Читать книгу The Forgotten Cowboy - Kara Lennox - Страница 8

Willow Marsden studied the strange woman in her hospital room. She was an attractive female in her twenties, her beauty marred by a black eye and a bandage wound around her head. The woman looked unfamiliar; she was a complete stranger. Unfortunately, the stranger was in Willow’s mirror.

She lay the mirror down with a long sigh. Prosopagnosia—that was the clinical name for her condition. She’d suffered a head injury during a car accident, which had damaged a very specific portion of her brain—the part that enabled humans to distinguish one face from another. For Willow, every face she saw was strange and new to her—even those of her closest friends and relatives.

“You’re telling me I could be like this forever?”

Dr. Patel, her neurologist, shrugged helplessly. “Every recovery is different. You could snap back to normal in a matter of days, weeks, months or…yes, the damage could be permanent.”

“What about my short-term memory?” She couldn’t even remember what she’d had for breakfast that morning.

Again a shrug. Why was it so difficult to get a straight answer out of a doctor?

“Do you think I’ll be up to speed for medical school in the fall?” She asked the question as casually as she dared.

Dr. Patel abruptly dropped his professional-doctor mask. “I didn’t know of your plans. I’m sorry.”

“I guess that’s a big, fat no.” Willow softened her comment with a smile, but she had to force it. She should be grateful to be alive, to be walking and talking with no disfiguring scars. Her car accident during last week’s tornado had been a serious one and she easily could have died if not for the speed and skill of her rescuers. Right now, though, she didn’t feel grateful at all. Her plans and dreams were in serious jeopardy.

Dr. Patel closed Willow’s chart and offered a tentative smile. “Sometimes life throws us curve balls. But if your dream is to be a healer, you will find a way.”

Maybe, but not at University of Texas Southwestern. Willow had fought so hard to be accepted in the first place. If she withdrew at this late date with no explanation, she had very little chance of being accepted again. And if she told them the truth…well, no medical school wants a student with cognitive dysfunction.

For Willow, that meant only one thing. She would recover sooner rather than later. Damn the prognosis. She was not going to let anyone—not even fate—snatch away her dreams.

Not this time.

She was in control of her future. In six weeks, she intended to be at med school with a fully functioning brain.