Page 27 of The Accidental Wedding
Troubled by unanswerable questions and aching all over, he pushed his belongings aside, closed his eyes, and eventually, slept.
Dr. Thompson inspected his head wounds with approving noises. “Outside seems to be healing well, but they tell me you can’t even remember your own name, eh?”
“It’s very frustrating. I can remember all sorts of odd things—facts and quotes and such—but nothing about myself or the events leading up to the accident.”
“Fascinating.” The doctor fixed him with shrewd gaze and fired a string of questions at him: Who was the prime minister? When was the Battle of Waterloo? Where did he grow up? What was the sum of 241 and 398? What was his father’s name? What were the Punic Wars? Who wroteThe Merchant of Venice?
He answered them as best he could, answering some without even having to think twice and drawing a blank on others.
At the end of the inquisition, the doctor nodded. “Your brain seems working well enough, it’s just your memory that’s at fault.”
He already knew that. “The question is, when will it return?”
“No telling,” the doctor said cheerfully. “Man has circumnavigated the world hundreds of times, but we still have very little idea of what’s in here.” He tapped his temple lightly. “Or how it works. In some cases, the patient never recovers their memory. Or even their brain.” Apparently oblivious of his patient’s appalled expression, he added cheerfully, “Now, let’s have a look at this ankle.”
He unwrapped the injured ankle, probed and manipulated it, and eventually pronounced it a sprain. “Though it might be a cracked bone. I’ll strap it up again on the off chance. Don’t put any weight on it for at least a week. If it hurts, don’t use it.” He closed his bag. “Not unless you want to be a cripple for the rest of your life, ha-ha.”
Cheery bloody bastard,he thought as the doctor left. The doctor’s manipulations had left him exhausted. And frustrated.
“He’s a very good doctor,” Maddy said defensively. “He’s not one to be groundlessly optimistic—”
“Oh, yes, I noticed his optimism. I’m to count myself lucky to have a brain at all, never mind if I never find out who I am. And if I move I’ll be a cripple for life. And it’s all sofascinating!”
She laughed. “It’s good advice. You’re looking rather gray around the gills, so why don’t you have a sleep?”
There was nothing he wanted more, but he hated appearing so weak and helpless in front of her. “I’m perfectly all right—” he began, but she twitched the curtains shut and he was left alone.
“I’m not normally so feeble,” he told the curtain. “I’m a fine, energetic figure of a man, actually.”
She laughed and called back, “How would you know?” A moment later the outside door closed and he could hear her telling the children to play a little farther away from the cottage so the man could sleep.
How would he know, indeed?
“The man,” that was his name. That or “you” or “sir,” depending on who was speaking. It wasn’t acceptable. He needed to think, needed to remember . . .
“You’re not supposed to go there, he’s asleep!” A hoarse whisper woke him.
“But he’s been sleeping for days!” Another loud whisper.
“That’s because he hurt his head. And Maddy said we weren’t to distu—John!”
The curtain was drawn back and the oldest boy peered in at him. “See, he is awake!” John exclaimed triumphantly. He lowered his voice and added in an unnaturally flat, calm voice, “Besides, I’m notdisturbinghim; I’m just talking to him. Very quietly. Aren’t I, sir?”
“You woke him! And Maddy’s going to be cross.” The oldest girl looked in. “I’m so sorry, sir. ItoldJohn—”
“It’s all right—Jane, is it?” She nodded and flushed with pleasure at him remembering her name. Other people’s names were easy.
“I was awake,” he lied. Keeping his head as steady as he could, he propped himself up on one elbow. “Now, John, how can I help you?”
“Well, it’s your horse,” the boy began.
“He’s not injured, is he? I thought—”
“No, no, sir, he’s perfectly splendid. It’s just—”
“He hasn’t got a name,” declared a gruff little voice. There was a thumping and bumping as a stool was put in place, and Lucy’s face appeared.
“You see, sir, we—”
