White Lies Page 6

  “I’m Jay,” she said gently. “Your ex-wife.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  HE WAS VERY STILL. Jay had the impression that she could feel him withdrawing, though he didn’t move a muscle. A surprisingly sharp pain bloomed inside, and she chided herself for it. What had she expected? He couldn’t get up and hug her, he couldn’t speak, and he was probably exhausted. She knew all that, yet she still had the feeling that he was pulling back from her. Did he resent being so dependent on her? Steve had always been aloof in a curious sort of way, holding people away from him. Or maybe he resented the fact that she was here with him now, rather than some impersonal nurse. After all, a certain degree of independence remained when the service was detached, done because it was a job. Personal service carried a price that couldn’t be paid in dollars, and Steve wouldn’t like that.

  She schooled her voice to a calmness she didn’t feel. “Do you have any more questions?”

  Two twitches. No.

  She had been pushed away so many times that she recognized it now, even as subtle and unspoken as the message was. It hurt. She closed her eyes, fighting for the control that would let her speak again. It was a moment before she managed it. “Do you want me to stay in here with you?”

  He was still for a long moment. Then his arm twitched. And twitched again. No.

  “All right. I won’t bother you again.” Her control was shot, her voice thin and taut. She didn’t wait to see if he made any response, but turned and walked out. She felt almost sick. Even now, it was an effort to walk out and leave him alone. She wanted to stay with him, protect him, fight for him. God, she would even take his pain on herself if she could. But he didn’t want her. He didn’t need her. She had been right all along in thinking that he wouldn’t appreciate her efforts on his behalf, but the pull she thought she had felt between them had been so strong that she had ignored her own good sense and let Frank talk her into staying.

  Well, at least she should let Frank know that her sojourn here was over, and that she would be leaving. Her problems hadn’t changed; she still had to find a new job. Digging a coin out of her purse, she found a pay phone and called the number Frank had given her. He hadn’t spent as much time at the hospital these past two days as he had before; in fact, he hadn’t been there at all that day.

  He answered promptly, and hearing his calm voice helped. “This is Jay. I wanted you to know that my job is over. Steve doesn’t want me to stay with him anymore.”

  “What?” He sounded startled. “How do you know?”

  “He told me.”

  “How in blue blazes did he do that? He can’t talk, and he can’t write. Major Lunning said he should still be pretty confused, anyway.”

  “He’s a lot better this morning. We worked out a system,” she explained tiredly. “I recite the alphabet, and he signals with his arm when I get to the letter he wants. He can spell out words and answer questions. One twitch means ‘Yes’ and two twitches means ‘No.’”

  “Have you told Major Lunning?” Frank asked sharply.

  “No, I haven’t seen him. I just wanted to let you know that Steve doesn’t want me with him.”

  “Have Lunning paged. I want to talk to him. Now.”

  For such a pleasant man, Frank could be commanding when he chose, Jay thought as she went to the nurses’ station and requested that Major Lunning be paged. It was five minutes before he appeared, looking tired and rumpled, and dressed in surgicals. He listened to Jay, then, without a word, walked to the pay phone and talked quietly to Frank. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but when he hung up he called a nurse and went directly into Steve’s room.

  Jay waited in the hallway, struggling to handle her feelings. Though she knew Steve and had expected this, it still hurt. It hurt more now than it had when they had divorced. She felt oddly…betrayed, and bereft, as if she had lost part of herself, and she hadn’t felt that way before. She hadn’t felt so strongly connected to him before. Well, this was just another classic example of her own intensity leading her to read things into a situation that simply weren’t there. Would she ever learn?

  Major Lunning was in Steve’s room a long time, and a phalanx of nurses came and went. Within half an hour Frank arrived, his face taut and set. He squeezed Jay’s arm comfortingly as he went past, but he didn’t stop to talk. He, too, disappeared into Steve’s room, as if something dreadfully important were going on in there.

  Jay moved to the visitors’ lounge, sitting quietly with her hands folded in her lap while she tried to plan what she should do next. Return to New York, obviously, and get a job. But the idea of hurling herself back into the business world left her cold. She didn’t want to go back. She didn’t want to leave Steve. Even now, she didn’t want to leave him.

  Almost an hour later Frank found her in the lounge. He looked at her sharply before going to the coffee machine and buying two cups. Jay looked up and managed a smile for him as he approached. “Do I really look as if I need that?” she asked wryly, nodding toward the coffee.

  He extended a cup toward her. “I know. It tastes worse than it looks. Drink it anyway. If you don’t need it now, you will in a minute.”

  She took the cup and sipped the hot liquid, grimacing at the taste. It was a mystery how anyone could take simple water and coffee and make them taste so horrible. “Why will I need it in a minute? It’s over, isn’t it? Steve told me to go away. It’s obvious that he doesn’t want me here, so my presence will only upset him and slow his recovery.”

  “It isn’t over,” Frank said, looking down at his own coffee, and his flat tone made Jay look at him sharply. He looked haggard, with worry etching new lines into his face.

  A cold chill ran down her spine and she sat up straight. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Has he relapsed?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “He doesn’t remember,” Frank said simply. “Anything. He has amnesia.”

  FRANK HAD BEEN RIGHT; she did need the coffee. She drank that cup, then got another one. Her head was reeling, and she felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. “What else can go wrong?” she asked, talking mostly to herself, but Frank knew what she meant.

  He sighed. They hadn’t counted on this. They had needed him awake, able to talk, able to understand what needed to be done. This latest development had thrown a monkey wrench into the whole plan. He didn’t even know who he was! How could he protect himself if he didn’t know who he had to be on guard against? He couldn’t recognize friends or enemies.

  “He’s been asking for you,” Frank said, taking her hand. She started, already rising to her feet, but he tugged on her hand and she sank back into her chair. “We’ve been asking him a lot of questions,” he continued. “We used your system, though it takes a while. When you told him you were his ex-wife, it confused him, scared him. He couldn’t remember you, and he didn’t know what to do. Remember, he’s still easily confused. It’s hard for him to concentrate, though he’s getting better fast.”

  “Are you certain he’s asking for me?” Jay asked, her heart pounding. Out of everything he had said, her emotions had centered on his first sentence.

  “Yes. He spelled out your name over and over.”

  The instinct to go to him was so strong it was almost painful. She forced herself to sit still, to understand more. “He has total amnesia? He doesn’t remember anything?”

  “He doesn’t even know his own name.” Frank sighed again, a heavy sound. “He doesn’t remember anything about the explosion or why he was there. Nothing. A total blank. Damn it!” The last expressed his helpless frustration.

  “What does Major Lunning think?”

  “He said total amnesia is extremely rare. More often it’s a sort of spot amnesia that blocks out the accident itself and anything that happened a short while before it. With the head trauma Steve suffered, amnesia wasn’t that unexpected, but this…” He made a helpless gesture.

  She tried to think
of what she had read about amnesia, but all that came to mind was the dramatic use often made of it on soap operas. Invariably the amnesiac recovered his full memory during a highly dramatic moment, just in time to prevent a murder or keep from being murdered himself. It was good melodrama, but that was all it was.

  “Will he regain his memory?”

  “Probably. Part of it, at least. There’s no way to be certain. It might start coming back almost immediately, or it could take months before he begins remembering anything. Major Lunning said that his memory will come back in bits and pieces, usually the oldest memories first.”

  Might. Probably. Could. Usually. What it all added up to was that they simply didn’t know. In the meantime Steve lay in his bed, unable to talk, unable to see, unable to move. All he could do was hear and think. What would it be like to be so cut adrift from everything familiar, even himself? He had no point of reference for anything. The thought of the inner terror he must be feeling squeezed her heart.

  “Are you still willing to stay?” Frank asked, his clear eyes filled with concern. “Knowing that it might take months or even years?”

  “Years?” she echoed faintly. “But you only wanted me to stay until the surgery on his eyes was completed.”

  “We didn’t know then that he wouldn’t remember anything. Major Lunning said that being around familiar things and people would help stimulate his memory, give him a feeling of stability.”

  “You want me to stay until he regains his memory,” Jay stated, putting it into words. The idea frightened her. The longer she stayed with Steve, the more strongly she reacted to him. What would happen to her if she fell in love with him far more deeply than she had the first time, only to lose him again when he returned to his footloose life? She was afraid that she already cared too much to simply walk away. How could she walk away when he needed her?

  “He needs you,” Frank said, echoing her thoughts. “He’s asking for you. He responds to you so strongly that he keeps confounding Major Lunning’s predictions. And we need you, Jay. We need you to help him in any way you can, because we need to know what he knows.”

  “If sentiment won’t get me, try patriotism?” she asked tiredly, leaning her head back against the padded orange vinyl chair. “It wasn’t necessary. I won’t leave him. I don’t know what’s going to happen, or how we’ll handle it if he doesn’t get his memory back soon, but I won’t leave him.”

  She got up and walked out, and Frank sat there for a moment staring at the cup still in his hands. From what she’d just said, he knew that Jay sensed she was being manipulated, but she was willing to let them do it because Steve was so important to her. He had to talk to the Man about this latest development, and he wondered what would happen. They had counted on Steve’s willing participation, on his talents and skills. Now they had to let him walk out on the streets as helpless as a baby because he couldn’t recognize the dangers, or take the risk of telling him things that could set back his recovery. Major Lunning had been adamant that upsetting him would be the worst thing they could do. He needed quiet and tranquillity, a stable emotional base; his memory would return faster under those conditions. No matter what decision the Man reached, Steve was at risk. And if Steve was at risk, so was Jay.

  IT WAS HARD for Jay to enter Steve’s room after the emotional battering she had taken. She needed time to get herself under control, but she felt the pull between them again; it was growing so strong she no longer had to be in the room with him, touching him. He needed her right now, far more than she needed time. She opened the door and felt his attention center on her, though not even his head moved. It was as if he were holding his breath.

  “I’m back,” she said quietly, walking to his bed and putting her hand on his arm. “It seems I can’t stay away.”

  His arm twitched urgently, several times, and she got the message. “All right,” she said, and began reciting the alphabet.

  Sorry.

  What could she say? Deny that she’d been upset? He would know better. He felt the pull just as she did, because he was on the other end of that invisible rope. He turned his face slightly toward her, his bruised lips parted as he waited for her answer.

  “It’s all right,” she said. “I didn’t realize what a shock I had just given you.”

  Yes.

  It was odd how much expression he could put in a single motion, but she felt his wryness and sensed that he was still shocked. Shocked, but in control. His control was astounding.

  She began spelling again.

  Afraid.

  The admission hit her hard; it was something the old Steve never would have admitted, but the man he had become was so much stronger that he could admit it and lose nothing of his strength. “I know, but I’ll stay with you as long as you want me,” she promised.

  What happened? He made it a question by a slight upward movement of his arm.

  Keeping her voice calm, Jay told him about the explosion but didn’t give him any of the details. Let him think that he’d simply been in an accident.

  Eyes?

  So he hadn’t understood everything she’d told him before and needed reassuring. “You’ll have more surgery on your eyes, but the prognosis is good. You’ll see again, I promise.”

  Paralyzed?

  “No! You’ve broken both legs and they’re in casts. That’s why you can’t move them.”

  Toes.

  “Your toes?” she asked in bewilderment. “They’re still there.”

  His lips moved in a very slight, painful smile. Touch them.

  She bit her lip. “Okay.” He wanted her to touch his toes so he’d know he still had feeling in them, as a reassurance that he wasn’t paralyzed. She walked to the foot of the bed and firmly folded her hands over his bare toes, letting his cool flesh absorb the heat from her palms. Then she returned to his side and touched his arm. “Did you feel that?”

  Yes. Again he gave that painful fraction of a smile.

  “Anything else?”

  Hands.

  “They’re burned, and in bandages, but they’re not third-degree burns. Your hands will be fine.”

  Chest. Hurts.

  “You have a collapsed lung, and a tube in your chest. Don’t do any tossing around.”

  Funny.

  She laughed. “I didn’t know anyone could be silent and sarcastic at the same time.”

  Throat.

  “You have a trach tube because you weren’t breathing well.”

  Face broken?

  She sighed. He wanted to know, not be protected. “Yes, some bones in your face were broken. You aren’t disfigured, but the swelling made it hard for you to breathe. As soon as the swelling goes down, they’ll take the trach tube out.”

  Lift the sheet and check my—

  “I will not!” she said indignantly, halting her spelling when she realized where his words were heading. Then she had to laugh because he actually managed to look impatient. “Everything is still there, believe me.”

  Functional?

  “You’ll have to find that out on your own!”

  Prissy.

  “I’m not prissy, and you behave or I’ll have a nurse change your tube. Then you’ll find out the hard way what you want to know.” As soon as she said the words she felt herself blushing, and it didn’t help that he was smiling again. She hadn’t meant to sound the way she had.

  The effort of concentrating for so long had tired him, and after a minute he spelled Sleep.

  “I didn’t mean to tire you out,” she murmured. “Go to sleep.”

  Stay?

  “Yes, I’m staying. I won’t go back to my apartment without telling you.” Her throat felt thick at his need for reassurance, and she stood by the bed with her hand on his arm until his breathing changed into the deep, steady rhythm of sleep.

  Even then she was reluctant to take her hand away, and she stood beside him for a long time. A smile kept curving her lips. His personality was so strong that it came through despite
his limited means of communication. He wanted the truth about his condition, not vague promises or medical double-talk. He might not know his name, but that hadn’t changed the man he was. He was strong, much stronger than he had been before. Whatever had happened to him in the past five years had tempered him, like steel subjected to the hottest fires. He was harder, stronger, tougher, his willpower so fierce it was like an energy field emanating from him. Oh, he had been a charming rascal before, devilishly reckless and daring, with a glint in his eye that had turned many feminine heads. But now he was…dangerous.

  The word startled her, but when she examined it, she realized that it described exactly the man he had become. He was a dangerous man. She didn’t feel threatened by him, but danger didn’t necessarily constitute a threat. He was dangerous because of his steely, implacable will; when this man decided to do something, it wasn’t safe to get in his way. At some time in the past five years, something had drastically changed him and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what it was. It must have been something cataclysmic, something awful, to have so focused his character and determination. It was as if he had been stripped down to the bare essentials of human existence, forced to discard all his personality traits that weren’t necessary to survival and adopt new ones that were. What was left was hard and pure, unbreakable and curiously resilient. This was a man who wouldn’t admit defeat; he didn’t know what it was.

  Her heart was beating heavily as she stood looking down at him, her attention so focused on him that they might have been the only two people in the world. He awed her, and he attracted her so strongly that she jerked her hand away from his arm as soon as the thought formed. Dear God! She would be a fool to let herself get caught in that trap again. Even more now than before, Steve was essentially alone, his personality so honed that he was complete unto himself. She had walked away relatively unscathed before, but what would happen to her this time if she let herself care too much? She felt scared, not only because she was teetering on the edge of heartbreak, but because she was even daring to think of getting too close to him. It was like watching a panther in a cage, standing outside the bars and knowing you were safe, but feeling the danger that was barely restrained.