by Rebecca York
He’d opened a door in her mind just a crack and slammed it shut again. She’d alternated between being angry that he wouldn’t help her and wanting to plead with him to give her more of herself back. But she’d understood where he was coming from and had kept from embarrassing herself any further.
Then that nice nurse who had taken care of her earlier had showed up and thrown her a lifeline to deal with her present day-to-day situation.
“I’d be very grateful to stay with you, but I insist on paying you—as soon as I find out who I am. I mean, assuming I’m not indigent or something.”
“You’re too well cared for to be indigent,” the doctor said. “It’s obvious that you were living at least a middle-class lifestyle.”
“Okay.” She looked from him to the nurse, wanting to be absolutely sure the woman had thought through her offer. “You’re certain it’s all right?”
“I’d love the company.”
The doctor left, and the arrangement was settled quickly. Probably the hospital was anxious to get rid of a patient who couldn’t produce an insurance card, even if she was living a middle-class lifestyle.
“I’m going off shift in half an hour,” Mrs. Kramer said. “Once you get dressed, I’ll get a wheelchair and take you down. I can meet you in the waiting area near the elevator.”
Climbing out of bed, Elizabeth stood for a moment holding on to the rail. She’d been lying down too long, and her legs felt rubbery. Or maybe that was the result of having a concussion.
When she felt steadier on her feet, she crossed to the small bathroom and turned on the light. She’d deliberately avoided looking at herself until she was ready. Now she raised her gaze to the mirror and stared at the woman she saw there. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but the face that stared back might as well have belonged to a stranger.
Disappointed and unsettled, she stood for a moment, composing herself. Trying not to look in the mirror again, she washed her face at the sink and brushed her teeth with the toothbrush the hospital had provided.
Doggedly she focused on the simple tasks in order to keep from thinking about anything more stressful—like how she was going to figure out who she was and why she had crashed her car. The easy answer was that she’d been speeding. As she pictured herself driving, she realized she knew the part of town where they’d told her the accident had occurred.
That stopped her. She’d come up with another memory—this time on her own. Well, not a memory of anything personal.
The observation about Baltimore—that was the city she was in—brought up another question: What else did she know? Maybe not about Elizabeth Doe specifically but about the world around her.
She stopped and asked herself some questions she imagined would be standard for someone in her situation. She couldn’t dredge up the correct date. But she knew who was president. And she knew... She struggled for another concrete fact and came up with the conviction that she could make scrambled eggs that tasted a lot better than what the hospital had served her this morning.
“Your clothes are in the closet,” Nurse Kramer said through the bathroom door. “Do you need help?”
“I think I can do it myself,” she said, because she wasn’t going to depend on other people if there was a chance for independence—even in small things.
By the time she stepped back into the room, Mrs. Kramer had gone back to her duties and Dr. Delano wasn’t there, either. She felt a stab of disappointment but brushed it aside. Probably he was wishing that some other doctor had examined her. And staying as far away as possible from her was probably the way to go, from his point of view.
After crossing to the closet, she took out the clothes that someone had hung up for her. Dark slacks. A white shirt and a dark jacket. A very buttoned-up look, except that the outfit was a little scuffed around the edges from the accident.
She looked at the labels of the garments. They were from good department stores. Not top-of-the-line but good enough. Another piece of information that she found interesting.
She’d been wearing knee-high stockings and black pumps with a wedge heel. Not the shoes she’d wear if she had wanted to impress someone. These were no-nonsense footwear. Did that mean she walked a lot as part of her job? Or maybe she had bad feet.
There was also underwear on the hanger, and that was more interesting than the exterior clothing. She’d been wearing a very sexy white lace bra and matching bikini panties. Apparently she liked to indulge in very feminine underwear. She took everything back into the bathroom, then decided that she might as well take a shower before she left. It would feel good to get clean. Too bad she didn’t have a change of underwear.
She thought about her name as she stood under the shower. Elizabeth. A very formal name. Did people call her Beth? Betty? Liz? Or any of the other variations of the name? She didn’t know.
But she noted that she’d washed her hair before soaping her body, and it had been in the back of her mind that she’d better do that first—in case the hot water went off and she was caught with shampoo in her hair.
An interesting priority. Did it mean she lived in a house or an apartment where there was a problem with the hot-water heater? Or had she traveled abroad like Dr. Delano?
She clenched her hand around a bar of soap, annoyed with herself for switching her thoughts back to him. He’d made it clear that there couldn’t be anything personal between the two of them, and she understood that. Yet, at the same time, she couldn’t stop thinking of him as her lifeline to her own past.
After turning off the water and stepping out of the shower, she reached for a towel and began to dry herself. There was no hair dryer, so she worked extra hard on her hair, rubbing it into fluffy ringlets.
Was that the way she usually wore it? She didn’t think so, but it would do for now. Her coiffure was way down on her list of priorities. It didn’t matter what she looked like if she didn’t know who she was and how she’d gotten herself into deep kimchi. Because it was clear from the memory Dr. Delano had dredged up that she’d done something to bring trouble on herself. Was it something she deserved? Or something that wasn’t her fault?
She made a small sound of frustration as she tried to work around the holes in her memory, then stopped and started again. It was more like her entire past was a great void—except for the memories Matt Delano had brought to the surface. With that nagging side effect he hated, she reminded herself.
Well, that probably wasn’t true. She was pretty sure he didn’t hate the sexual pull between them. He’d responded, after all, but he was determined not to cross a line with her.
She clenched her fists in frustration. If she couldn’t fill in all the blank places in her mind, they were going to drive her crazy.
Chapter Three
At the nurses’ station, Matt was thinking about the moral issue that was tearing at him. Because he was very conscious of the sexual awareness between himself and Elizabeth Doe, he should stay away from her. But at the same time, how could he refuse to help her?
Mrs. Kramer came down the hall, her strides purposeful, and he looked up questioningly when he found her standing in front of him.
“Yes?”
“Do you get the feeling that Elizabeth is in some kind of trouble?” she asked. “I mean not just the memory loss.”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps she was fleeing from someone. There was a report of a man dragging her out of her car at the accident scene. Maybe he took her purse.”
Matt nodded.
“Would it be all right, do you think, if I didn’t tell anyone that I was taking her home with me? Well, I mean, anyone besides you.”
“If someone is looking for her, wouldn’t that make it harder to locate her?” he said.
“But I’m thinking, it’s likely to be the wrong kind of person, and i
t might be better for him not to find her.”
“Or it could be her husband, frantic for information.”
“You think she’s married?” Kramer asked.
“No,” he answered immediately, then tried to assess his firm conviction. His certainty came from her mind, but he couldn’t tell that to Kramer. Instead, he said, “No ring.”
As the nurse nodded, he took his private speculation a step further. The best he could figure was that he hadn’t gotten any hint of a husband from her memories. Or any indication of a current relationship. Just from that brief trip into her mind, he thought that she was like him—disconnected from any meaningful relationship. Only for a few moments, the two of them had connected in a way he’d thought impossible for himself.
He clenched his teeth.
“Is something wrong?” Kramer asked.
Quickly he rearranged his features. “No.”
“You look tense.”
He wished she hadn’t noticed.
When he didn’t speak, the nurse said, “I’ll let you know how she’s doing.”
“Thanks.”
He did care, more than he should, but he couldn’t admit it or anything else that would give away the out-of-kilter personal involvement that had flared between them. He turned and left the ward before Elizabeth came out, and he did something he knew he shouldn’t—like touch her again.
Thinking about it made his nerve endings tingle, but he ignored the sensation as he headed for the other end of the hall.
* * *
POLLY KRAMER WATCHED Dr. Delano stride off. She could tell he was trying to react on a strictly professional level, but he wasn’t succeeding. Which was interesting. Since he’d come to Memorial Hospital, she’d thought of him as closed up. Maybe even a cold fish. But something about the woman with no memory had created a change in him. He seemed to really care about her, although he was trying not to show it.
Probably he thought any personal feelings about Elizabeth were inappropriate. But was there some way to change that? He’d been cautious of involvement with her because she was a patient. But she wouldn’t be a patient after she left the hospital.
Polly smiled to herself. Here she went again, trying to match people up. Because she’d been so happy in her marriage. And she wanted the same thing for other young couples.
A voice broke into her thoughts. It was Cynthia Price, one of the other nurses on the floor.
“I couldn’t help overhearing you and the doctor talking. Are you really taking that Jane Doe woman home with you?” Price asked. She was a slender brunette in her mid-thirties, and as far as Polly could tell, she had the right nursing skills, but she didn’t have much empathy for the patients.
“Yes.”
Polly’s colleague fiddled with the ballpoint pen she was holding. “I don’t like to interfere, but isn’t that taking a chance?”
“What do you mean?”
“She could be...” The woman raised a shoulder. “She could be a thief or Lord knows what.”
“I think I’m a good judge of character, and I don’t believe she’s a thief or a murderer. But Dr. Delano and I both have the idea she’s in some kind of trouble.”
“Yes, I heard you discussing it. What do you think it is?”
“When she gets her memory back, we’ll know.” Polly paused for a second. “I think it would be better if you don’t tell anyone she left with me.”
Cynthia considered the request. “What if her family comes looking for her or something? What if they’re worried sick about her?”
Polly thought for a moment. “Don’t tell anyone where she’s gone, but get their name and number and call me.”
“You sound like a character in a spy novel.”
Polly laughed. “I’m being cautious is all.”
The conversation was interrupted when she saw Elizabeth look out of her room toward the nurses’ station.
“Here she comes now.” As Elizabeth focused on them, Polly said, “Thanks for your help,” wondering if she could rely on Cynthia’s discretion.
* * *
ELIZABETH LOOKED INTO the hall. Once again she’d been hoping to see Dr. Delano. He wasn’t there, and she was annoyed with herself for fixating on him and feeling disappointed. But that was logical, she told herself. He’d been the only link to her past. Deliberately she ordered herself not to dwell on the rest of it.
Polly Kramer smiled as Elizabeth came down the hall, then asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Physically, okay.”
“Good. Let’s leave.”
“Mrs. Kramer...”
“Please call me Polly.”
“Polly, I appreciate what you’re doing for me.”
“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t feel good about it myself.”
Polly helped her into a wheelchair and then into the elevator where, she gave Elizabeth a studied glance. “You look very professional in that outfit.”
“I was thinking the same thing. I’m very buttoned up.”
“You obviously have a job that requires a polished appearance.”
“The shoes are a little dowdy.”
“They’re practical.”
“What do you think I do for a living?”
“You could be a lawyer.”
Elizabeth contemplated the answer. “Perhaps.”
“What do you think?”
“A teacher would be closer, but that doesn’t quite work for me, either.”
As they exited the elevator and Polly wheeled the chair out the staff-only door, she said, “Your outfit gives you the look of authority, but it isn’t exactly comfortable for relaxing. I was thinking we could stop at a discount department store, and you could pick up a few things.”
Elizabeth felt her chest tighten. A line from a play leaped into her head. Something about relying on the kindnesses of strangers. “I don’t have any cash, and I’m already imposing on you by staying at your house.”
“Nonsense. I’ll be right back.” The nurse got her vehicle and drove to the curb, where Elizabeth got in.
“I hate the idea of your spending any money on me,” she said when she was settled.
Polly made a tsking sound. “I’d feel like I was abandoning you if I just left you twisting in the wind.”
“Do you take in stray dogs and cats, too?”
Her companion laughed. “No. I’m more people oriented.”
They stopped at the automatic gate where Polly inserted her card, then drove out of the hospital parking lot.
“Does any of this look familiar?” she asked.
“I’m not seeing anything that jumps out at me,” Elizabeth answered.
“Well, let’s try something more specific.” A few minutes later, she pulled into a suburban shopping center and led Elizabeth inside the discount store, where they picked up a cart. “I thought we’d try the drugstore section. Why don’t you walk around and see if you can spot products that seem familiar?”
Elizabeth gave her a grateful look. “That’s a fantastic idea. Thanks.” She grabbed her own cart and began wheeling it up and down aisles until she spotted a brand of makeup that she thought she might have used. Also shampoo and deodorant.
“We need to keep track of what I spend, so I can pay you back,” she said again.
“If that makes you feel more comfortable.”
“Of course it does.”
Elizabeth chose a lipstick and some moisturizer, as well. “Did it look like I had on much makeup when I came in?” she asked.
“Maybe a little eye shadow.”
She selected a packet that had a couple shades of gray. “Fifty shades,” she muttered.
“What?”
“Isn’t there a famous book called Fifty Shades of
Grey?”
Mrs. Kramer laughed. “More like infamous than famous.”
“Why?”
The older woman flushed. “I believe it’s some kind of sex thing.”
“Oh. I guess I didn’t read it.”
“Neither did I. I’m just repeating what I heard.” Polly changed the subject quickly. “Let’s go look at the casual clothing.”
Elizabeth might have protested about spending more money on herself, but she wasn’t going to be borrowing any of the other woman’s shorter and wider clothing.
Maybe Polly was following her thoughts because she said, “I have some big old T-shirts you could use to sleep in.”
“Good. One less thing I need to worry about,” she answered, thinking that this was certainly a surreal experience—although it didn’t quite come up to the standard of touching Matthew Delano and getting into his mind. Or the other part—the sexual part.
Trying to put that out of her thoughts, she hurried to the ladies’ department, where she found shelves full of inexpensive T-shirts. She selected three—deep blue, turquoise and purple.
“Perfect for your hair and skin tone,” Mrs. Kramer approved.
“I guess I know my colors.”
She shuffled through the piles and pulled out size eights, which turned out to fit her well, along with a pair of jeans and a three-pack of panties, figuring she could wash them every other day. And the bra she had on would be fine.
“Get some socks and tennis shoes,” her guardian angel advised.
Again she felt her stomach clench at the idea of spending someone else’s money so freely, but she couldn’t think of an alternative.
On the groceries side of the store, Polly asked, “What do you want to eat?”
Another memory test. “Will you let me do the cooking?”
“If you’re not too tired.”
She selected a package of ground beef, canned kidney beans and salsa, pleased that she could come up with a set of ingredients that made sense. “Do you have onions, chili powder and cumin?”
