afraid."
Dr. Fitapaldi nodded and she led him into the room to Nicholas' bedside. She saw the look of shock that flashed over the doctor's face before he had a chance to dissemble, and her newborn hope faded. Nicholas' face was ashy gray and wreathed in shadows as if death already sighed its cold breath upon it. She mourned the lost animated intensity of his eyes and the crinkle of his smile, and Trissa's stomach ached with unshed tears, restrained by her effort to be brave. "He doesn't look like himself."
"Has he said any intelligible words?"
"Yes, but only in dreams." She stroked the back of her finger on his cheek and spoke softly to him. "Nicholas, an old friend is here to see you."
"May I speak to him?" Fitapaldi asked.
"Yes, of course." She started to step back but he motioned to her to stay where she was and to continue to touch his cheek as she did.
"Cole Brewer. Cole, it is Dr. Fitapaldi. I received your letter. Do you hear me, Cole Brewer?"
"Dr. Edmonds said his hearing might be impaired by the blow," Trissa said.
"Perhaps, but I think he hears us. Watch." He came closer and leaned in so that his face was inches away from Nicholas. His voice was a shade above a whisper when he spoke again. "Cole Brewer, you surprise me with the pretty girl you have found here. Must you leave her so sad and lonely? It is not like you to be so heartless, Cole Brewer."
Trissa gasped when she saw Nicholas knit his brow, a faint and fleeting frown. "Nicholas?"
"Call him Cole. Keep your voice clear and strong."
"C-Cole? It's Trissa. I miss you so..." She jumped when his eyes flickered, almost opening.
"Say it. Say his name again."
"Cole Brewer, please."
As if he were fighting her summoning him back to life, his breath became ragged and there was a soft groan of pain deep in his throat. His frown deepened and his eyes were squinted shut so tightly that deep wrinkles creased the corners. She clasped his hand locking their thumbs. "Cole Brewer."
"Turn off the light," Dr. Fitapaldi instructed Augusta. When the room was cast in only the cold, afternoon light from the north-facing window, Nicholas' frown eased and his breathing became more regular. Slowly, he raised his eyelids and looked at her. But his eyes were bewildered, lost. He straightened his fingers and slid his hand from her grip, looking beyond her to Fitapaldi.
"Doctor, is it my father?" he asked.
"No change, Cole."
Nicholas nodded and closed his eyes again.
Augusta put her arm around Trissa and led her away from the bed. "He didn't know me."
"Honey, he's had a shock. We almost lost him. He needs time."
"He doesn't remember me."
"That is very likely, Mrs. Brewer. Do you know his history?"
"History? I... no."
"Then I think we need to talk. May I take you to dinner?"
"But I can't leave."
"Roger and I will stay, dear."
"Perhaps, Mrs. Blackburn, you should come along as well. It is a hard story to hear. Mrs. Brewer may need the comfort of a friend to see her through it."
Trissa swallowed the hard knot of fear that rose in her throat. "What is wrong with him, Doctor? Will he ever remember me? Why does it seem he doesn't recognize his own name? I've always called him Nicholas."
"You must hear my story, Mrs. Brewer. Please."
Trissa refused to leave the hospital, so they wound up in the cafeteria. Roger stayed up in the room with specific instructions to call for them if there was any change at all. They got coffee and sandwiches, so, along with the goodies Ruth had sent, they had a fine meal before them. Trissa ate next to nothing. Fitapaldi insisted on hearing how Trissa and Nicholas had met and married. Trissa calmly told him the story she and Nicholas had composed.
"Nicholas works in a camera shop on the corner where I used to transfer busses on my way home from school. Sometimes I'd stop in and talk about the cameras. I never had one of my own. Nicholas offered to loan me one and teach me how to use it. One thing led to another and we just decided to get married."
"You're still in school?"
"Yes, I'm a freshman at St. Louis University. I wanted to quit. I have a partial scholarship, but there are still expenses. But Nicholas wouldn't let me. He helps me study. Everybody at home does, and I'm doing better now than I ever did before."
"How old are you, Trissa?"
"Eighteen."
"What about your