A Thanksgiving To Remember

by Margaret Watson

  The detective shook his head. “Never met. I’m Bob Jones, with the Grand Springs Police Department. My partner will be in soon.” He jerked his head toward the door. “He’s talking to the nurses right now.”

  Trying to verify everything I’m telling him, Tom thought, surprising himself with his certainty. He filed the information away and focused on the detective.

  Bob Jones stared at him for a moment, trying to intimidate him. Again, Tom wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he did. Finally the detective said, “So you don’t remember anything that happened to you last night.”

  “Detective, I don’t remember anything at all, including my name. I’m taking it on faith that it’s Tom Flynt.”

  “That was the name on the driver’s license we found with you,” the detective said deliberately.

  Tom frowned at him. “Are you saying that it’s a false driver’s license?” he asked after a moment.

  “I’m not saying anything. I’m just stating a fact. And I’m the one asking the questions.” He leaned closer. “Do you remember Grand Springs?”

  “Not at all. Do I live here?”

  “Apparently not. The address on your driver’s license is from Missouri. The St. Louis area. Does that ring a bell?”

  Tom thought for a moment and almost shook his head until the stabbing pain reminded him not to. “No. St. Louis sounds as unfamiliar as everything else.”

  The detective nodded, as if that were what he’d expected Tom to say. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small rectangle. “This look familiar?”

  He was holding a driver’s license, and Tom could tell it was his. He remembered the face from the glimpse he’d gotten in the mirror earlier. Otherwise, it looked like a complete stranger. “No, it doesn’t,” he said quietly.

  The detective reached into a bag and pulled out a huge, ugly handgun. “How about this?”

  Tom heard Tina gasp beside him, but he didn’t look up at her. “I don’t remember that, either.”

  “The paramedics found it strapped to your back.” He narrowed his eyes and gave Tom a hard look. “You didn’t have a permit with you to carry concealed.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Detective.” Tom continued staring at the gun. “I honestly don’t remember.”

  The detective stared at him for a few moments, then dropped the gun back into the bag. “We’ll be holding on to this for the time being. Let me tell you what happened last night.”

  Tom managed to nod. He was beginning to get a really bad feeling from Detective Jones.

  “There was a big masquerade ball here at the Grand Springs Empress Hotel last night. It was thrown by Jonathan Steele, CEO of Steele Enterprises. At this ball, Steele’s half brother David and his wife Lisa were shot and killed. Two people ran out of the hotel and drove away. You were one of them. We found you by the side of the road, half an hour later. Your car had gone off the road and rolled over.”

  The detective gave him a hard look. “So you can see why we want to talk to you. We want to know who you are. And why you ran out of that ball.”

  “I’d like to know that myself.” Tom held the detective’s gaze, although his head throbbed with pain. “When I remember, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Jones’s hard, assessing gaze stayed on him for what felt like a long time, then he nodded. “I’ll be back to talk to you later, when we get more information. In the meantime, don’t think about leaving town.”

  Before Tom could answer, Tina stepped in front of him and faced Detective Jones. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now, Detective,” she said, and Tom heard the steel in her voice. “Mr. Flynt has a serious injury and I won’t allow you to badger him.”

  A wave of gratitude welled up inside Tom, but he couldn’t allow himself to look at Tina. He continued to watch the detective. “It’s all right, Ms. White. Detective Jones can ask all the questions he wants.”

  “I’m through for now,” Jones answered, but his stony gaze swept from Tom to Tina and back. “But I’ll be back.”

  He turned and walked out of the room. When he was finally gone, Tina turned back to him. “How dare he imply that you’re somehow connected to that murder?”

  Tom shrugged. “He’s looking at the evidence, and so far it would seem to support that. Apparently since I ran out of the ball after the shooting, that makes me a suspect in his eyes.”

  “No one, including you, knows why you ran out of that room,” Tina said flatly. “I thought a person is innocent until proven guilty.”

  “He’s just doing his job,” Tom answered quietly.

  Before Tina could respond, another man walked into the room. Rugged and broad shouldered, his gray eyes were just as penetrating as Detective Jones’s. He glanced at Tina, then examined Tom thoroughly.

  “Your partner just left.” Tom couldn’t have said why he thought this man was a police officer, but he was sure of it.

  The blond man gave him a quick grin. “For a guy who’s lost his memory, you’re pretty good at identifying cops.”

  Tom shrugged uneasily, unsure of why he’d been so certain of the other man’s occupation. “Just a guess.”

  “And a good one.” The man came to a stop next to the bed and held out his hand. “Stone Richardson. I’m a detective with the Grand Springs Police Department. I’m working on the Steele murder case.”

  Tina waited for Tom to shake the detective’s hand, then stepped closer to the bed, sliding between him and the detective. “Your colleague was just here,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “He asked Mr. Flynt a number of questions, which he couldn’t answer. There’s no point in asking him again.”

  Stone Richardson held up his hands. “Whoa, I’m not here to ask Mr. Flynt the same questions. And I’m sorry if Bob upset you. I know he can come on a little too strong sometimes. That’s just his style.” He hesitated, then said, “The nurses said you seem to have a case of complete amnesia—you can’t remember a thing. I wanted to talk to you to see if there was anything I could do to help.”

  “That’s kind of you, Detective,” Tom said slowly. “But I’m not sure what you could do, unless you recognize me.”

  Stone shook his head. “Never saw you before in my life. But your situation reminds me of a case I worked on in Grand Springs a few years ago. One of the witnesses in that case had amnesia, too.”

  “Did he get his memory back?” Tom asked eagerly.

  “Eventually.”

  “But it would help you with this case if I got my memory back a lot more quickly than eventually.” Tom didn’t take his eyes off the detective.

  “Yes, but I know you can’t push it. I just thought there might be something I could do.”

  “Thank you, Detective,” Tom answered quietly, “but I’m not sure what that would be. I’ll let you know as soon as I remember anything.”

  Stone nodded. “I’ll stop by regularly and let you know if we find any new information.” He turned to look at Tina. “And just for the record, I do believe he’s innocent unless and until I prove him guilty.”

  He turned around and walked out the door before either of them could say anything. Finally Tom said, “Thank you, Ms. White.”

  “For what?”

  “For defending me to Detectives Richardson and Jones. You have no idea if I’m guilty or not.”

  Her eyes flashed blue fire. “And neither do they. But Jones was assuming you were.”

  “You have to admit, if I did what they’re saying I did, it looks pretty suspicious.”

  “There could have been a number of reasons you ran out of the hotel,” Tina said hotly. “Maybe you’re a police officer. Maybe you were trying to catch the killer.”

  “If I were a police officer here in Grand Springs, don’t you think Jones and Richardson would know it?”

  She looked away. “All right, maybe you’re not a Grand Springs police officer. But that doesn’t mean you’re guilty of something.”

  “Why are you defending
me like this, Ms. White?” he asked, his heart suddenly pounding. “You don’t know me, either.”

  “Someone has to defend you.” She looked at him again, and he could see the conviction in her eyes. “Until they find your family, there’s no one else to speak for you.”

  “Thank you,” he said, moved by her words. “That’s very generous.”

  “You don’t look like a criminal. And you don’t act like one, either.”

  “What does a criminal look like?” Tom felt his mouth curving into a smile.

  “Not like you,” Tina answered immediately.

  “I want to know the truth,” he said. “Even if the truth is that I was involved in this crime. I want to know who I am, even if it means I’m a criminal.”

  “That’s why I defended you.” Tina bent closer, staring into his eyes. “A criminal wouldn’t want that. A criminal would be trying to hide the truth. A criminal would be looking to shift the blame to someone else. Only a person with integrity would say that he wanted to know the truth, regardless of the circumstances.”

  Lost in the deep blue of Tina’s eyes, Tom could almost believe she was speaking the truth. Almost. But he couldn’t allow himself to believe it.

  “It doesn’t matter what the truth is. I want to know it,” he said. “And if there is anything I can do to speed up the return of my memory, I’ll do it.”

  “Dr. Wilson ordered a neurological exam,” Tina said. “The neurologist will probably stop by this afternoon. We should know more after she looks at you.”

  Tom shut his eyes, suddenly very tired. When he opened them a few moments later, Tina was still standing above him, watching him with a worried look on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I shouldn’t have let those two detectives talk to you,” she said, a frown furrowing her forehead. “They tired you out.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “They have a job to do. And I want to find out who I am as quickly as possible.”

  She nodded, but there was a militant look in her eyes. “They won’t bother you again today.”

  “Are you going to stand guard at the door to my room?” he teased.

  She gave him an answering grin. “I won’t have to. We took a class in nursing school about this kind of situation. It was called Withering Looks and Stern Frowns. Guaranteed to get rid of any unwanted visitors.”

  “Sounds great.” The pain in his head and his side was pulling him down into a spiral of darkness. He forced himself to keep his eyes open for another moment. “I’ll count on you to keep the dragons away.”

  She smoothed the sheet over his chest, then lightly touched his hand. “I’m working on this floor, so I’ll check on you frequently.”

  He wanted to call her back, to ask her to touch him again. But the darkness was pulling too hard, tugging him into the void. Tom watched her walk out the door, noticing her long, slender body and the gentle sway of her hips. He held onto the image as he slid into sleep.

  Tina stood at the desk in the hallway, checking on some patient records, when a blond woman stepped out of Tom’s room and slid her hands into the pockets of her white jacket. When she reached the desk, she said, “Can I have Tom Flynt’s chart?”

  “What do you think, Dr. Mellon?” Tina asked.

  “He definitely has amnesia,” the neurologist answered. “He seems to be completely blocked.”

  “What’s his prognosis?”

  “Good, I’d say. But I have no idea how long it will last. At least he doesn’t have any other neurological problems. His brain scan was normal and all the tests I gave him were normal.”

  “Treatment?”

  The neurologist smiled. “Tincture of time. His memories will eventually come back. But someone is going to have to spend a lot of time with him, talking to him. Are you the nurse who’s taking care of him?”

  Tina nodded.

  “Spend as much time as you can with him,” the doctor said. She made a few notations on Tom’s chart, then walked away.

  “Well, Tina, it looks like you’re going to have your hands full with that patient,” one of the nurses said.

  Tina nodded. But her heart sped up in her chest at the prospect of spending time with Tom Flynt.

  Chapter 3

  Although Tina checked on him frequently, Tom spent most of the rest of the day sleeping. It was perfectly normal, she knew, and was the best treatment for his injuries, but she couldn’t control her disappointment every time she opened his door and saw his eyes closed.

  “I’m just dopey from the lack of sleep,” she muttered to herself as she closed his door for the last time at the end of her shift. But whatever the reason, she was absurdly disappointed that she hadn’t gotten the chance to say goodbye to her patient.

  She walked more slowly than usual to the nursing desk and picked up her purse and her jacket. The supervisor looked up at her.

  “Are you on tomorrow, Tina?”

  She nodded. “I’ll be here for the afternoon shift…” she hesitated, then added “…unless you need me earlier.”

  The supervisor gave her a sharp look, then shook her head. “Don’t go volunteering like that, Tina. Someone might take you up on the offer.”

  “I’m not doing anything important tomorrow. Do you need an extra pair of hands?” she asked eagerly.

  “I don’t think so.” She looked at Tina questioningly. “You were here late last night, weren’t you?”

  When Tina nodded, the other woman scowled. “Go home and get some sleep, White. And don’t come back until tomorrow afternoon.”

  Tina headed for the elevator, resisting the impulse to look back toward Tom Flynt’s room. He was in good hands, she told herself. And she did need to get some sleep tonight.

  But she was back at the hospital the next day several hours before her shift began. She said hello to the nurses clustered around the desk, then slipped into Tom Flynt’s room. She merely wanted to see if he had regained any of his memory, she told herself.

  He was sitting up in bed, reading a newspaper. When he saw her walk in the door, he put it down and gave her a smile. Her stomach swooped toward her toes.

  “Good morning,” he said, his eyes warming as they rested on her. “I wondered where you were, Ms. White.”

  “Please, call me Tina,” she said. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”

  “Tina.” He seemed to savor the sound of her name, and a shiver of pleasure rippled through her. “That will be something to look forward to.” She couldn’t miss the flare of pleasure in his eyes, and warmth blossomed inside her.

  “How are you feeling this morning?” She struggled to ignore her body’s reaction and get back on safer ground.

  “Other than the fact that I have no idea who I am or what I’m supposed to be doing in Grand Springs, I feel pretty good.”

  She picked up the chart at the end of his bed and realized that it was time for one of the nurses to listen to his chest and check his wound. “Let me take a look at you.”

  Her fingers moved gently over the bandage on his head, easing the tape away from his skin. She nodded as she looked at the wound. “Your head is healing nicely,” she said. “No problems here.”

  Then she took her stethoscope out of her pocket and placed it on his chest. She told herself to ignore the warmth of his skin and the vitality that seemed to shimmer in the air around him. He was a patient, she told herself. Nothing more.

  Finally, she stepped back and folded the stethoscope back into her pocket. She noticed that her hands were shaking and she shoved them into her pockets, too. “Sounds good. I don’t think there’s been any more bleeding into your chest, but Dr. Wilson will probably want to get another scan in a day or two, just to be sure.”

  He sat in the bed, watching her, a bemused expression on his face. “What time does your shift usually start, Tina?”

  The sound of her name on his lips made her tingle with pleasure, but she held his gaze. “Three o’clock. But bec
ause of what happened at the Steele ball, there are a lot of extra patients right now, so I thought I’d come in early to help out.”

  “I’m glad,” he said, watching her. “I missed you.”

  Her heart leaped in her chest, and she wanted to tell him that she’d missed him, too. Instead she said, “You feel comfortable with me because you remember my voice. It’s the only thing that’s at all familiar to you.” She gave him a bright smile. “But that’s okay, because you’re going to be seeing a lot of me in the next few days.”

  He leaned back against the pillows on the bed, but he didn’t take his eyes off her. She thought she saw a flash of pleasure, quickly hidden, but she couldn’t be sure. She didn’t have a lot of experience with men, other than as patients.

  “It seems I spent most of yesterday sleeping,” he said, watching her.

  She scowled. “I should never have let those detectives grill you like they did. They tired you out.”

  To her surprise, he laughed. “No one’s ever been so protective toward me. I think I like it,” he said. His smile slowly faded, and she saw a hint of fear in his eyes. “How did I remember that when I can’t even remember my own name?”

  “Don’t worry.” She couldn’t stop herself from touching his arm. “That’s how your memory comes back, in bits and pieces. You’ll remember something and have no idea what it means, but gradually you’ll get more and more pieces of the puzzle, and pretty soon you’ll remember everything.”

  He stared up at her. “You’re very reassuring, Tina,” he said, his voice quiet. “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

  “Of course not. Lying to you isn’t going to help you.” She sat down on the chair next to his bed. “I have to admit, Mr. Flynt, that I haven’t taken care of many patients with amnesia. But I looked it up in my nursing books last night.” She swallowed as she remembered her determined search for every bit of information she could find. “And that’s what all the books said. You generally regain your memory in bits and pieces.”