Identity Crisis, page 2
He could have saved her the trouble, because despite their broken engagement, his heart belonged to Alyssa.
Mallory was completely different from Alyssa in too many ways to count. Alyssa upheld her Christian beliefs in everything she said and did, including her stubborn dedication to her career as a trauma nurse. Mallory, on the other hand, was outgoing, known to be the life of the party and an outrageous flirt.
Both women were beautiful on the outside, but in his opinion, only Alyssa had the same beauty deep within. Mallory’s personality held a hard edge, whereas Alyssa’s was softly inviting.
He missed Alyssa. Desperately. He tried not to dwell on the past, but it wasn’t easy. Mallory wordlessly glared at him with distinct annoyance. The corner of her hospital gown slipped off to the side, providing him a distasteful glimpse of the rose and dagger tattoo she wore just below her collarbone.
He quickly averted his gaze, wishing he could just leave. But his job was to get Mallory home. Surely he could manage something so simple.
“Are you ready?” he asked with forced brightness. “I think you’re about to be released, so let’s bust out of here.” There was no sign of the nurse, Jennifer. Where had she gone? To get the discharge paperwork, he hoped. Reluctantly, he tucked his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he slowly approached Mallory’s bedside.
She bolted upright like a shot, bringing up a hand as if to keep him at bay. “Hold it! Who are you? You don’t work here.” Her suspicious gaze sliced him. “Get out!”
Get out? Was she kidding? He ignored the tiny hairs on the back of his neck that rose in alarm. “Yeah. Very funny.”
“This isn’t one bit funny.” She tugged her gown higher over her chest but thrust her chin in the direction of the door. “I told you to get out.”
Gage held out his hands in mock surrender. “You’re upset about being stuck with me? Well, too bad. They called me because you have a concussion and can’t drive. If I leave, how are you going to get home?”
For a long moment she stared at him, as if he were an alien creature she needed to dissect with X-ray vision. “Home?”
“Yes. Home.” He sighed, desperately seeking patience. “To your fancy downtown condo. The sooner I can drop you off, the sooner you’ll be rid of me.” And then his good deed for the day would be finished.
She reached up with one hand and massaged her temple. “I can’t— Let’s try this again.” Dropping her hand, she leveled a look at him full of uncertainty. “Who are you?”
He stared at her in suspicious shock. Was this some sort of weird game? If so, he wasn’t in the mood. He’d already spent his entire evening solving problems at three of his construction sites and had gotten less than four hours of sleep. No way was he doing this.
“Fine. You don’t want me to take you home? Then I’m outta here.” He spun on his heel but Jennifer walked into the room, blocking his escape route.
“Mallory?” The nurse glanced past him but didn’t move from the door. “Dr. Anderson is writing your discharge note as we speak. Would you like to get dressed?”
“No. I want to know what’s going on.” The tone of her voice held a note of desperation. “Who is this guy? My head hurts. You’re telling me to go home, but where is home? Why can’t I remember anything?”
Dumbfounded, Gage swiveled toward her. Mallory’s confused-yet-defiant gaze met his without an ounce of recognition. Doubt assailed him. Could she honestly be telling the truth?
The nurse was taken aback by Mallory’s questions, too. “Since when can’t you remember? You didn’t say anything when Dr. Anderson examined you.”
Mallory massaged her temple again, wincing beneath the pressure of her fingers. “I can’t think straight with this headache.” She frowned, picking at one corner of the blanket covering her. “It wasn’t until this guy mentioned going home that I realized I couldn’t remember.”
Gage sighed and dropped heavily into a chair beside her bed. Thoughts of returning home for sleep anytime soon faded faster than an early-morning mist. What was going on? Was it possible Mallory really couldn’t remember anything?
Jennifer clearly thought so. “I better find Dr. Anderson.”
Unfortunately, the doctor didn’t have any more advice to give them. He examined Mallory again, asking a barrage of questions. She knew which year it was and the president of the United States, but not anything personal about herself.
“What’s your address?”
“I don’t know.” Mallory closed her eyes in frustration. Knuckles white, her fists clenched the sheets. She sucked in a loud breath. “I don’t understand. What is wrong with me? How can I forget my address?”
“Do you remember any members of your family?” the doctor persisted.
“No.” She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “But I could be an only child.”
Gage nearly laughed until he realized she was serious. An only child? Mallory and Alyssa were close, despite their completely different personalities. How could she forget her twin sister?
“Hmm.” The doctor frowned and tabbed through the computer screens, reviewing parts of Mallory’s electronic medical chart. “There aren’t many details regarding your accident. You were found lying on a concrete sidewalk by a neighbor who was coming home after work. Your purse contained some cash and an ID, so we don’t really believe this was a mugging. And certainly nothing to indicate a cause for amnesia.”
“What do you mean nothing to indicate a cause for her amnesia?” Gage straightened—his interest piqued, in spite of himself.
The doctor shrugged. “Retrograde amnesia is often the result of a traumatic event combined with a head injury. Mallory has some short-term memory still intact, which even more strongly indicates a traumatic psychological event. However, without knowing what the source of the potential trauma could be, there really isn’t anything we can do. We’ve already performed a CT scan of her head and didn’t find any bleeding. When her brain can handle her memory, I’m sure it will return.”
Gage rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “So now what? Does she need to stay here? Get more tests?”
“No, that’s not necessary. We’ve ruled out a head bleed. More tests aren’t going to give any input into the source of her amnesia. I’d recommend she be released home, with instructions to follow up with her primary-care doctor in a week. But she really shouldn’t be left alone. At least, not until her memory begins to return.”
“I’m sure her sister will keep her company.” Gage sighed again. Once he managed to find her.
He hoped, prayed, Alyssa hadn’t found someone new. Someone from her church, who went to every single Bible study group meeting no matter what. Someone who may have already replaced him in her heart.
“Good. We’ll finish that discharge paperwork.”
Gage fell silent after the doctor left the room. He was surprised to find he felt sorry for Mallory. In her current, injured state, he found her less irritating. Although the situation frustrated him to no end. Where was Alyssa?
“A sister? I have a sister?”
He lifted his gaze to meet her abruptly hopeful one. His annoyance faded a bit. “Yeah. Your parents are gone, but you do have a sister. Alyssa is your twin and she’s an amazing person.”
Mallory’s gaze turned curious. “Wow. Sounds like you care about her.”
“Yes, I do. Very much,” he answered honestly.
“Alyssa.” She repeated the name, wrinkling her forehead in concentration. “It’s so wrong not to remember a twin sister. But the name seems right. Mallory and Alyssa. We’re close?”
“Yes, you’re close,” Gage admitted, because it was true. Despite their differences, the twins always stood by each other no matter what.
“Where is she?” Mallory looked perplexed. “If we’re close, why isn’t she here?”
“Good question.” He reached for his cell phone and redialed. After several long rings there was no answer. He didn’t bother leaving another message. “We’ll have to stop over there tomorrow. For now, we’ll go back to your place. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“The sofa?” Her blue eyes, so much like Alyssa’s, widened in horror. “I’d rather you slept in your car. What part of this don’t you understand? I don’t know you!”
Her barely restrained annoyance gave more credence to her story than anything else could have. She looked at him as if she detested the sight of him. And maybe she did. He couldn’t figure Mallory out. Had never really wanted to.
With a frown, Gage stood. Mallory was more tolerable with amnesia, but he still longed to drop her off as soon as possible. Unfortunately, he was stuck with her until he could find her twin.
So where on earth was Alyssa?
TWO
Even after the hospital staff finally left her alone, she couldn’t relax. Her pulse skipped erratically in her chest. Panic clawed up and over her back. Why couldn’t she remember?
She fought for control against the invisible demons that snarled in her mind, holding her memory hostage. Logic told her she was in the hospital, but nothing looked familiar. The room was little more than a cubicle, three walls but no real door, just a privacy curtain drawn across the opening. She clutched the blanket tighter. She felt exposed. The flimsy curtain wouldn’t protect her. Anyone could come in at any time. Anyone.
Like the tall, ruggedly handsome stranger waiting to take her home.
Run! Run! The urge to flee merged with panic. Something was wrong. Very, very, wrong. Certainty seeped into her bones, injecting her with the strength to move. She scrambled from the bed, wincing as her swollen and sprained ankle zinged when her foot hit the floor, and reached for her clothes. Maybe she didn’t feel entirely safe around the large, sandy-haired man with the square jaw and golden-brown eyes, but she wasn’t afraid of him, either. She grasped the slight distinction eagerly.
Her mind felt as if she were swimming through fog with no shore in sight. She pulled on her jeans, pausing when she noticed two small dark stains. Dried blood? From her head? She put a hand to the bruise above her forehead. No. Her throat closed and she gagged. From someone else. She wildly kicked the jeans off, chest heaving from the effort, pain searing her ankle. The denim landed halfway across the room. Frantic, she rifled through the linens on the cart next to the bed. What could she wear? Scrubs maybe?
“Are you ready?” The deep male voice from the other side of the curtain startled her. She stumbled against the bed, clumsily covering herself with the blanket from the bed.
“No! Stay out!” She stayed where she was until convinced he wasn’t coming in. Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths, fighting a wave of dizziness. Come on, get a grip. Steeling her resolve, she forced herself to limp across the room to fetch the dreaded clothes. With an effort she donned the midriff-baring T-shirt and hip-hugging jeans.
The name Mallory seemed right but the clothes felt foreign. Wearing such tightly fitting jeans and T-shirt was embarrassing. Why did she wear them? Didn’t she care if others stared? Mallory gave her head a shake, and then winced as the pickax hammering in her head intensified.
This wasn’t the time to worry about her clothes. Focus. She needed to focus. Urgency propelled her forward. With a suppressed shiver she pulled on the lightweight denim jacket. The bottom of the jacket barely met the waistband on her jeans. She tugged on it, as if she could will it longer, and then gave up. Close enough.
She picked up the huge, gaudy purse, slung it over her shoulder and yanked the curtain aside with a snap. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
His gaze raked over her and she fought the urge to tug once more on the short hem of her T-shirt. His amber eyes held no clue to his thoughts. “Great.”
He led the way through the emergency room, keeping his pace slow so she could keep up with her bum ankle. She swept a glance over the occupants of the waiting room, her attention snagged by a hacking cough. Despite her desire to leave as quickly as possible, her steps slowed to a stop.
An elderly woman sat huddled in a corner, her lips as blue as her hair. Mallory abruptly changed course, heading toward the woman, who held a crumpled, blood-stained tissue in the palm of her hand. The poor woman looked as if she was ready to take her last breath.
“Get a doctor over here, now!” Mallory called out to a passing nurse. “This woman’s on the verge of respiratory arrest.”
The harried nurse sputtered an argument but then noticed the same bluish tinge to the woman’s lips that had drawn Mallory’s attention. “I’ll get an oxygen tank.”
Seconds later, the nurse hurried over wheeling an oxygen tank. She cranked up the dial and placed an oxygen mask over the elderly woman’s face. “Take a deep breath, Mrs. Sullivan. We’re going to get you into a room right now.” The nurse touched a button on a device hanging from a lanyard around her neck that must have functioned like some sort of intercom. “Steve, I need a wheelchair brought into the waiting room, stat.”
Mallory watched as one of the orderlies brought over a wheelchair. Soon, the elderly woman was escorted back. Satisfied, she turned back toward the entrance.
Only to find the tall stranger staring at her in shocked surprise. “What was that about?”
“What do you mean?”
“How did you know she was going into respiratory arrest?” His gaze was suspicious and faintly accusing.
Good question. How had she known? “I’m not sure.”
He stared at her again, seemingly at a loss for words. She couldn’t understand his reaction, especially when he abruptly turned and continued walking through the door.
She quickened her gimpy pace, following him through the doors to the parking lot. “Wait! I can’t move that fast!”
He spun around and came back toward her, his face pulled into a grimace. “Sorry,” he muttered, although somehow she suspected that deep down he really wasn’t.
Mallory didn’t know why she annoyed him, but worse, she couldn’t remember his name. Had he even told her? She couldn’t remember. Her head hurt so badly she could barely concentrate.
And suddenly, the nearly invisible thread of control snapped. “Look, Mr. Whatever-Your-Name is, I don’t know what your problem is and I don’t care. Have you forgotten your promise to take me home? Or are you going to leave me stranded here without a ride?”
“I said I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, and she couldn’t help noticing the deep grooves of fatigue bracketing the sides of his mouth. Maybe it wasn’t personal. Maybe he was just tired. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you stranded.”
He seemed to be making an effort to remain calm, adjusting his stride to meet hers, as they headed across the parking lot. He opened the door of a pickup truck and gestured for her to get in. Her tight jeans hindered her movement as she tried to jump into the truck seat.
“Do you need help?”
“No.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she struggled to leverage herself up and into the truck. He waited patiently then closed the door gently but firmly once she was safely inside.
She let out a tiny breath of relief when he climbed in beside her. She couldn’t explain why she wanted to get away from the hospital, but the need to escape couldn’t be ignored. She placed her palms on her thighs, trying to hide the bloodstains. If he saw them, he’d have questions, and unfortunately she didn’t have any answers.
She wished more than anything that she didn’t have to depend on him to take her home. His shoulders strained at the seams of his white cotton shirt as he started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. The cuffs of his sleeves were rolled to his elbows. Dark hair sprinkled his skin. She fought the absurd urge to touch him.
“Gage.”
She tore her glance from the mesmerizing strength of his arms. “Excuse me?”
“My name is Gage Drummond. Alyssa and I are—close friends.”
Mallory lobbed the name through the spacious portion of her brain where her memory should have been. Gage was a nice name. “Yes. So you said.”
He kept his eyes glued to the road. “Alyssa is a nurse. She works in the emergency department of Trinity Medical Center.”
“I see.” Mallory filed away that small tidbit of information. She had a twin sister who was a nurse and her boyfriend’s name was Gage. Comforting, to a certain extent, to know she wasn’t completely alone in the world. “Am I a nurse, too?”
“No.” His response was terse. “You’re an interior designer, working for a large architectural firm. You create color schemes for offices, hospitals, that sort of thing. So don’t you think it’s odd that you knew that woman was about to go into respiratory arrest?”
“Her lips were blue,” she said, even though a blanket of unease settled over her, worse than the one she’d felt earlier when she’d woken up in the hospital with a fog-filled brain. The minute she’d noticed the elderly woman in the corner, she’d known something was wrong. Respiratory arrest was when someone stopped breathing. Despite Gage’s claim she was a designer, she must have had some exposure to hospitals. Maybe she’d tried to follow her sister into nursing, but then dropped out? Why on earth couldn’t she remember? Mallory licked suddenly dry lips and tried to shrug. “Everyone knows blue lips are a bad sign.”
Gage’s laugh didn’t hold any mirth. “Yeah, maybe. Or this is part of some weird way of changing yourself into someone I’d like. Don’t bother trying to flirt with me again. I happen to love Alyssa.”
