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“Great,” she muttered, though she hadn’t expected better. He’d tried to help her make a call to her mother from the pay phone at the hospital. She propped the second pillow behind her head while she scanned the room. It was airy and clean, with a paddle fan mounted from the ceiling and bright floral bedspreads that matched the curtains. The closet door was half-open, and she spied her clothes—at least, she assumed they were hers—hanging neatly. A yellow sundress, khaki-colored jacket and white skirt were visible. She’d hoped seeing some of her things would jog her memory, but she was disappointed again. It seemed as if she’d never put together the simple pieces of her life.
As if reading her thoughts, Trent opened a bureau drawer and withdrew a cowhide purse.
In a flash, she remembered the leather bag. “I bought this in New Mexico,” she said as he handed her the handbag and she rubbed the smooth, tooled leather. “From Native Americans. I was on a trip…with…” As quickly as the door to her memory opened, it closed again and she was left with an empty feeling of incredible loss. “Oh, God, I can’t remember.”
“A man or a woman?” he asked, his voice suddenly sharp.
“I don’t know.” She turned her face up to his, hoping he could fill in the holes, but he lifted a shoulder.
“I wasn’t there. Before my time.” He walked to the door, shut it and snapped on a switch that started the paddle fan over the bed moving in slow, lazy circles.
Nikki wasn’t going to be thwarted. The keys to her life were in her hands and she was determined to find out everything she could about her past. Leaning back against the headboard, she tossed back the purse’s flap and dumped the contents on her lap. Brush. Comb. Wallet. Tissues. Sunglasses. A paperback edition of a Spanish-English dictionary. A pair of silver earrings. Several pens. Address book. Passport. Small camera.
“All the clues to who I am,” she said sarcastically.
“Not quite. I think I’ve got a few more.” Reaching into the pocket of his jeans he withdrew a sealed plastic bag. Inside were a pair of gold hoop earrings, a matching bracelet and a slim gold band.
Her throat seemed to close upon itself, and she had to hold back a strangled cry at the sight of her wedding ring. Proof of her marriage. With trembling fingers she withdrew the tiny circle of metal and slipped it over her finger. “You bought me this?” she asked, her eyes seeking his.
“At a jewelry shop near Pioneer Square.”
She licked her lips and stared at her hands. The ring was obviously a size too large.
“You wanted to keep it for the honeymoon, and we planned to have it sized back in the States.”
“Is that right?” she said under her breath. Why couldn’t she remember standing before a justice of the peace, her heart beating crazily, her smile wide and happy as the love of her life slipped this smooth ring over her finger. Because it didn’t happen!
“I don’t remem—”
“You will,” he told her, his gaze steady as he stared down at her.
She shook her head, mesmerized as she scrutinized the ring. Her head began to throb again. “I should remember this, Trent,” she said, her frustration mounting. “A wedding. No matter how simple. It’s not something anyone forgets.”
“Give it time.”
Give it time. Don’t rush things. It will all come back to you. But when? She felt as if she were going crazy and her patience snapped. “I’m sick of giving it time! Damn it, Trent, I want to remember. And not bits and pieces. I want the rest of my life back, and I want it back now!”
“I’d give it to you if I could.” Plowing his hands through his hair in frustration, he spied her wallet. “Here.” He tossed it into her hands. “Maybe this will help.”
“Maybe,” she said, though she didn’t believe it for a minute. Sending up a silent prayer, she opened the fat leather case and sifted through her credit cards and pieces of ID. Nothing seemed to pierce through the armor of her past, and she was about to give up in futility when she saw the first picture.
“Dad,” she whispered, her heart turning over as she recognized a photograph of a distinguished-looking man with a steel-gray mustache and jowly chin. For a second she remembered him in a velvet red suit and long white beard, tiny glasses perched on the end of his nose, as he dressed up as Santa Claus each year for his company party…. The memory faded and she tried vainly to call it up again.
“Hey…take it easy.” Suddenly Trent sat on the edge of the bed, his warm hand on her forehead. “It’ll come.”
If only she could believe it. “So everyone says. Everyone who can remember who they are.”
“It’s been less than a week since you woke from the coma.”
His harsh features seemed incredibly kind, and she felt hot tears fill her throat. She fought the urge to break down and cry because she couldn’t trust him—even his kindness might be an act. There were other pictures in her wallet, some old and faded, none that she recognized, until she saw the family portrait, taken years ago, before her parents had split up. Her father still had black hair back then; her mother, a thin woman with a thrusting jaw, was a blonde. Her older sisters—why couldn’t she remember their names?—looked about fourteen and twelve, and Nikki was no more than eight, her teeth much too large for her mouth.
“Janet,” Trent said, pointing to the oldest girl with the dark hair. “Carole.” The middle sister with braces. “Your mom’s name is Eloise. She and your dad—”
“Were divorced. I know,” she said, saddened that she couldn’t recall her mother’s voice or smile, couldn’t even remember a fight with her sisters. Had they shared a room? Had they ever been close? Why, even staring at pictures of her family, did she feel so incredibly alone? If only she could sew together the patchwork of her life, bring back those odd-shaped pieces of her memory.
“Look, why don’t you try calling your dad?” Trent suggested, though his eyes still held a wary spark. “He’s still in Seattle and you always have been pretty close to him. Maybe hearing his voice will help.” He snapped up the address book, opened it to the C’s and scanned the page. “It’s still early in Seattle, so you might catch him at home.”
He picked up the receiver and started dialing before she could protest.
