I was being kept away again. Mary Beth met me practically at the elevator; she knew I’d be coming. I recognized the look on her face the minute I saw her.
“Hell no,” I snapped and tried to move around her.
“Eddie, you can’t go in there,” she said, following closely behind.
“I’ve been going in there for months, Mary B.,” I argued, swinging around to face her. A few of the other nurses and staff gave us a wide berth. They likely knew this was coming, too.
Everyone liked me; no one wanted to tell me no. Not about this. Not about her.
“She was in a coma then. You know this is different.”
“How is she?” I asked.
“So far, she seems okay, all things considered. It’s only been a couple hours.”
I wanted to ask, yet I didn’t. In the end, the words rasped out of my throat like two rocks scraping together. “Did she ask for me?”
Mary Beth just looked at me for long moments. Her palm slid over my forearm, and I glanced down to where she touched me. “Why don’t we sit down?”
Allowing her to lead me to the row of nearby chairs, we sat at the end. Mary Beth perched on the end of her seat, angling her knees toward me, leaning her torso close. Her fingers were still wrapped around my arm, but I barely noticed. I just wanted in that room.
“She has no memory, Eddie.”
My head lifted swiftly. “What?”
“She doesn’t remember anything.”
I sat forward, the movement so abrupt her hand fell off my arm. “Like nothing at all?” I asked, trying to understand.
“Not even her own name.”
“But she remembers her past, though.”
Mary Beth shook her head sadly. “Nothing.”
“Is that normal?”
“It’s rare.” She hedged. “But considering her condition the night you brought her in, it’s not unheard of.”
Shoving up out of the chair, I paced, pushing my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. “She must be terrified.”
“The doctor said her memory could come back in a few days.”
“I’m going back there,” I insisted, starting back down the hall.
“No.” Mary Beth sprang up. “Doctor’s orders, Eddie. She’s already dealing with enough. She doesn’t need you—” Her words cut off abruptly.
I swung around, my eyes glittering with anger. “I wouldn’t do anything to make her upset.”
Mary Beth’s brown hair was pulled up into a ponytail and the ends slid over her shoulder when she sighed and stepped closer. “I know that. We all know that. But this is best for her.”
A few curse words slipped out when I paced away, stacking my hands at the back of my neck and staring out the small window nearby.
Seconds later, Mary Beth was at my side again. Tentatively, she touched my side, and I stiffened. “If she asks for you, I’ll come get you.”
She didn’t ask for me.
Not yesterday and not today. She hadn’t remembered anything, and everyone in the hospital—hell, the entire town—was talking about her. This was the juiciest gossip in Lake Loch in over ten years.
Everyone loved our quaint little town, the quiet, the way it was sort of untouched by modern day. We were a little retro here, a little backward. Even still, the people loved drama. Something to spice up the monotony of this charming place. There was a new buzz in the air, a charge not usually found. I knew I was also part of the speculation. People were watching me, waiting to see what I would do.
All I wanted was to see her.
When I arrived earlier, I got the head shakes and finger points to the waiting room. I trudged in glumly, thinking maybe I could snag Mary Beth and talk her into letting me back. It seemed eventful today, as everyone was moving around busily and had no time to talk. Not that I minded… but I did wonder if maybe they were all just looking busy so they could avoid me.
After hanging out for about two hours, my impatience got the better of me. I waited so long… so incredibly long. I just wanted to see her. To talk to her. Then I would know.
I had to know.
At the nurses’ station just down the hall from her room, I rested my forearms on the counter and leaned toward one of the older nurses on staff. “Hey, Ellen. Is Mary Beth around?”
Ellen glanced up from her paperwork. With a sigh, she shook her head slightly but then smiled. “You are a persistent one, Eddie.”
I smiled, making sure to show my teeth. I had dimples. Everyone loved dimples.
Ellen chuckled, getting up from her chair. “Mary Beth isn’t here. Her shift doesn’t begin until seven. So you’ll have to sweet-talk someone else.”
“Like you?” I smiled a little bigger.
Ellen reached out and pinched my cheeks. “I’d love for you to try, but I have to get this paperwork downstairs. It’s a nice day out there. You should go enjoy it.”
I didn’t reply, and she went off to deliver her paperwork, leaving me alone at the counter. One of the other nurses walked past me and down the hall, turned the corner, and disappeared out of sight.
My stare wandered down to the room where I spent so much time. I could slip right in. No one was around to notice. Before she woke up, I never hesitated. I just went. Now, though, it seemed I needed to think about things first. Suddenly, I was nervous.
What would she be like with no memory? Would she know me if she saw me? What if it wasn’t her? What if it was?
With a heavy sigh, I backed up, moving away from the counter until my back hit the wall. Slouching in a little, I tucked my hands in my jeans and bowed my head to think.
For all the bustling going on around here today, things seemed to hush, to settle down, as if everything held its breath.
A low creaking filled my ears, a noise so low I wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t so quiet. Lifting my chin toward the sound, my eyes went right to the figure that seemed to appear in the hallway out of thin air. Shock and anticipation battled in my chest, rumbling down to my stomach, making it flip over.
It was her.
Paralyzed, I couldn’t move at all. I stayed there in my position against the wall, my eyes clinging to her every move. Her every detail.
She didn’t see me. All her focus was on putting one foot in front of the other, moving cautiously over the tile.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away to see if someone was coming to help her or if maybe she was out here because she was supposed to be. As soon as the thought drifted through my mind, I knew she was out here rebelliously. There was no way the staff would let a girl with no memory wander the halls alone.
The white-and-blue-checked hospital gown was all I’d seen her in since I brought her that night. It hung off her thin frame like curtains on an open window on a breezy summer day. The scratchy fabric floated around her, swaying slightly as she walked.
Her movements were slow. She leaned on the IV pole, which was what made the low squeaking sound. The one wheel probably needed tightened.
She was medium height, shorter than me, but not what I would consider short. I was just tall. Her feet were bare, and she had long fingers. Her skin was pale, and there was a spattering of light freckles over her nose. As I watched, her teeth sank into her lower lip in concentration, and something in me melted a little.
I was so weak when it came to her. I didn’t even know why.
Well, yes, I did. I’d always been weak to this girl, but looking at her now, it seemed in more ways than I even realized.
Slowly, I slid up the wall so I was standing straight, my eyes not leaving her once.
Thick, wavy strands of wheat-colored hair fell around her face when she looked down at her feet. They were uneven, some long and some oddly short. But it looked soft, regardless of how uncombed and unequal it was.
As she drew closer, fatigue seemed to cloak her. Her feet paused, and she practically sagged against the unstable pole. I pushed off the wall, thinking to help her, but my movements startled her.
Her head snapped up so quick it unbalanced her. Her feet went back, trying to keep her upright, but the IV slid forward. She was left in this awkward fall/tug-of-war between her body and the pole.
I surged forward as the wheels began to teeter and lift off the ground. “Careful!” I said, shooting over just in time to catch her before she fell.
I couldn’t help but notice the way a few of my fingertips brushed against the smooth skin at the small of her back. The damn hospital gown wasn’t enough coverage if she was going to be wandering the halls.
Her hand wrapped around my forearm, gripping as if her life depended on it.
We stood there for a few prolonged moments, almost as if we’d been dancing and ended with me dipping her toward the floor. I glanced down. She glanced up. Our stares collided.
It was unsettling to realize how infinitely drawn to her I was.
I searched the depths of her round brown eyes the way I’d longed to do for so long. I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for. Something. Anything. A spark of recognition from either of us.
Her lips parted on a breathless gasp, her eyes the first to pull away. Long, thick lashes swept down, closing off the honey-brown irises and disappointing me.
When they reopened, refocused on my face, I felt as if I’d won an award.
“I almost fell,” she told me.
I shook my head slowly. She wouldn’t have fallen. “I got you.”
She tried to scramble up, but her body didn’t move as fast as she wanted. So I helped her, keeping my palms at her waist and nearly lifting her back onto both feet. Reluctantly, I let go, sliding the IV pole close beside her in case she needed it again.
“I’m pretty sure patients aren’t supposed to be wandering the halls,” I said, resisting the urge to reach out and fix the neckline of her gown.
“I’m pretty sure most patients have visitors,” she murmured.
I tilted my head, but then she realized what she’d said and straightened. “I’m not wandering. I have somewhere to be.”
Amused, I folded my arms over my chest. “Oh? Where’s that?”
“I’m, ah, looking for someone.”
A stab of jealousy pierced me. Who could she possibly be looking for? Her doctor! What if she was in pain, had called for the nurse who wasn’t around, and decided to get help herself?
My hands shot out. She flinched and stepped back. Immediately, I felt like an ass. “I won’t hurt you,” I vowed, hoping she heard the truth in my words. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
She laughed nervously. “I’m not scared.”
Oh, but she was.
“Are you hurt?” I asked, forcing my hands back. “Can I get you a doctor?”
She rolled her eyes. “No way. All those doctors want is to write down my every move on that damn clipboard.”
I chuckled. Immediately, I felt her eyes. Letting the laughter fade away, I glanced up.
“I’m Amnesia,” she said.
My chest tightened. “The girl with no memory,”
“You heard about me?” She seemed surprised.
“Something like that,” I murmured.
“I’m looking for someone. Maybe you know him?” Her head tilted to the side, a chunk of uneven hair falling against her chin. I noted the way she was leaning on the pole a little more with every passing moment. “The man who pulled me out of the lake.”
Me. She was out here teetering on her bare feet in search of me. The thought made me slightly giddy.
I felt my Adam’s apple bob. Suddenly, my mouth was very dry. “I know him.”
Her eyes lit up like the sun came out from behind a cloud and shined its golden rays upon her.
She was beautiful. So beautiful.
“You do!” She perked up, glancing past me down the hall. “Can you take me to him?”
“No,” I said, drawing her eyes back to me. Where they belong.
“Why not?” she demanded, putting a fist on her hip.
This time, I did reach out to fix the neckline of her gown. The second I smoothed the fabric, her fist slid from her hip and her chin tipped back so her face could fully study mine.
“You already found him,” I murmured, pulling back.
Her lips parted. They were a pale peach. I wanted to count the freckles on her nose. “You’re him?”
Shifting so I could push my hand out between us, I said, “I’m Eddie.”
Amnesia said nothing, but slid her palm against mine so we could be formally introduced. “You saved my life.”
“No,” I replied instantly. “I didn’t.”
“You really come here every day?” she asked, slightly awed. Her eyes took in my face more thoroughly now. I wondered how I looked to her, if I was familiar at all.
“They told you that, huh?” I smiled.
“I think the doctor felt sorry for me.” She admitted and leaned farther into the pole. The wheel squeaked under the weight.
“You need to sit down.” My arm hovered close in case she fell again. This time she didn’t flinch away.
“Will you come with me?” she asked.
In that moment, with that single innocent question, I realized I would do anything, be anything… go anywhere she asked.
I didn’t say that, though. All I did was shake my head.
The short walk back to her room took a long time. The entire way, I fought the urge to sweep her into my arms like the night I’d found her floating in the water. At the door, I shoved it open, holding it wide, and placed my palm at the small of her back, gesturing for her to go ahead of me.
Her eyes glanced up, then away before she moved past.
“Eddie Donovan!” A booming voice sounded from down the hall. I winced. “I told you she was to have no visitors!”
From inside the room, Amnesia groaned. “Not him again.”
Before I could reply, she poked her head out and spoke. “Really, Dr. Beck. What’s he going to do to me? Steal all my memories and thoughts?”
“I’m writing down your sense of humor,” he told her, almost fondly. “It’s very dry by the way.”
She tossed her head to the side to glance up at me. “He writes everything down. It’s insufferable.”
My lips tugged in a smile.
Dr. Beck stopped nearby adjacent to where we stood. “Why are you out of bed?”
“I told you I wanted to see Eddie.”
Dr. Beck looked at me, a veiled warning in his gaze.
“I found her in the hall.” I agreed.
“It’s just a visit,” Amnesia said. “Please. I cannot sit in this room with practically empty thoughts for another minute.”
Those words would ensure I kept coming back. Nothing, not even a team of doctors and sassy nurses, could force me out of here. She needed me.
I needed her.
“Fine. But I need a moment with Eddie.” He gestured toward her. “Back to bed.”
“Thank you,” she said genuinely. Then her gaze returned to me.
It was hard to describe how I felt when she looked at me. It didn’t matter if it was a lingering gaze or just a swift glance. I’d only been with her mere moments, but already her stare was as essential to me as air.
“You’ll stay?” she asked, her voice unsure and shy.
Always. “I’ll be right there.”
The second the door latched behind her, putting a barrier between us, I levelled my eyes on the doctor. “I won’t stay away from her.”
“Yes. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“I won’t hurt her.”
He sighed, defeated. “I know that, Eddie. You and your family are good people. This isn’t about you.”
“It is.” I lashed out quietly. “I’m part of this, too.”
The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose. “She has a severe case of amnesia. The kind that’s brought on by trauma.”
“Will her memory come back?” I had to know.
“I have no way of predicting that.”
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Do you think it’s her?”
“You know it’s not,” he said sadly.
“But is it possible?” I pressed. I was probably the last person in this town, on this planet, who refused to give up hope.
He didn’t want to say it, but he couldn’t lie. Not to me. Not to himself. Hell, the entire town was speculating. “There are several similarities, and the age does seem to be about right.”
“And the fact no one has come to claim her.”
I’ll claim her. I’ll claim her right now.
“Don’t get your hopes up, son.” Dr. Beck put his hand on my shoulder. “Even if by some slim chance this is her, she isn’t the same. She never will be.”
I couldn’t hear that. I didn’t want to.
I turned to go into the room, but Dr. Beck stopped me. “You can’t tell her, not yet. She’s fragile. Her mind is still coming to terms with her new reality. Too much, too soon will only hurt her further.”
Frustration welled within me. I wanted to march in there and pour it all out. Tell her everything and then hope recognition brimmed in her eyes.
I couldn’t.
Actions like that, words like the ones bubbling inside me were pollution to her. She needed a friend. Someone to be there. No pressure to be anything other than who she was in that moment.
I didn’t know how to do that, but I also couldn’t stay away.
My head bobbed. “I can do that. I won’t say anything.”
“Keep her calm. Be her friend. Take it slow. Any signs of memory recovery, call me immediately.”
I nodded.
Dr. Beck moved to walk away. I grabbed his wrist. “How, um… how bad was it for her?”
His eyes darkened and his mouth pulled into a taut line. “You mean whatever it was that caused the complete dissociation?”
I nodded.
“Severe. So severe…” He stopped and shook his head.
“What?” I cajoled.
“So severe it may be better if she never gets her memory back.”