Judith Mcwilliams - Did You Say...Wife?

“Doctor Edwards asked that you see him before you visited your husband this morning,” the nurse told Jocelyn when she reached the nurses’ station of the surgical ward.

Jocelyn felt her skin blanch with sudden fear. What had happened? Even though Lucas hadn’t yet regained consciousness, the nurses had been very pleased with his vital signs when she’d left him late last night.

Lucas didn’t…” Jocelyn couldn’t bring herself to complete the sentence.

“No, of course not,” the nurse hurriedly reassured her. He’s coming along nicely. Amazingly well, in fact, considering what he’s been through. It’s just that…

Oh, good, there’s Dr. Edwards now.” The nurse broke off in evident relief as she caught sight of the doctor hurrying down the hall toward them.

Jocelyn turned, waiting nervously for the doctor to reach her. If Lucas hadn’t suffered a relapse, the only reason she could think of that the doctor would insist on seeing her would be if the hospital had somehow found out that Lucas and she weren’t married. That she had lied to them.

Which would explain the doctor’s impatience to see her. He was probably worried about the hospital’s liability for having operated on Lucas without proper authorization.

Jocelyn braced her thin shoulders and prepared to face the doctor’s wrath. But even knowing that what she’d done was technically wrong, she’d do it again in a heartbeat. Lucas had gotten the help he’d needed when he’d needed it. Not when some bureaucrat had decided it was legally safe to treat him.

“Mrs. Forester.” Dr. Edwards’s greeting caught her off guard. If he’d found out that she wasn’t Lucas’s wife, why was he still calling her that? And if he hadn’t found out, then why was it so urgent he speak to her? Unless the nurse had lied about Lucas being okay? Sudden panic gripped her, and she took an involuntary step toward the doctor.

“Lucas is fine.” The doctor had no trouble reading her expressive face. “Physically, I’m very impressed with how well he’s responding.”

“But?” Jocelyn asked, sensing his constraint.

It has been my experience that occasionally in situations like this—”

“Cut to the chase,” Jocelyn said, interrupting him. “My nerves won’t last through the buildup.”

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad. Just a temporary problem. Mr. Forester is suffering a spot of amnesia.”

“Amnesia?” Jocelyn stared blankly at the doctor.

“It isn’t all that uncommon in head injuries,” he assured her. “We discovered it this morning when we cut back on the pain medication enough to let him regain consciousness. Your husband should remember everything within a week. A couple of weeks at the outside.”

“Amnesia,” Jocelyn repeated. As in, he doesn’t remember who I am?” Or the fact that I’m not really his wife? A complicated mixture of emotions swirled through her as the implications of the situation began to register.

“Not at the moment,” he said.

“How do I handle this?” she finally asked.

“The most important thing you can do is to keep calm and not to try to force his memory. He should remember a little more each day until it all comes back to him. Just answer any questions he asks and, above all, keep stress to a minimum.”

“I see,” Jocelyn said slowly, wondering what to do now. confessing who she really was was out of the question in light of this latest development. Not if Lucas was to have the peace he needed to get better. At the first hint of any weakness on Lucas’s part, Bill would be all over him; and Bill was stress personified.

Besides, she didn’t really want to confess, she realized. Soon she would be gone from Lucas’s life entirely. Being able to pretend to be his wife for a few days was a gift of incredible proportions from an unexpectedly benevolent fate. She’d be able to cherish the memory of those precious days for the rest of her life.

“When can he leave the hospital?” she asked.

“Barring anything unforeseen, he can be discharged day after tomorrow.”

“So soon!”

“He’ll recover much quicker in a familiar environment. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.” Dr. Edwards gave her an encouraging smile and hurried off down the hall.

I sure hope he’s a better doctor than he is a fortune teller, Jocelyn thought. Because “fine” was the one thing she wasn’t going to be. Once Lucas regained his memory, she’d lose the man she loved. She didn’t think she’d ever be fine again. Which was all the more reason to make the most of the moment, she told herself.

Taking a deep breath, she hurried down the hall to Lucas’s room. Pushing open the door, she walked inside.

Lucas lay in a high, narrow bed. His eyes were closed, and his skin had a grayish cast, which was emphasized by the large, white bandage, which covered the left side of his forehead. Jocelyn silently approached the bed, wincing when she saw the lurid purple-and-red bruise that started under his bandage and ran down his cheek almost to his jaw. He hadn’t shaved since the accident, and the three days’ growth of beard gave him a vaguely pirate-like look that sent an unexpected kick of excitement through her. Lucas looked like an ancient warrior. One who’d been on the losing side.

Her heart twisted. He looked so vulnerable. Something that was totally foreign to his normal vibrant personality. Lucas always seemed so competent, so absolutely in charge of both himself and the situation he found himself in; it was a shock to realize that he needed protecting. But she also found it oddly exhilarating. Somehow, his present vulnerability put them on an equal footing. He needed her. For the first time in their relationship she wasn’t on the periphery of his life. She was smack in the middle of it.

His eyelids slowly lifted as if he’d sensed someone was in the room with him, and she found herself staring into his eyes. They seemed dimmer than usual. The brilliant sparkle that usually lit them had been dulled, which was hardly surprising given what had happened, she told herself.

Uncertainly she watched him, waiting for a clue as to how to proceed.

Lucas squinted, trying to see the woman standing beside his bed through the haze of pain that engulfed him. Her large eyes were pale blue with an intriguing violet tinge, he thought distractedly. But her eyes didn’t look hopeful. They were filled with apprehension. Because of him? he wondered as he studied the creamy texture of her complexion. Her delicately molded nose had a light dusting of pale freckles that intrigued him. Did she have freckles anywhere else? he wondered. His eyes instinctively dropped to her body and a surge of heat welled up through him, which increased the pounding in his head to nauseating levels.

Hastily, he forced his gaze upward away from the temptation of her body to discover her mouth. She had gorgeous lips, he decided after a moment’s deliberation. They were soft and pink and full and promised unimaginable delights to anyone lucky enough to kiss them.

Mesmerized, he watched as she reached up and brushed back a strand of her gleaming hair. It was the exact color of Italian chestnuts. A deep rich brown with just the slightest hint of red in the mix.

Who was she? he wondered. Certainly not a nurse. Not dressed in that severely cut, dark-blue business suit. He wished he could see her legs over the edge of the bed. If they were as intriguing as her face was…

A sudden flash of memory of her reaching up to get something on a shelf over her head flashed through his mind. She was wearing beige slacks that lovingly molded her trim hips. The instinctive burst of desire that surged through him made the pain in his head escalate to appalling proportions. He waited a moment for the pain to ebb before he followed his memory flash to its logical conclusion. He knew this woman. He knew her from before the accident. Knew her and desired her. Hell, he thought with black humor, if he desired her much more he’d pass out from the pain it caused him.