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‘What happened in the gym must have occurred years ago, Natalie. You’re here because you were knocked over by a car.’
Years ago?
Her mind whirled. That couldn’t be right. She stared at him, looking for some waver in his steadfast gaze. There was none. The grey eyes had more than caring concern in them. They poured a message straight into her bewildered mind. I’m here for you. I’ll look after you. I’m the rock for you to lean on.
‘How old am I?’ she asked, feeling that he knew. She should know, too.
‘Twenty-eight,’ he said without hesitation.
He squeezed her hand hard—or did she squeeze his? Twelve years lost! She had been sixteen when she had taken that fall in the gym. What had she done with her life since then? She remembered her ambition to become an artist, as well as a great gymnast. She suspected she hadn’t been much good at either.
‘What kind of work do I do?’ she asked, feeling an urgent need to fill in the gaps.
‘You’re very creative. You do graphic design on a computer. At the present moment, you’ve signed a contract to illustrate a children’s book.’
‘I must be good at it, then,’ she said in surprise.
‘Your work is stunning.’
The admiration in his voice gave her a deep sense of pleasure.
‘Keep telling her everything that will prompt recall,’ the doctor encouraged. ‘The patient is doing fine. I’ll leave you to it.’ He gave Natalie a smile, Damien a man-to-man nod, and made a brisk departure.
The doctor’s confidence was comforting. Natalie did her best to relax. She rolled the name ‘Damien’ around in her mind, trying to find echoes of it to patch together into a meaningful picture.
Nothing.
Yet his hand and eyes said she belonged with him, and the feeling he evoked in her suggested the same thing. She looked at him wonderingly. She was twenty-eight. He looked to be in his mid-thirties. What precisely was their connection?
‘How long have you been my lover?’
His eyes were unflinching, steely, unrelenting. ‘Many years. But in all that time we never made love physically.’
‘Why not?’
‘You were married.’
Another shock! ‘Who was I married to?’
‘A man named Brett. Brett Hayes.’
His eyes were searching hers.
She looked away, disconcerted at not remembering. How could she possibly forget a husband? And a lover! She glanced down at her left hand. No rings. The hospital staff might have taken them off. She stared at her ring finger. The golden tan of her skin was unbroken by a pale band. She couldn’t have worn her wedding-rings.
‘Am I divorced?’
‘No. Widowed.’
She felt a glimmering of memory...something coming back...something important. Her heart filled with a rush of maternal love and pride. She swung her gaze to Damien,
feeling a sense of triumph. ‘I have a son. A beautiful boy.’
He nodded gravely. ‘His name was Ryan.’
‘Where is he now?’ she cried eagerly. ‘Why isn’t he here?’
It was Damien’s turn to be discomfited. He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, transmitting his healing warmth and a deep caring. Then he looked at her with a sad compassion that chilled the warmth. ‘I’m sorry, Natalie. There was another accident a year ago. Ryan was...killed.’
