Shirlee McCoy - Private Eye Protector

“The hospital.”

“Do you remember how you got here?”

“No.”

“You were in an accident,” he said, as if he hoped it would spark a memory.

All it sparked was terror.

Emma!

“Where’s my daughter?” Rayne tried to sit up, but Chance pressed her back.

“She’s fine. She wasn’t in the car with you.”

“Thank God.” She closed her eyes, the prayer swirling through her mind again and again and again.

“He was definitely looking out for both of you. Do you remember what happened?”

No, and that terrified her.

She tried to respond, but her thoughts were clumsy, her eyelids leaden.

“Do you remember the accident, Rayne?” he persisted, pulling her from the edge of sleep.

She scowled, wondering if she knew him well enough to tell him to go away and leave her alone. Not to ask any more questions, because every question she couldn’t answer only added to her fear.

“Do you know how it happened? Where it happened?”

“In my car?” There. Finally something she could answer.

“Funny, Goldilocks, but that’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny, and my hair isn’t gold, it’s platinum.”

“Looks gold to me. Do you know what town you’re in?”

That she could answer, too.

She’d left Phoenix to work in Spokane, Washington. If Chance was her coworker, she must be there.

“Spokane, but I’m tired of playing twenty questions, so let’s stop for a while, okay?” She opened her eyes, looked into his gray-blue gaze.

Eyes she knew but didn’t know.

The world spun, and she spun with it, falling back into darkness so quickly she thought she might never escape it.

She reached out, grabbed something warm and solid.

His hand.

Calloused and rough and oddly familiar.

She knew his eyes, and she knew him, but she had no memory of meeting him, no knowledge of their shared history. How far back did that history go? How much time had passed since her last memory?

Was Emma still a baby?

Had she grown into a toddler?

Something more?

Terrified, she sat up, stars shooting in front of her eyes.

“I need to see my daughter.” The frantic edge to her voice matched her racing pulse and the frenzied beep of the machine.

“Calm down, Rayne. Emma is fine. My mom was babysitting her while you worked, and she’s still taking care of her.” Chance pressed a palm to her cheek, forced her to look into his eyes.

Calm.

Confident.

Not panicked at all.

Then again, he wasn’t the one with amnesia.

“Is everything okay in here?” A nurse walked into the room, her dark eyes widening as she saw Rayne. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Aside from having a splitting headache and amnesia? Okay.”

“Amnesia? The nurse looked at chance, and he nodded.

“She seems to be missing her recent memories. No idea what day it is, no memory of the accident. She doesn’t seem to remember me or the area.”

“She’s sitting right here, and she can speak for herself,” Rayne grumbled, but throbbing pain stole the heat from her words, and she really didn’t have the strength to add to what he’d said.

Besides, what would she add?

He’d said it all.

All her recent memories were gone. Trying to find them was like searching through a sea of nothingness.

“I’ll page the attending physician. He’ll want to ask you a few questions, Rayne. In the meantime, on a scale of one to ten, what’s your pain level?”

“Seven.” But, compared to her fear and confusion, that was negligible.

She wanted to remember everything. Wanted it with a desperation that made her physically ill.

“When the doctor comes in, we’ll see if you can take something for that.”

“I don’t need anything for the pain. All I want is to go home and see my daughter.” Only she didn’t know where home was. Didn’t know where her daughter was.

Being a parent is a big responsibility. Let someone else take it on. Someone who really wants a baby .

Michael spoke from the past, and Rayne realized she’d closed her eyes, was drifting on waves of distant memories.

Or maybe not so distant.

“What day is it? What’s the date?” she asked.

“Friday, November 28th, 2011.” Chance answered, smoothing a lock of hair from her forehead.

She’d left Phoenix at the beginning of October. That meant she’d lost nearly two months of her life. Two months of Emma’s life.

Better than the alternative.

Better than years or decades.

“I need to see Emma.” She sat up, ignoring the nurse’s protest, ignoring Chance’s hand pressed to her shoulder.

Michael had been wrong.

Everything he’d said, everything he’d believed about her ability to parent Chandra’s baby had been wrong.

Rayne had spent the past eight months proving that.

She wouldn’t fail now. Wouldn’t leave her baby with a complete stranger.

“Do you really think you’re going to do her any good in the condition you’re in?”

“I’ll do her a lot more good if I’m with her than if I’m away from her.”

“My mother has been her babysitter since you moved into the apartment. She and Emma will do just fine together. All you need to worry about is getting better,” Chance said, and Rayne reached for a name, a face, something to go with his words.

Nothing.

Blank.

“I don’t know your mother. I don’t know you.” Her breath came in short gasps, and she felt helpless to control it. Panic edged out everything. The nurse. Chance. The pain that slammed through Rayne’s skull.

“You’re not going to fall apart, Rayne. You have a kid to get home to and a life to live. This is just a blip on the radar, so take a deep breath and pull yourself together,” Chance growled, his eyes blazing into hers, forcing her back from the brink.

She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to thank him or punch him, but his harsh words had worked. She could breathe. She could think.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one with holes in your memories.”

“That’s better, Goldilocks.” He patted her hand, moved aside as the nurse leaned in to take Rayne’s vitals.

“Partial amnesia is very common with head injuries. Give yourself a little time. Things will come back to you.” The nurse jotted something on Rayne’s chart, offering an easy smile.

“When?”

“Unfortunately, it isn’t an exact science. Sometimes, memories come back quickly. Sometimes, it takes months. Even years.”

“I want them back now . I can’t stomach the thought of my daughter with someone I don’t know,” she said, the words blurting out before she thought about how they’d sound.

“Of course you feel that way. What mother wouldn’t? But I can assure you that Lila Richardson is one of the most wonderful women around. She’ll take good care of your daughter.”

“You know her?”

“She taught my Sunday school class when I was a kid, and now, she teaches my son. She’s great, and I’m not just saying that because Chance is in the room.”

“That make me feel better.” But not much. Emma was her responsibility. She’d made a promise to Chandra, and she didn’t take that lightly.

Sure, I’ll raise her if something happens to you .

But she hadn’t expected anything to happen to her best friend. Hadn’t thought very hard about what it would mean to take on the responsibility of raising another human being.

“Good. Now, you just rest for a while, okay? The doctor should be in shortly. Hopefully, by midnight, you’ll have some pain medicine and be fast asleep. Everything will look better in the morning.” The nurse pulled the blanket up to Rayne’s chin, tucked it around her shoulders.