Jane Doe was waking up.
Tiny sputtering electrical fuses seemed to turn on and off inside him as his anticipation grew. He stood, leaned over the hospital bed and watched the sleeping beauty’s lids flutter. Instinctively, he turned off the overhead lamp to help decrease the shock of harsh light to her vision as her eyes slowly opened.
They were dark green. And beautiful, like her.
But they’d barely opened before they snapped shut again as her features contorted with fear.
* * *
Carey fought for her life, flailing her arms, kicking her feet. Someone wanted to hurt her. It wasn’t Ross. Not this time. She ran, but her feet wouldn’t move. She tried to scream, but the sound didn’t leave her throat. Fear like she’d never felt before consumed her, but she couldn’t give up, she had to protect herself in order to protect her baby.
Someone shouted and ran toward her. She knew he wanted to help. Broad shoulders, and legs moving in a powerful sprint. “Hey!” His voice cut through the night. That face. Strong. Determined. Filled with anger over the man trying to take her purse. She fought more. She had to break away from the smelly man’s grip.
“Hey!”
Fight. Fight. Get away.
“Hold on, everything’s okay. You’re safe.” Did she recognize the man’s voice? “I’ve got you.” Hands gripped her shoulders, kept her still. She held her breath.
More hands smoothed back her hair. “It’s okay, hon.” A woman’s voice. “Calm down. You’re in the hospital.”
Hospital? Had she heard right?
Carey shook her head. It hurt. She was hit by a wave of vertigo that made her quit squirming. She lay still, waiting for the hands to release her. It felt like she was in an extremely comfortable bed. She relaxed her tight, squinting eyes and slowly opened first one then the other. She turned her head to a shadow looming above her. It had features. The face she remembered from her dreams. Strong. Brave. Was this still a dream?
She stared at him, her breathing rapid, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the light. He was the man who’d taken on her attacker. She scanned his face. Kind brown eyes. Short dark hair. A square jaw. Good looking.
“You’re in the hospital and you’re safe,” he said in a low, comforting voice.
She looked beyond him to a gorgeous room. A hospital? It looked more like an expensive hotel with muted colors and modern furniture, chic, classy, a room she’d never been able to afford in her life. Was she still dreaming? Since she’d stopped protesting, it was quiet. Oh, and there was an IV in her arm. Being an RN herself, she recognized that right off. A catheter between her legs? And she wore a hospital gown. But this one was silky and smooth, not one of those worn-out over-starched jobs at the hospital where she worked.
Everything was so strange. Surreal. As she gathered her senses she couldn’t remember where she was other than being in a hospital. She couldn’t figure out why she’d be here. Wait. Someone had attacked her. She’d been pushed down. Oh, no! Her hand flew to her stomach, and she gasped.
“My baby!” Her voice sounded muffled and strange, as if her ears were plugged.
“Your baby’s fine,” the woman said. “So you remember you’re pregnant.”
Her hearing improved. She nodded, and it hurt, but she smiled anyway because her baby was fine.
The attractive young man smiled back at her, and the concern in his eyes was surprising. Did she know him?
“My baby’s fine,” she whispered to him, and a rush of feelings overcame her until she cried.
Then the strangest thing happened. The man that she wasn’t sure if she knew or not, the man with the kind brown eyes...his welled up, too. “Your baby’s fine.” His voice sounded raspy.
She cried softly for a few moments, his eyes misty and glistening as he gave a caring smile, and it felt so good.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital, hon,” the nearby nurse said.
“But where am I?”
“Hollywood,” he said. “You’re in California.”
She thought hard, vaguely remembering getting on a bus. Getting off a bus. It was all too much to straighten out right now. She was exhausted.
“What’s your name, honey?” The nurse continued.
“Carey Spencer.” At least she remembered her name. But she needed to rest. To close her eyes and...
“She’s out again.” The kind man’s voice sounded far, far away.
“That’s what happens sometimes with head injuries,” the nurse replied.
* * *
Dr. Williams cancelled the plan to transfer her to a coma unit since it was clear Carey Spencer was waking up. Joe assigned another paramedic to cover his shift and stayed by her bedside, hoping to be there when she woke up again. The next time, hopefully, would be permanently. He had dozed off for a second.
“Where am I?” Her voice.
Had he slept a few minutes?
He forced open his eyes and faced Carey as she sat up in the bed, propped by several pillows. Her hair fell in a tangle of waves over her shoulders. Those dark green eyes flashed at him. She’d already figured out how to use the hand-held bed adjuster. “Where am I?” she asked more forcefully.
He’d told her earlier, but she’d suffered a head trauma, her brain was all jumbled up inside. Because of the concussion she might forget things for a long time to come. She deserved the facts.
“You’re in the hospital in Hollywood, California. You got off a cross-country bus the other night. Do you remember where you came from?”
“I don’t want anyone contacting my family.”
He rang for the nurse. “We won’t contact anyone unless you tell us to.”
“I’m from Montclare, Illinois. It’s on the outskirts of Chicago.”
“Okay. Are you married?”
She shook her head, then looked at him tentatively. “I’m pregnant.” Her eyes captured his and he could tell she remembered they’d gotten emotional together earlier when she’d woken up before. “And my baby’s okay.” She gave a gentle smile and odd protective sensations rippled over him. Those green eyes and the dark auburn hair. Wow. Her blackened eye may have been healing, but even with the shiner she was breathtaking. In his opinion anyway.
“Yes. Everything is okay in that department. How far along are you? Do you know?”
“Three months.”
“And you came here on the bus for...?”
She hesitated. “Not for. To get away.” She lifted her arms, covered in fading bruises. “I needed to get away.”
“I understand.” The uncompromising need to protect her welled up full force again. “Are you in trouble?”
She shook her head, then looked like it hurt to do so and immediately stopped.
The nurse came in, and asked Joe to leave so she could assess her patient and attend to her personal needs. He headed toward the door.
“Wait!” she said.
He turned.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Joseph Matthews. I’m the paramedic who brought you here.”
“Thank you, Joseph. I owe you my life. And my baby’s,” she