Rita Herron - Forgotten Lullaby

“Don’t cry, honey, it’s going to be okay,” Grant whispered, his voice tender, comforting. She opened her eyes just as he lowered his head against the side of the bed, his slumped posture at odds with his muscular build. He had to be hurting as much as she was. The scent of his musky aftershave wafted toward her. He was so close his thick hair tickled her arm. Instinctively she reached out to run her hands through the black strands, pushing them away from his wide cheekbones, but when her fingers brushed his stubbled jaw, she pulled away. She couldn’t touch this man. She didn’t even know him.

“I’m sorry…so sorry,” she whispered. “Why is this happening?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, but you don’t need to worry about it right now. You’ve been through a lot,” he said softly. “Just close your eyes and rest.”

He moved to leave. “Don’t go,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’ll be right here when you wake up.” Grant pressed a kiss to her hand. “Everything’s going to be all right now.”

Emma felt another surge of fear. She struggled to look at the man beside her, but fatigue clawed at her. Her eyelids were so heavy. She was so tired…but she needed to stay awake…to find out what was going on….

Grant slipped his hand from hers and left the room, and an emptiness swelled inside her, so deep and powerful it yanked her from the hazy lull of exhaustion. She tried to shove aside her worries, but questions reverberated through her head. She remembered her mother, her father, her sister, Kate. She should have asked Grant about them—was her mother still healthy, did Kate and her husband still live nearby? She remembered high school graduation, going to college…. Why couldn’t she remember her own husband? And her little girl?

Hot tears slid down her cheeks again and she pressed her hand to her stomach, a low sob escaping her. What was going to happen now?

She wasn’t ready to be a stranger’s wife.

WHEN GRANT STEPPED into the hallway, he saw the detective approaching, and his nerves went on alert.

“I came to check out that oxygen mask,” Warner said. “The nurses were concerned. They didn’t think Mrs. Wadsworth could have removed it and ripped out her IV like that.”

Grant leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. Confusion, fear and anger almost overwhelmed him.

“Can I talk to your wife now?” Warner asked. “I need to ask her some questions.”

The doctor explained about Emma’s memory loss. “You need to let her rest, don’t put any stress on her,” he cautioned. He excused himself to answer a page.

“Do you really think someone intentionally ran Emma off the road?” Grant asked.

“According to our witness, that’s what happened. There were two sets of tire marks. We took samples of the black paint on your wife’s car,” Warner said. “I was hoping when your wife woke up she could tell us more.”

Grant glanced at the hospital-room door in despair. So was he. Instead, Emma didn’t even remember their life together. Or that they had a child.

GRANT CUDDLED CARLY close and stroked his finger along her soft creamy skin. “Oh, sweetheart, you miss Mommy, don’t you?” He propped her on his shoulder, inhaling the fresh scent of baby powder. She cried more loudly, and he changed positions, awkwardly trying to comfort her. “Honey, please give me a break. I’m not very good at this fatherhood thing yet.”

He patted her back and finally Carly’s cries quieted as she snuggled against him. “I’m going to take good care of you, you know that? And Mommy’s coming home today.” And maybe one day soon that detective will have some answers for me, he thought in frustration. He’d phoned Warner every day, but still no news. The detective assured him they were doing everything they could to find the person who’d hit Emma. But what if they never found him? And what if someone had tried to hurt Emma in the hospital?

Holding Carly so he could gaze into her face, Grant felt a surge of protectiveness that grew deeper every day. If anyone had told him three months ago he’d be talking baby talk and loving it, he would have said no way. Now he looked forward to time with his daughter, fleeting as it was. And he would get better at handling her, too.

After Carly’s birth, Emma had nagged him to spend more time at home. He’d tried to make her understand that he would, someday—when he’d earned a promotion and a raise, when he could afford to support them the way he wanted. He’d even hired a housekeeper to help Emma with the daily chores. But since the accident…

Carly whimpered, and he rubbed her back in slow circles the way he’d seen Emma do so many times. “When Mommy comes home, she’s going to be tired,” he said softly. “But we’ll take care of her.” He turned his thoughts to Emma’s recovery, desperately trying to block the anguish he felt every time he recalled Emma’s looking at him as if he was a total stranger. “We’ll get through this somehow,” he continued, talking quietly. Settling Carly in his arms, he soaked up her innocent features. Big brown doelike eyes, just like her mother’s. Tiny button nose. Perfect mouth. Carly cooed, swinging her chubby hands, and he traced his finger down her tummy, smiling gently.

“Mom was hurt pretty badly, Carly. We’re going to have to help her out.” He kissed Carly’s cheek, reveling in her trusting expression. “Right now she doesn’t remember us, sweetheart. But maybe when she sees you—”

“I’m still not sure you should bring Emma back here.”

Grant gritted his teeth as Kate stepped into the room. With Kate’s three inches of extra height, much rounder body and brown hair, instead of blond, no one would ever guess she and Emma were sisters. Apparently the silent truce he and Kate had shared before Emma had awakened had dissolved. He tried to like Kate, but she could be bossy and had a cynical attitude about life. She’d always insinuated he wasn’t good enough for Emma.

“I think it’s for the best,” Grant said quietly.

“For whom?” Kate arched an eyebrow. “You or Emma?”

He frowned. “She’s my wife, dammit.” Carly squirmed and started to fuss, and he lowered his voice, rocking her gently. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“Have the police found out who hit her?” Kate asked.

“No.” Frustration filled Grant’s voice. “But I hope they find the creep and lock him up for a long time.”

Kate stared at him for a full minute before speaking again. “Emma could come to my house for a while,” she suggested. “At least she’d be comfortable there, familiar with things.”

He shot Kate a warning look. “Look, we’ve discussed this before. Maybe if we bring her home, it’ll trigger her memory.” He could hope, couldn’t he?

Kate’s brows knit with worry. “What exactly did the doctor say?”

“You want all the medical mumbo jumbo?”

“No, just the truth.”

Grant nodded, the haunting diagnosis burned into his brain. “He said memory loss isn’t uncommon after a head injury. He isn’t sure if the amnesia is a result of physical trauma or emotional trauma. The CAT scan showed she still had some swelling around the part of her brain associated with memory.”

“When will he know?” Kate asked.

“If it’s physiological, it might be a few weeks. They’ll run more tests, do another CAT scan after the swelling goes down.”

“And if it’s emotional?”

Grant played with the tiny buttons on Carly’s sleeper, his chest tightening. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if Emma’s memory didn’t return. “It might be months. Or she might never regain her memory.”

Kate sighed. “Did he suggest therapy? Hypnosis?”