The Other Amanda. Lynn Leslie

went off. He silenced it and stood flexing his shoulders. “I’ve got to go back to work. We’ll talk more about this later.” At the door, he turned back to her. “I’m going to leave this door open. You need to see more of the world.”

      The world in the corridor didn’t seem very friendly, though. The nurses rushed from room to room without even a wave. There was an overwhelming amount of noise. A woman in a pink smock pushed a cart full of flowers past her door. Men, women and a few chil dren rushed by, all impatient to get somewhere. She’d forgotten all about this world. Actually, with her door closed, she had felt safe and protected. Obviously Jonathan thought she didn’t need that barrier any longer. Well, if he wanted her to learn about the outside world, she would.

      From the snatches of conversations she caught, she began to understand that all this commotion concerned other patients. People visited them, sent gifts and flowers. When anyone slowed near her door, she braced herself, but no one stopped that day.

      The next brought Dr. Johnson with his tests, Dr. Newman with his kind eyes and gentle questions, and, of course, the nurses. She was beginning to know them all by name—Leslie, Donna and Chris. After dinner, soup and Jell-O, Chris came with orders that Amanda should go for a walk. They made it halfway to the nurses’ station before Amanda became lightheaded. She could hardly make it back to her bed, even with the nurse’s help.

      Her aunt and uncle came and went several times, but they didn’t bring Mother Chambers. She discovered her aunt had brought toiletries, cosmetics, perfume. All of her favorites, apparently, but nothing she recognized.

      Always the best part of each day was when Jonathan appeared. He came in the morning, professionally. In the afternoon he’d stop by just to chat. Once in a while he’d stop in the evening. She had no idea how unusual this was until, on an afternoon walk with Leslie, she saw him from a distance and he waved.

      “Is he a friend of yours?” The nurse turned her around carefully, for she still had an occasional bout of dizziness. “He spends a lot more time with you than any of his regular patients.”

      That gave her something to think about. So what if other patients’ rooms were filled with flowers and cards and balloons, while hers was empty except for the bloodred roses and gifts from her aunt and uncle. Jonathan was her friend. Yet, as she fell asleep that night, she decided to ask him why she didn’t have any other friends to send her flowers or cards.

      As she began to understand time and grow impatient with the sameness of her days, she realized she felt much stronger. Now she was anxious to get rid of the plate and wires and see her own face. Maybe then her identity would return.

      Even so, there was a certain security in the sameness of her days. Then everything changed. Jonathan didn’t come in the morning. The time for his afternoon visit came and went. A dull ache throbbed through her, and she was tempted not to eat lunch. She even thought of asking for him when she realized he wasn’t coming, but instinctively she knew that was wrong. She paged listlessly through one of the fashion magazines her aunt Margaret had brought.

      Suddenly she heard his voice. He seemed to be arguing, but that didn’t matter; he was coming to see her. The day was suddenly bright. She hardly noticed the other men with him—two strangers and both of her doctors.

      One was a policeman—she recognized the blue uniform from the television shows she sometimes watched to help pass time. The other had on a brown tweed jacket and trousers. His tie wasn’t neat like Randall’s, and Jonathan seemed upset with him.

      Her aunt and uncle crowded in, too, standing by the door. Jonathan sat in his customary chair next to her bed. Dr. Newman and Dr. Johnson stood on the other side. The strangers took positions at the foot of her bed. She felt surrounded by confusion and huddled under the sheet in her new powder blue bed jacket, looking to Jonathan for guidance.

      He smiled. “Amanda, everything’s just fine.”

      Dr. Johnson nodded. “Amanda, this is Detective Savage and Officer Mahoney. They need to ask you some questions about the night you were attacked. We think you’re strong enough to answer now.”

      Dr. Newman’s kind eyes reassured her. Her family was there, and Jonathan; she had nothing to fear. But how could she answer questions about something she couldn’t remember?

      “We’d like to tell you what we’ve learned, Miss Braithwaite. Your doctors have told us you’re sufferin’ from a temporary memory loss, and I want you to know that we understand. Don’t worry about forcin’ yourself to remember anythin’, okay?” The detective spoke very gently.

      Jonathan nodded as if he approved of the man’s technique, so she nodded, too.

      The officer pulled out a small book, consulting it as he said, “The Majestic Hotel confirmed you made a reservation that night but never checked in. The doorman says he saw you standing under the marquee before you crossed the road and went into the park.”

      Detective Savage loosened his tie so it hung partway down his white shirt. There was a gravy stain midway down it, and she concentrated on that stain, afraid to look anywhere else. “We’d sure like to know where you were goin’ that night. Or where you were for the six weeks before.”

      The silence stretched, echoing in the dark corridors of her mind. When she didn’t answer, he continued, “You apparently E-mailed a message to your uncle on 17 May that you were goin’ shoppin’ out of town. Did you go with someone?”

      All the questions were too much. Tears welled in her eyes. She began to tremble.

      “I can’t remember anything,” she whispered.

      “Well, you did meet someone in the park.” The detective leaned on the railing at the end of her bed. “You caught a runaway poodle for an elderly woman walkin’ her dog.”

      “Amanda has a dog,” her aunt interrupted. “She’s always been kind to animals.”

      “Well, ma’am, that bit of kindness saved her life.”

      Amanda looked at the policeman.

      “The park is my beat. That poodle escaped his owner again and I caught him.” Officer Mahoney coughed and his face grew as red as his close-cropped hair. “That’s when she told me you’d retrieved him earlier and that you might still be in the park. I didn’t like the sound of that, so I decided to do my sweep of the park and lakefront earlier than usual.”

      “Mahoney didn’t see your assailant, but he must have frightened him off, because the guy left this behind.” Detective Savage laid a ring on the bed. A golden ring with a sapphire the size of a nickel surrounded by diamonds.

      Her aunt sobbed. “It was my sister’s. Amanda’s mother, Alice.”

      Alice. My mother’s name was Alice. A clue, but one that conjured up no response. She felt nothingno waves of sentiment about her mother or the ring. Her only reaction was vague shock at the size of the stones.

      “If we knew why you were walkin’ in that park, Miss Braithwaite, or who you were meetin’, it would sure help our investigation.”

      She wanted to tell him that she didn’t know, but she could only scream silently into the darkness of her memories. As always, there was no reply. She tilted back her head and, through a veil of confusion, found Jonathan studying her.

      “That’s enough!” he growled, staring first at Dr. Johnson and then at Dr. Newman.

      Dr. Newman nodded. “Dr. Taylor is correct. Miss Braithwaite needs rest. Pressure to remember could impede her recovery.”

      “No more questions, today, gentlemen.” Dr. Johnson ushered everyone out, including her family.

      She was glad to see them leave. Her head was pounding, and waves of fatigue made her muscles feel like spaghetti, but she didn’t want Jonathan to go. She held out her hand until he took it in his own warm, strong one.

      “It’s all right,” he soothed her. “Don’t think about it anymore. I want to talk to