Except for barely two minutes last winter when he and his partner had interviewed a rape victim at Alex’s law offices, he hadn’t spoken to his ex-wife. For safety’s sake, dialogue between the divorced couple had been kept to the bare minimum. That worked best for them.
Alex was so beautiful he’d never understood why she’d accepted his marriage proposal. At first, he’d thought it was love. He had fallen for her hard the first moment he’d seen her. She was quick with words, understood his jokes and there had always been something about her that convinced him they were meant to be together forever. It wasn’t until later he discovered the fiery redhead’s exterior didn’t seem to match the interior. It was as if she had no desire in maintaining their marriage, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. He felt that all that mattered to her was staying on the fast track to partnership. After their divorce, he vowed relationships weren’t in the cards for him and went on to pick up the pieces of his damaged life.
The security guard stationed near the ER entrance doors nodded at Dylan as he walked up. The moment he stepped through the automatic sliding glass doors, a uniformed officer approached him. The waiting room was empty except for a man sprawled asleep in a chair. A television playing a black-and-white movie was bolted onto a shelf set high up against the wall. A bowl of colorful silk flowers had been placed at the admitting clerk’s desk in an attempt to cheer the place up, but in Dylan’s opinion it didn’t do a bit of good.
He walked up to the reception desk and identified himself to the clerk, asking for Dr. Kelly. Luckily for him, it was a slow night, so he didn’t have to wait long.
The bearded man in wrinkled surgical scrubs approaching him looked tired. He carried an insulated coffee container in one hand.
“Hey, Detective Parker,” he said, greeting the detective with a broad grin. “I can guess why you’re here. You were listed as next of kin in Alexandra Spencer’s records, not to mention she asked specifically for you.”
“Yeah, I heard.” He grimaced, wondering if there was anyone in this town who didn’t know the gory details of his divorce.
Dr. Kelly nodded. “That’s right. Come on back.” He used the flat of his hand to press the button to open the double doors leading back to the treatment area. Dylan stayed on his heels.
“How bad was she hurt?” Dylan asked.
“The thief struck her on the side of the head with a sharp instrument that left a two-inch laceration. She also has a nasty cut on her cheek, a black eye and a cut lip. The blow to the head created trauma to the part of the brain that controls the memory, which is probably why she thinks the two of you are still married. She knew her name and other things, but while she knew what day it was, she couldn’t remember the year and drew a blank on other things I asked her. I want to make sure there’s no permanent damage, so I sent her down for some tests.”
Dylan felt as if he’d been hit with a two-by-four. While he and Alex had had a less-than-pleasant relationship after the divorce, he wouldn’t have wished violence on her. He struggled to think more like a cop than the man who had once shared her bed.
“We’ve been divorced for two years. Why would she still think we’re married?” he muttered. Just saying the words sent a flood of acid to his stomach. He noticed the expression on the other man’s face. For a moment, fear overtook the other emotions rolling through him. The doctor used the words “permanent damage.” Was there a chance something was seriously wrong with Alex? He thought of her delicate features, framed by a thick mane of coppery red hair. Memories of tangling his fingers in the silky mass intruded. He ruthlessly pushed them back. “What else aren’t you telling me?”
Dr. Kelly lifted his cup and drank. He grimaced as he turned to set the cup on a nearby table. “Seems most times when I finally get to my coffee it’s gone cold. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. The broad term for what Alex has is psychogenic amnesia. A more understandable term for laymen would be selective amnesia.”
“I came in here with a concussion eight months ago and my memory wasn’t affected. All I ended up with was a bad headache,” Dylan pointed out.
Dr. Kelly ran his hands through his hair. He looked exhausted. As he spoke, he used his hands to illustrate his points. “All head traumas are tricky. Sometimes a patient loses all memory. They might need to relearn everything about themselves and how to exist. Others retain what we call selective memories. We call it an instinctive way of protecting oneself from reliving that trauma. Some people have been known to repress pieces of their past as far back as a year or two.”
“How does this happen to one person and not another?” Dylan asked.
“It depends on the location of the blow to the head,” he explained. “One part of your brain dictates memory, another rules motor function, another speech, taste and so on.”
Dylan exhaled a deep breath. “So what exactly are you telling me? Is she all right or isn’t she?”
“As I said, when Alexandra was brought in, her recall was spotty. She knew her name, what city she was in, but she couldn’t remember her home address or telephone number. She remembers that she’s a lawyer and where she works, but she can’t remember the name of the last client she talked to.”
“Yeah, she’d remember she’s a lawyer all right,” he murmured, feeling a strange tug in the pit of his stomach. “But that still doesn’t explain why she thinks we’re still married.”
“She might have been thinking about you at the time of her attack,” Dr. Kelly suggested.
Dylan shook his head. “That I seriously doubt.” He felt the acid in his stomach turning into a tidal wave.
The doctor watched him closely. “Is this going to be a problem? What about her parents? Do they live locally?”
“They live in Seattle,” he replied. “There’s no reason to call them.” He doubted they would have come anyway. He remembered Alex once telling him that her parents cared more for their work than her. They’d gone as far as shipping her off to boarding school when she was seven. Dylan decided right then and there that her parents weren’t needed. He took a deep breath as he considered what had to be done. “Alex needs to know the truth about us. Trust me, she would want to know.”
“Yes, I can see she would want to know, but it still needs to be handled carefully. She’s feeling pretty fragile right now. I think it would be better coming from you.”
Dylan spun around. “You want me to do it? You’re the one with a medical degree. Shouldn’t you do it?”
“You’re the man she believes she’s still married to,” Dr. Kelly pointed out. “Right now, she feels confused and probably even afraid because of the memory loss. I think she sees you as her very own personal lifeboat.”
“It would be easier to cut out my heart with a butter knife than sit down with her and explain how wrong she is,” Dylan argued. “If you think she’s so fragile, wouldn’t it come better from you? That way you can watch her vital signs or whatever you need to do so the news doesn’t traumatize her.”
“I can watch her vital signs while you’re talking to her,” Dr. Kelly said.
“Or we could let it go for now, let her have a good night’s sleep and maybe she’ll wake up in the morning remembering everything,” Dylan said hopefully, with just a hint of desperation. The expression on the other man’s face said differently. Dylan’s laughter didn’t hold an ounce of humor. He resisted the urge to tear his hair out by the roots. “You don’t understand, Doc. Since the divorce, Alex and I can’t even be in the same building without starting an argument. Our stars collide. We’re oil and water. I want her to know the truth.”
The doctor seemed to relent. “I’ll tell you what. We’ll see what the test results show first. How’s that?” He turned around when a nurse gestured to him and mouthed something. “Okay, she’s back from her CAT scan. Let me take a look at those results, then I’ll stitch the lacerations. We’ll see after that.”
“Now that all the tests are done, could I have something for m
y headache?” Alex pleaded as she was assisted back onto the gurney.
“After the doctor checks on the X-rays,” the nurse assured her as she adjusted the blanket around her.
Alex looked past the nurse and noticed the man standing next to Dr. Kelly. She couldn’t miss the gray hair, so incongruous with the features of a man in his early thirties. For the first time that night she felt that everything was going to be all right.
She knew that Dylan Parker was a force to be reckoned with. Over six feet of pure male, with thick premature-iron-gray hair that was cut fairly short and eyes the deep gray of evening fog, Dylan was a man who commanded attention wherever he went. There was something about him that had a woman trusting him without question. No wonder Alex, who never let any man turn her head, fell into this man’s bed right away. Dylan had charmed her from the first moment they met and she hadn’t lost that feeling for him.
Even the pounding inside her head couldn’t deter the faint stirring of lust growing within her as she stared at him. She was convinced that feeling wouldn’t disappear even when they were both old and gray. She tamped down that emotion and settled for the need to feel his arms around her.
“That’s my husband over there. Can he come in with me?” she asked.
The nurse glanced over. A brief light of appreciation appeared on her face before she turned back to Alex. “I’m sure the doctor will allow it,” she said, leaving Alex.
Alex watched the nurse walk over to Dylan and the doctor and speak to them. Dylan turned around and stared at her with no expression on his face. After a word from the doctor, Dylan walked toward her.
The minute he was close enough to her, she reached out for his hand.
“I am so glad to see you,” she said, holding on with a tight grip as if she feared he’d disappear. “Maybe you can explain what’s going on and why I was at the airport. You know how I hate to fly.”
He knew, all right. He wondered if it didn’t have something to do with control issues. “You came in on one of the commuter flights from San Francisco. How do you feel?” he asked, trying to keep a distance when a part of him wanted to pull her into his arms and make sure she was still in one piece. For a guy who claimed to heartily dislike his wife, he was experiencing some conflicting feelings at the moment.
Truthfully, she was disappointed that he didn’t immediately take her in his arms, or at least vow the man who hurt her was going to be sorry he chose Dylan’s wife for his victim.
“I feel like someone’s playing baseball inside my head,” she said.
“Which we can soon take care of,” Dr. Kelly said, coming in while the nurse rolled in a tray.
Dylan took one look at the instruments on the tray and blanched. He tried to disengage himself from Alex’s grasp.
“I can wait outside,” he muttered, trying to edge backward.
“No, please don’t go,” Alex pleaded with him. She held tightly on to his hand. Now that he was here with her, she didn’t want him to disappear.
Dylan looked down at her face. The delicate features were puffy and bruised from her injuries and faint streaks of blood were visible through her tangled hair. He moved back to stand next to her.
“We’re going to have to shave a portion of your hair in order to stitch up the laceration,” Dr. Kelly said. “The good thing is the laceration is in a place where you can later brush your hair over the shaved section. The cut on your cheek isn’t very long and shouldn’t leave a scar.”
Dylan remained by Alex’s side as the doctor injected a local anesthetic, waited for it to take hold, then carefully inserted the stitches in her scalp. He knew the local anesthetic meant she didn’t feel anything, but that didn’t stop him from feeling queasy at the sight of the needle flashing in and out of her skin. He looked off into the distance, intensely aware of her slender hand wrapped tightly around his.
“Your test results look good. I couldn’t see any swelling in your brain,” Dr. Kelly said.
“Good for you, maybe. For me it’s just more of a sense of confusion and a great desire to go home,” Alex said hopefully.
“I thought a head injury meant Alex would have to stay here for observation,” Dylan said.
Dr. Kelly shook his head. “Not according to the insurance company, since her test results came out fine. All she’ll need is observation at home.”
“Even if I can’t remember some things?” she asked, then noticed Dylan and the doctor exchange a look. “What’s wrong? What haven’t you told me?” She looked at each man. Her green eyes widened with fear as thoughts of the worst imaginable scenarios flooded her mind. “You have to tell me!”
Dylan grimaced. “Dr. Kelly and I talked about a few things that might help clear up some of your memory gaps.”
She didn’t miss the way he avoided her gaze. While she didn’t feel any nausea, she did experience a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Any gaps in particular?”
“One gap, actually.” He walked around to the other side of the gurney and picked up the chair, turning it around to sit with his arms folded across the back.
Alex flicked a quick look in the doctor’s direction, but she couldn’t see any answers there.
Dylan reached across and took her hand. She instantly felt comforted by his touch. He stared down at the sheet as if he’d find the words written there, then took a deep breath and looked up, obviously steeling himself for what he was about to say. “Alex, you always like things up front, so that’s how I’ll do this. The main thing is, we aren’t married any longer.”
She felt a sock to the stomach even if his blunt statement had been gently delivered. “What do you mean we’re not married any longer? If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”
He nodded. “Our divorce was final two years ago next week.”
Alex started to shake her head but remembered in time that wasn’t a good idea. “No, that doesn’t make sense. Why would I think we’re married if we’re not? Why would I forget something like that?” She hated herself for babbling, but she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to say. This was another first for her. Alex always knew what to do and say in any situation. For a second, she savored the feeling that she felt certain about something about herself.
“As I explained to you earlier, Alex, head traumas are tricky.” Dr. Kelly stepped in. “The mind tends to protect itself any way it can by blocking distressing events such as your attack and sometimes what went on beforehand. Which is why it’s called selective amnesia.”
Alex looked from Dylan to the doctor. “So what you’re saying is that I selected to forget part of my past,” she murmured. “I tiptoed through my brain, picking and choosing what I’d remember.”
Dr. Kelly shrugged. “Interesting way of putting it, and basically, yes, that’s what you’ve done.”
“You told me earlier you can’t give me a time frame when my memory will fully return or even if it will.” She looked down at her hands, absently noting the skinned palms and that one French-tipped nail was broken. The nurse had applied an antibiotic ointment to her palms earlier, but they still stung. Tears pricked her eyelids.
“I’m sorry, Alex, there’s no way to tell with these things. Injuries like this need time to heal,” he said gently.
She continued staring down at her lap because she didn’t want to see the pity visible in Dylan’s gaze. She realized he knew things about her she didn’t know. They were divorced, but she had no memory of why they parted.
The doctor might call it selective amnesia, but she preferred to call it a nasty joke fate had played on her.
With this thought came another realization. She no longer wanted to be in this place that smelled of antiseptic and fear. She wanted to go home, be among familiar surroundings where she hoped she could find comfort. Except if she couldn’t remember where she lived, how could she expect her surroundings to be familiar to her?
She looked up at the doctor. “You said I can go home. Does that mean I can leave right now?�
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Dylan stepped forward.
“That can’t be a good idea. I still think you should stay here at least for the rest of the night,” he protested. “Hell, if the insurance company says no, I’ll even pay the bill.”
“I just want to go home,” she murmured, swallowing the sudden need to cry.
Dr. Kelly nodded. “I’ll write prescriptions for antibiotics and some pain meds. Once the local wears off, you’re going to want something to take the edge off. Your personal physician can take out the stitches in about ten days. Do you have someone who can check on you through the night?”
“She won’t be alone,” Dylan said, taking the prescriptions out of the doctor’s hand. Then he muttered that he’d take them over to the all-night pharmacy across the street and hurried out the door. He didn’t notice the startled look on Alex’s face at his assurance as he left.
When he returned to the ER, Alex was dressed and waiting for him. Even with her cuts and bruises and a black eye, she was strikingly beautiful. Hair the color of copper fire escaped its French braid. Her brilliant emerald eyes were shadowed with pain and fatigue. He noted that the freckles on her nose she always tried to cover up were now visible. He always thought they were cute, but she said they ruined the professional image she wanted to project. He winced at the sight of the scraped skin on her knees, which looked raw and painful. He doubted she’d be wearing that obviously expensive turquoise suit and matching high-heeled pumps again what with the tears in the skirt and the leather scraped along the side of her shoes. Her tan wool coat looked as if it had been dragged through mud and the collar was stained with what looked suspiciously like blood.
His beautiful angel looked very much the worse for wear.
Dylan felt shock all the way down to his toes when he saw the hint of tears shimmering in her eyes. He’d never seen Alex cry or show any sign of weakness. He moved forward. Her fingers were twisted so tightly together her knuckles were white.
“Want to get out of here?” he asked gruffly.
“Yes, please,” she whispered, gratitude lighting up her face.
Memories After Midnight Page 2