Forgotten First Kiss

“Lonnie.” Now my voice held menace, and he finally seemed to notice. “Explain.”

“Oh, Danica fell off the uneven bars over at the gymnastics place. Landed on her head, but the rest of her is fine.”

But her head wasn’t fine? My throat tightened to one of those coffee straw diameters. “What’s wrong with her head?”

“Aw, it’s temporary, whatever it is. Lexie”—that was his high school girlfriend, and apparently still in his life, maybe his wife now—“says the neurologist is sixty percent sure she’ll regain all her memories. It’s more when that’ll happen that’s in question.”

Sixty percent sounded in question.

I pumped Lonnie for information and finally gleaned that three days ago Danica had fallen, hit her head hard, and had been out for a whole day. Then, when she woke up, she’d had no knowledge of anyone, past or present.

“She must be terrified.”

“Aw, you know Danica. She gets through things. She should be out of the hospital in a few days. They’re still watching her. Bad bump.” His radio crackled, and Lonnie saluted me. “See you around? I hope you’ll stay in town a bit. We’ll have a barbecue.”

Danica’s head was injured, and Lonnie was thinking about food? Typical Lonnie. He drove off in his souped-up Dodge Charger, and I headed straight for the hospital.