Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Out by the nurses’ station, Matt was thinking about the moral dilemma that was tearing at him. Because he was very conscious of the sexual awareness between himself and Elizabeth Doe, he should stay away from her. But at the same time, how could he refuse to help her?
Mrs. Kramer came down the hall, her strides purposeful, and he looked up questioningly when he found her standing in front of him.
“Yes?”
“Do you get the feeling that Elizabeth is in some kind of trouble?” she asked. “I mean not just the memory loss.”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps she was fleeing from someone. There was a report of a man dragging her out of her car at the accident scene. Maybe he took her purse.”
Matt nodded.
“Would it be all right, do you think, if I didn’t tell anyone that I was taking her home with me? Well, I mean, anyone besides you.”
As he thought about that, he felt his stomach muscles tighten. He wanted to find out what was going on with Elizabeth. He wanted to help her get her life straightened out, but ethically, he had a big problem. And now Kramer was asking him to make decisions for the patient.
“If someone is looking for her, wouldn’t that make it harder to locate her?” he said.
“But I think it’s likely to be the wrong kind of person, and it might be better for them not to find her.”
“Or it could be her husband, frantic for information.”
“You think she’s married?” Kramer asked.
“No,” he answered immediately, then tried to assess his firm conviction. His certainty came from her mind, but he couldn’t tell that to Kramer. Instead, he said, “No ring.”
As the nurse nodded, he took his private speculation a step further. The best he could figure was that he hadn’t gotten any hint of a husband from her memories. Or any hint of a current relationship. Just from that brief trip into her mind, he thought that she was like him—disconnected from any meaningful relationship. Only for a few moments, the two of them had connected in a way he’d never thought possible for himself. Or anyone else.
He clenched his teeth.
“Is something wrong?” Kramer asked.
Quickly, he rearranged his features. “No.”
“You look tense.”
He wished she hadn’t noticed.
When he didn’t speak, the nurse said, “I’ll let you know how she’s doing.”
“Thanks.”
He cared about how Elizabeth was doingmore than he should, but he couldn’t admit it or anything else that would give away the out-of-kilter personal involvement that had flared between them. He turned and left the ward before Elizabeth came out, and he did something he knew he shouldn’t—like touch her again.
Although thinking about it made his nerve endings tingle, he ignored the sensation as he headed for the other end of the hall.
Polly Kramer watched Dr. Delano stride off. She could tell he was trying to react on a strictly professional level, but he wasn’t succeeding. Which was interesting. Since he’d come to Memorial Hospital, she’d thought of him as closed up. Maybe even a cold fish. But something about the woman with no memory had created a change in him. He seemed to care about her, although he was trying not to show it. He probably thought thatany personal feelings about Elizabeth were inappropriate. But was there some way to change that? He’d been cautious of involvement with her because she was a patient. But she wouldn’t be a patient after she left the hospital.
Polly smiled to herself. Here she went again, trying to match people up. But she’d been so happy in her marriage. And she wanted the same thing for other young couples.
A voice broke into her thoughts. It was Cynthia Price, one of the other nurses on the floor.
“I couldn’t help overhearing you and the doctor talking. Are you really taking that Jane Doe woman home with you?” Price asked. She was a slender brunette in her mid-thirties, and as far as Polly could tell, she had the right nursing skills, but she didn’t have much empathy for the patients.
“Yes.”
Polly’s colleague fiddled with the ballpoint pen she was holding. “I don’t like to interfere, but isn’t that taking a chance?”
“What do you mean?”
“She could be …” the woman raised a shoulder. “She could be a thief, or lord knows what.”
“I think I’m a good judge of character, and I don’t believe she’s a thief or a murderer. But Dr. Delano and I both have the idea she’s in some kind of trouble.”
“Yes, I heard you discussing it. What do you think it is?”
“When she gets her memory back, we’ll know.” She paused for a second. “I think it would be better if you don’t tell anyone she left with me.”
Cynthia considered the request. “What if her family comes looking for her or something? What if they’re worried sick about her?”
Polly thought for a moment. “Don’t tell anyone where she’s gone, but get their name and number and call me.”
“You sound like a character in a spy novel.”
Polly laughed. “I’m being cautious is all.”
The conversation was interrupted when she saw Elizabeth look out of her room toward them.
“Here she comes now. Thanks for your help,” Polly said, wondering if she could rely on Cynthia’s discretion.
Elizabeth looked into the hall. Once again, she’d been hoping to see Dr. Delano. He wasn’t there, and she was annoyed with herself for fixating on him and for feeling disappointed. But that was logical, she told herself. He’d been the only link to her past, although in a pretty strange way. Deliberately, she ordered herself not to dwell on the rest of it.
Polly Kramer smiled as Elizabeth came down the hall.
“How are you feeling?”
“Physically, okay.”
“Good. Let’s leave.”
“Mrs. Kramer.”
“Please call me Polly.”
“Polly, I appreciate what you’re doing for me.”
“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t feel good about it myself.”
As they stepped into the elevator together, she gave Elizabeth a studied glance. “You look very professional.”
“I was thinking the same thing. I’m wearing a very buttoned-up outfit.”
“You obviously have a job that requires a polished appearance.”
“The shoes are a little dowdy.”
“They’re practical.”
“What do you think I do for a living?”
“You could be a lawyer.”
Elizabeth contemplated the answer. “Perhaps.”
“What do you think.”
“A teacher would be closer, but that doesn’t quite work for me, either.”
As they walked out the staff door, Polly said, “Your outfit gives you the look of authority, but it isn’t exactly comfortable for relaxing. I was thinking we could stop at a discount department store, and you could pick up a few things.”
Elizabeth felt her chest tighten. A line from a play leaped into her head. Something about relying on the kindness of strangers. “I don’t have any cash, and I’m already imposing on you by staying at your house.”
“Nonsense.”
“I hate the idea of your spending any money on me.”
As they reached a silver Ford Focus, Polly made a tsking sound. “I’d feel like I was abandoning you if I just left you twisting in the wind.”
“Do you take in stray dogs and cats, too?”
Her companion laughed. “No. I’m more people-oriented.”
They stopped at the automatic gate where Polly inserted her card, then drove out of the hospital parking lot.
“Does any of this look familiar?” she asked.
“I’m not seeing anything that jumps out at me,” Elizabeth answered.
“Well, let’s try something more specific.” A few minutes later, she pulled into a suburban shopping center and led Elizabeth inside the anchor department store, where they picked up a cart. “I thought we’d try the drugstore section. Why don’t you walk around and see if you can spot products you might have used.”
Elizabeth gave her a grateful look. “That’s a fantastic idea. Thanks.” She grabbed a cart and began wheeling it up and down aisles, where she spotted a brand of makeup that attracted her attention. Also shampoo and deodorant.
“We need to keep track of what I spend, so I can pay you back,” she said again.
“If that makes you feel more comfortable.”
“Of course it does.”
Elizabeth bought lipstick and moisturizer, as well as the shampoo and deodorant she’d spotted earlier. “Did it look like I had on much makeup when I came in?” she asked.
“Maybe a little eye shadow.”
She bought a packet that had a couple of shades of grey. “Fifty Shades,” she muttered.
“What?”
“Isn’t there a famous book called Fifty Shades of Grey ?”
Mrs. Kramer laughed. “More like infamous than famous.”
“Why?”
The older woman flushed. “I believe it’s some kind of sex thing.”
“Oh. I guess I didn’t read it.”
“Neither did I. I’m just repeating what I heard.” Polly changed the subject quickly. “Let’s go look at the casual clothing.”
Elizabeth might have protested about spending more money on herself, but she wasn’t going to be borrowing any of the other woman’s shorter and wider clothing.
Maybe Polly was following her thoughts because she said, “I have some big old tee shirts you could use to sleep in.”
“Good. One less thing I need to worry about,” she answered, thinking that this was certainly a surreal experience—although it didn’t quite come up to the standard of touching Matthew Delano and getting into his mind. Or the other part—the sexual part.
Trying to put that out of her thoughts, she hurried to the ladies’ department, where she found shelves full of inexpensive tee shirts. She selected three—deep blue, turquoise and purple.
“Perfect for your hair and skin,” Mrs. Kramer approved.
“I guess I know my colors.”
She shuffled through the piles and pulled out size eights, which turned out to fit her well, along with a pair of jeans and a three-pack of panties, figuring she could wash them every other day. And the bra she had on would be fine.
“Get some socks and tennis shoes,” her guardian angel advised.
Again, she felt her stomach clench at the idea of spending someone else’s money so freely, but she couldn’t think of an alternative.
On the way home, Polly Kramer pulled into the parking lot of a local grocery store. “What do you want to eat?” she asked.
Another memory test.
“Will you let me do the cooking?”
“If you’re not too tired.”
She bought ground beef, canned kidney beans, andsalsa, pleased that she could come up with a set of ingredients that made sense. “Do you have onions, chili powder and cumin?”
“I believe I do.”
“Then I’ll make us chili.”
“Do you need a recipe?”
She thought about what would be involved in making the dish. “No, I can do it.”
“You like to cook?”
“I think so.”
“One more thing you know,” Mrs. Kramer approved.
Elizabeth nodded. It was like playing a game where she didn’t quite know the rules. But some of them came back to her—basically what she considered ordinary things. Or general things. The part that had to deal specifically with her own life remained a mystery.
As they drove to Polly Kramer’s house, she kept looking behind her.
“Is something wrong, dear?” the older woman asked.
“I can’t shake the idea that somebody is following me.”
“Do you see anyone you recognize?”
She sighed. “No. I’m just nervous about it.” She didn’t want to say that when she’d touched Matthew Delano, she’d gotten a memory of someone following her and that trying to get away had caused her automobile accident.
They pulled into Polly Kramer’s driveway.
She lived in a red-brick rancher in a close-in suburb, probably built in the nineteen fifties, Elizabeth thought, wondering how she’d placed it in time. There was a low chain-link fence around a half-acre yard and a carport instead of a garage.
“My husband and I bought this property thinking it was a starter house, but we ended up staying here,” she related as they pulled into the driveway.
“Is he home?” Elizabeth asked, looking around for another car.
“He died a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s one of the reasons I’d love to have some company. The place isn’t all that big, but sometimes I feel like I’m rattling around inside.”
“I understand,” she said automatically. Because of personal knowledge of loss, she wondered. Or because she was good at getting in touch with people’s emotions? Which would be strange if she basically felt disconnected from everybody.
“Dan was an engineer. He made a good living and had a good pension, which I still collect most of. We paid off the mortgage years ago. I don’t really have to work at the hospital, but I like the contact with people. So don’t worry about my paying for the few things you need. We’ll get it sorted out later.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth answered, overwhelmed by the kindness of this woman she barely knew. Was she the type of person who would do the same thing for a stranger? And was that how she’d gotten in trouble? The question stopped her, and she thought she caught the edge of a memory, but she wasn’t able to pull it into her mind.
“You come in and get settled,” Polly was saying. “You probably want to rest a while, and there’s no need to start dinner for a couple of hours.”
Elizabeth nodded. In fact, the brief shopping trip had taken a lot out of her.
Polly showed her through a living room furnished in a comfortable contemporary style to a pleasant bedroom in the back of the house. “I keep the sheets fresh,” she said. “Go on and lie down for a while.”
“You’re sure you don’t need help putting the groceries away.”
“We only got a few things. You just relax.”
“Thank you.” Elizabeth took off her slacks, jacket, and shoes and lay down, thinking she’d get up in a few minutes.
Matthew Delano struggled with a feeling of guilt that hung over him as he finished making his rounds. He then went down to the office on the first floor, where he entered some information into the computerized patients’ charts. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he saw patients in the hospital clinic, but he had the afternoon free today. And he couldn’t stop thinking about Elizabeth Doe.
She was in trouble, and he’d walked away from her because he was uncomfortable with the sexual heat that had flared between them when he’d touched her. But he felt like a bastard for abandoning her when she wasn’t in any kind of shape to fend for herself.
He’d told himself it was unethical to spend time with her once she was discharged from the hospital, but ethics cut both ways. What if something terrible happened to her, and he could have prevented it by helping her bring back the memories she needed?
He was silently debating what to do when a knock on his office door interrupted him.
“Come in,” he called.
A man wearing dark slacks and a navy sweater over a white dress shirt stepped into the office. He looked to be in his late twenties, and he had broad shoulders, a muscular build, and large, dangerous-looking hands. His face wasn’t particularly remarkable, although perhaps he had broken his nose sometime in the past. The overall impression he gave was negative, although Matt couldn’t exactly explain why. Just as he’d gotten the feeling that Elizabeth Doe was a good person, he sensed that this guy was “bad,” even with no facts to back that up.
The guy looked like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, only there was something behind his eyes that told Matt his mood could turn deadly in an instant. “Dr. Delano?”
“Yes,” he said, still sizing up the man.
“I’m Bob Wilson. I understand you saw a patient with amnesia?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss my patients.”
“Yes, of course. I understand completely. But I think she might be my sister.”
“Why?”
“She told me she was coming over yesterday, but she never showed up.”
“And you haven’t heard from her?”
“No.”
“The woman I treated was listed as Jane Doe. What’s your sister’s name?”
“Elizabeth Simmons.”
He hoped he didn’t show any reaction. The Elizabeth part was right, but was that really her last name? And why did he doubt this guy?
“Do you have her picture?”
“Of course.” The man pulled out his phone and brought up a photograph that looked like it might have been taken for a college yearbook.
“Yes, that’s her,” he reluctantly said. There was no way out of the admission because if he lied about it, his having treated her was a matter of record.
Wilson’s face lit up, but not in a way Matt liked.
“Thank God. Do you know where she’s gone?”
This lie was easy. “Sorry.”
“You’re sure you have no idea?”
“Sorry,” he said again. “I can’t help you. I’d left the floor before she was discharged.”
The man’s expression turned hard. “If you do hear about her, I’d like you to call me.” He took out a business card that said Bob Wilson and handed it over. There was a phone number on the card but nothing else besides the name.
“What do you do, Mr. Wilson?”
“I’m in sales.”
“Why don’t you have that on your card?”
“I’m between jobs.”
Matt wanted to ask, “Then why have a card?” but he kept the question to himself.
Wilson gave Matt a penetrating look, and Matt had the feeling that he wanted to say, “You’re in big trouble if you don’t call.”
But he said nothing more.
The ringing of the phone woke Elizabeth, and when she looked outside, it was getting dark.
She hurried into the living room, hoping it might be Matthew Delano on the phone. But it sounded like Polly was talking to someone else. She had a pad of paper and a pencil in her hand and was writing something down.
When she hung up, she looked at Elizabeth. “A man came to the nursing station asking about you.”
“Who?”
“He said his name was Bob Wilson and that he’s your brother.”
“Bob Wilson,” she repeated, saying the name a couple of times aloud.
“Does that mean anything to you?”
“No, but that’s not surprising. I mean, nothing has come back to me except—” She stopped abruptly.
“Except what?”
“Except forthe part about my name,” she said, unwilling to relate that when Matthew Delano had touched her, a whole slew of memories had come flashing back to her. But telling Polly would sound strange. Really, she wouldn’t have believed it herself if it hadn’t happened to her.
And she didn’t want to make her benefactor think that Elizabeth Doe had lost her marbles as well as her memory.
“This Bob Wilson person spoke to someone at the hospital?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Cynthia Price. She’s one of the other nurses on the floor. She heard me and Dr. Delano talking about my taking you home.”
Elizabeth felt her stomach knot. “But she didn’t tell him where I’d gone?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I asked her not to.”
“Why?”
“Because Dr. Delano and I both agreed that you’re in some kind of trouble, and it’s best to find out what it is before revealing your location.”
“Thank you,” she breathed, a feeling of relief settling over her.
In the next second, it popped into her head that the normal thing to do in this situation would be to call the police, but she dismissed that idea as soon as it surfaced. It simply didn’t feel right. Which was a hunch she didn’t like much.
She folded her arms across her chest and rubbed her upper arms.
“You look worried,” Polly said.
“I can’t help worrying that Cynthia told him where I was.”
“I understand, but she’s very reliable. Why don’t you start dinner? I’ve got something I need to take care of.”
“If you’ll show me around your kitchen. Maybe I should get dressed first.” She went back to the bedroom and put on her new jeans, the turquoise tee shirt, and the running shoes and socks.
When she was dressed, Polly led her to the back of the house, where she gave her a quick tour and got out some of the equipment that Elizabeth was going to need, including a big pot.
“You know how to use an electric stove?”
It was the old-fashioned kind with coiled burners rather than a modern flattop.
“You have to wait a moment for the heat to go up or down.”
“That’s right. Will you be okay for a while?” Polly asked.
“I think so.”
Mrs. Kramer left, and she put the pot on the stove, then located a knife and a cutting board, which she used to chop the onions.
She put them into the pot with the ground beef and began to sauté them, soothed by the simple act of meal preparation. It was familiar, routine work, but it was reassuring to be doing something useful and comforting to know that she had no problem remembering how to do it.
When the meat began to stick to the bottom of the pot, she turned down the heat and added a little water, stirring as she watched the beef change from red to brown.
Should she add the spices while the meat and onions were browning or wait until she got the salsa into the pot?
She let the task of cooking dinner completely absorb her, breathing in the smell of the chili when she had all the ingredients combined, including a can of tomato sauce she found in the pantry because she needed to supplement the salsa. She was just tasting the seasonings when the doorbell rang.
Elizabeth went rigid, then glanced toward the back door. That guy who’d come to the hospital had found out where she was, and she had to get away before he came in here.