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“It’s nice to see you so happy.”
Molly grinned, her eyes sparking with love and contentment. “I never realized how much I’d enjoy being a wife and a mom.”
At one time, Betsy had entertained thoughts of mother hood, too, but not anymore. Doug Bramblett had seen to that.
Three years into their marriage, when she’d been wrapping up her internship, she’d found out that her husband was having an affair. She’d no more than come to grips with his deceit when she learned that the extramarital relationship he’d had with a receptionist at his office hadn’t been the first.
Betsy had filed for divorce, then spent the rest of her internship trying to pick up the pieces of her once-perfect life. Then, two years later, Doug was arrested and convicted for his involvement in an insider-trading scheme.
Clearly the guy she’d once loved and trusted hadn’t turned out to be the honest, loyal and ethical man she’d thought he was. But she pressed on by moving away from the big city to Brighton Valley, where the neighbors knew—and could vouch—for each other.
And now that she was here, her focus was on work, on the medical center and seeing it succeed.
“How are Chase and little Megan doing?” she asked her friend.
Molly’s grin nearly lit the entire west wing. “They’re doing great. And Megan just cut her first tooth. She’s pulling herself up and taking a few steps. You ought to see her, Betsy. She’s the cutest little thing.”
“I’d love to. We’ll have to get together soon.” Of course, Betsy didn’t have many free nights. With the financial situation at the hospital being what it was, they’d had to cut back on staff, and she’d been taking up the slack.
“Maybe, when you switch to working days, you can come to dinner some evening,” Molly said. “I miss not seeing you.”
In spite of being friends, they had never really socialized. Betsy didn’t have the time. In addition to her work at the hospital, her parents had moved into a nearby assisted-living complex. And as an only child, Betsy made sure to visit them regularly.
She’d been adopted when her mom and dad had just about given up on having a baby, and she owed all she was to them, to their love and emotional support. So every moment she spent with them now was precious.
Instead of commenting about how busy she was, Betsy smiled at her friend. “As a wife and a new mommy, I imagine your time is stretched to the limit.”
“It is, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I can’t imagine life without Chase or Megan.” Molly closed the file she’d been reading and moved it aside. “So what—or rather who—brings you up to the third floor?”
“John Doe—unless his memory returned and he’s going by another name now.”
“No, he’s not. From what I was told, he was pretty agitated about it last night. So Dr. Kelso sedated him.”
“Is he sleeping now?”
“No. I was just in there a few minutes ago, and he was awake. But he’s still not sure who he is.”
“Which room is he in?”
“Three-fourteen.”
“Thanks.”
As Betsy made her way to John Doe’s room and peered inside, she spotted him lying in bed, his head turned toward the window, revealing the gauze that covered the wounds he’d received from the assault.
His hair, which was a bit long and curled at the neckline, looked especially dark on the white pillowcase.
When he sensed her presence—or maybe he’d heard her footsteps—he turned to the doorway, and their gazes met.
He’d been cleaned up, but no one had taken time to shave him. The dark stubble on his jaw and cheeks made him look rugged and manly, completely mocking the soft, baby-blue hospital gown he was wearing.
“Good morning,” she said, entering the room. “I’m Dr. Nielson. You may not remember me, but I treated you in the E.R. last night.”
“Actually,” he said, “I remember that.”
“Being in the E.R.?”
He nodded. “Well, at the time, while looking up into the bright lights, I saw you and assumed I was standing at the Pearly Gates with a redheaded angel. But I never figured heavenly beings would be so pretty.”
She didn’t know whether he was serious, joking or flirting. It was impossible to tell from his tone or his expression. Yet for some crazy reason, her hand lifted inadvertently to feel for loose strands of hair that might have fallen from her brass clip.
“And then,” he added, “in the middle of the night, before they drugged me—or maybe afterward—I saw you again.”
“I’m afraid that wasn’t me. I spent the early morning hours in the E.R., patching up a drunk who walked through a plate-glass window and treating a toddler for croup.”
“I figured as much. The last time you appeared over my bed, you were hanging out with a gang of leprechauns. I figured you were their queen.”
“I’m afraid my days of running with the wee ones are over.” She smiled as she moved closer to his bed. “By the way, the police came by the E.R. to question you last night, and I suggested they come back in the morning. Have they been in yet?”
“No, but it’ll be a waste of their time. The only thing I remember is the color of your hair, those emerald-green eyes and the way everyone around you jumped when you gave orders. So it’s nice to know that some of the crazy visions I had last night were real.”
“I can only attest to the bright lights in the E.R. and barking out orders. The rest of those sightings must have been a result of the mugging or the sedative Dr. Kelso gave you.”
“Maybe so.” He studied her now, and as his eyes sketched over her face, her heart rate spiked and sputtered—clearly not a professional response.
Time to exit, stage right.
Yet her feet didn’t move.
“So how are you feeling now?” she asked, trying to gain some control over her hormones.
“I’m doing all right, I guess. My head’s pounding like hell, though. And I can’t remember anything. How long is that going to last?”
“The amnesia? I’m not sure. A few hours? A couple of days?” She didn’t dare tell him that it could go on for a long time.
“Damn. That sucks.”
She had to agree. She had no idea what she’d do if she found herself in a strange hospital with no idea of who she was or how she’d gotten there.
“So what do you know about me?” he asked.
“Just that you were at one of the local honky-tonks, asking about a man.”
“What man?”
“Somebody named Pedro. And for what it’s worth, no one in the bar knew him.”
He thought about that for a moment, as if trying to place the man or the reason for his search. Then he seemed to shrug it off. “What happened after that?”
“You had a beer and left. In the parking lot, someone decided to lift your wallet, but didn’t want to risk a tussle with you. So they hit you with a tire iron and made sure you couldn’t put up a fight.”
She let him ponder that for a while, then said, “When the medics brought you into the E.R., you asked about a child and her mom. No one was with you at the bar. Could they have been witnesses?”
“It’s possible, I guess. But you’ll have to forgive me. I’m still drawing a complete blank.”
“That’s understandable. But you might want to pass that information on to the sheriff, just in case.”
“All right.” For some reason, she got the idea that he was used to giving orders. If so, being laid up was going to be tough on him.
“Anything else?” he asked.
She crossed her arms and tossed him a wry grin. “I’d venture to say that you’re in your late twenties or early thirties. You stand about six foot tall or more and you’re in good shape.”
He was also one of the most attractive men she’d seen in a long time, with broad shoulders and tight abs—as bruised as they were when she’d examined him—she couldn’t help noticing. He also had eyes the shade of Texas bluebonnets, which was unusual for a man who appeared to have more than a little Latin blood.
“That’s it?” he asked.
“Pretty much. You were well dressed and wore expensive clothing, so I think you’ve got a decent job—or a trust fund.” Of course, Doug had taught her to be skeptical of men like that, so she added, “Then again, you could be a con artist.”
“Yeah, well, apparently whatever money I may or may not have isn’t available to me anymore.”
Rather than answer, she gave a little who-knows? shrug.
He paused a beat, then sobered. “So you think that I was just passing through town?”
She doubted that he was a drifter, if that’s what he meant. And the mystery about him, both medical and otherwise, intrigued her.
So did the spark of life in his eyes.
And the square cut of his jaw.
But she wasn’t comfortable talking to him about her observations, when he might think that she found him attractive.
Okay, so he definitely was hot, and any woman who still had breath in her body couldn’t help but agree.
Betsy wouldn’t act on it, though. And if John picked up on those vibes, no good would come of it.
“Well,” she said, backing away from the hospital bed. “I’d better head home. I’ve got to get some sleep because my next shift starts in—” she glanced at the clock on the wall “—less than twelve hours.”
“Will I see you again?”
His tone, as well as the question, took her aback. And she didn’t know what to tell him. In truth, there wasn’t any reason for her to come back to see him, but she couldn’t seem to bow out completely. “I’ll stop by around dinnertime.”
He smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”
There went her heart rate again, and she struggled with the wisdom of a return visit. Yet she nodded, then turned and walked out of his room.
She wasn’t exactly sure what had just happened in there. But she blamed it on a lack of sleep.
And a lack of sex, a small voice whispered.
Oh, for Pete’s sake. Her self-imposed celibacy had been working out just fine. So why him?
And why now?
She’d be darned if she knew—or dared to pursue—the answer.
John Doe slept off and on the next morning, hoping that eventually he’d wake up with his memory intact. But so far, nothing had come to mind.
Just before lunch, Dr. Kelso came in to perform some kind of mental evaluation, this one more complex than what he’d had so far. John had passed most of it with flying colors. He had some basic knowledge, although he certainly wouldn’t try his luck on Jeopardy or Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?
But memories of anything prior to his arrival at the E.R., anything of actual value, had been lost to him.
“So what’s the verdict?” he asked the neurologist.
“Well, the good news is that the MRI has ruled out a skull fracture, but you have a cerebral contusion.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a bruise on the brain tissue,” Dr. Kelso had explained. “I don’t think you need surgery at this point, but we’ll keep an eye on it. If it worsens, we may have to go in and relieve the pressure. But for now, we’ll be giving you steroids to lessen any swelling.”
“What about my memory?” he asked.
“You have retrograde amnesia.”
“How long is it going to last? When will I remember who I am?”
“It’s hard to say. The causes and symptoms of amnesia vary from patient to patient. And so does the recovery process. I’m afraid we’ll just have to wait and see what happens in your case.”
Great. “How long will I have to stay in the hospital?”
“That depends, too. I’d say at least a couple of days, maybe a week. But that could change if there are complications.”
He wondered how he was going to pay the bill. Did he have health insurance? A job?
Of course, that was the least of his problems now. As it was, he was stuck in limbo—and in Brighton Valley—until his brain healed and his memory returned.
“I’ll be back to see you later this afternoon,” Dr. Kelso said. “In the meantime, get some rest.”
There weren’t many other options, John decided, as he settled back into his pillow, hoping to find a comfortable spot. Besides the outside wounds from the tire iron, his brain was bruised. No wonder his head ached.
As he dozed off and on during the afternoon, he periodically glanced at the clock that hung on the wall across from his bed, wishing that the hours would pass quickly. Dr. Nielson had said that she’d be back around dinnertime, and he couldn’t help looking forward to her return.
Sure, she was an attractive woman, in spite of the blue scrubs she wore. He wondered what she’d look like dressed in street clothes—maybe a pair of tight jeans and a slinky blouse. A splash of makeup to highlight the color of her eyes. Her auburn curls hanging soft and loose around her shoulders.
But it was more than the redhead’s pretty face and intense green eyes that appealed to him.
As he’d watched her leave his bedside this morning, he’d felt as if he’d just lost his best friend.
