A Forever Christmas. Marie Ferrarella
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FINISHED HIS examination as well as stitching up the gash on the blonde’s forehead. His patient had remained unconscious through it all. For the time being, it was better that way for her. He was sufficiently certain that she would come around by-and-by.
Stripping off his rubber gloves and tossing them into the wastebasket, he came out into the waiting room to fill Gabe in on his findings.
“As far as I can tell, other than that gash on her forehead I had to stitch up, everything else seems all right. But I still think, just to be safe, she should get a CT scan of her head, make sure that there’s no internal bleeding that we’re overlooking.”
“Wouldn’t there be other signs if there was internal bleeding?” Gabe asked. It seemed to him that there should be, but then, that was only a guess on his part.
“Yes, but not always,” Dan told him. “Like that old saying goes, better to be safe than sorry.”
Gabe shrugged. “I’m not going to argue that, but if she doesn’t know who she is and she has no ID, she sure as hell doesn’t have any medical insurance—”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got this covered,” he assured the town’s newest deputy.
Gabe only accepted so much on faith, the rest he questioned. “How?”
Dan smiled. The man wasn’t very trusting. He could relate to that. He’d been the same way before he came to Forever, holding everything suspect until proven otherwise. It was an exhausting way to live.
“I pulled a few strings. Turns out the head of the radiology department graduated in my class the same year I did. We even threw back a few together at a handful of parties.” He saw Gabe’s frown and guessed what the man was probably thinking. “Don’t worry, this job keeps you sober.”
Gabe took the man’s word for it. “Did she wake up at all?” he asked.
Dan shook his head. “She’s still unconscious, I’m afraid.”
Gabe would have thought that the doctor would have looked a bit more concerned about that. “Shouldn’t we be worried by now?” Gabe asked.
“Not necessarily, she’s had—”
Whatever reassuring sentiment he was going to express was drowned out by the scream that pierced the air. It came from inside the exam room that Dan had just left.
“Maybe we should start worrying now,” Gabe commented as both he and Dan rushed back into the exam room.
They found the woman standing unsteadily before a mirror, her hands braced on either side of it to keep from falling to the floor. The expression reflected back appeared absolutely horrified.
Seeing the men coming in behind her, the woman turned to face them. The movement was just a tad too sudden and it threw her equilibrium—still wobbly—off. She looked as if she was about to fall, but Gabe reached her first, catching hold of her and helping her remain vertical.
Her eyes were wild as they went from the man holding on to her, to the slightly shorter man in the white lab coat. It was obvious that she was trying to place them—and couldn’t.
“Why did you scream? What’s wrong?” Gabe asked her sharply.
He’d come very close to drawing his service revolver. He had a feeling that would have frightened the blonde even more. She needed to trust him if they were ever going to get to the bottom of this.
In response to his question, the woman pointed at the image in the mirror as if she was pointing at someone she didn’t know. There was uncertainty in her voice as she asked, “That’s me, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Dan answered, his tone calm, low.
She continued staring as disbelief sank in. “I look like hell.”
“That’s because you’ve been through hell,” Gabe replied.
A shaky sigh escaped her lips. Then, unable to stand what she saw, the blonde turned away and looked at the two men who’d burst into the room, searching their faces. “What happened to me?”
“You were in a car accident,” Gabe said gently, mimicking the voice his brother Eli used when he was training the quarter horses he sold. “When I found you, your car was on the verge of going over into a ravine. You’re a very lucky woman,” he concluded.
She didn’t know about that. Tears stung her eyes, but her rising anger kept them back.
“If I’m so lucky, why can’t I remember anything?” she demanded. “Why don’t I even know my own name or who I am?”
“Hysterical amnesia,” Dan told her. Her eyes shifted toward him, waiting—hoping—for answers. Any answers. The desperation inside her needed something to hold on to. “It happens after an accident sometimes. Victims block things out until they can handle processing them.”
“Victims,” she repeated.
Was that what she was? A victim? Did she feel like a victim? she wondered, trying to examine her feelings. Nothing came to her. She honestly didn’t know. What did victims feel like?
“Am I all right?” she asked the man in the white lab jacket.
“So far,” he replied cautiously. “But Gabe is going to take you to the hospital, to make sure.”
“Gabe?” she repeated. The name meant nothing to her. Should it have? “Who’s Gabe?”
“That would be me.” Gabe raised his hand a little, drawing her attention to him as he gave her his most reassuring smile.
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