadn’t wanted her to sleep the day away—not that Sarah could with nurses coming in and out. But she hadn’t been too coherent when she woke up, and then she’d drifted back to sleep like a newborn kitten.

  Might as well get on with it, Cullen thought. If she followed the same pattern, she wouldn’t be awake for long. “Rise and shine, Lavagirl.”

  Saying her nickname jolted him. He used to tease her about being a volcanologist until he realized she loved the piles of molten rocks more than she loved him.

  He would try again. “Wake up.”

  Sarah didn’t move. Not surprising, given her medications. If he kept talking she would wake up.

  “So I...” Cullen had tried hard not to miss her. After what she’d done to him,
he shouldn’t miss her. He’d missed the sex, though. A lot. But he was only human—emphasis on the man part of the word. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

  He’d told families that talking to patients was important. Now the advice sounded stupid. But when it came to Sarah, he’d never been very smart.

  Keep talking, Doc.

  He struggled for something to say. His resentment toward her ran deep. Maybe if he started at the beginning of their relationship when things had been better this wouldn’t feel so awkward. “Remember that first night in Las Vegas, you wanted our picture taken in front of the slot machines? We got the photo, but we also got thrown out of the casino.”

  The two of them had stood on the sidewalk laughing, unsure of the time because of the neon lights. Her laughter had rejuvenated his soul. She was so full of light and love he couldn’t get enough of her.

  “You looked up at me. Mischief gleamed in your pretty green eyes.”

  He’d been enchanted, transported back to the time when freedom and fun reigned supreme, when he and Blaine had been impulsive and reckless, goading each other into daredevil challenges and stunts, believing they were untouchable.

  “Then you kissed me.”

  Changing all the plans he’d had for his life in an instant. He hadn’t been able to think straight from that moment on. He hadn’t cared. Being with her was a total rush. An adventure. Perfect. Nothing else mattered.

  “The next night we strolled past the Happily Ever After Wedding Chapel on the strip. You joked about going inside and making things official.”

  She’d said if they eloped now he couldn’t forget about her when they returned to Seattle or leave her standing at the altar after she wasted years of dating him and planning their big wedding. He’d promised he would never leave her like that.

  The affection in her eyes had wiped out whatever brain cells remained in his head. For the first time since Blaine’s descent into drugs, Cullen had felt whole, as if the missing piece of him that had died with his twin brother had been found in Sarah.