Lost Identity. Leona Karr

Ms. Sloan smiled. “If you’ll follow me, please. It’s just a short walk across the grounds to your building.”

      Andrew kept his arm through Trish’s as they followed a sidewalk that led them to a two-storied pink stucco building that looked every bit like a college dormitory.

      “You have room 110,” Ms. Sloan told them as she opened a door on the first floor and motioned them inside.

      Trish was surprised at the homey charm of the room, and its generous size. There was nothing of a sterile institution about the accommodations. Furnishings were in shades of a restful pink and green. Soft pillows brightened two lounge chairs and a single bed, which was covered with a pastel floral skirt and harmonizing bedspread. An adjoining bathroom was small with cream-colored fixtures and ceramic tiles.

      “This building is close to the physical therapy and occupational therapy departments,” Ms. Sloan told Trish with a smile as if she were a social director acquainting a guest with all the offered accommodations. “Dr. Duboise will be by later to get acquainted and set up a time for daily therapy.” She pointed out a telephone on a small desk. “If there’s anything you need, just lift the receiver.” She paused. “Do you have any questions?”

      Trish suppressed the impulse to reply that at the moment questions were all she had. She simply shook her head. “No.”

      Responding to the lost look in Trish’s eyes, Ms. Sloan reached out and touched Trish’s hand. “We’re a friendly bunch, Trish. You’re going to like us. I promise.”

      The pinched lines around Trish’s mouth eased and she gave the woman a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

      “I’ll leave you then,” she said.

      Andrew held out his hand. “Thank you, Ms. Sloan.” He was deeply grateful to her. She had offered Trish a reassurance that went beyond just professional concern.

      She nodded and left them alone in the room.

      Trish slowly walked over to a large window that overlooked plantings of flowers, trees and an expanse of emerald grass. Very deliberately, she drew the drapes, shutting out the view. Then she turned to Andrew. “I can handle it from here.”

      The dismissing edge of her tone cut him to the quick. As she stood there in the shadows of the darkened room, she looked like a child trying to hide from the world.

      He moved quickly to her side. “Don’t be frightened. It’s going to be all right.”

      She lowered her head to keep him from seeing tears spilling from the corner of her eyes.

      “I’m going to be here for you,” he promised. He gently eased back strands of hair falling over her face and tucked them behind her ears. Then he gently cupped her chin, and lifted her face upward. He had intended to say something reassuring but the words got lost. A swell of emotions that made him a stranger to himself caused him to bend his head and kiss her.

      Her mouth tensed under his, and for a second it seemed as if she were going to pull away. Then her arms crept up around his neck, and the kiss deepened until they both were breathless. Slowly, they withdrew from their heated embrace, and Andrew searched her face as she turned away from him and sat down on the edge of the bed.

      How could he explain the wild impulse that had ignited such a passionate kiss? If he did try to explain, would he only make matters worse? He was angry with himself for taking advantage of her vulnerable emotions at a time like this.

      “Trish, I—”

      “Don’t say anything,” she pleaded. She couldn’t stand hearing his apology for something that was her fault. If she hadn’t behaved like a fearful child begging to be comforted, he never would have kissed her. He feels sorry for me. “Just let it go.”

      He started to protest, but he was stopped by the sudden appearance of a doctor in the open door. He was a short, robust man with a nicely trimmed black mustache that gave his round face a rather jaunty air.

      “Dr. Duboise,” he introduced himself as he came in, shaking hands with Andrew, and smiling at Trish. “Are you getting settled in?”

      Trish gave him a noncommittal nod, and braced herself. The doctor’s quick glance at the closed curtains and the shadowy cast to the room had already alerted her that nothing was going to get by him.

      “I was just leaving,” Andrew said quickly as he took Trish’s cold hand in his. “You have my number. Call me, anytime.” There were a dozen more things he wanted to say, but he settled for, “I’ll be back tomorrow after work.”

      He felt her stiffen for a second as he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. No doubt, the trained eye of the psychiatrist caught it all, Andrew thought as he left the room. Maybe Duboise would ask Trish what was going on between them—as if either of them knew!

      Dr. Duboise settled in one of the easy chairs near where Trish sat on the edge of the bed. She expected him to turn on a light, but he didn’t. As if reading her thoughts, he commented, “You find it more peaceful with the curtains drawn?”

      “I find it safer,” she answered flatly.

      “Why safer?” There was no judgment in the question, just a quiet invitation, and it seemed to offer her a refuge for her thread-worn thoughts.

      Slowly, she got up from the bed and sat down in the lounge chair that was placed close to his. As she met his steady eyes, she began talking, trying to put into words the nebulous sense of danger and apprehension that was like a bone-deep chill running through her as she tried to remember who she was and what had happened to her.

      ANDREW WAS TRYING TO settle down at his computer and get some work done that evening when the telephone rang. Both relief and apprehension flooded through him when he heard Trish’s voice on the line. He’d been wanting to call her, but hesitated because he wasn’t certain what he should say to her. Remembering their passionate kiss and the way they’d melted together in that hot embrace made him cautious about upsetting her again.