‘Maybe. Or perhaps I ought to do it? Do you have a copy of today’s paper?’
Not that she wanted to go in there and do that to him. Prove to him that all that she’d said was true. That he was a man out of time with everyone else.
How did you get your head around something like that?
‘I’d like whoever’s on call to talk to both of us. I need to know what this means. Why it’s happened. What we should be doing...’ Her thoughts drifted off onto some nightmarish plane where Sam never regained those two years and she had to fill him in on everything. The long hours he’d put in, his absences from home, the arguments...
And somehow I need to tell him I’m pregnant too!
She felt sick. The weight of all this duty pressed down upon her. A thick ball of nausea sat low and curdled in her stomach and she could taste bile in the back of her throat, despite the drink of cool, refreshing water from the cup. Was there an easy way to tell a man that you were married, but that the two of you had been arguing constantly and that just under two weeks ago you’d told that same man you were going to leave him?
Because you refused to have a child with me and, oh, by the way, I’m actually pregnant! I found out after the accident. They did tests.
Yes, she really couldn’t see that nugget of information going down very well with him.
It was all going wrong. Everything.
She tried to rack her brains for what she knew about amnesia, but apart from the general knowledge that it meant you couldn’t remember things, she wasn’t sure what else she knew about it. It wasn’t something she’d specialised in. She was a certified nurse-midwife. She looked after labouring women.
She knew that there were different types of amnesia—some amnesia was permanent and some temporary. Dr Waters had said it might be so. If Sam’s was temporary then he would regain his memories on his own and everything would be back to the way it was before...
But I was leaving him before.
She swallowed hard, seeing in her mind’s eye that day she’d laid the suitcase upon the bed and stared at it. Then she’d lain a hand on her abdomen. This wasn’t just about her and Sam any more. There was a baby to consider, and there was no way she was going to let her child be rejected by its father before it was even born. She knew what it felt like to be left behind and unwanted. It hurt. Left you bewildered. Made you question yourself. Your own value. She would not put her own child through that.
Emily swallowed the last of the water and crumpled the plastic cup. She put it into a trash can and walked back over to Sam’s door, put her hand on it, waiting, taking a deep breath.
She was about to go back in when Melanie reappeared.
‘I have a paper for you.’
She looked down. Saw the day’s headlines. The date. ‘Thank you.’ Her mouth felt dry. There was a strange, tinny sort of taste in her mouth and she wondered if she were going to be sick.
‘And the doctor will come down as soon as he’s finished with a patient on the next floor. Ten minutes?’
Emily nodded, swallowing hard. ‘Brilliant. Thanks.’
She watched as Melanie headed back to answer a ringing telephone and then with one final inhalation she pushed open Sam’s door and stepped inside.
Their gazes met across the room.
If I’m going to get through this then I need to be strong.
‘I’ve brought you something.’
‘An apology?’ He sounded bitter. Hurt.
‘No. I don’t need to give you one. But I will give you this.’ She walked across the room and handed him the newspaper before stepping back. As if imagining that the second he confirmed the date for himself he would somehow explode. ‘Look at the date.’
At first she didn’t think he would look at it, but he finally lifted the paper and scanned the first page for the date.
She knew the exact second his gaze fell upon it. He seemed to stiffen, the muscle in his jaw flickering, the focus in his eyes intensifying before he flipped through, checking that all the other pages stated the same date, too. Then he went back to the beginning, scanned the headlines.
Sam dropped the paper as if it were contaminated, closing his eyes briefly as it all sank in.
‘Two years? I’ve lost two years?’
He sounded so broken. So hurt. It made her heart ache. Made her feel like she needed to cross the room to him and take him in her arms and hug him better. She didn’t want him to be hurting. She never had.
‘I’m so sorry, Sam. But it’s true. We’ve been married eighteen months now. We honeymooned in Paris. We were very happy.’
He instantly looked up, met her gaze, pinning her with his normally soft blue eyes. ‘Were?’
She tried not to cry. She seemed to be so emotional since finding out she was pregnant. She struggled to keep control of her voice. ‘We’re having one or two...problems.’
Sam bristled. ‘What kind of problems?’
Emily shook her head. ‘We can talk about those later. The doctor’s coming to talk to you now. About the amnesia.’
‘Are there problems at work? Is the Monterey failing?’
She could hear the fear in his voice. The concern. ‘No. It’s doing very well. The launch was amazing and we’ve had almost full capacity from day one. You haven’t stopped working—working all hours to make it a success.’
At that moment the door opened and a new doctor came in, holding Sam’s case notes in his hands.
Emily snapped to attention and crossed her arms, stepping back out of the doctor’s way.
‘Mr and Mrs Saint? I’m Dr Elijah Penn—how can I be of assistance?’
She managed a weak smile and went over to shake Dr Penn’s hand. ‘Hello, Doctor. My husband has just learned that he’s lost two years of his memory after his head injury. We were in a car crash together ten days ago. We were wondering if you could tell us some more about what to expect, and what we can do to help him regain his memory.’
Dr Penn frowned. ‘I’ve only had a brief read-through of your notes, Mr Saint, and without giving you a thorough examination and questioning you myself over what you remember I can’t be precise here. There are many different types of amnesia caused by traumatic head injury and right now it would be hard to be specific.’
‘Can you tell us what you do know?’
‘I wouldn’t like to guess, as I’m not your husband’s physician and I wouldn’t want to tell you anything erroneous. But if you’ll give me a moment or two with your husband then I’ll tell you what I can.’
Emily nodded. Okay. That sounded sensible. She left Sam’s room once again and went and sat outside. From her purse she pulled out her cell phone and felt drawn to the photo album. Opening it, she began flicking through. Perhaps there was something here that might help Sam? Perhaps if he looked at their moments together that might provoke some kind of memory?
There were lots to go through. Many of the photographs were from work. Mothers-to-be whom she’d become great friends with, bouquets that she’d been sent as thanks. There were some pictures of the house after they’d had some work done on it. Other people’s babies.
Why weren’t there any pictures of her and Sam together? She had a few selfies. One or two of Sam in scrubs about to go into a Caesarean section, and then one of him relaxing at the house, reading a work journal. In neither of them was he smiling that beautiful smile she hadn’t seen for such a long time. When had he last smiled at her? Apart from today? Because that didn’t count any more,