Читать книгу Forgotten Lullaby - Rita Herron - Страница 11

“Amnesia?” A wave of shock rolled through Emma as the doctor’s words penetrated the haze clouding her brain. She stared at the man who’d identified himself as her husband. The man with the deep soothing voice who had whispered to her in the darkness. His olive complexion had turned a pasty white, and his smile had disappeared the minute she’d asked his name.

“That’s right,” Dr. Turner said with a slight nod. “Retrograde amnesia.”

“But she knows her name.” Grant’s words echoed with disbelief.

“I even remember my address,” Emma said, trying to ignore the blinding pain in her temple. “It’s 3551 Summit Trail.”

The doctor adjusted his bifocals and glanced at her chart, his brow furrowed.

Grant shook his head. “No, Emma, that’s your parents’ address. We live on Kingsly.”

Dr. Turner scratched his balding head. “Amnesia’s not uncommon after a severe head injury. You have a pretty bad concussion, Mrs. Wadsworth.” He gave Grant a concerned look. “We can’t forget your wife was in a coma for four days. Recovery takes time.”

“You mean she will remember?” Grant asked, his eyes brightening.

Emma clutched the hospital sheet with one hand while draping the other across her throbbing head. She felt as if she’d just fallen into the twilight zone. Judging from the strained expression on Grant Wadsworth’s face, he wasn’t faring much better.

“I mean she could remember. It’s too early to tell,” the doctor answered quietly. “Her memory loss could be due to physical or emotional trauma.”

“Are you saying I might not ever remember any more than I do now?” She rubbed her temple and winced, her vision blurring as the room spun around her.

The doctor pursed his lips. “It’s possible. We’ll have to wait and see.”

Grant turned to her. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll get through this. I’m just glad you’re awake.” Emma cringed at the haunted look on his face. Although his voice sounded reassuring, she could still hear his uncertainty.

He raked a hand through his black hair, causing a wavy lock to fall across his forehead. Something about the gesture seemed vaguely familiar, but Emma’s mind remained fuzzy. Dozens of questions crowded her thoughts.

Grant’s jaw tightened. “Do you remember our baby, sweetheart?”

Fear crawled up Emma’s spine, making her voice sound weak. “Our baby?”

“Yes…Carly. Here, I’ll show you.” The lines around Grant’s eyes softened. He reached for her, pausing when she drew back. “Your locket. The one I gave you on our wedding day. It has a picture of the three of us…” His tentative smile faded. “It’s gone.”

Emma pressed her hand to her throat, her fingers curling around the edge of the hospital gown.

“It could have been lost in the accident,” Dr. Turner suggested. “But if your wife was wearing it, the doctors would have removed it when she came in. You can check with the nurses’ station to retrieve personal articles.”

Grant nodded, then frantically jerked his wallet from his back pocket, pulled out a picture and handed it to Emma. Her hands shook as she studied the photo of the three of them sitting on a green floral-print sofa. Grant looked totally masculine against the country-style furniture. He’d draped an arm around her, and she cradled an infant in her arms. A bouquet of pink balloons danced in the background. But it was the tender smile on her face that squeezed her heart. She really had a child. And she was married.

But she had amnesia.

Grant folded her trembling hand in his and kissed each of her fingers, but Emma instinctively tensed. “It’ll be all right, sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing her hand against his cheek. “We’ll work it out somehow.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “Do you recall anything about the accident, Mrs. Wadsworth?”

Emma shook her head. “No, what kind of accident was it?”

“A car accident. You apparently lost control and went off the road.”

“I don’t remember.” The knot of apprehension in her chest tightened. “Was anyone else involved?”

“No, you were alone.”

“Thank goodness,” Emma whispered in relief. Then she remembered the voice calling to her in her sleep, the voice that told her she should have died. “Was… was there someone else here…in my room besides you?”

“I was here and Kate came to see you,” Grant said softly.

“It was someone else, someone who told me I should have died,” Emma said. Her hand flew to her throat. “I felt like I was choking.”

Grant stroked her hair from her face. “You must have been dreaming.” But he exchanged a worried look with the doctor.

“We gave you some medication, Mrs. Wadsworth, and sometimes it plays tricks on the mind. The best thing for you to do is rest,” the doctor suggested. “Don’t push it. You need time to heal.”

“He’s right.” Grant gave her hand a squeeze. “Why don’t you try to sleep for a while?”

Maybe they were right. Maybe it had been a dream. But the voice had seemed so real, as threatening as Grant’s had been loving.

Weariness settled deep in Emma’s bones. She barely managed a nod before her eyelids closed. But the doctor’s voice penetrated the haze surrounding her, and the bliss of sleep she craved eluded her.

“Um, Mr. Wadsworth, why don’t we step outside and talk,” the doctor suggested in a low voice.

Panic rippled through her as she realized the doctor wanted to speak to this man alone. What was the doctor going to tell her…her husband? She must have muttered some kind of sound or protest, because Grant clasped her hand again and brought it to his chest where he pressed it against his shirt. She felt the steady rhythm of his heart, warm and full of life beneath her palm. Someone had tried to hurt her, or at least she’d dreamed they had. But not this man. His voice had penetrated her nightmares, had saved her. Hadn’t it? Or had she been dreaming that, too?

“I’ll be right there, Doctor,” Grant said. Emma heard the door close, then studied Grant through heavy eyelids, both relieved and disturbed that he’d stayed with her.

She laid her other hand over her throbbing head, fighting nausea. She couldn’t believe it—she was married to this stranger, had conceived and given birth to his child, and she couldn’t remember one thing about either of them. She swallowed, trying to hold back a sob, but tears seeped through her now tightly closed lids and rolled down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry, honey, it’s going to be okay,” Grant whispered, his voice tender, comforting. She opened her eyes just as he lowered his head against the side of the bed, his slumped posture at odds with his muscular build. He had to be hurting as much as she was. The scent of his musky aftershave wafted toward her. He was so close his thick hair tickled her arm. Instinctively she reached out to run her hands through the black strands, pushing them away from his wide cheekbones, but when her fingers brushed his stubbled jaw, she pulled away. She couldn’t touch this man. She didn’t even know him.

“I’m sorry…so sorry,” she whispered. “Why is this happening?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, but you don’t need to worry about it right now. You’ve been through a lot,” he said softly. “Just close your eyes and rest.”

He moved to leave. “Don’t go,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’ll be right here when you wake up.” Grant pressed a kiss to her hand. “Everything’s going to be all right now.”

Emma felt another surge of fear. She struggled to look at the man beside her, but fatigue clawed at her. Her eyelids were so heavy. She was so tired…but she needed to stay awake…to find out what was going on….

Grant slipped his hand from hers and left the room, and an emptiness swelled inside her, so deep and powerful it yanked her from the hazy lull of exhaustion. She tried to shove aside her worries, but questions reverberated through her head. She remembered her mother, her father, her sister, Kate. She should have asked Grant about them—was her mother still healthy, did Kate and her husband still live nearby? She remembered high school graduation, going to college…. Why couldn’t she remember her own husband? And her little girl?

Hot tears slid down her cheeks again and she pressed her hand to her stomach, a low sob escaping her. What was going to happen now?

She wasn’t ready to be a stranger’s wife.

WHEN GRANT STEPPED into the hallway, he saw the detective approaching, and his nerves went on alert.

“I came to check out that oxygen mask,” Warner said. “The nurses were concerned. They didn’t think Mrs. Wadsworth could have removed it and ripped out her IV like that.”

Grant leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. Confusion, fear and anger almost overwhelmed him.

“Can I talk to your wife now?” Warner asked. “I need to ask her some questions.”

The doctor explained about Emma’s memory loss. “You need to let her rest, don’t put any stress on her,” he cautioned. He excused himself to answer a page.

“Do you really think someone intentionally ran Emma off the road?” Grant asked.

“According to our witness, that’s what happened. There were two sets of tire marks. We took samples of the black paint on your wife’s car,” Warner said. “I was hoping when your wife woke up she could tell us more.”

Grant glanced at the hospital-room door in despair. So was he. Instead, Emma didn’t even remember their life together. Or that they had a child.

GRANT CUDDLED CARLY close and stroked his finger along her soft creamy skin. “Oh, sweetheart, you miss Mommy, don’t you?” He propped her on his shoulder, inhaling the fresh scent of baby powder. She cried more loudly, and he changed positions, awkwardly trying to comfort her. “Honey, please give me a break. I’m not very good at this fatherhood thing yet.”

He patted her back and finally Carly’s cries quieted as she snuggled against him. “I’m going to take good care of you, you know that? And Mommy’s coming home today.” And maybe one day soon that detective will have some answers for me, he thought in frustration. He’d phoned Warner every day, but still no news. The detective assured him they were doing everything they could to find the person who’d hit Emma. But what if they never found him? And what if someone had tried to hurt Emma in the hospital?

Holding Carly so he could gaze into her face, Grant felt a surge of protectiveness that grew deeper every day. If anyone had told him three months ago he’d be talking baby talk and loving it, he would have said no way. Now he looked forward to time with his daughter, fleeting as it was. And he would get better at handling her, too.

After Carly’s birth, Emma had nagged him to spend more time at home. He’d tried to make her understand that he would, someday—when he’d earned a promotion and a raise, when he could afford to support them the way he wanted. He’d even hired a housekeeper to help Emma with the daily chores. But since the accident…

Carly whimpered, and he rubbed her back in slow circles the way he’d seen Emma do so many times. “When Mommy comes home, she’s going to be tired,” he said softly. “But we’ll take care of her.” He turned his thoughts to Emma’s recovery, desperately trying to block the anguish he felt every time he recalled Emma’s looking at him as if he was a total stranger. “We’ll get through this somehow,” he continued, talking quietly. Settling Carly in his arms, he soaked up her innocent features. Big brown doelike eyes, just like her mother’s. Tiny button nose. Perfect mouth. Carly cooed, swinging her chubby hands, and he traced his finger down her tummy, smiling gently.

“Mom was hurt pretty badly, Carly. We’re going to have to help her out.” He kissed Carly’s cheek, reveling in her trusting expression. “Right now she doesn’t remember us, sweetheart. But maybe when she sees you—”

“I’m still not sure you should bring Emma back here.”

Grant gritted his teeth as Kate stepped into the room. With Kate’s three inches of extra height, much rounder body and brown hair, instead of blond, no one would ever guess she and Emma were sisters. Apparently the silent truce he and Kate had shared before Emma had awakened had dissolved. He tried to like Kate, but she could be bossy and had a cynical attitude about life. She’d always insinuated he wasn’t good enough for Emma.

“I think it’s for the best,” Grant said quietly.

“For whom?” Kate arched an eyebrow. “You or Emma?”

He frowned. “She’s my wife, dammit.” Carly squirmed and started to fuss, and he lowered his voice, rocking her gently. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“Have the police found out who hit her?” Kate asked.

“No.” Frustration filled Grant’s voice. “But I hope they find the creep and lock him up for a long time.”

Kate stared at him for a full minute before speaking again. “Emma could come to my house for a while,” she suggested. “At least she’d be comfortable there, familiar with things.”

He shot Kate a warning look. “Look, we’ve discussed this before. Maybe if we bring her home, it’ll trigger her memory.” He could hope, couldn’t he?

Kate’s brows knit with worry. “What exactly did the doctor say?”

“You want all the medical mumbo jumbo?”

“No, just the truth.”

Grant nodded, the haunting diagnosis burned into his brain. “He said memory loss isn’t uncommon after a head injury. He isn’t sure if the amnesia is a result of physical trauma or emotional trauma. The CAT scan showed she still had some swelling around the part of her brain associated with memory.”

“When will he know?” Kate asked.

“If it’s physiological, it might be a few weeks. They’ll run more tests, do another CAT scan after the swelling goes down.”

“And if it’s emotional?”

Grant played with the tiny buttons on Carly’s sleeper, his chest tightening. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if Emma’s memory didn’t return. “It might be months. Or she might never regain her memory.”

Kate sighed. “Did he suggest therapy? Hypnosis?”

“No. Only to be patient, give Emma time. And make sure she rests.” He exhaled shakily. “No stress, either.”

“She’ll need help with the baby.” Kate picked up one of Carly’s stuffed bunnies, tugged on a floppy ear, then pressed it to her chest in a way that made her seem oddly young and vulnerable.

“I know she’ll need help.” Grant frowned. “I plan on taking care of her. And Martha comes twice a week. I may have her come every day.”

“What about your business trip to Paris?” Kate asked. “I know you postponed it, but have you rescheduled?”

“I’m not going,” Grant said, his temper flaring. “I’m going to work at home.”

“Well, that’s a surprise.” Kate folded her arms across her chest.

Grant stopped the motion of the rocking chair and glared at Kate. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’ve been with Emma and Carly every minute I could over the last few days.”

Kate shrugged. “I know. But you usually don’t let anything keep you from work.”

Carly fidgeted, one socked foot slipping out from the blanket. He tucked her foot back in and struggled to control the tone of his voice. “You really think I’d leave the country with Emma in the condition she’s in? What kind of a husband do you think I am?”

A long silence stretched between them, the tension almost palpable. Kate’s refusal to answer piqued him even more.

“Look, Kate, you’re not being fair. I know you haven’t always approved—”

“It’s not that,” Kate said angrily. “It’s just that you’ve been leaving her alone a lot lately and I figured—”

“You figured I’d bring her home from the hospital and run off to Paris to work?” Grant stood and paced the floor with Carly, shocked at Kate’s low opinion of him. “Is it really me, Kate, or do you hate all men?”

Kate winced, ignoring his comment. “Emma has a lot of pride and she’s independent, but I can sense she’s been lonely lately.”

“Emma told you that?”

“No, but I could tell from talking to her.” Kate’s expression softened. “It’s a big adjustment going from working full-time to staying home with a baby.”

Grant bit back a retort. How would Kate know? She spent all her time shopping for her beloved antiques and going to the beauty parlor. “Emma wanted to stay home with Carly.”

“I know,” Kate said on a long sigh. “But that doesn’t mean staying home hasn’t been an adjustment. Emma was used to being with people all day, taking care of customers, running a business. She enjoyed her job.”

“You think she didn’t enjoy being home with Carly?”

“No.” Kate rolled her eyes. “But it’s been a change for her.”

Recent conversations with Emma raced through his mind, especially the one the afternoon before her accident. I wanted us to have a special dinner tonight, she’d said. But what had he done? He’d gone to dinner with a client, then stayed for drinks to discuss business with Priscilla. Two days before that, Emma had asked him to meet her and Carly for lunch. Once again he’d been too busy.

But he’d been in meetings, not just dallying around. Emma knew that. She knew he’d been working his butt off to make a good life for both of them. For Carly, too.

“Grant—” Kate’s voice broke into his disturbing thoughts “—I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

He saw concern written on her usually smug face. “You think it was my fault, don’t you? You think she was unhappy with me and she doesn’t remember me because she doesn’t want to.” The idea shook him to the core.

“No,” Kate said hurriedly, “that’s not what I meant, Grant.” She walked toward him, holding out her arms for the baby. “The accident caused the amnesia. You heard what the doctor said.”

Grant barely registered her protests. “But she remembers you. And her parents. She probably even remembers her high-school boyfriends.” He hated the desperation in his voice. “But she can’t remember me,” he finished, feeling defeated.

“Give her time.” Kate placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’ll put Carly down for a nap while you bring Emma home.” She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “Maybe you’re right, Grant. Emma loves you. Coming home is probably exactly what she needs.”

Grant kissed Carly on the forehead and nodded, his body wound like a tightly coiled spring. Emma loves me. At least, she used to; now she didn’t even know him. “I hope so,” he said. Once he’d gotten over the shock of the amnesia, he’d realized how frightening the ordeal must be for Emma. She’d not only awakened injured, but she’d lost part of her life.

A fresh stab of pain hit him. Of course, if she didn’t remember their marriage, he was going to lose a part of his life. The best part.