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CHAPTER FOUR
SONIA
Present Time…
Someone pushing one of my lids up as they flash a bright light into my pupil wakes me. I slap it away and scramble to sit up, then plaster myself against the headboard.
It takes me a moment to orient myself, especially since I’ve never seen the older gentleman sitting beside me. But everything else seems faintly familiar—the bulky pine furniture, the quilt draped over the bed. What puts everything into place, however, is the man filling the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and a worried expression on his face. Santos.
The older man takes my wrist and moves his thin lips as if he’s counting at the same time as he’s looking at his watch. With a short nod, he releases me, then his kind gaze meets mine. “How are you feeling,niña?”
I glance at Santos again before looking at the man in front of me. “Are you a doctor?”
“Yes.” He maintains a frown as he flashes his light into my eyes again. “Are you experiencing any dizziness?”
“No.”
“Nausea?”
“No.”
“Do you have blurry vision?” He moves a finger in front of me, from side to side and up and down, and I automatically follow it.
I touch my temple. “My head aches a bit.”
“Smile for me,” he instructs and I do, then he proceeds to test the strength in both my arms and legs. “Mmm,” he says thoughtfully, then glances at the nightstand and taps the empty wine glass still sitting there. “May I ask how much of this you imbibed last night?”
“Me? I didn’t drink that!” I say with indignation. “That was already there when I woke up. Doctor, there’s something very wrong going on here.”
“Santos told me you’re having memory lapses. Is that true?”
“I told you, Doc, she’s confused.” Santos extends his arm my way. “She was talking about something that happened before we got married.”
My lips pull tight and through my teeth, I grit, “We’re not married.”
Santos moves into the room, coming nearer to the bed, and I scuttle to the other side. “Do you see? When have you ever seen her flee from me?”
“Hmm.” The doctor narrows his gaze on me quizzically. “What is the last thing you remember?”
Shaking my head, I dig through every nook and cranny of my memory but can find nothing beyond the river. “I was thrown into the river. By him!” I point at Santos.
He rears back in shock. “I didn’t throw you into the river!”
“Liar. I may not know where I am or how I got here, but that, I recall clearly. You threw yourself at me and we rolled into the water. Why did you attack my home? Where’s my father?”
“I didn’t do anything to your home or your father—”
“¡Basta!”Enough!The doctor raises his hand to cut him off. “Can you drive her to the hospital? I’m going to order some tests to determine if there’s been any event that might be causing this memory loss.”
“Memory loss?!” I yell. “There’s no memory loss. Can’t you see he’s lying?”
“You know I’m not lying. Doc, could this be related to her accident?”
“Accident?” I ask, glancing from one man to the other. “What accident?”
“The day at the river, you hit your head. You were in a coma for almost a week,” Santos informs me.
Automatically, I thrust my fingers into my hair, searching my scalp for anything that would confirm what he’s saying. To my horror, I do find a long raised line. A scar. “How…”
