Unbidden, the tune danced through his thoughts as he lurched toward the shore, echoing there as it tickled his mind and touched a chord within him, but he had no idea why or where it had come from. Feeling vaguely haunted, he shook the thought away and concentrated on moving toward the land. Staggering as he pulled himself from the relentless tug of the tide, he collapsed in the wet sand at the ocean’s edge. Pain pushed him into black oblivion.
As the end of her shift drew near, Dixie McCall heaved a sigh of relief. Being the head nurse in Emergency sometimes kept her really hopping, but she loved the demands of the job. So much so, in fact, that she had even passed up the enticing opportunity to become the hospital’s nursing supervisor. Nonetheless, it had been a very l-o-n-g day, and she still had to pick up the twins. At least things were quiet in Emergency at the moment . . . . . . . .
“Here are the x-rays you asked for, Doctor.”
“Thanks,” he said as he turned to examine them. Dismayed, he noted they confirmed his preliminary diagnosis; he reached for the phone to schedule his patient for immediate surgery.
The rest of the shift passed without incident, and Dixie hurried up to the Child Care Center to pick up the twins. True to form, it took her several minutes to get out of the Center as Rita always wanted to tell her about something one or the other of the twins had done that day. Even though that ate into her precious free time, Dixie treasured hearing these little tales and she found herself once again thankful that there had been room for Rita to take the twins into the Child Care Center at Rampart. At last ready to go, she trudged out to her car, settled the twins into their car seats, and headed for home.
Tucking Kevin into bed a short while later, Dixie absently made note of how big he was getting. Sometimes it seemed like just yesterday that he and Kelsie had been born, and sometimes it seemed as if they had had the twins forever. She supposed that was how most parents felt about their children but considering all the heartache they’d gone through in order to have the twins, she tended to relish every little change as they grew and to appreciate each moment she had with them.
Sighing with contentment, she turned out the lights and pulled the bedroom door almost closed. She headed toward the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and, humming along with the soft Gershwin music playing on the radio, she settled down on the living room sofa with the book she’d been trying to finish for the past couple of days.
“How’s the subdural hematoma patient coming along?”
“Pretty rough. We had a really bad time in surgery --- almost lost him two or three times. I think we’ve finally gotten him stabilized, though, but it doesn’t look too promising --- he’s still in a deep coma.”
“It’s been, what, about ten days?”
“Just about.”
“No change?”
“No change,” Marc Desmond ruefully replied as he shook his head. “Nothing to do now except wait . . . . . . . .”
Their conversation was interrupted by a terse “Code Blue” call. “I think we may have just lost this one,” Doctor Smithers commented as they both raced down the hall toward Intensive Care.
But they hadn’t --- at least, not yet. The team had been able to get him back and, for the moment, the patient’s condition seemed stable. As the hours passed, it began to appear more and more certain that he might survive after all. Despite their efforts, however, he remained caught in his lingering coma.
Johnny and Roy, coming out of the treatment room, headed for the nurses’ station. “Hi, Dix,” said Johnny brightly.
“Hi, yourself,” she replied with a smile. “How’s everything?”
“Great,” Roy responded. “It’s been pretty quiet around the station, no bad runs lately . . . . . . . .”
“When’s Doc Brackett due back?” Johnny interrupted.
“Not for another week or so,” Dixie sighed with just a faint tinge of I-sure-do-miss-him-and-another-week-is-much-too-long tone in her voice and frustration radiating from her deep blue eyes.
In empathy, Roy responded, “It’ll go by quicker than . . . . . . . .” Just then, the handi-talkie broke into their conversation as it squawked to life. As they dashed off down the corridor to answer the call, the two paramedics bid her a hasty good-bye. Dixie forced her thoughts back to the task at hand and headed toward the treatment room.
Slowly he opened his eyes. As the fuzziness in his vision cleared, he focused on the face of the person standing beside him. He silently acknowledged to himself that he was in a bed in a room he did not recall having come into and the man standing beside the bed was someone he did not recognize.
“Good morning,” said the man. “I’m Doctor Desmond.”
As he thought to speak, he continued to look at the man. His mouth and throat were dry, and it was hard for him to get any words out. Finally he managed a weak, whispered, “Where?”
“You’re in a hospital --- Westfield Medical Center.”
He took this in silently, but his eyes gazed around the room.
“Can you tell me your name?”
He returned his attention to the doctor, intending to reply to the question. Instead, as he searched his memory, he looked at the doctor in puzzlement as he came to the realization that he could find no answer there.
Seeing the beginning of alarm in his eyes, the doctor hastened to say, “That’s all right. Don’t worry; everything will come back in time. Just rest now.”
With a sigh, the man closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Concerned, the doctor noted the amnesia on the chart before he left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.
They spent the next couple of days trying to determine the degree of memory loss he was experiencing. His mental effort was mirrored on his face as he fought to catch onto a glimmer of memory, a snippet of identity. Finally, he managed a halting, stammer-y, “Bra - a . . . . . . . .” A pause for a breath, then, “. . . . . . . . d . . . . . . . .” giving them all hope that more would follow. But, for the time at least, that was to be the totality of their success. And, despite their efforts, the remainder of his memories persisted in being stubbornly elusive.
Tiredly, Marc propped his elbows on the edge of the table and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I guess I was hoping some more of his memory would be intact,” he admitted.
“Well, this isn’t totally unexpected, Marc,” Sidney Smithers reminded his colleague. “Amnesia to some degree or other is pretty much a foregone conclusion in cases like this.”
“Yeah, I know, but it’s still frustrating.”
“Be patient and give it a chance. He was in a coma an awfully long time . . . . . . . .”
“I know, I know,” Marc interrupted. “But his memory loss is staggering . . . . . . . . and he’s having trouble dealing with it.”
“I guess that means you haven’t had any luck with the police, either?”
“No.” After a pause, he reflected, “You’d think someone would be looking for him, though.”
“We can only do so much,” Sid reminded his friend. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and something will turn up.”
With a frustrated nod, Marc rose and headed off down the hall to finish his rounds.
“Good morning, Joe.”
“Hi, Dix,” Joe responded. “Pretty quiet around here today.”
“Ssshhhh,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “We’ll be overrun if you say that too loud!” she laughed.
“And how come you’re in such a good mood today? A certain someone finally call?”
Dixie’s smile vanished and her eyes grew somber. “No, not yet. I guess he’s really busy . . . . . . . .” she said as she turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears filling her eyes.
“Good morning,” Marc Desmond said as he came through the door. “How are you feeling today, Brad?”
Absently flipping through an old magazine, Brad welcomed the diversion and tossed the publication aside as he acknowledged the doctor’s entrance with a nod. “Pretty good, I guess,” he said with a dispirited sigh.
“I’ll presume that means you haven’t remembered anything more yet,” the doctor queried gently.
With a trace of sadness for all the answers narrowly eluding his grasp, Brad shook his head as he quietly replied, “No.” After a moment, he added, “Nothing at all,” a touch of despair plainly evident in his voice.
“Try to be patient,” Marc advised, not indifferent to his patient’s fears. “I can imagine how difficult it is for you, but amnesia is not uncommon with such a severe head injury.”
“But there’s so much I can’t remember!” Brad despaired.
“Give it time. There’s every reason to believe it will clear up.”
“When?” he demanded in desperation, the fear of knowing nothing about himself once again forcing itself to the surface.
Shaking his head, he replied, “There’s no way to tell.” After a pause, Marc shifted gears, trying to inject some cheerfulness into the conversation. “You’re making good progress, Brad, getting better every day. We’ll be able to release you soon.”
“Release? You mean leave here?” He looked at the doctor in a panic. “Where will I go? What will I do?”
“Let’s not worry about that right now,” he soothed. “I promise we’ll help you work something out.”
Pleased with his patient’s physical progress, Marc made a few notations on the chart and prepared to leave. A thought occurred to him then and he impulsively turned back toward the bed as he suggested, “Brad, I’m sure we could find a place for you to stay and something for you to do around the hospital --- temporarily --- until you remember . . . . . . . .”
Antsy at being cooped up in the hospital and grasping at the hope of returning to some semblance of a more ordinary way of living that the suggestion presented, Brad mulled the idea over. He found the doctor’s suggestion felt very comfortable and, with some small amount of relief, nodded his agreement.
“Let me see what I can arrange,” the doctor said as he once again turned to leave. “We’ll talk about it later.”
The jangle of the phone jolted her from her reverie and Dixie grabbed the receiver. “Rampart Emergency, Miss McCall,” she said. She listened intently for a few moments, then quietly replied, “I’ll be right there,” and, hanging up the phone, she headed toward the elevator as soon as she could get Carol to cover the rest of her shift.
“We could try,” Marc suggested. “It’s not that difficult a job --- and if it doesn’t work out, we don’t have to stay with it.” After a pause, he forcefully added, “Somebody has to help him.”
“I’m sure you know that this is a very unusual request, Doctor.”
He’s wandered around the halls here for so long now he knows his way around every inch of this hospital . . . . . . . . He’s gotten better and I don’t know how much longer we can justify keeping him here as a patient --- except for his memory, he’s recovered from his injuries and the surgery . . . . . . . .” He paused, then added, “Besides, we can’t just make him well and then throw him out the door without a second thought!”
“Let me take it to the board --- I’ll get back with you about it.”
“Thanks.” He rose to leave the administrator’s office, adding, “He’s made a lot of friends on the staff. We sure could use the help and it would be an easy enough thing to do . . . . . . . .”
Dixie sat in the chair, impatiently waiting for Nathan O’Brien to finish his call. She knew what was coming, but until she actually heard the words said, she would continue to cling to her fervent hope that they would never be spoken.
Hanging up the telephone, the harried administrator turned his attention to her and quietly said, “I’ve asked Doctor Allen to take over temporarily as the head of Emergency.”
Wordlessly, Dixie nodded her head and the office filled with awkwardness as each of them realized that they really did not know what to say. Finally, Dixie quietly queried, “Temporarily?”
He nodded. “Yes. Temporarily . . . . . . . . until Kell gets back.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Dixie said as she rose. With nothing more to say, she left the office, her eyes filled with tears.
In the end, the board agreed with Marc Desmond, and they found a room for him in the intern’s quarters. Brad, working at accepting the idea that it might be a very long time before his memory returned, settled into the routine of a hospital orderly and, as the weeks passed, it became a comfortable niche that provided him with a purpose and some peace of mind.
“And so Doctor Allen will be taking over in Emergency,” Dixie told him. Unable to hold them at bay any longer, tears drifted down her cheeks as she looked across the table at Joe and implored, “Where could he be? Why didn’t he come back?”
But Joe had no answers for her, and even more questions of his own.
He tossed restlessly in his sleep, caught in the uneasiness the dream prompted. It was always the same and Brad could never quite put his finger on what kept him from remembering. There were faces and sounds and places, foggy and dim, that he felt he should know but he could not force any recognition. As he came awake, remnants of the dream lingered, and Brad wrestled with trying to identify the faces or the places in the dream, but, as always, their names simply would not come.
Brad found that he liked working at the medical center. He’d developed an easy friendliness with most of the staff, and he was surprised to discover that he was quite adept at the tasks required of him. He had no idea what he had done before, but this work at the center certainly felt comfortable. Although he tended not to wander around town too much, he found Carpinteria to be a pleasant enough place and, despite the mystery he felt surrounding him, he began to feel more or less at home as he developed a routine that fit his work schedule at the hospital and he began to make new pieces for his life.
As time passed and no further memories surfaced, Brad made a firm decision to stop looking back and, instead, to focus on the present. To his immense relief, the strange faces dreams stopped and he found himself adeptly settling into his new life.
It occurred to Dixie that she had developed a completely new routine for her life . . . . . . . . and, although it seemed to work, she decided she definitely did not like it. Caring for Kevin and Kelsie had become her major focus, and from that she would never waver. But she’d never entertained the possibility that she would be doing this alone, and she still was often caught up short as she found herself thinking she would tell Kell this or ask Kell that. But Kell wasn’t here any more and she didn’t even know why he’d left or where he’d gone. Sighing, she had to admit, though, that he had done a masterful job of it, and he had managed to completely vanish without a trace.
At first, Dixie had thought he’d been in an accident or that something had happened to him. She remembered with a shudder that terrible carjacking incident and how everyone had thought he had been killed . . . . . . . . she had found him then, in Camarillo. But this time she’d gone to the police, filed the missing person report, done all the things expected of her, and still there was no trace and he was nowhere to be found. Sadly she acknowledged to herself that people disappeared so completely only when they wanted to. She had no clue as to why he had decided not to come back, but her heart was broken and only the twins kept her from giving up altogether.
Joe dolefully noted that Dixie’s eyes were permanently filled with sadness these days. And to make matters worse, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Shaking his head as he passed the nurses’ station where she was busy answering the telephone, he headed toward treatment room four as he made a mental note to ask Dixie to have lunch with him. He might not be able to do anything about her sadness, but he surely could try to distract her from it for a little while.
“Where?” she demanded.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she listened to the answer. “Now what?” she asked. She listened a few moments longer, then hung up the phone. After a moment, she resolutely headed toward treatment room four to find Joe.
“Where did they find it?” he asked, looking at her over the top of his coffee mug.
“On the beach just south of Port Hueneme,” she replied, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. “They said they thought it had washed ashore and that it looked as if it had been in the water for quite some time . . . . . . . .”
“That’s strange,” Joe agreed. “Did they say anything else?”
Shaking her head, she sighed in reply. “They’re searching the area, but that’s all they know.” After a moment, she added, “They said something about trying to find the car, but I’m not sure what that has to do with finding his wallet on the beach.”
“Maybe they think there was some sort of accident?”
She shook her head as she replied, “I don’t know, Joe. I just can’t figure it out --- none of it makes any sense.” Suddenly it occurred to her that perhaps there could be a whole lot more bad news to come from this discovery and her eyes brimmed with tears that she was not too successful at keeping in check.
“Port Hueneme,” Joe muttered, trying to puzzle through this latest bit of information. “Why in the world . . . . . . . .?”
Mike stuck his head in the door. “There’s a bad fire at the Carson furniture factory. First victims are just coming in.” They abandoned their conversation and shelved their concerns for the moment as they headed out to meet the ambulances.
It had been a busier-than-usual day and Brad literally fell into bed, too exhausted even to do more than pull his feet out of his shoes. He slept uneasily, tossing and turning, and did not feel particularly rested when morning came.
“Good morning, Brad,” Marc Desmond said brightly as he came up to the information desk.
With a sigh, he returned the greeting.
“Something wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.
Brad shook his head, but Marc could tell he was upset about something.
“Let’s go talk for a minute,” he said, guiding Brad over to the lounge.
“Want to tell me about it?” Marc asked as he poured two mugs of coffee.
“Nothing much to tell,” he replied. “Just didn’t sleep too well.”
“That same dream back again?”
After a moment, he shook his head, “Yeah.”
The doctor took a breath, then replied, “I think maybe your memory is trying to come back, after all. These faces . . . . . . . . they’re probably people who are important to you in some way. Friends or associates . . . . . . . . family perhaps.”
Shaking his head sadly, Brad said, “When the dreams stopped, I thought it was all lost and I would never remember what my life was like before. I was terrified at that prospect, but you’ve helped me have a new life here. I was determined to make the best of it and it’s been good.” He hesitated, then went on, “But now, the dreams are back and it’s throwing everything into turmoil again, and I don’t know what to do about it!”
“I know it can’t be easy for you, Brad, but if your memory is going to come back, you can’t stop that from happening. And maybe when you do remember, you’ll find out that you want to go back to that life you had before.”
“It’s just . . . . . . . . worrisome,” he muttered, “and frustrating.”
“Your doctor is frustrated, too,” he remarked as he rose to go. “Any time you need to talk . . . . . . . .”
“Thanks, Doctor Desmond. You’ve already done so much. I can’t begin to thank you.”
“No thanks needed,” he said with a smile as he reached the door. “Now, shall we get to work?”
It turned out to be a hectic sort of day and Brad worked long past the end of his shift. Aching and tired, he started off for his room only to remember that he had promised to stop by the children’s ward. With a sigh, he pushed the elevator call button and headed for the sixth floor.
The celebration was in full swing when he arrived. “Hi, Brad!” Emilee greeted him with a warm smile. Emilee, the pediatric nursing supervisor who had been responsible for arranging this party for the children, was one of his favorite people. “It’s so hard for children to be in the hospital and it’s not such a big deal to have some cake and ice cream brought in for them,” she had said. Brad had been touched by her concern for the children and had offered his assistance.
“Hi, Emilee,” he smiled, pushing his tiredness aside. “Sorry I’m late,” he added. “It’s been that kind of a day.”
“So I heard,” she replied with a big happy-to-see-you smile. “I’ll get you some cake --- you go say ‘hi’ to the kids.”
He spent the next several minutes visiting with the children, clearly enjoying himself as much they were. After a time, he headed over to the side of the room and Emilee handed him a slice of chocolate cake on a paper plate. Pointing him toward the far corner of the room, she said, “Ice cream’s over there,” and gave him a gentle shove in that direction.
Chuckling, he headed over to get some ice cream. One of the student nurses was serving it and, as he came up to her, she said, “Hi! Want some ice cream?”
“I guess so,” he answered.
“On top of your cake or in a Dixie cup?” she asked him with a smile.
A perplexing cacophony of images suddenly swirled through his mind and he looked at her blankly as he tried to make some sense of it.
After a moment, she repeated, “On your cake or in . . . . . . . .”
“On the cake is fine,” he absently interrupted, still caught in the baffling tangle of images and half-remembered faces.
Suddenly the room shook as the hospital was rocked by an explosion. Smoke poured from the ventilation system and filled the room with an eye-stinging haze.
Everyone set about getting the children to a place of safety. That done, Brad returned for a last look around, wanting to be sure no one had been left behind in all the confusion. His eyes swept the recreation room, straining to see through the smoky haze. Anxious, he hurriedly began a walk-around of the room.
Impulsively, Brad reached out to pull a tablecloth away from a toppled table. To his surprise, he found a child laying there, the edge of the table across his small chest. Quickly moving the table and bending down to the child, Brad instinctively felt for the child’s pulse as he gently examined his ribcage. Alarmed by his findings, he carefully gathered the child into his arms and headed for the door.
Ignoring everyone rushing around Emergency, Brad carried the boy into a vacant treatment room and gently laid him on the examination table. Working without conscious thought and knowing exactly what to do and how to do it, he had, in short order, completed the thoracotomy and stabilized the child.
Intent on caring for the boy, he did not hear the door open. He started at the touch on his shoulder as Doctor Desmond stepped in to examine the child. Realizing that there was no need for further treatment at the moment, he silently stepped back from the table. Now that the child had been treated and was out of immediate danger, he leaned against the wall and allowed himself to examine the images and memories flooding his thoughts and crowding his mind.
“Well, I guess that explains why you’re so at home in a hospital,” Marc said quietly as the child was taken upstairs to pediatrics and the doctor came over to his side. Continuing to lean against the wall, he remained preoccupied and silent.
After a time, he managed to briefly halt the flood of memories and he looked up at the doctor who had become his friend. “The child needed . . . . . . . . it just . . . . . . . .” he began quietly, still somewhat confused over the sudden turn of events.
“Are you all right, Brad?”
He shook his head in silent reply, still engrossed and intent on examining the images and memories that were inundating his thoughts, hoping for understanding and answers to the mystery of who and what he was. Finally managing to grasp his own reality, he quietly said, “It’s Kell. Doctor Kelly Brackett.”
The drive took longer than he had anticipated and it was late when he pulled up to the house. But the lights were still on, and, pushing back his hesitation, he walked up to the door and reached out to ring the bell.
The unexpected chime of the doorbell startled her and she looked up from her laundry-folding to check the time. “Who could it be this late?” she wondered as she reached out to open the front door.
Shock and disbelief tangled with joy and relief within her. She sagged against the wall, her eyes never leaving his face even though she looked at him as if he was an apparition. After an eternity . . . . . . . . an eon . . . . . . . . a moment . . . . . . . . she stepped back from the doorway so that he could come in.
Bewildered, she watched him as he looked around. Finally finding her voice, she absently asked, “Want some coffee?” The absurdity of the question in light of the situation was not lost on her, but she pensively brushed the reflection aside.
Kell turned and smiled at her as he nodded. “That would be great,” he answered quietly, “if it’s not too much trouble.”
And so, in one of those you-simply-would-not-believe-it kind of moments, she found herself sitting at the breakfast room table having a cup of coffee, listening with confounded incredulity while he explained what he knew of what had happened and just where it was that he had been for all these past months.
“. . . . . . . . and then it all came back,” he concluded with a sad sort of smile and a shake of his head. “And so . . . . . . . .” He let the statement hang, uncertain of what her reaction would be. Having no idea in what ways she might’ve changed her life since he had been gone, and, certain he was no longer important to her, he found himself dreading her response.
She felt as if she were on overload. After a time, she managed a quiet, “Are you all right?” that he answered with a silent nod of his head. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she whispered, “I had no idea.” A pause, then, “I was so worried . . . . . . . .”
“I’m so sorry,” he interrupted, tears welling up in his dark eyes.
“I’m sorry, too,” she said softly. “I’m sorry you had to go through that all alone. I tried to find you . . . . . . . .”
“Dix,” he interjected, “I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it’s been for you. I’d give anything . . . . . . . .”
“Me, too,” she broke in. “But we can’t change it, can we?”
With a sad shake of his head he said, “No, I’m afraid not.”
Silence enveloped them. After a time, she stood and, coming to his side, took hold of his hand. He stood then and followed her as she led him down the hallway. A few moments later he stood, her hand still holding his, looking down at their sleeping children. Gingerly he reached out and touched his son’s cheek, his daughter’s hair. His eyes riveted to them, he somberly whispered, “They’ve gotten so big . . . . . . . .”
Fighting a new swell of tears, she silently nodded as they stood watching over their twins. Her earlier this-is-just-too-impossible feeling of unreality as they’d sat at the table and talked was banished as he stood by her side. Having him stand so close to her and feeling his hand in hers stirred her deepest emotions and she wondered if he still shared those feelings. Did the new life he had forged for himself still have any place for her in it?
Her contemplations were interrupted as Kelsie stirred, kicking off the covers. With a soft smile, she reached out with her free hand to fix the sheet. But fixing the tangled sheet turned out to be a two-handed task and Kell reached over to help. With a self-conscious smile, she accepted the assistance and together they replaced the covers over the sleeping child.
Still holding onto his hand, Dixie turned to leave the room and pulled the door closed behind her. “Kell,” she began as they stood in the hallway outside the door, but as she looked up into his eyes, she couldn’t manage to get any other words past the lump in her throat. As he gently removed his hand from hers, she was suddenly afraid that he’d created a whole new life that no longer included her, and she was unable to stop the gathering of tears in her eyes. As they spilled down her cheeks, he reached out to brush them away. Pulling her into a hug, he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Dix . . . . . . . . I’m so sorry.”
“I’m so glad that you’re back,” she murmured softly. He made no reply; in dismay she extricated herself from his arms and, overwhelmed by her fears, she turned away, sobbing.
He stood silently, waiting for her crying to subside. He had no idea of what to say to her. Somehow an apology seemed woefully inadequate considering all the time he had been gone, no matter what the reason. He was afraid to examine his feelings too closely, for while he was unflaggingly certain that he no longer had any right to her love, he also knew that if he looked within himself he would find that she was his one, true, always-and-forever love. And so he silently stood behind her, waiting and wondering just how all of this would end.
After a time, she turned to him and, in despair, said, “I’m sorry. I had no right to jump to conclusions. I shouldn’t have just assumed you’d come back if you remembered . . . . . . . .”
“What?” he countered, confused.
She swallowed hard, then said, “I didn’t mean to be making your decisions . . . . . . . . ”
Still caught up in his own musings, he’d focused his thoughts on addressing what he had expected to hear her say and her words had not registered. Softly he said, “You had every right to change your life after . . . . . . . . I mean, how could you possibly have known? And it was such a long time . . . . . . . .” Pausing a moment to reflect, he added, “I don’t have any right to expect you to still care for me, even though . . . . . . . .”
“But I . . . . . . . .” she interrupted with surprise.
“. . . . . . . . I still love you,” he finished quietly, speaking right through her interjected words.
Feeling as if the weight of the world had suddenly been lifted from her shoulders, Dixie smiled at him through her tears as she reached out, put her arms around him, and kissed him. After a time, she even found enough presence of mind to say to him, “I will always love you.”
“What time is your shift at the hospital?” he asked as she lay cuddled in his arms.
“I’m off today,” she answered with a smile and a kiss.
“Mmmmmmmmmm,” he murmured as he returned the kiss and, in the process, managed to get his fingers tangled in her long, soft, blonde hair.
Later, sitting at the breakfast room table finishing brunch, she said, “If you want, I can follow you up later today.” A pause, then, “Or, I can come tomorrow, or whenever you would like.”
He sighed in frustration. “I guess,” he answered, “what I really want is for you to go with me. Would you mind?”
“Of course not,” she immediately replied.
“Well then, I suppose we should go today.”
“Do you want to take the twins with us or should I get a sitter?”
“Let’s take them, OK? I know it’s mostly a car ride, but I’d like to take them anyway. I feel like I’ve missed so much . . . . . . . .”
“No problem,” she said brightly in hopes of easing his sense of sadness at being gone so long. “We’ll be ready in a minute.”
The closer they came to Carpinteria and the medical center, the more unsettled Kell felt. He knew there was no reason for him to feel uncomfortable about returning there, but he seemed unable to banish the feeling nevertheless.
While Dixie found a space in the visitor’s parking lot, Kell drove around to staff parking and pulled the car into its space in the doctor’s parking garage. Locking the car and pocketing the keys as he tried to quell his edginess, he set off to meet Dixie.
She noticed his discomfort immediately and gave him a quick hug before returning to her task of getting the twins out of their car seats. He smiled at her and, as she picked Kevin up, he reached over and took him from her arms. In a moment, she had Kelsie out and together they headed for the door.
The side door brought them right to Marc Desmond’s office, and Kell tapped gently on the door. In response to the reply, he opened the door and they stepped inside.
Marc looked up from his paperwork and smiled as he rose and came around the desk. Kell introduced him to Dixie and the twins and he invited them to sit down.
Pleasantries exchanged and Marc’s car keys returned to him, Dixie said, “I really want to thank you for taking care of Kell.”
“That’s what we do,” he told her with a smile. “Would you like to see the medical center?” Noting Kell’s discomfort with that suggestion, he hastened to reassure him. “Everyone around here is thrilled that you’ve gotten your memory back. And Stephen’s family wants to thank you.” Noting his puzzlement, he added, “He’s the child you cared for after the explosion.”
“Oh,” Kell replied distractedly. “I didn’t know his name.”
“Shall we?”
Seeing no way around it, Kell nodded. Marc ushered them out the door, observing without comment as Dixie shifted Kelsie into her other arm so that she could take hold of Kell’s hand.
It took most of the rest of the day to get through the hospital. Everyone wanted to talk with Kell and to meet his family. Although they were dismayed at the prospect of his leaving their medical center, they all seemed to be his friends and Dixie was pleased to meet the wonderful people who had cared for him and about him over all the past months.
As they drove toward home, Kell tried to explain to Dixie what had happened. “Before the conference began, I went to check out a special little shop Vic Evers told me about. I was on my way back to Ventura for the conference and I don’t remember there being any problems.” He paused a moment, then continued, “The trouble is, I can’t remember what happened in between. I was driving along the road and then, somehow, I was in the water. Everything in between in blank.”
His frustration with missing pieces of information was apparent, and Dixie was trying to be supportive. “I would guess that there must have been some sort of an accident. I can’t figure out any other way you could have gotten from the road to the water.” She paused a moment, then suggested, “Why don’t you talk to Joe? Maybe he’ll have some ideas . . . . . . . .”
“Maybe,” he said. “It’s probably a good idea.” After a few moments, he dejectedly added, “I just wish I could remember.”
Still seeking to reassure him, Dixie asked, “But even if you don’t remember, it isn’t such a big deal, is it? I mean, you seem to have remembered everything else . . . . . . . . and lots of people don’t remember the accidents they have been in.”
Nodding his head in agreement, he said, “I suppose you’re right. And I guess there must have been some sort of an accident. But talking to Joe is probably a good idea, too.”
Nodding, Dixie tried to draw the conversation to a close as she observed, “The most important thing is that you are all right and that you’re home with us again!” She smiled as she reached over to gently put her hand on his knee.
He tossed her a smile, once again finding himself grateful to have her in his life. He realized that the most important pieces of his memory had returned . . . . . . . . and that they had brought him back to his family, back to his very heart and soul.
As they drove on, the children drifted off to sleep. Contented, Dixie was humming along with the music on the car radio. Tonight they were playing Cole Porter, she happily noted, and as a new song began, she softly sang along:
I've got you under my skin
I've got you deep in the heart of me
So deep in my heart you're really a part of
me
I've got you under my skin
I tried so not to give in
I said to myself, “This affair never could
go so well”
But why should I try to resist when,
Darling, I know so well
I've got you under my skin
I'd sacrifice anything come what might
For the sake of havin' you near
In spite of a warnin' voice that comes in
the night
And repeats and repeats in my ear
Don't you know, little fool, you never can
win
Use your mentality
Wake up to reality
But each time I do
Just the thought of you
Makes me stop before I begin
'Cause I've got you under my skin
I’d sacrifice anything come what might
For the sake of havin' you near
In spite of the warning voice that comes in
the night
And repeats and repeats in my ear
Don't you know, little fool, you never can
win
Use your mentality
Wake up to reality
But each time I do
Just the thought of you
Makes me stop before I begin
'Cause I've got you
I've got you under my skin
“No, Joe, nothing’s wrong. I just need you to come over. Right now. Please,” she cajoled, “it’s important.”
“I’ll have to find someone to cover for me.”
“I know. Please.”
He tried to mask his concern, but this was not at all like Dixie and he wondered what was behind her strange request. Still, she seldom asked for anything, and he knew how difficult things had been for her. As a friend, he felt compelled to provide whatever sort of help she might need. “OK, Dixie, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Thanks, Joe.”
Kell laughed at her as she hung up the phone. “You should have told him,” he admonished.
“And have him break his neck getting over here? Not a chance!”
“You’ll see,” he warned with a chuckle. “He’s going to be really annoyed!”
“Guess I’ll just have to take my chances,” she retorted.
“I just need someone to cover for me for a while,” Joe said. “Dixie called,” he added.
“Something wrong?”
“She said everything was fine, but it’s unusual for her to call with a request like that. I’d just feel a whole lot better if I could go over there and see for myself that everything is all right.”
“I’ll cover for you,” Mike said. “Go. Get out of here. Now.”
Hesitantly, he rang the bell. His thoughts were filled with wild imaginings. Ever since Kell had gone up to Ventura for that medical conference things had been in upheaval. He hadn’t called, and Dixie had fretted about it. Then, when the conference was over, he didn’t come home, and when they checked, it turned out that he had been registered for the conference but had not picked up his registration materials and no one had seen him there at all. And, although Dixie had not asked for much from her friends in the ensuing months during which Kell had remained missing, he knew it all had to be horribly difficult for her. And now, her strange call. He was concerned for his friend and had no feel for what to expect.
Smiling, Dixie answered the door almost at once. “Hi, Joe,” she cheerfully greeted him. “Come on in.”
“What’s wrong, Dixie?” he asked as he came through the door.
“I told you on the phone . . . . . . . . nothing’s wrong. Want some coffee?”
“Dixie, why did you need me to rush over here?” he asked, mildly annoyed at the run-around.
“I told you he’d be annoyed,” Kell laughed.
“Kell!”
“Hello, Joe,” he said, suddenly somber. Handing Joe a cup of coffee and motioning for him to sit down, he sat on the arm of the sofa, his face unreadable.
“Kell . . . . . . . .” he began, surprised and bewildered by this unexpected turn of events.
“Drink your coffee, Joe, then we’ll talk.”
“. . . . . . . . And that’s about all there is,” he concluded, handing the medical records folder to Joe.
Joe took the folder from him and glanced through the first few pages. “Have you read this?” he asked.
“Nope,” Kell answered. “Do I need to?”
“No . . . . . . . . no,” he replied. A pause, then, “It’s pretty much what you’d expect to see, fairly standard stuff,” he said, closing the folder. “Thank goodness Kell didn’t read this,” he thought to himself as Kell went off to re-fill the coffee cups. He was certain it would be better if neither Kell nor Dixie ever realized just how precarious Kell’s condition had actually been. Sometimes it was simply better to exist in ignorant bliss.
“Joe?”
He started. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“You were pretty far away.”
“Just thinking how good it is to have you back here again, Kell,” he told his friend earnestly.
“Believe me, it’s good to be here. You’ve no idea . . . . . . . .”
“I can’t even begin to imagine,” he said soberly. He chuckled as he went on, “I’m beginning to think Johnny had the right idea, though, when he said someone should always go along with you to make sure that you get back home all right!”
Kell laughed humorlessly and, in an abrupt change of topic, he suddenly said, “Thanks for watching out for my family, Joe. I don’t know how to even begin to thank you for that . . . . . . . .”
“There’s no need for thanks. That’s what friends do.”
Dixie came back from putting the children down for a nap, and the conversation turned to Rampart.
“Are you planning to go back, Kell?” Joe asked.
“Do I have a job to go back to?”
“Of course you do,” Dixie said earnestly. “Nathan O’Brien told me he was only temporarily making Doctor Allen head of Emergency . . . . . . . . just until you came back.”
“I suppose everyone thinks I just walked out . . . . . . . .”
“Doesn’t matter what anyone thinks,” Joe interrupted. “And they don’t think that, anyway. Everyone will be glad to see you again.”
Kell sighed, but said nothing more.
“Well, I’d better get back,” Joe said as he rose to go. “Suppose I just sort of mention that I saw you . . . . . . . . sort of break the ice before you get over there?” he suggested to Kell.
“Whatever you think best,” he replied, not at all sure that Joe could make any difference in what he felt was a messy bit of circumstance in which he now found himself mired.
“Is Dixie OK?” Mike asked as Joe came up to the counter at the nurses’ station to tell him he had returned.
“Just fine. Thanks for covering for me. I owe you one.”
Surprised by Joe’s answer, Mike commented, “Well, as long as everything’s OK . . . . . . . .”
Turning to Betty, Joe said, “Dixie will probably be out all the rest of the week. Can you shift the schedule to cover for her?”
“Sure . . . . . . . . I guess so,” she replied hesitantly, “but if she’s OK . . . . . . . .”
“She should be back the beginning of next week,” he began, only to be interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.
“Rampart Emergency,” Betty said as she held up her hand to halt the conversation for a minute. After listening a moment, she handed the phone to Joe. “It’s Dixie, for you.”
“Dix?” He listened, and then asked, “When?” He listened again, then prompted, “And?” While he listened to her, he paged through the medical records in the folder he had brought with him. “What about now?” he asked. Not liking the answer she gave him, he said, “I’ll be right there.” With that, he handed the phone back to Betty as he said, “Emergency. Be back as soon as I can.”
Betty and Mike just looked at each other as they shook their heads in absolute bewilderment.
“We should do an echoencephalogram,” he said.
“It’s just a headache, Joe,” he protested feebly. “Dixie shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“She didn’t bother me, and we should check it out. Come on, Kell, you know I’m right.”
He sighed in resignation, acknowledging the inevitable. “But I’ve been OK for a while now . . . . . . . . I’m sure it’s not serious.”
“Then the echoencephalogram will show that, won’t it?”
Realizing that Joe was right, Kell dropped the argument and acquiesced. His head was pounding and it was much easier to give in than to try and find the words with which to argue.
“Well, Joe?” she asked as he came into the break room. She put down her coffee and looked at him, worry written across her features, fear clouding her deep blue eyes.
“Looks like Kell was right,” he reported. “But we needed to check . . . . . . . .”
“I’m sorry I bothered you,” Dixie interrupted in a soft whisper. “It just happened so suddenly, and the pain . . . . . . . . it was so severe he couldn’t even sit up . . . . . . . .”
“I’d have been angry if you hadn’t called, Dix,” he told her gently as he drew a cup of coffee from the pot. “It could have been critical.” He set the coffee down and reached to refill her cup. She smiled absently as he took the cup.
“But it’s not?” she asked as he sat down with her at the table.
Joe silently noted her worry and concern as he set the coffee down in front of her. She seemed quite a bit more frantic about it than was her usual style, and he supposed that was because her life had been in such upheaval for all the months that Kell had been missing. And now that she had finally gotten him home, and had a chance to return her life to some semblance of normalcy, there was this new crisis to deal with.
“I don’t think so --- the echoencephalogram didn’t show any-thing. I sent him upstairs for some other tests and I want to keep him here for a while,” Joe replied. As he looked through the medical records Kell had given him, he added, “I’ll touch bases with this Doctor Desmond up at Westfield, but I really don’t think there’s anything for you to worry about at all.”
She sighed in relief as she nodded her understanding.
“Come on,” he said, standing up and taking hold of her arm. “He ought to be in a room now. Let’s go see how he’s doing.”
A quiet tap at the door startled her from her reflections. Roy DeSoto poked his head in; she smiled and gestured for him to come in as she stood up and walked toward the door.
Quietly Roy asked, “How is he?”
“OK, I guess,” she answered, trying to banish her concern. They haven’t found anything so far.”
“Joanne said she’d come down and get Kevin and Kelsie if you’d like. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about them.”
Dixie smiled gratefully at the offer, but said, “That’s a pretty big imposition . . . . . . . .”
“Not at all,” Roy interrupted her. “The kids make a fuss over the twins and we love having them come. It’s no imposition.”
“Thanks,” she said appreciatively. “That would be wonderful.”
“Done,” said Roy as he headed out the door. He dodged to keep from running into Joe. “Hi, Doc,” he said as he left.
“Joe?” queried Dixie fearfully.
“Everything looks fine,” he reassured her. “I talked with Doctor Desmond and we both think it’s probably a one-time thing --- stress, most likely.” After a moment, he added, “We’ll keep him here tonight. If he’s all right in the morning, you can take him home then.” He smiled at the relief shining in her eyes.
Grateful for his unwavering friendship, Dixie smiled back at him.
Joe walked over to stand beside the bed. “We all probably over-reacted on this one, Dix,” he said, relief evident in his voice. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”
“Dixie! Kell! It’s been much too long since we’ve seen you!” Frank greeted them warmly. As he led them to a quiet table, he pointed to the festive decorations and added, “We’re doing a couple weeks worth of cinco de mayo . . . . . . . . got mariachi musicians to play with Dean and everything!” As they sat down, he queried, “Ever sing with a mariachi band, Dixie?”
She laughed as she shook her head. “Do they play quiet songs, Frank?” she teased.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll find out!” And before she could say anything more, he was off on his self-appointed mission.
Kell laughed. “You fell right into that one, Love!”
“I guess,” she chuckled as she looked over the menu. “But it’s probably a pretty safe bet they don’t play quiet songs or the kind of songs I sing.” She paused a moment, then looked up at Kell as she added, “Besides, I want to be right here with you.”
“I’m glad you do because I want to be here with you, too,” he told her with a smile. “But I really wouldn’t mind at all if you were to sing a few songs!” His dark eyes sparkled with love as she returned the smile.
“Hi!” said Dean brightly, coming up to the table.
“Hi, Dean!” they greeted the piano player.
“You sure got Frank all stirred up,” he said. “Do you know he’s over there making the band give him a list of all the quiet songs they know how to play?”
Dixie laughed as she explained it all to Dean. “So,” she concluded, “I guess I’ll have to go ahead and sing if he comes back with any songs on his list that I know.”
“Are there any songs you don’t know, Dixie?” Dean teased.
Frank came up then, offering her a list of songs that the mariachi band considered “quiet.” She glanced over the list and was surprised to find several songs she knew listed there. Sighing at the inevitable, she smiled at Kell as she got up and walked over to the piano with Dean. She’d selected a few songs from the list, but Dean surprised her with a request for her to sing Perfidia first. Shrugging, she nodded and began to sing:
To you
My heart cries out perfidia
For I found you
The love of my life
In somebody else’s arms
Your eyes
Are echoing perfidia
Forgetful of our promise of love
You’re sharing another’s charms
With a sad lament
My dreams have faded like
A broken melody
While the gods of love look down and laugh
At what romantic fools we mortals be
And now
I know my love was not for you
And so I’ll take it back with a sigh
Perfidious one, good-bye
With a sad lament
My dreams have faded like
A broken melody
While the gods of love look down and laugh
At what romantic fools we mortals be
And now
I know my love was not for you
And so I’ll take it back with a sigh
Perfidious one, good-bye
The diners in the restaurant
applauded warmly as the song came to an end.
Somewhat discomforted with the attention, Dixie smiled a bit
self-consciously as Dean chuckled and the mariachi musicians all smiled broadly
at her. With just a momentary pause,
the musicians segued into the first of the special numbers she had chosen.
See the setting sun
The evening’s just begun
And love is in the air
Be mine tonight
At a time like this
Would you refuse the kiss
I’m begging you to share
Be mine tonight
Promise this, my own
Before the night has flown
You’ll tell me that you care
And hold me tight
Whisper love words
Oh, so tender
Give your kisses
In sweet surrender
Let your heart
Be mine tonight
Promise this, my own
Before the night has flown
You’ll tell me that you care
Whisper love words
Oh, so tender
Give your kisses
In sweet surrender
Let your heart
Be mine tonight
As always, Kell was completely mesmerized when she sang and he watched her with absolute fascination. Listening to her sing, he realized that portions of those strange dreams he had had were actually memories of her singing. Although he knew Dixie was somewhat uncomfortable with the fuss people generally made over her when she sang, he also knew that music was an essential part of who she was, and he treasured any opportunity to watch her as she succumbed to the enchantment of the music. As the introduction came to an end, she glanced at him, smiled diffidently, and began to sing:
Come closer to me
So I can see
Heaven in your eyes
Come closer to me
So I can be
Close to paradise
Thrill me with your kisses
Let me learn what bliss is
Kiss me once and then
We’ll kiss and kiss again
And life will be divine
Come closer, my dear
So I can hear
Music in my heart
I’ve waited so long
To hear the song
Darling, I adore you
Live my life just for you
All I ask is this
Please give me one more kiss
And whisper you’ll be mine
Darling, I adore you
Live my life just for you
All I ask is this
And whisper you’ll be mine
As the song came to a close, Dixie was a bit surprised to discover that she was really enjoying herself. This singing with the mariachi band was something new and different for her, but the songs were still the kind she felt most comfortable singing. And, she admitted to herself, she hadn’t sung any of these particular songs in a very long time --- and singing them felt sort of like greeting an old friend she hadn’t seen in ever so long. Already, the little musical group had established an easy cohesiveness and, settling into a comfortable rhythm, they began playing the introduction to the next song. Dixie once again sought out Kell’s eyes and, at precisely the right moment, she smiled as she began to sing:
Magic is the moonlight
On this lover’s June night
As I see the moonlight
Shining in your eyes
Can’t resist their power
In this moonlit hour
Love began to flower
This is paradise
Living in the splendor
Of your kiss so tender
Make my heart surrender
To your love divine
Magic is the moonlight
More than any June night
Magic is the moonlight
For it made you mine
Magic is the moonlight
More than any June night
Magic is the moonlight
For it made you mine
For it made you mine
For it made you mine
A bit anxious for the set to be over so that she could go back to the table and sit with Kell, Dixie idly wondered if he realized she’d picked these songs just for him. Despite her pleasure at singing again, she, nevertheless, found herself resenting being across the room from Kell after they had been separated for so long. Her paranoia over everything that had happened made a part of her feel as if she needed to be wherever he was simply to make sure no further unexpected calamities befell them. “Just a couple left,” she whispered to Dean as the musicians worked through the final introductory measures. Not understanding her desire to rush through the music, he playfully scowled at her as she began to sing the next song:
Yours ’til the stars lose their glory
Yours ’til the birds fail to sing
Yours ’til the end of life’s story
This pledge to you, dear, I bring
Yours in the grey of December
Here or on far distant shores
I’ve never loved anyone
The way I love you
How could I
When I was born to be
Just yours
Yours in the grey of December
Here or on far distant shores
I’ve never loved anyone
The way I love you
How could I
When I was born to be
Just yours
Yours ’til the stars lose their glory
Appreciative applause filled the room as the mariachi band finished the number with a gentle flourish. Frank was gamely encouraging them to keep on playing as more and more people packed the dining room to hear the captivating singer. Dean, used to this sort of reaction whenever Dixie was there to sing, just smiled broadly and kept his fingers dancing across the keys while Dixie listened for the cue for her final song. She had been pleased to find this song on Frank’s list because its message was absolutely perfect. Catching Kell’s eye, she mouthed, “For you,” and then began to sing her song to him:
You belong to my heart
Now and forever
And our love had its start
Not long ago
We were gathering stars
While a million guitars
Played our love song
When
I said, “I love you”
Every
beat of my heart said it, too
And your eyes threw a kiss
When they met mine
Now we own all the stars
And a million guitars
Are still playing
Darling, you are the song
And you’ll always belong
To my heart
We were gathering stars
While a million guitars
Played our love song
’Twas a moment like this
Do you remember
And your eyes threw a kiss
When they met mine
Now we own all the stars
And a million guitars
Are still playing
Darling, you are the song
And you’ll always belong
To my heart
And as she lovingly gazed into his tear-filled eyes, she was unfailingly certain that, no matter what the future might bring, she would always belong to his heart.
***************************
Song Notes for this Dixie McCall story:
Little Things Mean A Lot
C. Stutz / E. Linderman
I’ve Got You Under My Skin
Cole
Porter
Perfidia
Leeds / Dominguez
Be Mine Tonight
Skylar / Lar
Come Closer To Me
Stewart / Farres
Magic Is The Moonlight
Pasquale / Grever
Yours
Gamse / Sherr / Roig
You Belong To My Heart
Gilbert / Lara
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