A Montana Man. Jackie Merritt

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ and some nurses, and the man, Clint Barrow.

      Turning her head slightly, she studied him. He had fallen asleep in a chair next to her bed. She recalled him saying they were friends, but friendship had many degrees. Were they merely speaking acquaintances, or were they much more? Frustration suddenly attacked her, and she brought her hand up to her head—perhaps to smooth her hair, or to nervously run her fingers through it, she really didn’t know. But instead of feeling her abundant, heavy, straight hair, she discovered the cap covering it.

      Why was she wearing a cap? Why couldn’t she remember being brought to the hospital? Why couddn’t she remember her own name?

      “Oh, my God,” she whispered as understanding developed. Her memory was gone! Her heart fluttered in panic. Who was she? Where did she live? What had happened to cause so many aches in her body?

      A nurse rushed in and saw that her patient was wide awake, the reason her heart rate had increased. She smiled and checked the flow of the IV. “Are you feeling all right, dear?”

      Clint woke and sat up in the chair. “Sorry, I didn’t intend to doze off. Is anything wrong?”

      “Everything appears to be just fine,” the nurse said brightly. “Our patient woke up, that’s all.”

      Clint leaned toward the bed. “Are you all right, Sierra?” he asked softly.

      She turned teary eyes to him. “I can’t remember anything,” she whispered.

      The nurse patted her arm. “Dr. North said it’s only temporary, dear. Try not to worry. You’re doing fine.”

      “I have so many cuts and scrapes,” Sierra said in a tear-clogged voice. “What happened? Why am I wearing a cap?”

      “You have very long hair, dear,” the nurse said. “The cap is merely a means to restrain it.”

      “But...my temple. Am I feeling stitches?” Sierra’s hand was exploring her forehead.

      “Don’t touch them. There’s no bandage, and we shouldn’t risk infection.”

      Clint could tell that Sierra’s mind was much clearer than it had been. She was going to ask questions—she had already asked questions—and he decided then and there that if the nurse didn’t answer them, he would. Maybe a psychologist should talk to her first, but there wasn’t one in the room, and to his way of thinking, she had every right to know what had happened to her.

      Sierra asked nothing of the nurse, however. She accepted a drink of water, and lay still while the nurse checked the monitor connections.

      “Well, everything seems to be in good order,” the nurse said briskly. “I’ll be at the station if you need me.” Her soft-soled shoes made very little sound as she left the room.

      The second they were alone Sierra turned pleading eyes to Clint. “You said we’re friends. Please tell me everything you know about me. Everything,” she repeated in a choked voice.

      He had no intention of refusing, although he wondered how best to explain that their friendship had begun only hours ago. If that information upset her...? It would upset her, Clint realized uneasily. She regarded him as her one connection with her past, perhaps as the key that would unlock the door to her memory.

      This was far more of a burden than he’d bargained for, but he couldn’t lie to her. “I am your friend, Sierra,” he said quietly. “But I’m a new friend. We only met...recently.”

      “But you do know who I am.”

      Was he hearing panic in her voice again, seeing it in her eyes? He reached for her hand, and she let him hold it.

      “Sierra, I’m not going to lie to you,” he said. “You wouldn’t want to hear anything but the truth, would you?”

      “Is the truth something terrible?”

      “It’s limited, but not terrible.”

      “Tell me,” she whispered.

      He took a breath. “Here’s what I know about you. You were in a car accident on a mountain road. My son was the driver of the other vehicle, a red pickup truck. You were driving a blue minivan. The road still had patches of early morning frost....”

      She was staring at him so intently that he began to hope. “Is any of this familiar?”

      She sounded discouraged as she answered, “No, but please go on. Was—was your son injured?”

      “No, he wasn’t.”

      “I’m glad.”

      “So am I, Sierra, so am I.” Clint drew a breath before continuing. “There was another young man in the truck with Tommy, his friend Eric. They notified the sheriff and you were brought to Missoula and this hospital by a flight-for-life helicopter.”

      She tried to make a little joke. “My first helicopter ride and I can’t remember it.”

      How did she know that helicopter ride had been her first? Or was she merely assuming?

      Clint smiled for her benefit. “But you will remember it, Sierra—that’s what you’ve got to hang on to. Dr. North told me he’s positive your amnesia is temporary.” Clint paused to mentally go over that conversation. Had Dr. North used the word positive?

      Well, Clint couldn’t backtrack now and shatter the little hope he’d just given Sierra.

      “And that’s how we met,” she said in a wispy, disappointed voice. “Because of your son. You really don’t know me much better than I know myself.”

      “I’m sorry, Sierra. I wish I could lay out your background in great detail, but I can’t.”

      “My vehicle should offer some clues to my identity. I must have had a driver’s license with me. Do you know if the police are checking that out?”

      It was encouraging that she knew about driver’s licenses, but still Clint swallowed hard. Her question was one he hated answering. In fact, he was afraid of answering it. She would learn soon enough that the van and everything in it had been destroyed.

      He hedged, telling no lies, but deliberately avoiding the whole truth. “The highway patrol is working on it.”

      “When did the accident happen?” she asked. “I—I’m afraid I’ve lost track of time.”

      “Yesterday.”

      “Then they could very well know something today.” Sierra felt a surge of relief, certain once she knew her full name and address, things would fall into place in her befuddled brain. In the next heartbeat, however, she became doubtful again. If she’d had a driver’s license with her, why didn’t the hospital staff know her identity?

      Her mouth became almost too dry to speak. “How do you know my first name is Sierra?”

      “It’s the name you gave a doctor when you came to the first time.”

      “I don’t remember doing that,” she murmured with a frown. “But СКАЧАТЬ