A Time to Remember

“Not—not really.” She shrank against the pillows at the sparks that lit Gray’s eyes. “I can’t! It was just shadows and whispers, nothing I could explain. And fear. I felt fear. I had to run.” She shivered, and her voice died away at the cold black terror of it.

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” Gray’s fingers, warm and strong, closed around hers. “Anything else you can remember? Anything at all? A house, flowers? Did you follow a road? Anything?”

Because he looked so sad, she closed her eyes and waited for the black shroud to drown her. When it didn’t, she sighed, felt his thumb rubbing against her wrist in a soothing caress that allowed her to relax and stop fighting the hammer in her head. A picture wavered before her mind.

“There’s a river,” she whispered. “I’m swimming in a river.” Then the picture was gone and she couldn’t remember when or why or how she came to be in that river.

“That might not be a recent memory, Gray,” she heard the doctor whisper. “There’s no way of knowing just where her mind selected that from. She might have been a child.”

“I wasn’t a child,” she insisted, eyes wide open, slightly insulted that they thought they could speak in front of her, as if she were deaf. “I was like I am now.” She frowned. “No, wait a minute.” Something wasn’t right.

“It wasn’t exactly swimming,” she murmured, confused by the impressions she was feeling. “But I was in the water up to my neck. It was cold, but it felt good.”

“Was Cody there? Can you picture Cody?”

She cast about, trying to home in on a picture of a little boy, but nothing came.

“I don’t think so.” Marissa opened her eyes, shrugged. “I can’t remember.”

Gray sighed, the light in his eyes fading. She saw Luc reach out, touch his shoulder.

“Maybe it’s a nightmare, Luc,” her husband offered. “Marissa never swims. She’s afraid of the water. You wouldn’t believe the lectures she’s given me about water safety. When I took Cody fishing last year—”

She felt his hands tighten against hers before he drew them away, the sentence dying on his lips just as the hope flickered out of his eyes.

“Bubbles.” The word popped out of her without any conscious thought.

“What?”

Both men stared at her as if she were insane. Then Gray looked to Luc for direction. But the doctor was intent on his own thoughts.

“Bubbles,” she repeated, trying to understand what had prompted her to say it.

“You were washing.” Luc looked from Gray to Marissa, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Don’t you see? Soap. Bubbles. You were washing in the water.”

“Washing clothes?” she asked doubtfully, searching for the thread of a memory that eluded her.

Luc shook his head.

“Yourself. You said you were up to your neck. You wouldn’t go that deep to wash clothes, but you would if you were taking a bath.”

Gray stared at him, nodded. “So wherever you were staying, it was beside water. And you were confined.” He pointed to the marks on her wrists.

Marissa hadn’t noticed them before, but now the blue-tinged rings held her in a grip of fear. Get away. Get away from here.

The pain was suddenly excruciating and she whimpered as it flooded over her. Just from the corner of her eye she saw Gray glare at Luc, his eyes asking a question. Luc shook his head.

She closed her eyes, almost passing out as a new wave sucked her strength.

“Oh, please help me.” The hand with the IV in it felt too heavy to lift, but she did it anyway, rubbing one finger against her forehead to ease the stabbing pressure.

“What’s wrong, Marissa?”

“My head,” she whispered. “Please give me something to stop my head from hurting.”

“I’ll help you, I promise,” Luc murmured, checking her pupils again. “You can go to sleep soon. But I want you to think for just one minute more.”

The pinpricks of light from his flashlight sent waves of nausea over her body, but Marissa fought back, sucked in deep breaths of air and forced herself to relax.

“Think about what?”

“Your head hurts because it has a cut on it. Do you remember how you got that cut?”

The black curtain was hanging there again, just waiting to drop down and shut out all the questions. In a way, that’s what she wanted—oblivion. But the doctor’s tone was so gentle, so soothing, she tried to answer him.

“I was running,” she whispered. “Running away.”

“From what?”

But the answer wasn’t there. Instead, the black curtain whooshed down and Marissa couldn’t answer.

“Did she faint? What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing. Her brain had enough poking and probing and it shut down. She seems fine. Her vital signs are all excellent. Her scans were clear. She responded to all the stimuli tests we performed. The specialist’s report was faxed in this morning. Everything is normal.”

“What specialist?” Gray growled the words, knowing he should be thanking Luc, not badgering him. But every time he thought of her tied up, trying to get away, his stomach knotted. He slammed his fist against his thigh in frustration.

“I had her airlifted to the city as soon as we found her.” Luc’s cheeks turned red, but he held Gray’s stare. “I had to. I didn’t know how long she’d been out or what we’d find and I wanted to know immediately if there was brain damage.”

Gray winced, but kept his focus on Luc, pinning him.

“And you didn’t phone me until after they’d brought her back, did you?”

“No.”

“What if she’d died?”

Luc shook his head.

“Would God do that? Bring her home to let her die? I don’t think so, buddy. Where’s your faith?” He stepped backward when Gray surged forward, held up one hand. “Okay, okay. But just think about it. You had to concentrate on Cody. There was nothing you could do for Marissa. But I could, and I did.”

“You decided this all on your own?” Fury and indignation fought for supremacy. “Who consented to her care?”

“You did, through me.” Luc winced at his growl. “The three of us, Joshua, Nicole and I, consulted and decided it was for the best. We couldn’t let anything happen to Marissa, Gray. We just couldn’t.”

Gray sighed. What was wrong with him?

“I know. I should be thanking you instead of acting like an outraged—”