“But I’ll be left hanging.”
“Well, let’s say that I’ll come back another time, if you text and ask me to.” I placed the ball in her court. Not quite in the same way it’d been in the past, but I had to think about these things, about the eventualities if she got her memory back. “Especially if you make the text really dramatic.”
“Oh, I can do that.” She grinned.
“Good. I’ll put my number in your phone.” I should’ve put Mark’s, too, but a plan formulated, and I didn’t.
She handed me her phone, and I added my name and number. When I handed it back, she frowned. “It’s weird. If we’re friends, how come we don’t have each other’s numbers?”
“Chapter one.” I settled into a chair beside her bed and launched. “There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre …”
Slowly, Danica settled back against her pillows and listened to the first chapter of the classic novel, with all its melodrama. I’d read it before. Guess why. It was pretty good, but mostly because Danica loved it so much.
By the time I got to the last paragraph of chapter one, she’d closed her eyes. A nurse came in and took her blood pressure, waking her up, and telling me that visiting hours were over for now. I could come back at seven if I wanted to.
“Jeremy, would you?”
“Text and tell me how you’re feeling. I don’t want to wear you out.” She did look tired. I’d been in the army hospital a couple of times. Visitors were more taxing than most non-hospitalized people realized. “Have a good nap.” I’d remind her about requesting her medical documents later, when she wasn’t so tired.
Outside her room, I leaned against the tiled wall. Whew. That had not gone at all like I’d expected when I left Reedsville yesterday. A jolt ran through me, and I punched a fist into the air. Voices interrupted my victory dance.
“Who was that?” The young nurse’s voice dripped jealousy. Ha.
“An old friend, I think.” Danica gave a long sigh. “Jeremy Hotston.”
“Hot, hot, Hotston.” The nurse sighed right back.
“Yeah. Totally. Erm, I mean, he’s incredibly helpful.”
“You like him.”
“I hardly know him.” A pause. “But based on what little I do know, he’s seriously amazing.” Danica giggled.
Actually giggled.
“I eavesdropped a couple of times.” The nurse’s voice asked, “Are you going to text him to come back?”
“Is the Pope Catholic?”
On that tired old metaphor’s cue, I swaggered down the hallway and out to my truck. Four bouquets of flowers, an e-book, a lawyer on retainer, and a rip-roaring case of amnesia. Perfect recipe for getting Danica to not only forgive me, but to say I was seriously amazing.
The truck’s engine roared to life, and so did an idea.
What if I can do more than simply get her to forgive me? What if she could fall for me?