"Neither of those injuries is a day in the park, but they're not catastrophic. If your husband stays off his leg, it should heal in six weeks or so. We've already had him up today, trying out the crutches. He won't win any sprints, but he can maneuver.
"His sutures can come out in a week to ten days. His scalp will be tender for a while, and there'll be some scarring, but nothing grotesque. He'll still be handsome."
"So you've said before," Kendall reminded him, ignoring his sly smile. "I'm mostly concerned about the amnesia."
"It's not that uncommon following a blow to the head and concussion."
"But usually all that's lost are the few minutes leading up to the concussion and the events that immediately follow, isn't that right?"
"Usually is a word that doesn't apply to medicine."
"But it's rarer for the memory to be wiped completely clean, isn't it?"
"Rarer, yes," he admitted tersely.
That afternoon, she had researched amnesia in all its various forms, reading everything on the subject in the hospital's limited library. What she had read coincided with the doctor's assessment. Still, she wasn't satisfied. She had to cover every possibility, no matter how improbable.
"What about anterograde amnesia?"
"Don't borrow trouble."
"Indulge me."
He folded his arms over his chest and assumed a "let's get this over with" stance.
Unfazed by his impatience, Kendall continued. "The way I understand anterograde-amnesia, my husband may not be capable of storing information in his memory now. So, even if he recovers his memory of things that happened before the accident, he may not be able to recall events that occurred between the memory loss and the time of recovery. He would remember everything else, but this period of time would be blocked out."
"Basically, your facts are correct. But, as I said, you shouldn't worry about that until it happens. I don't think it will."
"But it could."
"It could. I'd rather look on the bright side, okay?"
"Will it take another blow on the head for his memory to come back?"
"That only happens in the movies," he quipped. "It's usually not that dramatic. His memory may return gradually, a little at a time. Or everything may burst through at once."
"Or it may remain lost forever."
"That's highly unlikely. Unless there's a reason why your husband wants his memory permanently blotted out." He arched his eyebrow, implying a question.
Kendall ignored his ill-concealed curiosity, but she knew she had opened up an opportunity for him to elaborate, and he couldn't resist strutting his stuff.
"See, his subconscious could be using his head injury as a valid excuse to forget something he doesn't want to remember, something he finds difficult or even impossible to cope with."
He gave her a penetrating look. "Is there a reason why he'd subconsciously wants to be protected by amnesia?"
"Are you licensed to practice psychology, Doctor?" Her voice remained deceptively sweet, while her eyes conveyed her opinion of the question. He flushed with indignation.
'Which brings me to my next question," she said before he could offer a comeback. "Shouldn't we consult a specialist?
Perhaps a neurologist from a larger hospital?"
"I already have."
"Oh?" She was slightly taken aback by this news.
"I called a hospital in Atlanta," the doctor said. "Got the staff neurologist on the phone, faxed him your husband's charts, and described his condition and reflexes. I told him He raised his hand to his forehead and pressed his thumb against one temple, his middle finger against the other, as though to squeeze information from his cranium. "I can't remember a damn thing. Nothing." He lowered his hand and looked at her bleakly. "Where exactly are we?"
"The town's called Stephensville. It's in Georgia."
He repeated the names, as though trying them out on his memory. "Do we live in Georgia?"
She shook her head. "We were traveling through on our way to South Carolina."
"I was driving," he said. "To avoid hitting a felled tree blocking the road, I must've overcompensated. The road was slick. Our car swerved, plunged down into a deep ravine, crashed into a tree, then was lost in a flooded creek."
Kendall's mouth went dry. "You remember all that?"
"No, I don't remember. Those are the facts the sheriff told me.
"Sheriff?"
He was quick to catch the alarm in her voice and looked at her quizzically. "That's right. A deputy. He came by earlier today, introduced himself, and asked me some questions."
"Why?"
"I guess he wanted answers."
"I gave him answers."
After a long silence, during which he gazed at her thought fully, he said softly, "Apparently he thought you were lying."
"I'm not!"
"Christ." Grimacing in pain, he again raised his hand to his head.
Kendall was instantly contrite. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout. Are you in pain? Should I call the nurse?"
"No." He closed his eyes tightly and gave a deep sigh. "I'll be all right."
Feeling bad about her thoughtless outburst and wanting to make amends, Kendall refilled his water glass from the sweating plastic carafe. She slipped her hand between the pillow and the back of his head and lifted it gingerly. While she held the glass to his lips, he sucked through the flexible straw several times. "Enough?" she asked when he angled his head back.
He nodded. She gently lowered his head to the pillow and replaced the glass on the wheeled bed tray. "Thanks." He sighed. "This headache is a bitch."
"It'll get better in a day or so."
"Yeah." He didn't sound convinced.
"I know it hurts, but you can be glad that no serious damage was done. The doctor here consulted a neurologist in Atlanta."
"I overheard your conversation."
"Then you should feel reassured. Your memory could come back at any moment."
"Or it could take a while. Which I think you would prefer."
She hadn't seen that remark coming and was momentarily stunned. "I don't know what . . . What do you mean?"
"Wouldn't you rather I regain my memory later than sooner?"
"Why would I want that?"
"I haven't the vaguest."
Kendall thought it best to remain silent.
After a moment, he nodded toward the corridor where she had discussed his condition with the doctor. "You've been reading up on the subject of amnesia. It sounded as though you were covering all the bases, clarifying all the possibilities.
And I just wondered why you would do that."
"I wanted to learn what you were up against.
Isn't that natural?"
"I don't know. Is it?"
"For me, yes, it is. I like to know exactly where I stand at all times. I like to be prepared for the worst so I won't be so upset if that's what happens. It comes from being orphaned at an early age. I never quite got over my fear of the unexpected."
Suddenly realizing that she was telling too much, she shut up.
"Why'd you stop?" he asked. "It was just getting interesting."
"I don't want to confuse you with the facts." She grinned, hoping he would take it as a joke and as a conclusion to the discussion. "Does your leg hurt?"
"Not really. It's just a damn nuisance. The bumps and bruises hurt much worse."
His right arm lay listlessly across his lap. The skin was a mottled purple from his wrist to his biceps, which curved into the wide sleeve of the hospital gown. "This looks particularly painful." She stroked the dark bruise, then left her hand resting on his muscled arm. It seemed essential, somehow, that she touch him.
His gaze dropped to her left hand. In particular, he stared at the wedding ring on her third finger, and his stare made her even more aware of the heat conducted by her fingertips from his skin into hers. She shouldn't be touching him. She certainly shouldn't be registering any sensation. Nevertheless, sh
e couldn't bring herself to remove her hand.
He turned his head slightly and looked up at her. A heavy silence ensued while he methodically and thoroughly studied her features. His shadowed eyes moved over her face, which held his attention for what seemed a terribly long time, during which Kendall held her breath. He followed the natural waves of her tawny hair all the way down to her shoulders.
Her heart in her throat, she asked, "Any glimmers of recognition?"
His eyes reconnected with hers, and she wondered if he remembered that they were an unusual shade of gray, which most people found arresting and which lying witnesses found disconcerting. When his gaze lowered to her mouth, her tummy felt like she'd taken a swift elevator ride. Even more like she'd been caught doing something forbidden.
She tried to retract her hand, but he quickly reached for it and held on tightly. He turned the narrow gold band on her finger. "Not a very fancy wedding ring."
Indeed. She had bought it at Wal-Mart that day. "It's; why I wanted."
"Couldn't I afford better?"
"Money wasn't a deciding factor."
He continued to rotate the ring around her finger. "I: don't remember placing it on your hand." He looked quickly away.
"I don't remember you. Are you sure we're married?"
She gave a false little laugh. "That's not something I' likely to mistake."
"No, but you might lie about it."
Her heart fluttered. Even with amnesia, his ability to read her remained intact. "Why would I lie about it?"
"I don't know. Why would you?"
"This is ridiculous." Again she tried to fully extract her hand.
but he held on with surprising strength.
"I'm having a real hard time buying it."
"What?"
"You. The kid. All of it." He was growing angry.
"Why do you doubt me?"
"Because I can't remember you."
"You can't remember anything!"
"Some things you don't forget," he said, "and I'm betting that sleeping with you Would be one of them.
The overhead light came on, nearly blinding them,.
"Is something wrong in here?"
"Turn off that goddamn light!" he shouted!. His hand moved to shield his eyes from the blue-white glare. .
"Turn it off," Kendall ordered the nurse. "Can't you see the light hurts his eyes and makes his headache worse?"
The nurse extinguished the light. No one said anything for a moment. His last words were still ringing in Kendall's ears.
Finally, unable to meet his eyes, she turned to the nurse. 'I m sorry for snapping at you. And for upsetting your patient.
This memory loss is putting a strain on both of us."
"Then I'd give it a rest for the night The doctor said not to try to pressure him into remembering." She brandished a tray with a syringe on it. "I've come to give him his night night shot."
When she turned back to him, Kendall pasted on a smile.
"The more you try to force it, the more stubborn your memory becomes. Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning."
She touched his shoulder fleetingly, then left before his talent for detecting the truth uncovered the lie in her eyes.
She waited a long three hours before making her move.
Kevin slept peacefully in the newborn crib, his knees tucked beneath his chest, his diapered bottom sticking up. Every once in a while he made a sweet, snuffling baby sound. By now her ears were attuned to them.
She was much too wired to sleep or even to lie down on the hospital bed. If her physical weariness overcame her mental alertness and she accidentally fell asleep, she would miss her chance.
She looked at her wristwatch for the umpteenth time.
Twelve forty-five. Fifteen minutes more, she decided. Not that she was on an inflexible schedule. She was conditioned to dealing with events as they unfolded. It was just that the more distance she could put between herself and Stephensville before daylight, the better.
Tip-toeing to the window, she quietly parted the blinds and peered through the foggy glass. Rain was still coming down, steadily and relentlessly. It would make driving more difficult, but the bad weather had been her good fortune. If not for it, they would never have taken a detour. If not for the detour, there would have been no accident. If not for the accident, they would be back in Prosper by now. The weather had turned out to be her ally. She wouldn't pick a quarrel with it now.
From the window she could see the car where she had left it across the street, halfway down the block in the parking lot of a twenty-four-hour laundromat.
"Tires have another few thousand miles on them," the seller had told her, kicking the front left tire with the toe of his work boot. "Ain't much to look at, but she runs good."
She didn't have time to be choosy. Besides, this was the only car for sale by a private party she had found in the Stephensville classified ads.
"I'll give you a thousand dollars."
"The asking price is twelve hunnerd."
"One thousand." Kendall had removed ten hundred-dollar bills from her pocket and extended them to him.
He spat a stringy wad of tobacco juice into the mud, scratched his whiskers thoughtfully as he gazed at the money, then reached a decision. "Wait ri'chere. I won't be a sec. The title's inside the house."
She drove the nurse's car back to the hospital and had him follow her as far as the laundromat. "I'm going to park it here for the time being," she told him as he turned over two sets of keys to her. "My husband and I will pick it up later. I'll take you back home now. Sorry for the inconvenience."
Whatever inconvenience she had caused him was alleviated by the thousand dollars lining his pocket. Naturally he was curious to know her name, where she lived, what her husband did for a living. He had asked dozens of questions. Politely and fastidiously, Kendall had lied.
"You're a natural-born liar," Ricki Sue had once told her.
"That's why you're such a good lawyer."
Wistfully, Kendall smiled at the recollection. They had been making Toll House cookies in Grandmother's kitchen.
Kendall envisioned their faces and voices so clearly that they could almost have been in the hospital room with her now.
Ricki Sue had intended the comment to be a chastisement, but Kendall had taken it as a compliment.
"Careful, Ricki Sue. Words to that effect only encourage her," Grandmother had said. "And Lord knows she doesn't need any encouragement to tell a fib."
"I don't fib!" Kendall had protested.
. l i "that's the biggest fib of all. " Her grandmother had admonished her by shaking a dough-covered wooden spoon at her.
"When you were growing up, how many times was I called the schoolhouse to answer to some wild tale you'd been telling your classmates? She was always making up stories,"
had explained to Ricki Sue in an aside.
i "I sometimes reinvented the truth to make it more interesting," Kendall had said, sniffing loftily. "But I wouldn't call fibbing."
"Neither would I," Ricki Sue had said matter-of-factly as she tossed a handful of c hocolate morsels into her mouth. "It's called lying."
Thinking of the two women she so desperately missed caused Kendall's throat to ache with emotion. If she dwelled on memories now, the heartache would be immobilizing. And she bust act before any more time was lost. Before the man who Seemed to read her as easily as a primer recovered his memory.
She looked at her watch 1:00 A.M. Time to go d Tiptoeing to the door, she opened it and cautiously looked down the hallway. There were two nurses on duty. One's attention was devoted to a novel; the other was talking on the telephone.
Earlier, Kendall had slipped out unnoticed and stashed their ' Meager belongings in the car, so that now she had only the baby to carry out.
Returning to the crib, she slid her hands beneath his tummy and gently turned him over. He made an ugly face but didn't even wake up, even when she lifted him out of the crib and cradled him
against her chest.
"You're such a good boy," she whispered. "You know mommy loves you, don't you? And that I would do anything to protect you."
She crept from the room. After being in the dark for hours the corridor seemed unnaturally bright. She spent several precious seconds letting her eyes adjust, then began moving stealthily down the corridor.
If she could make it to the intersecting hallway without being discovered, she'd be home free. But for about thirty feet she would be exposed. If one of the nurses glimpsed her out of the corner of her eye, she had an explanation ready: Kevin had gas and was fretting. She had decided to Walk him.
They would believe her without question, but her plans would be thwarted. She would have to try again tomorrow night. Each hour counted; tomorrow might be too late. She needed to disappear tonight.
She concentrated on keeping her footfalls silent and quick.
Eyes trained on the two nurses, she calculated the distance to the corner. HA much farther? Ten feet? Fifteen?
Kevin belched.
To Kendall's ears it sounded like a cannon being fired. She froze, her heart knocking against her ribs. But apparently no one else heard the burp. One nurse was still reading. the other was still talking, obviously warming to her conversation.
"So I said that if he went bowling three nights a week anyway, why did he care if I pulled some Light duty? He says, 'That's different." And then I said, you're dawn right.
Bowling doesn't pay for shit."
Kendall didn't stick around to hear the outcome of-the domestic dispute As soon as she reached the corner, she side stepped into another hallway. She'd made it!
Flattening her spine against the wall, she closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and slowly counted to thirty. When she was certain that She hadn't roused the nurses, she opened her eyes.
He, however, had been roused.
Chapter 3
She clamped his hand over her mouth.
Not that it was necessary. She was too dumbfounded to scream. Nor would she have done so anyway. On the night she fled Prosper, she had been shocked by circumstances much more frightening than this, and she hadn't screamed then.
Nevertheless, she was startled. It seemed he had materialized out of the walls. How had he managed to get within inches of her without her sensing his approach?
Sandra Brown Page 4