by Mina Carter
Her head was freshly bandaged, and everything appeared to be back to normal. "Hello, Jane. How are you feeling?"
"Better," she said, pointing to the IV. "Good drugs," she commented with a goofy grin on her face.
He frowned and checked her chart. "Perhaps too good," he muttered. He made a mental note to tell the nurses to decrease the medication doses. "Well, at least you are more compliant now."
She nodded emphatically. "Totally compliant."
He cracked a smile. "My rounds are done for the day, so I'm getting ready to head home."
Her face fell, and it made his smile fade instantly.
"I'll be back to see you on Monday."
"Monday. Christmas," she whispered, staring off into the distance.
"Yeah." He was saddened at the thought of her spending Christmas in the hospital alone. "I'm going to get in touch with Dr. Cynthia Harris. She is a neurologist. Hopefully she will have some insight on what's going on with your memory."
Jane nodded.
"I'll see you on Monday," he promised.
She turned her face towards the window and stared outside. "Okay," she said quietly.
Reluctantly, he left the room. He rode the elevator down to the third floor and found Dr. Harris in her office. She was huddled over an extra tall cup of coffee. Her eyes glanced up over top of her red glasses and met his as he approached. "Dr. Walker," she regarded.
"Dr. Harris." He glanced at the large coffee and bottle of headache pills resting beside it. "Rough day?"
She sighed loudly. "You have no idea."
He placed a manila folder down on the table and pushed it across with his index finger. "I hope I'm not making your day worse by asking for your assistance on this."
She grasped the folder, opened it and shuffled through the contents. Her eyes moved back and forth, perusing the notes. "This is the girl everyone in the hospital is talking about. Poor thing." She shook her head sadly. "This is easy compared to what I've had to deal with for the past few weeks," she commented.
He grinned. "Good."
"So she has no memory at all?" she asked.
"Right. I suspect the police will be coming to question and fingerprint her because of the conditions of why she's here. That could give us some answers."
"Could, but things are never that easy around here. Unless she’s been arrested, the cops probably won't find too much." She closed the folder and passed it back to him. "I can see her on Monday."
"Nine a.m.?"
She nodded in agreement.
"Thanks, Cynthia. I owe you one."
She smiled. "No problem, Jack."
CHAPTER FIVE
JANE SAT IN bed, staring out the window at the snow falling. It was Christmas day. The nurses were all donning some sort of holiday menagerie --- pins, buttons, hats and necklaces. She listened to the conversations off and on all day about their Christmas mornings or how they were going to spend Christmas evenings with their family. As the day went on, Jane grew deeper and deeper into a depression.
She felt so alone as she watched the visitors go in and out of the rooms across the hall from her. Every time she heard footsteps, she thought someone was coming to see her. However, it was usually a visitor for another patient or a nurse to check her vitals.
Jane tried to remember last Christmas or any Christmas, for that matter, but her mind just kept drawing a blank. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly and stifled back a sob.
"Merry Christmas," said a voice.
Jane turned and saw Dr. Walker peeking around the corner. She instantly felt a sense of happiness. "Merry Christmas," she said.
He put his index finger up and then disappeared into the hall. Jane waited patiently. She hoped that he wouldn't be long.
After a minute or so, he returned to the room with a small artificial Christmas tree. He placed the tree on the nightstand by the bed and plugged in the cord. Jane's eyes lit up as the tree's multi-colored lights flickered on. She watched him dig in his pocket and pull out a small gold star. He placed the star on top of the tree and said, "There. I thought you could use a touch of Christmas in your room."
"Thank you," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. The gift meant more to her than he would ever know. She felt the hot tears spilling out over her cheeks.
"Hey now," he said. He gently cupped her face in his hands and wiped away her tears with his thumbs.
Someone at the doorway knocked. Jack stepped back from Jane and regarded the other woman. "Dr. Harris."
"Dr. Walker," she said, her voice flat.
"Jane, this is Dr. Cynthia Harris. She's a neurologist."
"Hello," Jane said. Dr. Harris was a petite older woman with short red hair and brown eyes that were magnified behind her thick red-framed glasses. Her face was stern, and her lips were in a tight line.
Cynthia stepped forward, and her demeanor lightened slightly. "Nice to meet you, Jane. I hope you don't mind me calling you Jane."
She smiled weakly. "I'm used to it."
"I'm sure," Cynthia remarked. "Well, Jane, I would like to run a battery of tests on you today. I hope you're up for the challenge."
"Of course. I would like to know what's going on up here," she said, gesturing to her head.
"Good. We're going to start with a CT scan. The nurses will come and get you in a few minutes." Cynthia gave the Christmas tree a once-over, and then she looked to Dr. Walker.
Jane watched the exchange between the two doctors, and she knew Jack was in trouble. Her heart sank.
Cynthia turned to Jane once more. "I will be back tomorrow to discuss the results with you."
Jane watched the two doctors leave the room. She hoped that Jack wasn't in too much trouble because of her. She gazed at the Christmas tree, and a wide smile swept across her face. She felt lucky to have Dr. Walker in her life.
* * *
Jack knew Dr. Harris was going to berate him, and he waited silently until she did. After a few steps out in the hallway, Cynthia glanced at him and asked, "Did you give her the tree too?" When Jack didn't answer, she said, "You need to be careful with her. You don't want to be in the same boat as Lewis."
Dr. Lewis had gotten too familiar with his patients and was facing numerous lawsuits and revocation of his license to practice medicine. Jack dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "I feel sorry for her. She's all alone and on Christmas to boot."
"Physicians should not be giving special treatment to their patients. That only leads to trouble, Jack." She sighed and then said, "I'm just giving you my advice, and that is to be careful."
He nodded. "Of course." In the back of his mind, he was worried. If Cynthia had seen a connection between the two of them, perhaps someone else would see it and report it. He was fond of Jane, but he knew it could not go any further as long as he was her treating physician. He decided to keep his distance even though that wasn't what he wanted or what he felt Jane needed from him.
* * *
After the testing was complete and Jane was back in her room, she heard a knock on the door. "Come in," she called.
A man walked into the room carrying a briefcase. He was dressed in gray slacks with a white shirt and gray blazer. He flashed his badge, which hung from his neck on a lanyard. "Detective Robbins, ma'am. I'm with the Bedford Valley Police Department." He pulled the chair that was in the corner of the room closer to her bed, and he sat down with the briefcase in his lap. He pulled out a notepad and pen from the breast pocket of his shirt. "If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you some questions."
"Ask away," Jane said.
Over the next several minutes, she was hit with a barrage of questions that made her head spin. She couldn't answer a single question he had posed to her. She knew nothing, remembered nothing.
"I'm sorry," she said when the detective finally closed his blank notebook.
"It's all right. Maybe something will come back to you."
She glanced at the briefcase on his lap. She was sure it contained i
nformation about her. "Could I ask you some questions?"
He hesitated, and then said, "Sure."
"What happened to me?"
He paused. "The doctors haven't told you anything?"
"They told me, but I’d like to hear it from a non-medical point of view," she lied. She knew a little about her injuries, but no one had told her the details of how she received them.
The detective relaxed slightly. "All right." He opened the briefcase and retrieved several newspaper clippings. He handed them to her, and Jane's eyes scanned through the articles. Certain words stuck out to her --- woman in the woods, beaten, left for dead, police looking for suspects. Her breathing grew ragged as she looked at the clippings. She hadn't been in an accident. Someone had tried to kill her.
"You were found in the woods by a hunter. I was one of the first officers on scene. Honestly, we didn't think you would survive the ride to the hospital."
When Jane remained silent, the detective cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "But you're okay now," he said. "That's all that matters."
Jane stared down at the words as they began to blur. The pieces of paper fell from her hands and floated down to the blue and white tiled floor.
"Are you okay, ma'am?" the detective asked.
"I don't know," she whispered. A tingling sensation traveled from her hands to the base of her skull. She felt a prickling sensation all over her head as the room began to spin. And then she slipped into the overwhelming darkness.
* * *
"Jane, wake up," a familiar voice said.
She gradually opened her eyes and grasped her surroundings. She was still in the hospital room. Dr. Walker was hovering over her, and Detective Robbins was in the corner of the room.
"How do you feel, Jane?" the doctor asked.
She sat up and winced at the pounding in her head. "I have a headache. What happened?"
"You passed out," the detective said.
She glanced up at Dr. Walker, who looked concerned. "We'll see what the CT scan results show tomorrow," he said. "Maybe that will give us a clue as to what happened to you."
Detective Robbins stood with a small case and piece of paper in his hands. "I just need to take your fingerprints, and then I'll be on my way so you can get some rest."
Jane obliged as he pushed each of her fingers into the black ink and then pressed them on a sheet of paper. When he was finished, he closed the case and said, "I'll call if anything turns up from the prints. Until then, let us know if you remember anything, anything at all. I'll be in touch."
She nodded and watched him leave the room. She stared down at the black ink on her fingertips. "Maybe they will find me in the system."
"Maybe," Jack said, but he didn't sound so sure.
"Maybe I robbed a bank or something, and I escaped from prison."
He chuckled. "You don't seem the type to be out on the lam, Jane."
"No?"
"No." He smiled. "We should hear about your test results tomorrow morning from the CT scan. Dr. Harris also mentioned a possible electroencephalogram, but we'll see what she decides."
A heavy silence filled the air. Jane said, "I saw the newspaper articles. I wasn't in an accident. Someone tried to kill me."
It was a few moments before Jack spoke. "You're safe here, Jane," he responded.
She nodded slowly. She truly wanted to believe that.
"I think what you saw might have been a trigger for your fainting spell. I treated a patient before who had a traumatic brain injury. I had a theory that when his brain was overloaded with information, it went into shutdown mode, so to speak, sort of like a computer. I hope that this was just a one-time thing and it won't reoccur. But for right now I want you to keep calm and don't dwell on anything until we get the test results back."
Jane gave him a few nods. She glanced at the Christmas tree and then up at Dr. Walker. "I'm sorry about earlier with Dr. Harris. I hope I didn't get you in trouble."
"No, you didn't get me in trouble." He drew in a deep breath and said, "First and foremost, you are my patient Jane. I crossed the line this morning, and for that I am sorry. It won't happen again."
Jane looked down at her hands in her lap. "I understand."
He cleared his throat. "I would like to start you on physical therapy tomorrow. We'll start out very slow and gradually increase it. Our goal for the moment is to get you out of here and into the post-hospital center next door. Right now we are looking at about six months of therapy, depending on how fast you progress." His tone was very matter-of-factly, and Jane could tell a difference in his demeanor since he had mentioned about the doctor-patient relationship.
"Okay," she managed.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said before turning and leaving the room.
Jane leaned back in bed and closed her eyes. The one person she wanted in her life was pushing her away. And without Dr. Walker, she had no one.
CHAPTER SIX
THE NEXT DAY the test results came back negative. Dr. Harris wasn't sure what was causing the amnesia. "There is no bleeding on the brain. That was our main concern." She looked up from the chart. "We can try more tests, Jane," she said, reassuringly.
Jane gave her a wavering smile. She was disappointed, but she appreciated Dr. Harris' effort.
"I would like to know what is going on with the fainting spells. If they get worse, we will talk about medication that could be beneficial." She closed the folder in her hands. "But we will cross that bridge when we get to it," she added.
Jane nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Harris."
"You're very welcome. I'll keep apprised of your situation through Dr. Walker, but don't be afraid to contact me personally."
"Okay."
"Goodbye, Jane. Best of luck to you."
The doctor left the room. Jane thought about the empty black hole where her memories should be. One question in particular gnawed at the back of her brain --- what if she never found out who she truly was?
* * *
Jack skimmed over the test results in Dr. Harris' office. He sat back in the leather chair. "So everything is negative," he confirmed.
Cynthia nodded. "You know, quite frankly, I'm surprised. With the trauma she had, I find it odd that we didn't find something on the scan. You know it's a miracle she even woke up."
"I know," Jack agreed. His mind drifted to the mysterious visitor Jane had just moments before she had awakened. He wasn't completely positive the man had been in her room, but it seemed like an odd connection that she woke up after he was in the hospital. Maybe he was some type of healer.
"Something you're not telling me?"
Jack shook his head. "No. Just thinking of something, but I'm sure it's unrelated."
"Well, I'm sorry I can't be of more help."
He stood. "Thank you for your assistance, Cynthia."
"Anytime."
Jack left her office and made his way through the hospital and up the elevator to Jane's room. When he entered, Jane was sitting in the bed staring out the window. As his footsteps grew closer, she turned and smiled.
"How did your physical therapy go this morning?" he asked.
She shrugged. "All right I guess. It was really painful."
"It will get better. I promise. And the sooner you are done with the rehab in here, the sooner you can go over to the post-hospital facility. And trust me, the food over there is way better."
Jane grinned, and Jack found himself reflecting her expression. "I went over your test results with Dr. Harris."
"They were negative," she said.
"Yeah. That's not necessarily a bad thing."
"Still doesn't explain what's going on."
"No, it doesn't." He wished he could hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay. Instead, he stood feet away from her bed with his hands clenched at his sides. He had made a promise to himself that he would not cross the line, and he was determined to keep that promise. She was his patient, and he was going to gi
ve her the very best of care. "We'll figure this out, Jane. There are more tests. And sometimes all you need is time."
She nodded, but her expression remained impassive. "Time is all I have right now."
"Let's just focus on one thing and not the whole picture. And right now the therapy is the most important thing." He smiled, but inside he was a ball of emotions. He wanted to remain positive, but he honestly didn't know if Jane would ever regain her memory.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TWO MONTHS PASSED, and Jane progressed well with physical therapy. The post-hospital center was the closest thing to calling a home since the hospital. She had a small room with a single bed and a few belongings that were mostly from the Salvation Army. A large bookcase held a staggering amount of books that she had been collecting. Jane fell in love with every single story she read, and every book was better than the last. Sometimes it was easier to live in the fantasy worlds than her own reality, and she found it was an easy escape from her life.
It was a Wednesday and she had just finished up with several leg exercises with her physical therapist, Daryl. She sat down at a small table in the corner of the room.
Daryl placed a piece of paper and pencil in front of Jane. "You know the drill. Just try to answer the questions. I'm going to check on another patient, and then I'll be back."
When he walked away, Jane stared down at the paper. She had seen it every day since she had been moved to the facility. It was a mental exercise with twenty questions. The first question was what is your name. Jane scowled at the question. She didn't know her real name.
Sighing, she moved to the next question. Where were you born? She swallowed hard. She couldn't remember anything about her childhood, her parents and siblings or if she even had any.
Her eyes moved down to the next one. What is the last thing you can recall before your memory loss? She closed her eyes and thought hard. She couldn't remember a single thing before she woke up in the hospital except for one thing --- Dr. Walker's voice. She remembered him talking to her often. She thought it was a dream until she awoke and found out that he was real.
