A feeling arose inside her, the first one she’d experienced in some time. Disappointment. Something about that man disappointed her, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She kept looking around the room but no one else was there. Was someone else supposed to be there?
All of that thought drained her and her eyelids drifted shut. She needed more sleep. She needed lots of sleep. Endless sleep. Maybe the day would come when she didn’t need any more sleep. But in this moment, she couldn’t imagine it.
The next time the fog cleared, the room was empty except for Jamie and the other man, who were playing a game of chess on a travel set. She watched them for a while, wondering what they were talking about so intimately. No sound came her way, but that might be because they were keeping their voices low. Their two heads were so close, nearly touching. They were so caught up in their game and their conversation that they didn’t notice her eyes were open.
Eventually she drifted back to sleep. When she woke again, Jamie and Duncan--yes, that was his name!—were laughing as they divided up a plate of Chinese noodle. Her parents were slow-dancing in a corner of the hospital room. That made her smile. And go back to sleep.
Then one day, she could hear. Sounds flowed into her consciousness, fascinating and incomprehensible. Rhythms, melodies, intonations…and then something clicked and she could understand words.
“Her brain activity has been picking up,” a grave male voice was saying. “But she’s not in the clear yet.”
“Please just tell us she’s going to be normal again.” That voice was familiar. It belonged to her mother.
“Normal might be a bit different for her. We won’t know how different until she regains consciousness.”
“But she will do that, right? She’ll be herself again?”
“I advise you all to be patient. She’s working hard to heal.” That voice disappeared, and so did the others, as she drifted back to sleep.
Sometime later, another male voice pulled her out of her cocoon of slumber. This voice sounded different, an accent, yes, that’s what it had. She knew the voice, but not well.
“I want you to know that this setback makes no difference to me. I’m still fully committed to you. But if you can hear me, you should know that we’re running out of time. The bequest is going to expire in three days. That pesky hundred-year deadline. Please wake up before then. Please, my darling Mathilda. Philip Phelps thinks that performing our vows while you’re in this state might be legally questionable. But we may be forced to do that as a fallback, even if it gets invalidated at a future point. The last thing I want to do is marry someone in a coma. Please, Mathilda, if you’re in there, now is the time to speak.”
A thought moved sluggishly through her brain. It wasn’t much of a thought. Just a “no.”
But it gathered some momentum, like a snowball rolling down a slope. No. This was wrong. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want him. She didn’t know him. It wasn’t right. No no no.
Over the next unknown stretch of existence, she tried to fill in the details of that feeling. He was talking about marriage. To her? Why to her, when she didn’t even know him? Not only that, but…there was something else. Someone else. Yes, that was it!
Someone else who made her heart soar. Someone with dark eyes that smiled at her as if she was magic.
I have to get out of this fog. That thought became more clear and more forceful, and she used it to pull herself along. There’s something out there I have to attend to before it’s too late. And not just for me. For my family. For the world.
Gradually the missing pieces filled in. Reality in all its chaos and turbulence rushed back into her vision. It was too much at first, and she had to step back to orient herself. The cottage. The crystal. Her family. The bequest. The stakes.
“Hi,” she said softly one day. Or was it night? The curtains in the hospital room were drawn so she didn’t know. She did know that she was not on the Big Island anymore. She was on Oahu. She’d figured that out when she’d heard the nurses complaining about the Honolulu traffic.
“Darling!” Charlotte shot to her feet. “You’re awake. Are you awake? Can you hear me? Can you see me?”
“You’re wearing a muumuu.”
“Yes! I am, isn’t it divine? I did some research for my fashion friends and they were originally adapted by the lovely Hawaiian ladies from the long gowns the missionaries used to wear. Isn’t that fascinating? I find them quite enchanting, and perfect for this climate.” She stopped to take a breath. “Why am I rattling on like this? How do you feel, darling? Like yourself again?”
“Not…quite.” Mathilda tried to sit up, but didn’t get far before her father rushed to her side.
“Let me help, my dear.” He supported her from behind while she dragged herself into a sitting position, then propped pillows behind her back. Being upright made her head swim. She took a few deep breaths until everything steadied. She looked around the hospital room and spotted books, journals, laptops, takeout containers…but no one else.
“Where’s Jamie?” she asked her father.
“He went for a jog. It’s about sunset now, and that’s his favorite time, once it’s cooled a bit.”
“And…” It took a moment to summon the name. “Duncan?”
“Also jogging. They went together. They should be back shortly.”
“And the lawyer? Ph…Ph…Philip Phelps?” All the “f” sounds made her giggle. “Is he still hanging around?”
“As a matter of fact, he is. Do you want to talk to him?”
