Emily frowned and shook her head. ‘No. It’s all going very well.’
He let out a sigh. ‘That’s great news. How did Harry get on with the window treatments? Did he make the changes we asked him to?’
His fiancée looked at him, lines furrowing her brow. ‘What?’
‘The curtains and sashing in The Nightingale Suite. We decided to change them to that lighter gold colour. Has he done it yet? If he hasn’t we need to get on that—the Grand Opening is only a few days away.’
She continued to look at him with puzzlement. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘The curtains were too dark. That suite is going to be our most prestigious—we want it right for the press tour. Think of the spread of pictures...’
‘Press tour? We haven’t had a press tour since...’ Her voice drifted away and she suddenly looked at him, her eyes searching his face as she sucked in a breath. ‘Sam, what day do you think it is?’
He closed his eyes and thought about it. He’d proposed on Friday, he’d been in a coma for ten days, so today had to be... ‘Monday? Tuesday, maybe?’
She shook her head, her choppy blonde locks shimmering around her shoulders. ‘No. I mean the month. The year.’
Month and year? What was she talking about? He’d been out for ten days, they’d said! He told her the date and watched as what little colour there was leeched from her face. She turned away from him, her curtain of honey-blonde hair hiding her face from his as she pulled her hands free of his grasp.
Her recoiling from him made him feel nervous. What didn’t he know? ‘Why are you asking? I’m not that much out of step, am I?’
He heard her sniff. Watched as she reached into her bag and pulled out a small hankie, dabbing at her eyes before she turned back to face him, bracing herself to prepare to say something she clearly thought he wouldn’t be ready to hear.
‘Sam... We’ve been married for eighteen months. The Monterey has been open and running for just over a year now.’
Sam stared at her hard. He swallowed painfully and his hands scrunched up the bedding as he made fists.
Eighteen months?
No! That’s ridiculous...
‘Why would you say that? Why would you even play a trick like that?’
A tear dripped onto her cheek and with clear-cut pain in her voice she said, ‘I’m not lying to you.’
‘Emily...’
‘Sam, please, listen—’
But he wasn’t listening. Not any more. Em was playing some cruel trick on him, and he didn’t know why, but the doctors would have to tell him the truth! The nurses would. He’d make them show him a newspaper or something. This was completely ridiculous. There was no way that he’d lost all that time. He’d know. There’d be signs!
Sam stabbed at the button that would call a nurse to his bedside and kept doing so, ignoring Emily’s pleas, her cries. She was standing now, her hand covering her mouth, looking at him with those wide, tear-filled eyes...
The door opened and a nurse he hadn’t seen before came in. She glanced at Emily in concern before turning to him. ‘Mr Saint?’
‘I need to see the doctor in charge of my care.’
The nurse kept on looking between the two of them, not sure exactly what had happened. ‘Dr Waters has gone home for the evening. I can get—’
‘Get someone! Someone who knows what they’re talking about!’ He glared at Emily, angry at her, and watched as she snatched up her handbag and ran from the room.
The nurse nodded and hurried out, and with both women gone he felt his anger deflate slightly.
Married eighteen months? Emily was crazy. Perhaps she’d had the bump on the head and not him!
He lay in the bed, fury surging through him, and waited for someone who knew what they were talking about to come and tell him the truth.
There was no way he had lost that amount of time.
EMILY RAN FROM Sam’s room, throwing her bag to the floor and sagging against the wall opposite. She slid down it until she sat hunched on the floor, like a puppet without her strings.
He couldn’t remember! He had no idea of how much time had passed! He thought...he thought that... She heard his words once again, spoken with such certainty, such concern. ‘How did Harry get on with the window treatments? Did he make the changes we asked him to?’
Window treatments?
I remember! It was a week before the Grand Opening. He’d proposed just the night before...
The nurse who had followed her out of Sam’s room came over to her, hunched down and draped her arm softly around her shoulders. ‘Are you okay, Mrs Saint?’
She could barely breathe...so, no, she wasn’t okay. But she managed to suck in a deep, steadying breath and struggle back to her feet. Another breath and she nodded that she was all right.
‘The doctor told me... Dr Waters...she told me that Sam had a little amnesia, but I thought that she meant that...that he’d forgotten the accident. Not two whole years of his life!’
It was so much for her to take in. And she couldn’t imagine how he felt! Well, she didn’t have to, did she? He was furious at the idea. And she could understand why. Sam was a driven man, always pushing himself to fill every second of his life and enjoy it. The man didn’t sit still for a minute.
And he’d forgotten it all. The opening of the birth centre. The massive celebrations...the parties. The first birth and all the births since. The amazing write-ups they’d received, the recommendations, the people who were attracted to the Monterey—celebrities, the rich... Royalty had even given birth there.
And not just everything that had happened at work. If it were true—if he really didn’t remember—then he’d also forgotten their wedding. The preparations, the wedding night, the honeymoon in Paris...
The arguments... The fact that I told him I was going to leave him!
Emily bit down hard on her lip and accepted a plastic cup of water from the nurse, who had hurried to the small self-service station in the corridor. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll page the on-call doctor.’
Emily nodded. ‘Thank you.’ She smiled weakly at the nurse, noting the relief on her face, her name badge—Melanie. ‘And I think you’d better show him a webpage, or perhaps a newspaper. Prove the date to him. I’m not sure he believes me.’
Melanie looked uncertain. ‘I think maybe the doctor ought to do that.’
‘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