Leona Karr - Lost Identity

Andrew phoned the hospital, and asked to speak to one of the resident doctors concerning the admittance of an amnesia patient. He was referred to a Dr. Jon Duboise. As succinctly as Andrew could, he explained to the doctor about Trish’s condition.

“She has a deep fear that someone will find her before she can remember what happened to her. Whatever it was must have been something traumatic.”

“Reason enough for her to block out the memory,” the doctor agreed. “The loss of memory about an emotionally traumatic event is usually the result of a person’s desire to dissociate from a particularly intolerable situation.”

“And once she’s willing to recall that event, will she get her memory back?” Andrew asked hopefully.

“If it’s hysterical or post-traumatic retrograde amnesia, it’s very likely,” Duboise explained. “But even with therapy, it could take time.” He asked a few more questions, and then assured Andrew that privacy was a top priority at Havengate Hospital.

Andrew thanked him and hung up without committing himself to anything. He sat out on the deck for several minutes trying to come up with the best way to handle Trish. Her aversion to exposing herself to anyone was clear. He knew that she would accuse him of withdrawing his support if he insisted that she check herself into a hospital. She had already admitted that she feared his betrayal.

He decided to wait until evening before saying anything. When she emerged from the bedroom, he noted that she had, undoubtedly, taken his advice and had a long nap. She was more rested than he’d seen her. At dinner, she even ate a nice helping of his spaghetti and meatballs.

They had coffee in the living room, and impulsively he picked up his guitar and began strumming some familiar tunes. Trish curled up on the couch, smiling as she watched his dexterous fingers find the chords with an easy pleasure. She could tell that he was used to spending evenings in the company of his guitar. A soft wave of blond hair drifted forward as he bent his head over the instrument. Her eyes followed the strong sweep of his cheeks and jaw, and lingered on the fullness of his mouth. She greedily captured every detail in her mind, knowing that she would draw on this memory over and over again, no matter how many others were denied her. She felt a peculiar stirring inside that made her want to shut out the rest of the world and hold on to this sweet moment forever. At that moment, she realized she was dangerously close to allowing her feelings to deepen for this blond-headed troubadour.

Andrew was pleased with the soft smile on her face and he was glad he’d broken his rule never to play for anyone but himself. None of his co-workers at the office even suspected he knew one note from another, and as Trish began humming some of the tunes, he experienced sudden companionship that had been rare in his life.

He gave her an encouraging grin as very softly she began singing along with his playing, as though testing her memory for the words. She had a lovely clear voice, and her confidence grew. When he began strumming a bouncy tune, she started clapping in rhythm, and he glimpsed an outgoing, perky manner that he hadn’t seen before. He ended the song with a flourish of chords that left them both laughing.

“Hey, you’re good.” He grinned at her as he set aside his guitar.

“I love to sing,” she admitted with wide-eyed surprise. Knowing one more thing about herself was like finding another piece of a hidden puzzle.

“We make a good team. Shall we go on the road?”

“I wish we could,” she answered wistfully as a cloud descended on her face, erasing the brightness that had been in her eyes only moments before.

Andrew realized immediately that he’d said the wrong thing. Even in jest, talking about the future was painful for her. He eased down beside her on the couch. Maybe the time had come to tell her about the call he’d made to Havengate Hospital.

“Trish, there’s something we need to talk about.”

Instantly her sense of well-being took a dive. Here it comes, she thought. He’s going to tell me it’s time to move on. He put his arm around her shoulder, but she sat stiffly beside him.

“All right, let’s talk,” she said as steadily as the quivering in her stomach would allow.

“I talked with a Dr. Duboise about you and—”

“What? You didn’t!” Her voice was strident. “You promised!”

“I said that I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your safety, and I didn’t.” He kept his tone even and controlled. “Let me explain.”

“I trusted you,” she lashed out, and started to get up, but he pulled her back down.

“Just listen, please.” Putting his hands firmly on her shoulders, he looked directly into her rounded eyes. He could see the wild pulse beating in her neck. “There’s a Havengate Hospital near here, and they treat amnesia patients. You need professional help, Trish.”

“And you want me out of your hair,” she flared angrily and tried to push him away.

“Trish, you can’t do this on your own.”

“If you’d just give me a little time,” she pleaded. “After all, it’s only been three days.”

“And what if it becomes three months? What then? Are you willing to suffer not knowing who you are, and what happened to drive away your memory for months and perhaps even years?” He softened his voice. “You’re a beautiful young woman, and you deserve better than that.”

“But what if someone finds me before…before my memory comes back?” She swallowed hard, feeling as if she’d suddenly been swept up in a whirlwind over which she had no control.

“Dr. Duboise has promised complete secrecy about your presence there.”

“But what about payment? They’ll admit me to a place like that out of the goodness of their hearts?”

“Almost,” he admitted with a reassuring smile. He could tell that her initial defensiveness was easing, and he dropped his hands from her shoulder. “Havengate is supported by a philanthropic trust fund. The hospital will accept you without payment with the belief that after you recover your identity, you’ll be able to settle with them financially. According to Dr. Duboise they take many amnesia patients on that basis. So you see, there’s nothing to stop you from getting the best treatment available. And I’ll be close enough to make sure you’re staying out of trouble.”

She searched his face and felt all the fight go out of her body. Was he making her an idle promise? She couldn’t tell. What if he left her there alone for heaven only knew how long? For the first time, she considered the possibility that he might not want to have anything to do with her once he found out who she truly was. She wondered if he’d been thinking the same thing and was making this move to get her out of his life before the truth came out.

“All right,” she said stiffly. “Whatever you say.”

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.