of the bloody IV rolled through his head, nauseating him. “The doctor’s with her now.”
Martha and Dan waited silently with him while Grant willed his pulse to slow down. Each minute became an excruciating eternity.
Finally the white-haired physician opened the door. “She’s stable now,” he announced. “You can come in.” He gestured toward Grant. “Only family for now.”
“Of course.” Martha patted his arm, her cheeks ruddy. “You go on and be with her, Mr. Wadsworth. Tell her we hope she feels better soon.”
“Yeah, tell her to get better,” Dan added as they turned to leave.
“What happened?” Grant asked the doctor. His blood still roared in his ears as he made his way back to Emma’s bed. “Did Emma pull off her mask? Was she trying to wake up?”
“I don’t know,” the doctor said, studying her chart. “But her vitals are stable again.” He listened to her heart, then turned to Grant with a worried expression. “Mr. Wadsworth, it looks as if someone else removed your wife’s oxygen. I don’t think she could have torn the elastic or jerked out her IV herself. You should probably talk to that detective about it.”
“I will.” Grant dropped into the chair beside Emma and clasped her hand. Who would do such a horrible thing? The doctor left, and Grant gritted his teeth in misery. His emotions were on a roller-coaster ride from hell.
The doctor had to be wrong. Maybe Emma had been trying to come out of the coma.
But with Warner’s suspicions about Emma’s accident, Grant couldn’t take chances. He phoned the detective and reported the incident. Warner agreed to come immediately.
Grant hung up and squeezed Emma’s hand again. The minutes dragged by, but she still showed no response. “Please, Emma, please, wake up.” He closed his eyes, fighting the tears seeping from beneath his eyelids. Desperate, he tried to strike a bargain with God. If Emma woke up, if he had his life back the way it had been before the accident, he’d come home earlier, he’d be a better husband.
All the shoulds and shouldn’ts taunted him. He shouldn’t have let Emma go out that night alone. He should have gone to the drugstore, instead. And he shouldn’t have stayed at the bar with Priscilla after the business dinner, even if Priscilla had stressed the importance of discussing their client.
He drew a circle around the bandage on her cheekbone. “I need you, Emma. I love you so much. Please open your eyes.” Exhausted, he buried his head against her shoulder and gave in to his emotions, letting himself cry, feeling utterly hopeless.
Something brushed his temple. Grant’s breath caught. Afraid he’d imagined the slight movement, he hesitated before opening his eyes. There it was again. Feathery soft. So gentle.
He slowly raised his head, his heart thumping like a drumroll. Emma’s gorgeous brown eyes were staring directly at him. He muttered a thank-you to the heavens and pushed the call button for the nurse. “Hi,” he said, barely able to speak through his tight throat.
“Hello.” Emma’s strained voice sounded full of pain, as if she could hardly breathe, much less talk. She raised her slender hand to her forehead, then winced in pain.
Grant took her hand in his. “It’s about time you came back to us.” He gently kissed the tips of her fingers and forced himself to bank his emotions. “I’m so glad you’re okay, baby.”
Emma’s eyes were luminous with moisture, and a tear streamed down her battered cheek. When she finally spoke, her words rasped out, low and broken. “Where…am I?”
“You’re in the hospital, sweetheart. You had an accident, but you’re going to be all right.”
Emma pressed her fingers to the bandage on her head. She glanced at the IV, at their joined hands. Then she frowned, her eyes darkening in pain and confusion. Was she remembering the accident? She pulled her hand from his and simply stared at him, her pale cheeks alabaster in the harsh hospital lights. He didn’t understand her withdrawal or the mounting silence.
“Emma…”
Her lip quivered as she finally spoke, and fear laced her soft voice. “Who…who are you?”
Chapter Two
“Amnesia?” A wave of shock rolled through Emma as the doctor’s words penetrated the haze clouding her brain. She stared at the man who’d identified himself as her husband. The man with the deep soothing voice who had whispered to her in the darkness. His olive complexion had turned a pasty white, and his smile had disappeared the minute she’d asked his name.
“That’s right,” Dr. Turner said with a slight nod. “Retrograde amnesia.”
“But she knows her name.” Grant’s words echoed with disbelief.
“I even remember my address,” Emma said, trying to ignore the blinding pain in her temple. “It’s 3551 Summit Trail.”
The doctor adjusted his bifocals and glanced at her chart, his brow furrowed.
Grant shook his head. “No, Emma, that’s your parents’ address. We live on Kingsly.”
Dr. Turner scratched his balding head. “Amnesia’s not uncommon after a severe head injury. You have a pretty bad concussion, Mrs. Wadsworth.” He gave Grant a concerned look. “We can’t forget your wife was in a coma for four days. Recovery takes time.”
“You mean she will remember?” Grant asked, his eyes brightening.
Emma clutched the hospital sheet with one hand while draping the other across her throbbing head. She felt as if she’d just fallen into the twilight zone. Judging from the strained expression on Grant Wadsworth’s face, he wasn’t faring much better.
“I mean she could remember. It’s too early to tell,” the doctor answered quietly. “Her memory loss could be due to physical or emotional trauma.”
“Are you saying I might not ever remember any more than I do now?” She rubbed her temple and winced, her vision blurring as the room spun around her.
The doctor pursed his lips. “It’s possible. We’ll have to wait and see.”
Grant turned to her. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll get through this. I’m just glad you’re awake.” Emma cringed at the haunted look on his face. Although his voice sounded reassuring, she could still hear his uncertainty.
He raked a hand through his black hair, causing a wavy lock to fall across his forehead. Something about the gesture seemed vaguely familiar, but Emma’s mind remained fuzzy. Dozens of questions crowded her thoughts.
Grant’s jaw tightened. “Do you remember our baby, sweetheart?”
Fear crawled up Emma’s spine, making her voice sound weak. “Our baby?”
“Yes…Carly. Here, I’ll show you.” The lines around Grant’s eyes softened. He reached for her, pausing when she drew back. “Your locket. The one I gave you on our wedding day. It has a picture of the three of us…” His tentative smile faded. “It’s gone.”
Emma
