Try to Remember, page 10
“Jane.” Frank’s sharp tone brought her back and she stared at him blankly. “Are you all right?”
“Yes…yes, I’m fine.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “You’d better hurry. They’ll need you.” She walked him to the door.
“I don’t know when I’ll be home,” he said.
“It’s okay. I’ll just expect you when I see you,” Jane replied.
He nodded absently. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then hurried toward his car. She remained at the front door until he was out of sight, then she turned and went back inside.
She reached up and touched the spot where his lips had touched her. She knew the gesture had been unconscious on his part, that he probably didn’t even realize he’d done it. But he had, and for just a moment, she had felt like a wife. And for that single moment…it had been wonderful.
* * *
Frank sat in his car, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel as the dawn light crept over the horizon. He needed to go inside. He needed to get some sleep. The past twelve hours had been pure hell.
Exhaustion burned his eyes, clogged his throat. He swallowed convulsively, trying to think of something, anything other than the patients he had struggled to save.
With a deep sigh, he got out of his car and went inside, surprised to find the kitchen light on and what smelled like a fresh pot of coffee. The early-morning light streaming in the window painted the room in lush gold tones, and for a moment, Frank leaned wearily against the wall, wanting the gold light to fill him up, remove the black hole in his heart.
“Oh, there you are,” Jane said from behind him.
He whirled around, his emotions too close to the surface, his hold on them too tenuous. He didn’t want to see her. He didn’t want to have to talk to anyone at all. “What are you doing still up?” he snapped, strangely irritated by her presence.
Her eyes blinked in surprise. “I’m not ‘still’ up,” she replied calmly as she moved past him into the kitchen. She reached into the cabinet and pulled out two mugs, then filled them with coffee. “I woke up about an hour ago and let the dogs out, then realized you hadn’t come home yet. I couldn’t go back to sleep and thought perhaps when you did get home, you would appreciate some coffee.”
As she set the mugs at the table and sat down, Frank felt his anger whoosh out of him, leaving only a deep, consuming sorrow behind.
He sat down at the table and wrapped his hands around the mug, wishing the warmth would broadcast itself through his entire body.
“Bad, huh?” Jane’s gaze studied him intently and he merely nodded, not quite meeting her eyes. He was afraid that beneath the intensity of those sea-green pools, he would crumble, expose himself as weak and needy.
“Want to talk about it?” she asked softly, her hand reaching out to enfold his.
To his horror, he felt the sudden dampness of tears seeking escape. They pressed hotly behind his eyes and in desperation he stood up, bumping the table and sloshing coffee over the sides of his cup. “Damn,” he raged, grabbing for a roll of paper towels on top of the counter.
“Let me,” she said as she gently took the towels from him and cleaned up the mess.
Frank sank back into the chair and buried his face in his hands, shuddering with the effort of trying to control the emotions that threatened to erupt.
“Frank…talk to me.” Her hands touched his shoulders, lingering there to offer support, comfort. And suddenly he wanted her comfort. The grief that tore at his insides was too much to hold in. With a groan of desperation, he turned in the chair and leaned into her. Her arms enfolded him against her warmth and sweet scent and Frank allowed his tears to burn hotly down his cheeks.
He didn’t know how long she held him, not saying a word. She simply stroked his hair and held him tightly. She was his asylum against the anguish, his sanctuary against the inadequacies that mocked him. He buried his head in her midsection and surrendered completely to his grief.
Jane let him cry, touched deeply by his gut-wrenching sobs. He was a little boy needing comfort, an awkward teen needing reassurance, a man needing love. Suddenly she knew she wanted to be all…everything for him. She somehow recognized the deep despair that gripped him, recognized it and wanted to take it from him. She wanted to shoulder his pain as he had shouldered hers the night she’d found out she wasn’t really Jane Smith.
She held him until his deep sobs subsided and he finally pushed away from her. He stood up and walked across the room, his back rigidly facing her. “Three…” His voice was deep with strain and mourning. “I lost three children. It was a busload of kids on their way to the zoo. Most of them escaped serious injuries, but three of them were bad. I worked and worked, but I couldn’t save them….” His voice broke on the last word and his shoulders sagged forward.
“Frank.” She moved to stand just behind him, tugging on one of his arms to turn him around to face her. She reached up and placed her hands on either side of his face. “You’re not God. You can’t save them all.”
He stared at her with pain-filled eyes, eyes that radiated a deep soul-torment. “But they were so tiny…just beginning their lives. I…I wanted to save them so badly.”
“And you didn’t do everything possible to do that?” she asked.
“Of course, I did,” he retorted with a trace of indignation. He closed his eyes for a moment and her hands softly caressed the sides of his whisker roughened cheeks. “I did everything I possibly could.” This time his voice held a weary resignation. When he opened his eyes once again, the grief was still there, but the deep torment was gone. “I did all that was humanly possible.”
She nodded, her hands still stroking his face, wiping away the remnants of his tears. “And you are only human.”
“Yes…yes…only human.” His arms closed around her, drawing her closer, and his eyes darkened with a different emotion, one Jane recognized and welcomed.
She parted her lips as his descended downward, claiming hers in a kiss that stole her breath away. The kiss wasn’t tentative or hesitant; it was hot and demanding as his tongue flicked against hers.
His arms encircled her as if to pull her into him, through him, and she melted, loving the intimacy of his body so close to hers.
His mouth was dark magic creating tiny flames of fire as his lips nipped behind her ear, then down her neck. Jane knew it was need as much as desire that prompted his passion, the need to connect with life after the hours of fighting against death. She didn’t care what prompted the passion, she only accepted all that he offered, dropping her head back to allow him access to the hollow of her neck.
His hands moved up and down her back, evoking tingling heat within her as his mouth once again claimed hers. Jane clung to him, tangling her hands in the richness of his hair, molding her body intimately against the masculine lines of his.
As his mouth plied hers, she realized this was what she had wanted from the moment he’d taken her out of that horrid rental cottage and brought her into his home. She wanted to belong to him. She didn’t care if it was just momentary…she didn’t care if it was just in a physical manner. She wanted him to make love to her and banish the sense of isolation that clutched at her heart.
She moaned deep in the back of her throat as his hands moved from her back, around to cup the fullness of her breasts. She could feel the heat of his caress even through the light cotton blouse and the lacy bra.
“Frank…” She stepped back just enough to take one of his hands in hers. She led him through the kitchen and down the hallway toward her bedroom.
“Wait.” He hesitated just outside her door, staring at her as if he’d just resurfaced from a dream and wasn’t sure exactly where he was. “This isn’t right…we can’t do this,” he said tentatively.
“It’s okay. I…I want to.” Jane’s face flushed at her own boldness.
He smiled gently, his gaze tender. He swept a strand of her hair away from her face, then dropped his hands to his sides. “Jane, if we make love now, it will only complicate things for you. We don’t know who you are, where you’ve come from…” He paused a long moment, then added softly, “Who might be waiting for you.”
He leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly against her forehead. “Thank you for being here for me. I needed…” He paused for a moment. “You helped me through what would have been an even rougher time than it was.”
Jane nodded, disappointment welling up in her throat, but knowing the moment for abandonment had passed. He touched her cheek one last time, then with a tired sigh, he turned and disappeared into his own room, closing the door behind him.
She walked toward the kitchen, her body still tingling from his caresses, her insides still aflame from the sheer hunger in his kisses. She poured herself a cup of coffee, then stepped outside on the deck.
The sun peeked over the horizon, promising another hot, cloudless day. Another day of limbo. Another day of blankness. Frustration gnawed inside, like an insidious parasite. She needed to regain her memory. She wanted to know who she was. She wanted more than a name… She wanted the memories to go with the name.
Before she’d wanted to remember for herself, but now she wanted to remember for Frank. She knew now that if she was ever going to know the experience of making love with him, building on the attraction that sparked between them, she had to remember who she was. She absolutely had to.
CHAPTER 8
“All you need to do is push this cart into the rooms and see if any of the patients want a magazine or a book to read,” Etta Maxwell instructed Jane on Monday morning. “Mostly your job is to cheer up whoever you can.” She cast Jane a harassed smile as somebody down the hall called for her. “When you’re finished taking the book cart around, come back to me and we’ll find something else for you to do.” The older woman smiled reassuringly and patted Jane’s arm. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Most of the patients are always happy to see the magazine lady.” With a wave, Etta hurried down the hallway, her rubber-soled shoes squeaking at her brisk pace.
The “magazine lady.” Jane smiled at the official new title as she pushed the cumbersome cart down the hospital corridor. Jane Smith, the magazine lady. At least for the moment she had a definitive identity of sorts. She pushed the cart into the first room and smiled brightly at the two female patients. “Good morning,” she greeted them. “Would either of you like a magazine to read?”
“I’d like a bath…that’s what I’d like,” the older patient exclaimed peevishly. “But those doctors won’t let me do nothing…won’t even let me leave this dang-fool bed to do my private business.” She glared at Jane with faded blue eyes, as if Jane herself was personally responsible for the denial of bathroom privileges.
“I’m sure the doctors know what’s best for you,” Jane replied smoothly. “Why don’t you let me plump up those pillows behind you and find you a good magazine to read.”
“Hmm, I suppose,” the woman replied grudgingly.
As Jane rearranged the pillows, she was struck by a strange sense of déjà vu, not unlike the one that had hit her so hard when she’d bobbed atop the chair on Saturday morning. It was just a fleeting perception, leaving her bewildered as to what it meant.
It took her all morning to make the rounds of the patient rooms. Although Garett Beach Memorial Hospital was relatively small, there seemed to be a slower pace, a sort of relaxed atmosphere she hadn’t felt in a hospital before.
Had she worked in a hospital once? Had she been a nurse? No, somehow that just didn’t feel right. She was pretty sure she had no medical knowledge whatsoever.
She was still considering this observation when she shoved the magazine cart back to the storage closet where it belonged.
“So, how’s Garett Memorial’s newest and prettiest volunteer doing?”
She turned and smiled with pleasure at Frank. “Wonderful. It feels good to be doing something, even if it’s just distributing magazines to bored patients.”
“Ah, but here at Garett Memorial that’s an important job. We pride ourselves on patient morale, and work hard to make them feel pampered and important.”
“I was just thinking about that,” Jane said. “I was thinking that this seems much more friendly and slower-paced than the hospitals I’ve been in.” She smiled wistfully. “Another clue to the mystery of Jane Smith. I guess I’ve been in a hospital someplace before this one.”
“Well, I’ve come to take the mystery lady to lunch.” He grinned at her. “It’s always a good idea to have a doctor around when you eat in the hospital cafeteria.”
She laughed at his joke, relieved that she felt no awkwardness, no tension radiating from him. He’d slept most of the day yesterday, then spent the evening hours with his nose in a book. They’d ridden to the hospital together that morning, but he had been quiet, distracted, and she’d worried that somehow, some way, a line had been crossed. A line that would make it impossible to go back to the comfortable companionship they had shared before that moment of vulnerability and brief passion.
However, as he took her elbow and guided her toward the elevator, his smile was warm and relaxed, and she expelled a sigh of relief.
“You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” he observed as they rode the elevator down.
“I am. As I said, it feels good to be doing something worthwhile.”
One of his dark eyebrows danced upward. “Keeping my house in order isn’t worthwhile?”
“Yes, but this is different.” She grinned up at him. “It feels good to be doing something to help a lot of people instead of helping out just one messy doctor.”
He cast her a mock frown. “Messy doctor? I think you’ve already spent too much time around Etta. She has no respect, either.”
As they made their way down the cafeteria line, Jane started to reach for the meat loaf, but stopped as Frank shook his head. “Tastes like dog food,” he whispered, making her giggle. She reached for a bowl of Jell-O squares, laughing again as he rolled his eyes. “Colored rubber,” he announced. “Your best bet is to stick with the sandwiches and potato chips.”
“No wonder you’re always ravenous when you get home,” she teased.
“I spoke with Harry Wilton about you this morning,” he said as they sat down at one of the empty tables. “Because it’s not an emergency, he won’t be able to see you for another week or two. Since he’s been on vacation, he’s backlogged right now.”
“I’m ready whenever he is,” Jane said, disappointed that she’d have to wait that length of time to get started on any therapy that might help her remember.
“In the meantime, he had a suggestion for you. He said you should get a notebook and keep a daily log of all the isolated fragments of memory that surface.”
She nodded. “I’ll pick up a notebook from the gift shop this afternoon before I leave.”
“And Etta’s taking you home?” he asked.
“She gets off at two and said it would be no problem to drop me off at your place on the days I work.” Jane laughed suddenly.
“What’s so funny?”
“Etta. She’s quite a character. You should have seen her wrestling the nurse-call buzzer away from a patient this morning.”
Frank grinned. “I’ll bet it was the patient in room 402. He’s our resident curmudgeon. Each morning, he pushes that buzzer until Etta comes and takes it away from him.”
Although the sandwich was dry and tasteless and the chips stale, it was one of the best lunches Jane could ever remember eating, and she knew it was because of Frank.
He chattered like a man who’d been quiet for too long, telling her about his morning rounds and his favorite patients. When he grew silent, she knew he was remembering those patients he’d lost. It thrilled her just a little, the fact that she was growing to know him well enough to read his thoughts, his silences.
“You’ve got to remember all those you save,” she said softly.
He looked at her in surprise, then nodded in agreement. As he launched into another humorous tale, she smiled, enjoying the animation of his face as he shared his experiences.
Again she thought of what a waste it was that he had chosen to live his life alone, without a soul mate.
What had happened that had prompted him to make that particular decision? What event in his past had caused him to close himself off to the notion of love and marriage? But he has reached out once, she reminded herself. He’d reached out to Gloria and something had happened, something that made him decide never to try again.
And yet, as she thought of the previous morning, when his kiss had burned her lips, when she’d seen the desire in his eyes, she knew that he’d been reaching out for her. It was only fear of what she didn’t know that had kept him rational and in control.
If only she had her memories back, and if only those memories had nothing in them to keep her and Frank from being together. If only…
“Jane? Are you remembering something?”
“No.” She flushed, grateful that he wasn’t a mind reader. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I just zoned out for a moment.”
“I’m probably boring you to death!” Frank exclaimed.
“Oh, no,” she hurriedly protested. “You could never, ever bore me to death.” She reached over and enfolded his hand in hers. “I love to listen to you, no matter what you’re talking about.”
For a moment, their gazes remained locked, and Jane had a feeling their hearts were somehow saying what their lips weren’t ready to.
He broke the eye contact and pulled his hand away, and once again she realized whatever it was that kept Frank’s heart guarded hadn’t diminished in strength. “We’d better get you back or Etta will have me arrested for kidnapping her new help.”
Together they left the cafeteria and walked back toward the elevator. “What’s Etta got you doing this afternoon?”
“She said something about going over to pediatrics and reading some stories to the kids.”
“You should enjoy that.” He paused at the elevator door. “I’ve got to go down to the lab. I’ll see you at the house this evening.” As she disappeared into the elevator, he turned and walked toward the lab, trying to ignore the warmth that still tingled in his hand from where she had held it.
