Life quieted down after William’s forced hospital stay. I went back to work. My boss had granted me personal leave after the incident at the career expo. Word had spread across campus, and on my first day back, I could tell my students were dying to ask what had happened. Rather than leave them to wonder and spread more rumors, I addressed it as simply as I could. In several of my classes, it turned into a good discussion about boundaries and harassment.

I was happy to get back to a normal routine. William all but moved in with me, even bringing his painting supplies, easel, and canvases to my house. We moved some furniture around and set up a painting area for him near a window.

His vigilance hadn’t diminished. He still wanted to take me to work and he met me for lunch regularly. But there was no sign of Blake. I spoke with Arthur, who assured me there was nothing to be concerned about when it came to my accounts. He also said Blake had taken an unexpected leave of absence. I hoped that meant it was over and I wouldn’t hear from him again.

Early on a Saturday morning, while William was busy painting and I sat at the table reading over coffee, I got a text from Eric Andrews. I’d called him shortly after William came home from the hospital, letting him know William didn’t mind if he did a little digging. Eric had spoken briefly to William, and said he’d get back to us if he found anything.

I stared at the text.

“Is everything okay?” William asked.

“It’s from Eric.” I looked up at William. “He thinks you might have been treated at Saint Peter Hospital in Olympia last year.”

His brow furrowed. “I’ve never been there.”

“Well, what if it was before? Before the park, and before you met James?”

He opened his mouth and I was sure he was going to argue with me. But he closed it again and came to sit next to me. “Would it make you feel better if we go there? Find out for sure?”

I nodded.

He took my hand and brought it to his lips. Kissed the backs of my fingers. “Then let’s go.”

“Thank you.”

I glanced down at the text again and my sense of unease grew. This might be the first step to finding some real answers about who William really was. Part of me was afraid to find out—afraid of what lurked in the shadows of his past.

But I knew that wasn’t the only source of tension in my back and anxiety churning in my stomach. Saint Peter Hospital was where my dad had spent his last months. Where I’d held his hand as he died. I hadn’t been there since the day I’d lost him, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about going back.

* * *

My heart fluttered with nerves as we walked into the hospital. William held my hand, his body relaxed. He’d been quiet on the drive. I knew he was doing this to indulge me. He didn’t expect to find that he’d been here. I wasn’t sure what we would discover, but the closer we got, the more I hoped we’d leave with more answers.

A woman at the front desk smiled at us. I’d gotten to know a lot of the hospital staff during the months my dad spent here, but I didn’t recognize her.

“Can I help you?”

“Possibly. We’re trying to find out if he was treated here last year.” I gestured to William. “His name is William Cole.”

“Can I see some ID please?” she asked.

“I don’t have any,” William said.

“Um…” She blinked a few times. “Well, I can’t release patient information without identification. It’s confidential.”

I’d wondered if this would be a problem. “Could you just tell us if you had a patient by that name? That would at least be a start.”

“I can ask the hospital administrator,” she said. “But I don’t think I can give out any information.”

“We’d appreciate it if you could ask,” I said. “Thank you.”

We waited while she called someone. William gently rubbed my back and looked around. If he did have amnesia, and he had been here, he was showing no signs of recognition.

The large automatic doors to the side of the reception desk opened and a nurse in blue scrubs came out. I recognized her from when my dad had been here. She glanced at us with a polite smile, then stopped in her tracks.

“William?” she asked.

He looked around, as if to see if she might be speaking to someone else. “Yes.”

“Look at you.” She walked slowly toward us. “You look amazing. We’ve been wondering what happened to you. How have you been?”

His body went stiff and I clasped his hand. He stared at the nurse but didn’t say a word. It didn’t take long before the smile left her face.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “You know him?”

“Of course I do,” she said. “He was on my floor for months.”

“You’re sure it was him?” I asked.

Her forehead creased. “Yes, I’m sure. I couldn’t possibly forget William. He had the entire staff rooting for him. You look familiar too, although William never had visitors.”

“No, but my dad was here for a while,” I said. “I spent a lot of time visiting him.”

William squeezed my hand. “Ivy, this isn’t right.”

I put my other hand on his arm, trying to offer him reassurance. “Maybe it is. She knows you.”

“I wasn’t here,” he said. “I’ve never been here.”

I turned back to the nurse. “He doesn’t remember this.”

She nodded, her eyes full of sympathy. “He was having memory problems, but we hoped with proper treatment, he’d improve.”

“Can you tell us what happened?” I asked. “Why he was here? What happened to him?”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “Why don’t you come with me.”

She led us back to a small waiting room. William was silent, his eyes moving over everything. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Was he looking for something familiar? We sat at a table and waited while she left for a moment, then came back with a tablet.

“All right, let’s see,” she said, tapping her tablet screen. “The Coast Guard rescued you about two miles off the coast and—”

“Wait,” I said. “You mean he was in the ocean?”

She nodded.

“Does it say how he got there?”

Her eyes scanned the screen. “No, the note here says origin not determined. It looks like there had been a storm that night, and the Coast Guard had to respond to multiple emergencies. They didn’t know where he’d come from.”

“Wow,” I said. “I’m sorry, go on.”

“You were revived on board the Coast Guard vessel, and airlifted here due to the severity of your condition,” she said. “When you arrived, you were breathing on your own, but unconscious and unresponsive. You remained in that state, so you were admitted.”

“Do you mean he was in a coma?” I asked.

“Initially,” she said. “That progressed to what’s known as a minimally conscious state. He wasn’t fully conscious or aware of his surroundings, but his cognitive function began to show signs of improvement.”

“And eventually he woke up,” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “It happened more rapidly than the doctors could explain. He started responding normally to external stimuli and within a couple of days, he was speaking. Answering questions. Most people who spend time in a coma, or with another consciousness disorder, never fully recover. But once he woke up, so to speak, he improved quickly. Then we worked on getting him mobile again. Physical therapy for muscle atrophy and so forth.”

“How did you know his name?” I asked. “Did he have any identification when he was brought in?”

“No,” she said, “We called him John, as in John Doe, until he woke up and told us his name was William Cole.”

“And he was having problems with his memory?”

She nodded. “He was sure about his name, but that was about all he could tell us. He had trouble with his short-term memory too. His brain had difficulty making new memories. But we were seeing improvement with that. Unfortunately, once he was strong enough, we had to discharge him. We were working with social services to find a place for him to go, but he insisted he didn’t need help. He left before his patient advocate could make sure he had somewhere to go.”

“He’s been doing fine,” I said.

“Good. It’s such a relief to see you,” she said to William. “Not a day has gone by that I haven’t wondered what happened to you.”

William looked down at the table, his face a stony mask.

I rubbed his arm. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t remember this,” he said. “I wasn’t here.”

“Would you like to look around?” she asked. “Maybe seeing the room you were in would help.”

He met my eyes, and although I could feel his confusion, he nodded.

The nurse led us upstairs to the third floor. She greeted the other hospital staff and several of them stared at William. It was clear they recognized him. We turned a corner and went down another hallway, half-open doors on either side. Monitors beeped, and the air had the all-too-familiar tang of harsh soap and cleaning chemicals. Turning again, I felt like I was losing my sense of direction. Hospitals always seemed like mazes to me.

She stopped in front of a partially open door. “This was your room. It’s occupied right now. We’re always short on beds, it seems. But you can peek inside if you want.”

I stared at the number beside the door. Three twenty-two.

“Are you sure this is right?” I asked. “This is the room William was in?”

“Positive,” she said.

I covered my mouth with my hand. It couldn’t be.

William turned toward me and touched my arm. The disoriented look in his eyes was gone. He was focused—concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“My dad was in this room,” I said in a shaky whisper.

He took my hand. “Is this where he passed?”

I nodded. But it wasn’t being faced with the room where I’d lost my father that had me reeling. The pieces of the puzzle that was William Cole were clicking into place.

Someone walked by, pushing a large cart, and we had to step aside.

“Let me take you to the waiting room on this floor so we’re not standing in the hallway,” the nurse said.

We followed her down the hallway, but I remembered this, now. We’d come upstairs from a different direction, so I hadn’t recognized where I was. But this route was embedded in my memory. The restroom on the left. Vending machines on the right. Elevators around the corner. A waiting room with couches and armchairs, and a TV always showing daytime soaps or news. I’d spent months in this section of the hospital, coming to visit my dad almost every day.

“I think I know what happened,” I said. “Can I see the dates William was here?”

William nodded, so the nurse held the tablet so I could see. She swiped through a few screens, but it said exactly what I expected.

“Thank you,” I said. “You’ve been so helpful.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome. Let us know if there’s anything else we can do. Take care, William. It was great to see you.”

The nurse left us alone in the waiting room. I touched my fingers to my lips, staring at William.

“Ivy, what’s going on?” he asked.

“I think I know where your visions came from.”

“What do you mean? Where?”

“My dad had cancer, and he’d been fighting it for a couple of years,” I said. “That’s when he had a stroke. I’d moved in to help take care of him, but after the stroke, he was hospitalized. Here. In room three twenty-two.”

“So if I was really here like she says, we were in the same room,” he said.

“Not just the same room,” I said. “You were here at the same time. I knew there was someone else in the room, but I never paid much attention. The second bed was always curtained off, so I never saw who it was. But William, it was you.”

“Why do you think that explains my visions?”

“Because I spent three months sitting by my father’s side, talking to him,” I said. “I came almost every day to keep him company. He couldn’t speak anymore, so I did. I sat next to his bed and told him stories. Memories. I talked about everything, all the wonderful things I could think of from my childhood. I read books aloud. I talked about my life and what I was feeling. I poured my heart out to him day after day. And you were right next to me the entire time.”

“You think that’s why I know the things I do?” he asked. “I heard you?”

“You told me once that my voice has been in your mind for as long as you can remember,” I said. “What if that’s why? What if you heard me talking to my dad? For some reason, your brain took all that in—all those months of listening to me. That’s why you knew things, why you knew my name and my voice. For some reason, when you woke up, that’s what stuck. That’s what was left in your head. No wonder you thought you had to find me.”

“But if I heard you when I was unconscious, why don’t I remember anything else?” he asked. “I’ve been walking around this place, listening to that nurse tell me she knows me. That I was treated here. But nothing here is familiar. Not a single thing.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know why you would have heard me, or why you’d remember. But you did. And it felt like visions to you because you couldn’t explain where it had come from.”

He backed up a few steps. “I don’t understand this, Ivy. That isn’t what happened. It can’t be.”

“But William, don’t you see how amazing this is?” Tears filled my eyes. I blinked them away. “I looked at the dates. You started to regain consciousness the day after my dad died. The first day I didn’t come to the hospital. It’s like you knew I wasn’t here, so you started to wake up. You already knew you had to find me.”

“But you’re telling me it didn’t mean anything,” he said. “I just heard you talking and my brain latched onto what I’d heard. I wasn’t sent to save you. If I’d just wandered back to wherever I came from, it wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“How can you say that?” I asked. “You did save me. You’ve saved me a million times over. I can’t imagine my life without you. Losing my dad was awful, but if it led you to me, then at least something good came of it all.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his brow furrowed. “Come here,” he said finally, opening his arms. He grabbed me and pulled me close, wrapping me in a tight embrace. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” A few tears trailed down my cheek and I sniffed. “And who knows? Maybe someone did send you. Maybe it was my dad.”

He pulled away and brushed the hair back from my face, then cupped my cheeks with his hands. “Maybe it was. And I’m the one who kept insisting how it was possible didn’t matter. What matters is us.”

I nodded as he leaned in to kiss me, his lips soft and warm.

“I wouldn’t have done anything differently, even if I could remember it all,” he said, his hands still against my face. “If I’d woken up knowing who I was before, I still would have come for you.”

“I know,” I said. “And I’m so glad you did.”