Читать книгу The Other Amanda - Lynn Leslie - Страница 10

SOMETIME DURING the night she struggled awake to find a dark shadow standing over her.

“What are you doing?”

Someone, gowned and masked, turned away from her IV bag. She couldn’t make out which nurse was on duty, because it was so dark in the room. Always before the lights had only been dimmed so they didn’t shine on her bed.

“I’m just checking,” a muffled voice answered her. “Go back to sleep.”

The next time she woke, the night nurse was standing just inside her door. “Good. You’re awake.”

“Is it morning already?” Her head felt fuzzy and it was difficult to focus.

“Two-thirty. I’m going to take the IV needles out and you’ll get real food in the morning.”

“But you were already here.”

“No, dear. You were dreaming.”

She felt so much better with the needles gone. Real time must have nothing to do with hospital procedure, she decided as she fell back to sleep, curling her arms protectively around her body.

Real food, at least liquids, arrived with a clatter of metal trays. The orange juice tasted like heaven, even though it was awkward to drink. Actually, she hadn’t realized until this moment that she hadn’t been eating or drinking. She raised her hand to tentatively explore her face. Her head was still all but immobilized by the bandages. A metal plate covered her nose, extending over her cheekbones. She didn’t want to think about the wires in her jaw, deliberately keeping her exploration away from that area. Actually, the less she thought about it, the better.

There was still a monitor attached to her chest, but having her arms free gave her a real sense of getting better. She sat up and immediately lay back down. Still dizzy, she would have to be very careful. She reached for her juice and sipped at it, savoring the sweetness on her tongue.

The doctors would be in soon. She smoothed the hospital gown, wondering just what she looked like to them, to him. She wanted to tell Jonathan…actually there was nothing to tell him, she just wanted to see him again.

She must have dozed, for when she opened her eyes again, a nurse was setting another tray on her bedside table. She lifted the silver food cover with a flourish, revealing a thin gruellike cereal. Even that looked good to Amanda’s empty stomach, so she couldn’t wait to try it. The nurse had elevated the bed, and without too much effort Amanda was eating. Her hands felt awkward, and as she manipulated the spoon, her right wrist throbbed with pain. She wondered about the heavy bandages there.

When she was feeling pleased that she had successfully fed herself, even if it had fatigued her a little, Jonathan walked in. A sharp jolt of joy, an awareness of him as a man echoed against something deep inside her.

She seized on that vaguely familiar feeling—at last, something tangible to grasp. She was almost afraid to question him about it, in case, it, too, slipped through her fingers.

“Jonathan, did we know each other? Before.”

His eyes widened. But before he could answer, her aunt pushed through the door. “Of course you know Jonathan, Amanda!” Her arms were full of packages, one hand holding an enormous vase of red roses. “His family has a house across from us on Clear Water Lake. Here, darling. I brought you your favorite flowers. Aren’t they beautiful?”

They were the color of blood, but Amanda nodded.

Margaret smiled and placed them on her bedside table. Amanda couldn’t smell them. Didn’t roses have a distinct perfume?

Jonathan distracted her by announcing, “I’m taking your bandages off today.”

He was all business as his nurse, Bonnie, came in with a wrapped tray full of instruments. She swung a table into place and stood at Jonathan’s side.

“This won’t hurt.” His voice was gentle but impersonal.

“I believe you,” she whispered and closed her eyes while he slowly and carefully removed the tight wrap from around her head and throat.

Margaret’s gasp caused her to open her eyes. Jonathan was studying her and nodding.

He continued to work, Bonnie handing him instruments before he could even ask.

“You should be pleased.” Margaret sounded surprised. “Darling, only someone with your superior bone structure could look so gorgeous with the butcher job they’ve done on your hair. Let me get a mirror so you can see for yourself.”

Panic exploded in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. As curious as she was, she wasn’t ready to actually see her face.

“No. I don’t think Amanda needs a mirror yet. We’ll wait until I remove the plate and wires next week.”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” She felt pleased at Jonathan’s nod of approval and strangely bereft when he left without another word. Margaret followed him as Bonnie silently cleaned up, then left herself.

She was afraid to touch her face, and kept her fingers clenched at her side. Finally her eyes closed of their own volition and she slept again. When she. woke, Randall was sitting in a chair pulled close to the bed, studying her face.

“Finally you awaken, my sweet girl.” Leaning forward, he laid his cheek on the pillow beside hers.

Shock made her blink at him. He was so close their mouths nearly touched.

“Do you remember how much I love you?” His whisper brushed over her face.

An odd, heavy feeling filled her chest. She didn’t want to cause him any more pain but she couldn’t give him the answer he wanted so desperately.

“No, Uncle Randall. I…I don’t remember. But I…sense how much you and Aunt Margaret care for me,” she added, hoping it would be enough to wipe the stricken look from his face.

A deep shudder ran through him as he squeezed his eyes shut. “My sweet, sweet girl, if only…”

The door swung open, startling him upright. Jonathan threw him a curious look. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

“I brought Amanda some of her things. And the gifts I promised her.” His smile looked sad as he touched his lips to one of his fingers and then laid it on her cheek. “Open your things. Perhaps they will help you remember. I’ll be back to see you later.”

For the first time, she noticed a suitcase and two boxes at the end of her bed. The things Margaret had brought were stacked against the wall. So much generosity. Too much.

Jonathan lifted a pink satin nightgown trimmed in black lace out of the suitcase. “Go ahead. Maybe some of these things will seem familiar to you.”

The satin gown and matching robe were beautiful but sparked no memory. All the lingerie bore labels that she couldn’t exactly identify but knew were expensive. The gifts from Randall were identical bed jackets covered with lace and delicate beading, one powder blue, the other shell pink.

She didn’t know what to think about all these beau tiful things. Jonathan was no help, sprawled in the chair beside the bed, his long legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, waiting for her reaction.

“Are Aunt Margaret and Uncle Randall rich?”

“They’re comfortable.” He laughed. “You, however, are very rich. The only heir to the Braithwaite fortune.”

Fortune. She searched her mind but found no impression of how it felt to be wealthy.

“What are you thinking about now?” His voice had dropped to the gentle tone she preferred.

“About being…rich. Did I embrace it or shun it? Did it bring me happiness or sadness?”

The dimples in Jonathan’s cheeks deepened as he smiled. “I think you enjoy every moment of being able to indulge your whims. Does any of that stuff bring anything to mind?”

“No.” She raised her hands to her head, wishing she could force her memories out. “All I have up here are impressions and feelings.”

“Tell me about them.” He leaned forward eagerly. “Maybe there’s something Dr. Newman can build on.”

She rested back against the pile of pillows, searching for the right words. “The nurses make me feel warm and…cared for.”

“Bonnie and her famous back rubs.” His burst of laughter caused her mouth to curl a little at the corners. It felt safe to smile now. It didn’t hurt as much.

“Dr. Johnson and Dr. Newman are concerned, but a little more detached. I’m comfortable with them.”

“What about your aunt and uncle?” he asked, watching her intently.

Now she had to be careful. She trusted him, but didn’t know how much he would tell them. “I…I sense how much they care for me. But they confuse me.” She didn’t add that they made her tense and cold inside. She swallowed to soothe her suddenly dry throat.

Ever observant, Jonathan handed her a glass of juice. “And me?” he prompted.

“With you, I feel this…this…urgency to be close. To keep you with me. Do you think that’s because we knew each other before?” His eyes had gone dark, almost black. “Were we friends?”

He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Alarmed, Amanda reached out her hand toward him. “Did I say something wrong? You asked what was inside my head.”

“Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” But his smile didn’t light his eyes.

Suddenly the beeper at his belt went off. He silenced it and stood flexing his shoulders. “I’ve got to go back to work. We’ll talk more about this later.” At the door, he turned back to her. “I’m going to leave this door open. You need to see more of the world.”

The world in the corridor didn’t seem very friendly, though. The nurses rushed from room to room without even a wave. There was an overwhelming amount of noise. A woman in a pink smock pushed a cart full of flowers past her door. Men, women and a few chil dren rushed by, all impatient to get somewhere. She’d forgotten all about this world. Actually, with her door closed, she had felt safe and protected. Obviously Jonathan thought she didn’t need that barrier any longer. Well, if he wanted her to learn about the outside world, she would.

From the snatches of conversations she caught, she began to understand that all this commotion concerned other patients. People visited them, sent gifts and flowers. When anyone slowed near her door, she braced herself, but no one stopped that day.

The next brought Dr. Johnson with his tests, Dr. Newman with his kind eyes and gentle questions, and, of course, the nurses. She was beginning to know them all by name—Leslie, Donna and Chris. After dinner, soup and Jell-O, Chris came with orders that Amanda should go for a walk. They made it halfway to the nurses’ station before Amanda became lightheaded. She could hardly make it back to her bed, even with the nurse’s help.

Her aunt and uncle came and went several times, but they didn’t bring Mother Chambers. She discovered her aunt had brought toiletries, cosmetics, perfume. All of her favorites, apparently, but nothing she recognized.

Always the best part of each day was when Jonathan appeared. He came in the morning, professionally. In the afternoon he’d stop by just to chat. Once in a while he’d stop in the evening. She had no idea how unusual this was until, on an afternoon walk with Leslie, she saw him from a distance and he waved.

“Is he a friend of yours?” The nurse turned her around carefully, for she still had an occasional bout of dizziness. “He spends a lot more time with you than any of his regular patients.”

That gave her something to think about. So what if other patients’ rooms were filled with flowers and cards and balloons, while hers was empty except for the bloodred roses and gifts from her aunt and uncle. Jonathan was her friend. Yet, as she fell asleep that night, she decided to ask him why she didn’t have any other friends to send her flowers or cards.

As she began to understand time and grow impatient with the sameness of her days, she realized she felt much stronger. Now she was anxious to get rid of the plate and wires and see her own face. Maybe then her identity would return.

Even so, there was a certain security in the sameness of her days. Then everything changed. Jonathan didn’t come in the morning. The time for his afternoon visit came and went. A dull ache throbbed through her, and she was tempted not to eat lunch. She even thought of asking for him when she realized he wasn’t coming, but instinctively she knew that was wrong. She paged listlessly through one of the fashion magazines her aunt Margaret had brought.

Suddenly she heard his voice. He seemed to be arguing, but that didn’t matter; he was coming to see her. The day was suddenly bright. She hardly noticed the other men with him—two strangers and both of her doctors.

One was a policeman—she recognized the blue uniform from the television shows she sometimes watched to help pass time. The other had on a brown tweed jacket and trousers. His tie wasn’t neat like Randall’s, and Jonathan seemed upset with him.

Her aunt and uncle crowded in, too, standing by the door. Jonathan sat in his customary chair next to her bed. Dr. Newman and Dr. Johnson stood on the other side. The strangers took positions at the foot of her bed. She felt surrounded by confusion and huddled under the sheet in her new powder blue bed jacket, looking to Jonathan for guidance.

He smiled. “Amanda, everything’s just fine.”

Dr. Johnson nodded. “Amanda, this is Detective Savage and Officer Mahoney. They need to ask you some questions about the night you were attacked. We think you’re strong enough to answer now.”

Dr. Newman’s kind eyes reassured her. Her family was there, and Jonathan; she had nothing to fear. But how could she answer questions about something she couldn’t remember?

“We’d like to tell you what we’ve learned, Miss Braithwaite. Your doctors have told us you’re sufferin’ from a temporary memory loss, and I want you to know that we understand. Don’t worry about forcin’ yourself to remember anythin’, okay?” The detective spoke very gently.

Jonathan nodded as if he approved of the man’s technique, so she nodded, too.

The officer pulled out a small book, consulting it as he said, “The Majestic Hotel confirmed you made a reservation that night but never checked in. The doorman says he saw you standing under the marquee before you crossed the road and went into the park.”

Detective Savage loosened his tie so it hung partway down his white shirt. There was a gravy stain midway down it, and she concentrated on that stain, afraid to look anywhere else. “We’d sure like to know where you were goin’ that night. Or where you were for the six weeks before.”

The silence stretched, echoing in the dark corridors of her mind. When she didn’t answer, he continued, “You apparently E-mailed a message to your uncle on 17 May that you were goin’ shoppin’ out of town. Did you go with someone?”

All the questions were too much. Tears welled in her eyes. She began to tremble.

“I can’t remember anything,” she whispered.

“Well, you did meet someone in the park.” The detective leaned on the railing at the end of her bed. “You caught a runaway poodle for an elderly woman walkin’ her dog.”

“Amanda has a dog,” her aunt interrupted. “She’s always been kind to animals.”

“Well, ma’am, that bit of kindness saved her life.”

Amanda looked at the policeman.

“The park is my beat. That poodle escaped his owner again and I caught him.” Officer Mahoney coughed and his face grew as red as his close-cropped hair. “That’s when she told me you’d retrieved him earlier and that you might still be in the park. I didn’t like the sound of that, so I decided to do my sweep of the park and lakefront earlier than usual.”

“Mahoney didn’t see your assailant, but he must have frightened him off, because the guy left this behind.” Detective Savage laid a ring on the bed. A golden ring with a sapphire the size of a nickel surrounded by diamonds.

Her aunt sobbed. “It was my sister’s. Amanda’s mother, Alice.”

Alice. My mother’s name was Alice. A clue, but one that conjured up no response. She felt nothingno waves of sentiment about her mother or the ring. Her only reaction was vague shock at the size of the stones.

“If we knew why you were walkin’ in that park, Miss Braithwaite, or who you were meetin’, it would sure help our investigation.”

She wanted to tell him that she didn’t know, but she could only scream silently into the darkness of her memories. As always, there was no reply. She tilted back her head and, through a veil of confusion, found Jonathan studying her.

“That’s enough!” he growled, staring first at Dr. Johnson and then at Dr. Newman.

Dr. Newman nodded. “Dr. Taylor is correct. Miss Braithwaite needs rest. Pressure to remember could impede her recovery.”

“No more questions, today, gentlemen.” Dr. Johnson ushered everyone out, including her family.

She was glad to see them leave. Her head was pounding, and waves of fatigue made her muscles feel like spaghetti, but she didn’t want Jonathan to go. She held out her hand until he took it in his own warm, strong one.

“It’s all right,” he soothed her. “Don’t think about it anymore. I want to talk to the officers, but I’ll be back and we’ll put the ring away.” He stood and she reluctantly let go. He placed the ring in her hand and turned out the lights as he left.

She closed her eyes, feeling the ring’s weight in her palm. Her mother’s ring. But she couldn’t think about a mother she couldn’t remember.

Who could she have been meeting in that park? Had they been following her or would they have tried to hurt any woman on her own, as she must have been? Would they try again? When? Why?

Yet even with the little she knew, she instinctively felt that she wouldn’t have gone into a park alone at night. That just wasn’t safe. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body.

The door opened.

“Why was I alone in that park, Jonathan?” she blurted out, gulping back tears. “Why am I alone now? No one but Margaret and Randall visit me. No one has called or sent flowers. Not even a card.” She looked at him and saw a strange expression, one that she couldn’t interpret, on his face. “Why don’t I have any friends, Jonathan? Am I such a terrible person? Is that why someone wanted to kill me?”

“Amanda.” Her name was a groan on his lips.

He crossed the room and his arms closed around her. Strong, comforting arms that she couldn’t resist. She buried her face against his chest and let her tears soak into his soft shirt, clinging to the only person she wanted or needed in this frightening new world. The only one who made her feel safe.

“Amanda, listen to me.” He held her shoulders in his firm hands. “You are not alone. I’m here.”

He was so close she could see a shadow of herself reflected in his eyes. Yet a sense of urgency made her press even closer against him.

“Amanda,” his warm breath brushed her lips.

She could taste him. She felt him shudder.

Suddenly light and noise exploded into the room. Without looking at her, he stood and moved away from the bed. Goose bumps ran over her skin where his hands had been.

“Here’s an orderly now. I came back to tell you Dr. Johnson has ordered that you be moved up to Dr. Newman’s floor.”

“That means you’re getting better.” The orderly winked at her as he helped her into a wheelchair.

The unsettled sensation in her stomach had nothing to do with the elevator ride. The orderly pushed her out into another long corridor, this one carpeted, with artwork on the walls. It was much quieter, almost as if she had entered a hotel. Even her room looked different, not like a hospital at all. There was a regular bed with a wooden headboard and a matching bedside table. A lamp filled a corner of the room with a soft glow. There were actually drapes at the window. This felt more like a home.

She asked to sit in the large wing chair. She wanted Jonathan to stay so she could talk to him, but he wouldn’t look at her. Dr. Newman knocked before he entered. He had his glasses perched on his forehead. For some reason, she found that amusing.

“Welcome to the rehab floor, Amanda.” He patted his pocket, looking for his glasses, then realized where they were. “Tomorrow we will be starting various forms of memory tests. Do you have any questions about that?”

“Yes.” The questions pounding in her head needed to be answered. She stared up at Jonathan, wanting him to understand her fear and need.

“Won’t the person who did this want to stop me from remembering who he is?”