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“And my head?”
He gave her a stoic smile. “The brain is an interesting phenomenon, and each one is unique. Your cognitive tests all check out and your systems appear perfectly healthy. Blood flow is good, electrical activity is normal, so I believe this is simply a reaction to the trauma and there’s no long-term damage to your recall abilities. Try not to stress about it.”
Easy for him to say. Not only did Rory, Beatrice, Vivi, and the police need to know what had happened and who did it, she herself feared what might happen if shedidremember.
I shouldn’t have been in that alley alone.At night, no less.
Hindsight was 20/20.I should’ve had my stun gun in my hand and been more alert. I’m such a dummy.
More than once she’d almost said all of that out loud to Rory and Vivi but knew they would argue with her, even if they secretly agreed. She’d gone over that day with both of them, as well as the detective in charge of her case—whom she could tell was overworked and had more important crimes than muggings to investigate—repeatedly, but nothing new had surfaced. It was just…blank.
Hannah and Jose had visited, hoping to spark something as well. The First Daughter’s visit came with a lot of hoopla, including her bodyguards sticking close and sweeping the room for bugs. Amelia had exchanged a glance with Rory, rolling her eyes at Masden’s thorough and unnecessary search, but she understood that stopping at the hospital wasn’t exactly what the Secret Service agent wanted to be doing, either. The one thing that had flickered in the back of her mind was him—his insistence on protecting his charge with absolute efficiency.
Amelia had been happy to see Hannah and Jose, but that still hadn’t jumpstarted her memory, even after the two of them described their interactions with her. Hannah had reminded her that she’d been equally annoyed by him the day of the mugging.
“Whatever you need,” Hannah had said, “you let me know. And I’m getting you a new bag from Binni. I spoke to her this morning and told her what happened. She’s bringing a replacement to the event Thursday night.”
“She doesn’t need to do that,” Amelia had told her. “I have a backup, you know.”
The First Daughter had waved it off. “She knows what a good friend you are to me and that you’ve been a supporter of her startup. I can’t wait for the two of you to meet in person at the fundraiser.Ifyou’re able to come.” She’d patted Amelia’s arm, her own wrist wrapped with a brace. “I don’t want you to overdo it, but if you feel like attending, I’ll make sure you have whatever you need to be comfortable.”
“I’ll be there,” Amelia had assured her, even when Rory grunted his disapproval. “A little mugging isn’t going to stop me. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Hannah had been thrilled, patting her hand before whisking Jose and the agents out of the room with promises of a wonderful dinner at the event.
Dr. Houston handed her a business card. “I’d like for you to consider seeing a colleague of mine. Dr. Thomas specializes in traumatic experiences. She’s good.”
Could therapy help her unlock her memories? “Got that covered,” she told him, ignoring the card. “I’ve got my own therapist.”
“Good. Not my area of expertise, but again I urge you to have counseling about the incident. Your brain appears to be in top condition, and this amnesia may be related to the emotional toll the assault had on you. Too often folks shrug this stuff off, try to be strong and ignore signs of stress, but violence is violence. It affects more than your physical body, and the memory loss could be the mind’s mode of protecting itself. Think it over.”
Rory tucked the papers away. “I’ll be sure she gets what she needs.”
He was worse than her parents. Amelia’s poor mother and stepfather were heading home after their hurry to get here, seemingly as frustrated as Amelia that there was nothing further to be done. She needed time to recover, that was all, and apprehending the mugger was up to the police.
Her mother had offered to stay and take care of her while she was on the mend, but Amelia couldn’t stand the idea of all three of them in her tiny apartment. Besides, there was nothing else wrong with her, headaches aside, and she wanted to get back to work. She could still instruct her patients from a chair, or on the crutches, and returning to SFI was the one thing she was looking forward to.
Dr. Houston nodded at Rory. “If you notice any extreme changes in her ability to focus, with her personality, or in her decision making, bring her back immediately.” He held out a fist to her and she bumped it with her own. “I don’t want to see you until your checkup. Stay off that foot.”
After he exited, Rory patted the wheelchair’s seat and grinned. “Nothing like getting a dose of your own medicine, huh, Doc?”
She contained her exasperation, refusing to let him get under her skin. Between the two of them, they got her situated in the chair. He’d removed the lower half of one leg of a pair of sweats since she couldn’t get any of her yoga pants or slacks over the boot.
Her foot felt heavy and cumbersome, and it took Rory to help her get it on the metal footplate. “Don’t get cocky on me,” she warned. “This may slow me down but it certainly won’t stop me.”
He laid the crutches across her lap. “I have no doubt you’ll be back to cracking the whip at all of us in no time.”
Downstairs, her mother, stepfather, Beatrice, and Beatrice’s husband, Cal, waited on the sidewalk in front of the entrance. A sleek black SUV was parked at the curb, and Connor waived from the driver seat while Cal retrieved the crutches and slid them into the rear compartment.
“I’m so glad they released you,” her mother said, reaching for Amelia’s hand.
Rory took the other and together they helped her stand. She leaned against him, keeping her injured foot off the ground, but tried not to put too much weight on him, since he was still nursing his knee. Luckily, he seemed stable today, slipping an arm around her waist. “Me, too. Shouldn’t you two be on your way home already?”
Her mother held tight, seemingly reluctant to release her. Her dark hair was shot through with silver, and her eyes had twice as many crow’s feet as Amelia remembered. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”
What were the odds Hannah and the First Lady were doing a similar dance these days? “I appreciate you, Mom, but you know my place is too small, and you have a life to get back to.” Her mother and stepfather had a dry cleaning business. They also babysat her sister’s three young kids after school every day. Amelia knew them being here was a hardship on the rest of the family, and her sister needed them way more than she did. “I love you guys, and I’m glad you came to see me, but I’m fine, really.”
“We’ll take good care of her,” Beatrice told them. “We consider her family.”
