A Forever Christmas - By Marie Ferrarella Page 0,17
utilize the services of the hospital located in that town.
This time Gabe decided to just leave a vague response to her query but it was Angel who spoke up. “I don’t know who I am.”
To their surprise, Miss Joan took the response in stride. She merely nodded and chuckled. “A lot of that going around, darlin’,” she assured Angel. “Don’t let it worry you.”
The woman probably meant something of the ordinary variety, Angel thought, like a person trying to “find” themselves. She wished that was her problem instead of the one she faced.
“No, I don’t remember anything.”
Miss Joan thought of the memories that crowded her brain, as well as a couple in particular that had, until her recent marriage, haunted her nights.
An enigmatic smile played on her thin lips. “Sometimes, honey, it’s better that way.”
That same strange chill slid down Angel’s back, as if in response—and agreement—to what the outgoing woman had just said.
Now what did that mean? Angel couldn’t help wondering.
Chapter Five
“So, according to the CT scan, there’s no damage?” Gabe asked Dr. Thom Holliman, the tall, imposing radiologist.
He and Angel had been at Pine Ridge Memorial Hospital for the better part of the day, during which time she’d been seen by a neurologist and had undergone several tests, the last of which had been a head CT scan.
As a favor to Dan, who had gone to medical school with the radiologist, Dr. Holliman had put a rush on the CT scan and had then personally interpreted the findings—or as it turned out, lack thereof.
Dr. Holliman shook his head, an action which caused his thick, dark brown hair to fall into his piercing dark blue eyes.
“No swelling, no indication of any bruising, or bleeding,” the physician replied matter-of-factly. “Just that bump she sustained when she hit her head on the steering wheel, was it?”
The last was a question, since Holliman had just skimmed over the details of the car accident. Gabe had been the one to fill in the description because Angel still had no recollection of what had happened just prior to her temporarily regaining consciousness in Gabe’s vehicle.
“Steering wheel,” Gabe confirmed. The air bag hadn’t deployed on impact, leaving Angel even more vulnerable. Luckily she hadn’t sustained any more damages than she did. “So that’s it?” he pressed the radiologist, repeating, “No damage?”
“You sound disappointed,” Dr. Holliman observed. “Most people see this as good news.”
Gabe didn’t want the doctor to misunderstand. “It is, but—”
Gabe got no further in his explanation. Angel spoke up, interrupting him.
“If there’s no sign of any injury to my brain, why can’t I remember anything?” she asked. “Why can’t I at least remember my own name?”
“You do remember some things,” Dr. Holliman pointed out.
How could he say that? Her mind was as blank as a white sheet of paper.
“Like what?” Angel asked.
“Like all those things that you do automatically and take for granted.” The skeptical look on her face had him elaborating. “How to walk, how to talk, how to dress yourself—those are all skills that, had you had a brain injury, you might not recall how to do. As for your recollection of who you are—”
She wanted the doctor to understand the full magnitude of the problem. It wasn’t just her name. “And where I came from. Who my parents are and the thousand and one other details that go into forming memories as well as filling up my life. I don’t remember any of that,” she stressed.
Dr. Holliman inclined his head indulgently. “As to that, it could all very well be a matter of hysterical amnesia.”
The assessment felt like a put-down to her. “I’m not hysterical,” she told him, doing her best to sound calm, although it was getting more and more difficult for her. There was a wall of panic just beyond her calm facade. “I’m just empty. Completely empty.”
The description was both a statement and a plea, the latter addressing the fact that she desperately needed something to help her find a way to regain what she had lost.
As Dr. Holliman stood regarding her thoughtfully, neither he nor Angel noticed that Gabe had taken a few steps back from them.
The next moment, Gabe called out, “Hey, Angel, catch.” As he voiced the instruction, he tossed a small ball of aluminum foil toward her. The foil came from the take-out lunch he’d gotten at Miss Joan’s diner and brought with him on the trip to the hospital. He hadn’t realized until a couple of minutes ago that after balling it