Читать книгу The Other Amanda - Lynn Leslie - Страница 9

SHOCK JOLTED THROUGH HIM like a current of electricity, wrapping itself around his veins and arteries, reaching into every part of his body. This was an Amanda he’d never known. Terror blazed out of her blue eyes—terror at the extent of her isolation and a vulnerability—that made her strangely appealing.

He lowered his voice to a gentle tone he rarely used and hardly recognized. “Tell me everything you can remember.”

“You. All I remember is you.” Her whisper broke into a sob. “I was…was struggling to breathe. Helpless. Alone. Dying.” A deep sob shuddered through her. He felt it in her fingers as she gripped his hand. “Suddenly you were there, surrounded by a bright light, and the pain went away. You told me I was safe.” She took a deep, shaking breath. “You told me that you’d…help me.”

Her fingers trembled. Their weak plea compelled him to fold her hand between his palms, warming it.

What the hell had happened?

Both surgeries, his and Johnson’s, had been wildly successful given the extent of her injuries. They’d agreed to induce a comatose state for one week to keep her quiet, to allow her time to heal. It shouldn’t have affected her this way!

He’d hoped they were home free, that there’d be no complications. He’d hoped she would just be another case to him. The Amanda he remembered, all arrogant confidence, would recover quickly and just as quickly leave with her doting aunt and uncle. He would remain her doctor. A pleasant memory from her past. Not this. She was going to need a lot more help than he could give her.

“Please, Jonathan.” Tears welled in her eyes, spilling. over and spiking her lashes before gliding down her cheeks. She tried to raise a fist to scrub them away and winced with pain as the IV needle pressed into her skin. “Please…help me. I’m so scared.”

Indecision, doubt in his ability as a surgeon had never troubled him, but this situation was clearly outside his realm of expertise. As gently as possible, he pulled away from her. It was time to be a professional.

“I’ll get Dr. Johnson.” He crossed to the door, turning at the last moment, compelled by feelings he’d thought long dead. “I meant what I said. You’re safe here and I’ll help you.”

He found Bonnie hovering outside the door. “I’ve paged Dr. Johnson three times. He should be here soon.”

“Yeah, thanks, Bonnie.” He grinned sheepishly, knowing he’d been short-tempered and demanding lately. Amanda’s case, Amanda herself, had thrown him a real curve, more than he wanted to admit, even to himself.

Waiting for Carl Johnson, he paced the corridor outside Amanda’s room like an expectant father. This was Johnson’s field; he’d know what to do. Even so, Jonathan didn’t like this feeling of helplessness.

“Something has happened to Amanda. Tell me at once!” Randall’s hoarse cry drew curious looks from nearby staff. They all knew Randall Chambers as a tower of strength who never got rattled.

“It’s all right, Randall. Amanda’s awake at last. I’ve just sent for Dr. Johnson to assess her status.”

A smile of relief burst across Randall’s ruddy face. “Thank God. And thank you, Jonathan.” Randall leaned forward and clasped his shoulder in a fierce, emotional grip that surprised him. “I must phone Margaret right away. I can hardly believe that the one night we left for a few hours, Amanda woke up. Did she ask for us? May I see her?”

“Sorry. Not until Dr. Johnson clears it.” Jonathan understood what Randall was going through, but he had to do what was best for his patient. “Go call your wife.” There was no point in telling Randall about this new complication until he had all the information.

Jonathan stopped in midstride and muttered under his breath, “Where the hell are you, Carl?”

“Right here. Sorry, buddy. I was in surgery.” Sighing, Johnson rubbed his neck above his sweatstained green scrubs. “What’s up?”

“Amanda Braithwaite is awake.”

“Hey, that’s great!” Johnson gave a bark of pleased laughter. “All the neurological tests I’ve run the past week have been golden, just like I told you.”

“Uh-huh. She has amnesia.”

It took a full twenty seconds for Johnson to absorb Jonathan’s curt announcement. Then he rolled his eyes. “Let’s take a look at her.”

She looked small, lost in an avalanche of white sheets and bandages. Jonathan resisted the urge to go to her and take her hand. What was happening to his professional detachment? He let Johnson take over, and stood back against the wall, trying not to respond to her fear as Carl pulled a chair close to the side of her bed.

“Hi, Amanda. I’m Dr. Carl Johnson. I performed surgery on you the night you were brought in. You’re doing just great, but I want to help you some more. Let’s have you stand beside the bed now.” Johnson laughed low in his throat, as if he were sharing a private joke. “You know hospitals. We never let you rest.”

Dr. Johnson gestured her up, not helping, yet close enough to catch her if she faltered. Jonathan couldn’t keep himself from lunging forward to maneuver the IV pole out of her way, fighting to stay back when she struggled to keep her narrow white feet under her. This was Johnson’s examination. He had to butt out.

“A little balance problem, Amanda?” Dr. Johnson’s mouth curled reassuringly. “That’s normal.”

“Yes…I…I feel dizzy.”

Dr. Johnson finally stepped forward and helped her back onto the bed. Over his shoulder, her eyes sought Jonathan’s approval. He smiled encouragingly but waited for Johnson’s next move.

“Don’t worry about it. We expect a little dizziness. Can you tell me about the night of the accident, Amanda?”

She looked confused. Finally she replied, “No. I…don’t know anything about an accident.”

“All right.” Dr. Johnson made her answer seem perfectly natural. “Listen, what would you like for dinner? We want you to be happy here.”

“I don’t know what I like. I can’t seem to remember. All I know is Jonathan.”

Johnson threw him a look that made him squirm inside. “All right. Don’t worry about it for now. Jonathan and I are going to go outside for a few minutes.”

She huddled under the sheets, looking at Jonathan with tortured eyes. “You’ll come back?”

“Yes. I promise.” Shocked at the rough edge of emotion he heard in his voice, he pulled the door shut behind him forcefully. The automatic brake caught it, closed it gently, pushing the air into the corridor on a sigh, mirroring his own feelings.

Johnson frowned. “We’ve got problems. Better call in someone from the traumatic brain injury unit.”

Jonathan braked his inappropriate emotions. They had no place in what had to be done. “I’ll get Patrick Newman down here. He’s the best psychiatrist in the state.”

It didn’t take Newman five minutes to respond. They briefed him while he nodded. Jonathan had questions, but Pat waved him away.

“Let me do my job, fellas.” He turned to enter the room as Jonathan stepped forward. “Alone.”

IT WASN’T JONATHAN. She was disappointed, but tried not to show it. The stranger wore the same white coat over his clothes as Jonathan and Dr. Johnson, so he must be a doctor, too, she reasoned, feeling pleased with herself.

“Where’s Jonathan?” she couldn’t help asking. This doctor was different somehow. His eyes were…kind.

“Jonathan will be in soon. I’m Dr. Newman. Jonathan sent me to ask you some questions about your past.”

“I don’t know anything,” she said, confused that they didn’t understand her, or maybe they just didn’t believe her. They could ask all the questions they wanted, it wouldn’t help. Her past was a dark tunnel broken only by the bright light that had brought Jonathan to her.

“Do you know your name?”

His gentleness persuaded her to try again. Of course she should know her name! “Everyone calls me Amanda.”

“How old are you, Amanda?”

She struggled. Panic, like a storm in her brain, threatened to send her out of control. “I…I don’t know.”

“Tell me something you do know.” He ignored her panic, remaining calm and reassuring.

“Jonathan helped me. He was surrounded by…by a white light. Then the darkness came. And the voices.”

He smiled down at her. “Good. Tell me about the voices.”

“I heard Jonathan. And…and other voices.”

“Did you recognize the other voices like you recognized Jonathan’s?”

Her head pounded as she tried to find something in the darkness, just one tangible memory. “No. Please. This makes my head hurt.”

“You did well, Amanda.” Dr. Newman patted her arm.

“Can Jonathan come in now?” She felt alone and afraid without him. The dark emptiness in her head was terrifying.

“Yes. I’ll send Jonathan to you.”

She sighed. As nice as this doctor seemed, he wasn’t Jonathan. She sank back into her pillow, willing the tension to recede.

IT SEEMED FOREVER to Jonathan before Pat Newman came out of Amanda’s room. “Well, what’s the verdict?”

“I need to do a whole range of tests over the next several days for a complete assessment. However, she appears to be suffering from autobiographical memory loss, atypical in these cases. However, it does occur.” Newman seemed to evaluate him. “You’re going to have to be very careful, Jonathan. She remembers nothing before you on the night she came into ER. She’s developing a very strong attachment, which for the sake of her mental health we can’t sever, but we can’t let her grow too dependent on you. She wants to see you now, in fact.”

Newman searched his face, all business. “Can you handle this?”

“Of course.” Jonathan rubbed his face with both hands, trying to disguise his feelings. “I’ve dealt with the doctor-patient thing before.”

Except his other patient hadn’t been so terrified and so alone, or evoked such provocative memories. Every time he looked at Amanda, a knife twisted in his gut. Would the beautiful, sensual, headstrong woman he had once cared for ever return?

“Doctor Newman!” Margaret Chambers, with Randall in tow, headed toward them.

Jonathan looked to Newman for guidance.

“She’s not ready to see them.” Dr. Newman squared his shoulders. “They’ll only confuse her more.”

“You know Randall. He’ll insist on it. C’mon. We’d better all talk to them.” Carl moved purposefully down the corridor to intercept them.

“Pat, you help Carl stall as long as possible. I’ll try to prepare Amanda.”

She was lying still, her eyes wide, then her fingers began pleating the sheet. Careful not to get too close, trying to walk that thin line between doctor and friend, Jonathan stayed at the end of her bed.

“Jonathan!” she gasped, as if she’d been holding her breath until he returned. The soft trembling of her voice begged for reassurance. A tear trickled down one cheek.

“Amanda, everything will work itself out.” He spoke briskly, professionally. “You don’t have to be afraid. Dr. Johnson, Dr. Newman and the rest of the staff are here to help you. I’m only the plastic surgeon. To get you well, we’ll need lots of help.”

“I’m sorry.” A deep sigh rippled through her body. “It’s just that to me you’re the only real thing in this world. To make any sense out of the rest of it, I have to have a…a lifeline. For me that’s…you.” With a quiet sob, she turned her face away.

Could he handle this? The power she offered him could have enormous consequences. Could he forget the past? Treat her like any other patient? Ruthlessly he switched off all the red lights flashing in his head.

“I understand, Amanda. But your family is here, and they’re very anxious to see you. They’ve been here every day just waiting for you to wake up. I know you don’t remember them, and they may seem a bit intimidating at first, but your aunt and uncle love you and want to help you.”

She raised her head, frightened but determined, and very, very vulnerable.

He couldn’t resist. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay with you. We’ll do this together.”

Her grateful response triggered something he thought had died a long time ago. Without warning, memories rushed over him. The taste of her mouth. The feel of her body under his. The passionate abandon they’d shared that summer.

“I don’t remember my family. Will they think I’m crazy?”

“You’re definitely not crazy.” Was that why she seemed so fragile? Why hadn’t Newman reassured her? “There’s nothing wrong with you that can’t be fixed with a little time. Now close your eyes and rest.”

Like a trusting child, she obeyed him, and that small action tore at his heart. Maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t handle this after all. Pausing at her bedside, he critically assessed the healing process. He’d remove the gauze wrap tomorrow, the wires and metal plate next week. She’d have bruising and swelling to deal with for a time, and the hair would grow out where they’d shaved her. He was used to dealing with the transient consequences of traumatic reconstructive surgery. But repairing her memory, the essence of who she was, was out of his hands. He hoped to God that loss would be as temporary.

“I KNOW THE DIFFERENCE between semantic and episodic memory. Dr. Johnson. I was a nurse in this hospital before you were out of med school! So what does this have to do with my niece?”

Jonathan entered a conference room fraught with frustration. Apparently Carl Johnson had been trying to explain Amanda’s condition to the Chambers with little success.

“You are deliberately keeping us from our own flesh and blood. Do I need to call a lawyer?” Margaret Chambers had the polished confidence of a beautiful, mature woman. A woman who was sorely tried at the moment. Randall sat with his head down, wringing his hands, apparently overcome with emotion.

Jonathan intervened. “Your niece is resting, which is most important to her recovery. I’m sure Dr. Johnson and Dr. Newman are only trying to prepare you so you’ll be able to assist in that recovery.”

Randall looked up, a hopeful light in his eye. “It’s not irreparable, then?”

“Actually, I think you’ll be pleased. Carl did an excellent job with the hematoma, allowing me to operate before a lot of swelling set in. In fact, Margaret, her bone structure will be restored to the perfection of your own.” He’d dealt with hysterical relatives before.

“We aren’t deliberately keeping you from her, Mrs. Chambers.” Pat Newman jumped into the fray. “I’m her psychiatrist….”

“Yes. Yes.” She shook her head dismissively. “But why does she need a specialist in physical medicine and rehabilitation like you? What has happened since we were here last?”

Randall reached over to pat his wife’s hand. “Margaret, let the doctors explain.”

“She’s awake—” Dr. Johnson stared into Margaret’s pale face “—but Amanda is suffering from some memory loss.”

Margaret gasped and shrank against her husband. Jonathan had the impression that the only thing holding her together was the strength in Randall’s arms.

“Is it permanent?”

“Most probably not.” Johnson looked as if he meant business. “However, for the moment, Dr. Newman believes her personal memories are completely gone.”

“She doesn’t remember us?” Shock registered on Randall’s face.

“I don’t believe she does, Mr. Chambers. I’m sorry.”

Randall buried his head in his hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Margaret waved away any attempt at reassurance. “Is this a complication from the surgery?”

The tone in her voice drew a quick response from Johnson. “No. All her neurological tests have been normal. I would have told you if I’d seen any indication of this.”

“Autobiographical memory loss is highly unusual in this type of case. If, as Dr. Johnson feels, it is not caused by the neuro-trauma, it might have other causes. That’s why I’ve been called in to consult.” Pat Newman spoke quietly and confidently. “In many cases like this memory returns gradually over a month or two, but the patient never recovers the moments of the attack. We believe it’s a defense mechanism to spare the recurrence of pain and suffering. In any case, I won’t know without more testing.” Newman stood, as if the whole problem were settled.

“I want to take her home to The Lodge as soon as possible.” Margaret insisted. “She’ll get better there. She loves the lake. Tell them, Randall!”

Pale-faced, Randall looked from his distraught wife to each doctor. “I agree with Margaret. At The Lodge, my wife and I can attend to her every need My mother, who adores her, will be there. All of her own things are there. Surely that will help to restore her memory?”

“Yes. You are correct. Those things will all be important in her recovery. However, she can’t leave the hospital without some rehabilitation.” Pat Newman glanced around the room.

“Amanda has badly sprained wrists and is experiencing dizziness. I need to do some more tests.” Dr. Johnson, too, was adamant.

“Besides, she needs time to get to know you before you take her away. She’ll be afraid to leave me and the hospital.” Jonathan wanted to get his point across. Amanda couldn’t be taken anywhere. Not yet.

Randall’s head jerked up, “What do you have to do with this, Jonathan?”

“Dr. Taylor saw her when she first came into ER. She was conscious and he spoke to her. He is all she remembers.” Dr. Johnson’s announcement caused a stunned silence in the room.

“She’s very vulnerable right now. And frightened of everything and everyone but me.” Jonathan tried another tack. “It will be much easier on her if you go slowly.”

Pat Newman pulled his glasses out of his pocket and jammed them on impatiently. “This needless wrangling isn’t getting us anywhere. It’s important that Amanda not have to deal with any additional stress right now.”

“What do you have to say, Jonathan?” Randall’s hoarse voice echoed in the room. “Will you have time to assist Dr. Newman and Dr. Johnson with Amanda, given your heavy caseload?”

“Can you help my niece?” Margaret’s unwavering stare challenged him.

He gave one brief thought to his heavy schedule and dismissed it. “Amanda believes I can help her. That’s half the battle.” He turned to Newman. “As soon as Dr. Johnson agrees, she can move upstairs to rehab and your care. I can do my post-op anywhere.”

Johnson nodded and glanced around at each of them. “Then it’s agreed, Mr. and Mrs. Chambers? Dr. Newman will take over Amanda’s care. You should visit her now with Dr. Taylor. We’ll keep him informed, and he will give Amanda as much time as we feel is helpful for her complete recovery.”

Time. That was the key. Time for Amanda to heal. Time for her memory to return. Time for him to learn to deal with the fact that she was back in his life, dependent on him. Could there ever be enough time for him to forget the memory of making love to his patient?

AMANDA HAD WAITED to open her eyes until after Jonathan left her room. With her movement so limited, she didn’t have much range of vision. Still, anything was better than being alone in her empty mind. Why couldn’t she remember? She fought to stem the rising panic by reliving every moment with Jonathan. Only he was real, only his voice meant safety.

After a while, muffled voices from the hallway and the clatter of carts rolling past her door intruded on her solitude. Somewhere out there was a whole world for her to discover. Out there were the answers she needed, the knowledge that would set her free. She made a vow that it wouldn’t always be like this. She would do whatever she needed to make a life for herself. Jonathan and all the other doctors in the world, the faceless people that were her family, might try to do their best for her, but it all came down to her.

She concentrated, trying to capture some feeling of what her aunt and uncle meant to her. Nothing.

No matter how she tried, she found nothing and no one. How could this be? She must know someone besides Jonathan. She might not know how old she was, but she sensed she was an adult. How could she have no memory of herself or anyone else and still remember all that she had learned in school?

That was it! School! She’d gone to…

A deep sob caught in her throat as she turned her face toward the sun filtering in through the blinds. She closed her eyes again. She wanted her memory, her life, back so much it burned like a fire inside her. She wanted to know, yet suddenly feared what she might learn.

She ignored the sound of her door opening. Maybe they’d just go away. She didn’t want to see more strange faces; hear more questions she couldn’t answer.

“Open your eyes, Amanda.”

The one voice she couldn’t ignore—Jonathan’s. She opened her lids slowly, focusing only on him.

“I’ve brought your aunt Margaret and uncle Randall to see you. They want to visit a few minutes.”

Here it was! What she feared, what she coveted: a link to reality. She controlled her trembling body and looked past him to the strangers.

The woman had beautiful blue eyes set in a slant above cheekbones dusted a rosy color, giving her a kind of exotic air. She seemed to glow in the soft light. Maybe it was the blond hair and all the gold jewelry she wore, wide hoops on her ears and a matching choker. Her yellow silk dress molded a well-cared-for body. There was a sense of wary concern in her eyes. Amanda didn’t want to see into those eyes, so she shifted her gaze to the man.

He was shorter and broader than Jonathan. And older, with thick gray hair and deep smile lines around his brown eyes. He didn’t look frightening at all, yet a new trembling started deep inside her.

She must know this man and woman in an intimate way if they were her family. She stared at them, trying to find something to stir the darkness in her mind, but there was nothing to help her.

She searched for something to say to them. Like a pinpoint of light, a memory broke through. She grasped it before it fled like all the others.

“Did Mother Chambers go back to The Lodge?”

“Amanda!” The man gasped as the woman rounded on Jonathan.

“You lied to us!” The fury her aunt turned on Jonathan stabbed into her. Hot, stinging tears burned her cheeks.

“My God, she does know us!” Her uncle lunged toward her.

She tried to put her hands up to stop him, shaking her head in confusion, the pain throbbing through her face adding to this waking nightmare.

“Please don’t yell at Jonathan. I…I don’t remember you. I heard you talking…before when…when I was asleep.”

Her uncle seemed to turn to stone at her words. “Oh, my God, we are frightening you. Margaret, stop. Amanda is crying.” He backed away slowly. “You really don’t know me? Or your aunt Margaret?”

Margaret crumpled into the chair beside the bed. Randall went to her side and put his arms around her to support her.

She didn’t want to hurt these people, but they made her nervous and afraid.

“Amanda needs to rest now.” Jonathan turned to protect her.

“No! Darling, I’m so sorry.” Her aunt broke away from her husband and sank down beside her on the bed. She smelled like flowers, and the hand that patted Amanda’s arm was soft, the nails long and painted red. “I apologize to Jonathan. I’ve been so worried about you. Now that you’re awake, we have some work to do.”

Smiling, Margaret ran her soft fingers up and down Amanda’s hand. “I’ll bring your own things to you. Then-you’ll start remembering just like that!” She snapped her fingers and laughed.

After a moment Amanda thought of what to say. “That would be nice.” Her answer must have been satisfactory, because Margaret nodded.

“I’ll buy you a beautiful new bed jacket. You will like that, I know, my sweet girl.” Randall leaned over, so close she could see every line in his tanned face. His hand grasped hers so tightly she almost cried out in pain.

“I think Amanda’s had enough excitement for today.”

She couldn’t help but feel glad that Jonathan’s words caused her aunt and uncle to move away from her bed. She wanted them to leave, because fatigue pulled at every muscle in her body. Yet, in another way, she wanted them to stay, to give her answers to the myriad questions brewing in her mind.

One pounded like a hammer behind her eyes. “Jonathan told me my name and who you are.” One last time she swept through the dark caves and hollows in her brain. “But where are my parents? Do I have brothers and sisters?”

Her aunt glanced at Jonathan, and Amanda saw him nod. Bending forward, Margaret again patted Amanda’s hand.

“No, you were an only child. Your mother was my older sister. She and your father, Bradley Braithwaite, drowned in a yachting accident in the Caribbean when you were twelve. That was seventeen years ago. Since then, you’ve lived with us and Randall’s mother. We’re your only family. Mother Chambers, Randall and I.”

“We love you very much, Amanda.” Randall’s voice sounded thick with emotion.

She didn’t know what to say, what to feel. She stared up at Jonathan, and he nodded, as if he understood her confusion. “Amanda’s tired. You have to go now.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow, darling.” Aunt Margaret waved to her from the doorway. “And if Mother Chambers is feeling better, I know she’ll want to come, too.”

“She refused to go home until we could tell her you were awake.” Randall blew her a kiss. “We will be back soon.”

“I’ll be right there,” Jonathan called as they slipped through the door. He turned to her. “Did seeing them spark anything?”

His chiseled face looked so stern and his eyes so intent she wanted to say or do something to lessen his distress. “They seem to be…nice people. But I don’t remember them. I don’t remember anything except you and the voices while I slept.”

He nodded. “Give it time. This has been a lot for one day. I know you must be tired. Would you like me to stay with you?”

Of course she wanted him to stay! Without him she was alone in her dark, empty mind. But he was a doctor and must have other patients to look after. Being able to reason that through gave her the courage to move her head the tiniest bit on the pillow. “No.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He hesitated slightly at the door, and she held her breath, hoping he might stay anyway.

The door closed behind him, shutting out the strangers and the voices and the things she couldn’t understand. She was alone.

Tomorrow loomed like a promise and a threat. She would find the pieces of her life and fit them together.

DEAD. She should be dead and buried by now. Instead she was thriving under Jonathan Taylor’s care. He went in and out of her room at all hours of the day, never keeping to a schedule, never giving an opportunity to finish the job.

It had be taken care of, and soon. Before her memory returned