Falling for Him 2 (Rachel and Peter in Love) Read online

  “So are you,” I whispered, leaning up to bite his chin and then soothe it with my tongue.

  Peter grabbed the protection he had set on the side of the mattress and quickly donned it before rolling to his side. He pulled me with him, pulling my leg over his hip to make room for himself. He held my gaze as he joined us and started the age-old dance of love.

  I held his gaze, marveling at how his eyes darkened and his feature grew taught as the chemistry between us exploded. Soon, the gentle ride was not enough, and he pushed me back to lie on the pillows and pulled my thighs over his own. He increased his tempo until he flung us both off the edge of the cliff and into the ecstasy that only is obtainable when two hearts are as one.

  Was this true love? This thought rambled through my mind as my sated body relaxed in the afterglow of our loving.

  After many minutes of relaxing, Peter stirred next to me, “Ready to go explore the town?”

  I was fine right where I was, but then my stomach growled, announcing to the room that dinner might be next on the list. “I’m starving.”

  “Great. How about we grab some dinner and a bottle of wine to bring back to the room. We can pick up right where we left off quick enough.”

  “That sounds nice. Let me clean up and then I’ll get dressed. It won’t take me but a minute.”

  I climbed from the bed, picking up my clothing as I headed for the attached bathroom. The thought crossed my mind that under normal circumstances, I would have been trying to wrap the sheet around myself, not wanting my lover to see my body. With Peter, I didn’t mind that he watched me and it brought a smile to my face as I thought about how comfortable and easy being with him was. Maybe this was true love!

  *****

  Siurana was a sleepy little town, full of tourists and climbers. Many people milled around the small town. Very few vehicles were seen, and it was like going back in time. The air was peaceful and a gentle breeze was blowing in from the coast, cooling the air down.

  Peter suggested a little restaurant across the street and we had just stepped off the curb when disaster struck. Out of nowhere, a car came careening around the corner, striking Peter to the ground and throwing me to the side. The car roared off without even slowing down.

  I was so stunned; I lay on the ground for several moments, the breath knocked from me and my hip hurting from where I had landed. While I tried to get my bearings, the image of the car flashed through my head multiple times. I was almost sure a woman had been driving, but everything had happened so fast….

  Finally I managed to get my senses back together and looked over my shoulder at Peter. He wasn’t moving and hadn’t made any attempt to arise from the street. Other pedestrians had stopped and were watching from the sidewalks, but none of them attempted to help him.

  I pushed myself to my knees and crawled the few feet to where Peter lay on the pavement. When kneeling up beside him, I noticed the blood at his temple. I reached out a hand to him, “Peter! Peter! Wake up!”

  I noticed my hands were shaking and frantically looked around for help. No one was moving towards us, they were just standing there watching, probably in shock. I reached for my cell phone and quickly dialed 911 only to remember we weren’t in the US, we were in Spain.

  I closed my eyes and tried to remember what my tourist guide had said the emergency number was. Peter still wasn’t moving and needed help, “Please, won’t somebody help me.” 112!! That’s the emergency number in Europe!

  I dialed the number and tried to calm my crying as I waited for the operator to pick up. When a man’s voice finally answered, in Spanish, I cried even harder. How was I to tell them what was wrong when I spoke very little Spanish!!

  “Que es, una emergencia?”

  “Hello? Please, my boyfriend’s been hit by a car and he’s unconscious. Can you understand me?”

  “Senorita, habla usted Espanol?”

  “Please isn’t there anyone who speaks English.” I tried to control my crying, but I grew more anxious with each passing moment. Peter still wasn’t waking up, and the person on the other end of the phone and I had trouble communicating.

  Another voice answered “Yes, I speak English. Please calm down. You said your boyfriend was hit by a car?”

  “Yes,” I was so relieved to hear him speak English, I cried even louder and barely controlled myself enough to utter, “It came out of nowhere. He isn’t waking up. Please send help.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Can you tell me where you are?”

  I looked around and quickly butchered the Spanish language by reading several store signs to him.

  “Okay, I know where you are. I am sending an ambulance to your location right now. Can you tell me if your boyfriend is breathing?”

  “Yes, he’s breathing, but he won’t wake up. How long will it take for the ambulance to get here?”

  “Only a few minutes. Stay where you are, help is on the way.”

  “Alright.” I disconnected the call and started crying harder as the bystanders finally found their courage and started running towards me. I was afraid to move Peter, and kept looking towards the corner just in case another vehicle came from out of nowhere.

  Soon I was surrounded by people speaking in rapid-fire Spanish to one another. I just wanted this nightmare to be over. The ambulance arrived several minutes later, but to me it seemed like an eternity.

  After placing a C-collar around Peter’s neck, they lifted him onto a gurney. They insisted I ride with them to the local country hospital so that I could be checked out as well.

  My leg was scratched up a bit, and I would have some bruises come next morning, but my concern about Peter made my own little injuries inconsequential.

  At the hospital, Peter was rushed to a different examination room than I was. After an hour, I was finally cleared for release and several local police officials entered my room to get my statement. I told them everything I remembered, including my suspicion that the driver had been a woman.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to give them a license plate number, and they informed me that there was not much they could do. I remembered the color of the vehicle – dark blue or black, but just barely. Everything happened so fast and the car had come out of nowhere. Almost as if it had been sitting on the side street waiting for us!

  I chose to keep that suspicion to myself as the doctor treating Peter entered the room.

  “How is he?”

  “Miss Baker, I need to get some information about your boyfriend.”

  I provided them with his personal information and that of his company, including his secretary’s phone number back in the states. And then asked again for an update on his condition, “Doctor, please tell me how he is? When can I see him?”

  “Ma’am, please understand. We have protocols to follow. Since you are not married to the injured person, nor are you a family member, I am not allowed to give you any information on his condition.”

  “But…I’m his girlfriend…”

  “That may be, but until your friend can verify and give us a release to share information with you, my hands are tied.”

  I hung my head as fresh tears started to run down my cheeks, “Please…can you at least tell me if he’s going to be alright?”

  The kind doctor nodded his head, “He’s badly injured, but should make a full recovery with time and proper treatment.”

  I was so relieved to hear that Peter’s injuries were not life-threatening, I sagged a little. Fortunately the doctor took hold of my elbow and led me over to a waiting chair. “You should return home and get some rest. Come back in the morning and I will see if I can give you any additional information. Perhaps Mr. Shaw will be able to verify your relationship by then.”

  I nodded and watched as the doctor left the room. I sat for a few minutes, wondering what I was supposed to do now. I finally left the hospital and wandered about half-mile until I found a taxi to take me back to the Refugio. The room where Peter and I had just hours before shared o
ur love for each other in the most exhilarating way, was now empty and cold.

  I shivered as I looked at the crumpled sheets, sat down and cried inconsolably. When my tears finally abated, I picked up the phone and called my aunt.

  “Rachel?”

  “Auntie...” I started to cry hearing her voice.

  “Rachel, what is wrong? Has something happened?”

  I proceeded to fill Sophie in on all the details, including the fact that they wouldn’t let me see or stay with Peter. She murmured words of comfort and offered to drive up to Siurana so I wouldn’t have to be by myself.

  It was already getting dark outside, and I knew how much she hated driving at night. Therefore I declined her offer, even though I longed for comforting company. “Let me see if anything’s changed in the morning.”

  She agreed and I promised to call her first thing after speaking with the doctor in the morning. I went to bed, praying as I tossed and turned that Peter would be fine and be able to tell the doctors who I was come morning.

  Chapter 7

  Sleep was as elusive as a ghost and I tossed and turned the entire night. I had never liked being alone, and found my courage was completely missing in the face of the tragedy which had taken place.

  I wasn’t what I would call an adventurous person, nor was I very outgoing when by myself. In fact, I probably would have never had the courage or the inclination to travel all the way to Spain by myself without my roommate, Karen, prodding me along.

  I know, for certain, I would have never had the courage to stay in Spain for a month without knowing my aunt Sophie lived here. I was somewhat of an introvert and had always been on the shy side.

  Thinking about the next few days without Peter to lean upon was daunting and scary to me. I would have to make all the decisions, figure out how to communicate with the locals, and fend for myself until Peter was ready to return to Barcelona.

  I hoped that would be shortly, and as soon as the sun came up, I dressed and headed back to the hospital. The woman behind the front desk was kind enough to draw me a map for how to get to the hospital. Peter’s car was still in the parking lot as we had walked into town the day before.

  I was hesitant about driving it, but I needed to get to the hospital and getting a taxi out here was difficult, as I had found out yesterday. Peter had done all the driving since I had arrived in Spain and I tried to recall if there were different traffic rules than back home but nothing came to my mind. Reluctantly, I headed out, the map lying on the seat next to me offering some comfort.

  Thirty minutes later, I arrived at the hospital and parked the car. I entered the hospital and headed up to the patient rooms. Hospitals were much stricter in Spain and there was a desk at the head of the hallway, staffed by a very efficient and stern nurse.

  I explained who I was and asked for Peter’s room number. She refused to give it to me since I wasn’t family! I explained again that I was the only person with him and that I was his girlfriend. She shook her head and then turned her attention back to the computer screen in front of her, effectively dismissing me.

  I turned away from the desk, sniffing back my tears and wondering what I was supposed to do now. The kind doctor from the day before wasn’t in the hospital yet, and I wandered back to the waiting room and sat down in the nearest chair.

  I felt so lonely. My attempts to stifle my tears failed, and they fell unchecked down my cheeks. Peter, what’s happening to you? I needed to see him with my own eyes and make sure he was okay.

  “Ms. Baker?”

  I looked up and saw the concerned eyes of the kind doctor looking down at me. I stood up and shook his hand, “Thank goodness you’re here. That nurse won’t tell me a thing or even give me Peter’s room number so I can go see him.”

  “Come with me,” he said, gesturing for me to precede him down the hallway. He ushered me into a little room with a small table and several chairs. “Please sit down.”

  This didn’t sound good, and I started shaking, my mind coming up with one terrifying thought after another. Somehow I managed to obey, hoping that he was about to give me some good news about Peter’s condition.

  “Rachel, I should probably not be talking with you, since you’re not family, but I believe you when you say you’re his girlfriend and it’s important that you know his condition.”

  I nodded my head, getting more terrified by the second “I really want to see him, is that possible?”

  “Unfortunately, I’m not sure it’s protocol, but under the circumstances, I’m willing to bend the rules a little.”

  “Circumstances?” I asked, fear evident in my voice. What was wrong with Peter? Is he dead?

  “First, let me tell you that I we were able to get in touch with his company and his insurance. Our billing department is satisfied that we have all the information we need at this time.”

  “That’s good. I knew they would give you whatever information you still needed.”

  “Thank you. Now, I would like you to hear me out before you react.” When I nodded, panic creeping up my spine, he continued, “Peter suffered a small head injury and seems to have lost his short-term memory. He has no memory of the accident, nor how he came to be in Spain.”

  That wasn’t as bad as I had feared. He was alive! But still…..“I don’t understand, are you telling me he has amnesia?”

  “A form of it, yes. Everything from the last several months is missing.”

  I gasped as the impact of his statement started to sink in. Peter wouldn’t remember me since we had only met a little over 2 months ago!!

  “Now, I don’t think it’s anything to really worry about at this time. It’s not uncommon for those who suffer a head trauma to lose their memory and normally the loss reverses itself with rest and proper care.”

  “So, he’ll get his memory back when?”

  “That’s the tough part. No one can ever tell. It could be tomorrow, or three months from now. It could be never. Each person reacts differently.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Come with me,” he replied, exiting the small room and heading towards the nurses desk.

  I eyed her warily, especially when she gave him a frown and me a stern glare. “She’s not family. She’s not allowed back there.”

  “I’m aware of the situation, however, in this case I am recommending she is allowed to see him for medical reasons. Her presence might trigger some emotions and help recover parts of his lost memory.”

  “Fine,” she huffed, “But only for 10 minutes, medical reasons or not I have rules to follow.” The nurse looked as if she didn’t agree at all, but didn’t dare to veto the doctor’s words.

  “Ten minutes it is.”

  I was so glad to get to see Peter finally; I didn’t care if it was only 10 minutes.

  The doctor escorted me down a hallway that smelled like antiseptic and the sound of our feet echoed down the long hallway. When he stopped outside a door near the end, I swallowed hard, hoping that Peter would immediately recognize me and the doctor had been wrong about his memory loss.

  “Mr. Shaw, I have someone who wants to see you,” the doctor announced as he pushed through the doorway.

  I followed him into the room, tears springing to my eyes as I saw the extent of his injuries. He was covered in bruises, had a bandage wrapped around his head, and just turning his head when we entered had left a pained look in his eyes.

  “Hi, Peter.”

  Not a hint of recognition lit Peter’s eyes, so I tried again. “Peter, it’s me, Rachel. Do you remember me?”

  Peter smiled at me gently, “I wish I could, but sadly, I don’t remember ever seeing you before. How do you know me?”

  I swallowed hard; the doctor had cautioned me about mentioning our romantic relationship unless Peter brought it up. Since he hadn’t, and I didn’t want to lie, I ignored the question entirely.

  “Are you in lots of pain?” I asked him, not wanting him to refuse pain medication if he truly needed it
.

  “I’m okay. What did you say your name was again?”

  “Rachel. My name is Rachel.” I turned my face away, trying to hold back my tears for just a little while longer.

  Just then, the nurse came in demanding I leave as my 10 minutes were up. She must have seen something in my face because she softened somewhat and after I left the room, she gave me the name of the hospital in Barcelona where he was being moved to later in the afternoon.

  The insurance company was now in charge of his recovery and had requested he be moved to a better-equipped hospital in Barcelona. I thanked her kindly and headed for the parking lot.

  With Peter transferred to Barcelona, there was no longer a reason for me to stay in Siurana. I returned to the Refugio and packed our belongings. I try not to cry, lest I might not be able to stop.

  The drive back to Barcelona was long and tedious. My tears were poor company, and my lack of focus almost found me lost twice. I had engaged the GPS system before I started out, but my tears kept me from hearing the commands at times. I was so devastated.

  Chapter 8

  Early the next morning, Sophie awakened me with a cup of coffee and fresh pastries. Eating was the last thing on my mind, but I ate the proffered food anyway.

  I was headed to the University hospital and hoped that I would find Peter in much better health.

  The hospital was huge compared to the little country hospital in Siurana. When I entered the large open foyer, I quickly located the patient rooms and took the elevator up to the third floor.

  As I exited the elevator, I was greeted by a waiting area and an ominous looking reception desk. The doorway leading to the patient rooms was secured and would necessitate the receptionist’s help to open it.

  I approached the desk, back straight, mustering all my confidence on my face and in my voice, “Excuse me, I’m here to visit Peter Shaw. Can you please let me know his room number? He was transferred in yesterday afternoon from Siurana.”