The Other Amanda. Lynn Leslie

      “Amanda, I won’t lie to you. There was severe damage to your face from the beating.” His fingers tightened around her hand. “But I promise that when you’re fully healed, you’ll be as beautiful as ever.” His eyes seemed to dissolve into a kaleidoscope of jeweled colors. They pierced through her, leaving behind a strange burning sensation in her chest.

      “I’m not afraid about my face.” How could she be? It would be a new face for her. She had no sense of how she looked.

      “Then why are you afraid? Is it the attack in the park?”

      Again he squeezed her hand. Now she understood he did it to make sure she believed what he said.

      “You’re safe here. The police will find the person who did this to you. He’ll be punished, then you can put this all behind you.”

      Panic screamed through her aching body. First he reassured her, then he confused her. She knew she could trust him, but not all those other people, not all those other things. If he promised she would heal completely, she believed him. But the other things: the attack, the police, the family. These she didn’t fully understand. She couldn’t make them fit into the puzzle that was her life no matter how hard she tried.

      An awakening instinct warned her to hide her fear. Maybe the emptiness inside her would fill up with all the pieces she needed. Until then she was alone.

      Alone.

      Somehow she knew she didn’t want to be alone. Not anymore.

      The only memory she possessed was of looking into Jonathan’s eyes and being able to breathe, of finding comfort and reassurance. She clung to the recollection, balling both her hands into fists.

      “I’m afraid because…because…I can’t remember anything. About myself. About my past.”

      She unfurled one fist, her fingers desperately searching out his as she willed him to understand.

      “The only memory I have is you.”

       CHAPTER TWO

      SHOCK JOLTED THROUGH HIM like a current of electricity, wrapping itself around his veins and arteries, reaching into every part of his body. This was an Amanda he’d never known. Terror blazed out of her blue eyes—terror at the extent of her isolation and a vulnerability—that made her strangely appealing.

      He lowered his voice to a gentle tone he rarely used and hardly recognized. “Tell me everything you can remember.”

      “You. All I remember is you.” Her whisper broke into a sob. “I was…was struggling to breathe. Helpless. Alone. Dying.” A deep sob shuddered through her. He felt it in her fingers as she gripped his hand. “Suddenly you were there, surrounded by a bright light, and the pain went away. You told me I was safe.” She took a deep, shaking breath. “You told me that you’d…help me.”

      Her fingers trembled. Their weak plea compelled him to fold her hand between his palms, warming it.

      What the hell had happened?

      Both surgeries, his and Johnson’s, had been wildly successful given the extent of her injuries. They’d agreed to induce a comatose state for one week to keep her quiet, to allow her time to heal. It shouldn’t have affected her this way!

      He’d hoped they were home free, that there’d be no complications. He’d hoped she would just be another case to him. The Amanda he remembered, all arrogant confidence, would recover quickly and just as quickly leave with her doting aunt and uncle. He would remain her doctor. A pleasant memory from her past. Not this. She was going to need a lot more help than he could give her.

      “Please, Jonathan.” Tears welled in her eyes, spilling. over and spiking her lashes before gliding down her cheeks. She tried to raise a fist to scrub them away and winced with pain as the IV needle pressed into her skin. “Please…help me. I’m so scared.”

      Indecision, doubt in his ability as a surgeon had never troubled him, but this situation was clearly outside his realm of expertise. As gently as possible, he pulled away from her. It was time to be a professional.

      “I’ll get Dr. Johnson.” He crossed to the door, turning at the last moment, compelled by feelings he’d thought long dead. “I meant what I said. You’re safe here and I’ll help you.”

      He found Bonnie hovering outside the door. “I’ve paged Dr. Johnson three times. He should be here soon.”

      “Yeah, thanks, Bonnie.” He grinned sheepishly, knowing he’d been short-tempered and demanding lately. Amanda’s case, Amanda herself, had thrown him a real curve, more than he wanted to admit, even to himself.

      Waiting for Carl Johnson, he paced the corridor outside Amanda’s room like an expectant father. This was Johnson’s field; he’d know what to do. Even so, Jonathan didn’t like this feeling of helplessness.

      “Something has happened to Amanda. Tell me at once!” Randall’s hoarse cry drew curious looks from nearby staff. They all knew Randall Chambers as a tower of strength who never got rattled.

      “It’s all right, Randall. Amanda’s awake at last. I’ve just sent for Dr. Johnson to assess her status.”

      A smile of relief burst across Randall’s ruddy face. “Thank God. And thank you, Jonathan.” Randall leaned forward and clasped his shoulder in a fierce, emotional grip that surprised him. “I must phone Margaret right away. I can hardly believe that the one night we left for a few hours, Amanda woke up. Did she ask for us? May I see her?”

      “Sorry. Not until Dr. Johnson clears it.” Jonathan understood what Randall was going through, but he had to do what was best for his patient. “Go call your wife.” There was no point in telling Randall about this new complication until he had all the information.

      Jonathan stopped in midstride and muttered under his breath, “Where the hell are you, Carl?”

      “Right here. Sorry, buddy. I was in surgery.” Sighing, Johnson rubbed his neck above his sweatstained green scrubs. “What’s up?”

      “Amanda Braithwaite is awake.”

      “Hey, that’s great!” Johnson gave a bark of pleased laughter. “All the neurological tests I’ve run the past week have been golden, just like I told you.”

      “Uh-huh. She has amnesia.”

      It took a full twenty seconds for Johnson to absorb Jonathan’s curt announcement. Then he rolled his eyes. “Let’s take a look at her.”

      She looked small, lost in an avalanche of white sheets and bandages. Jonathan resisted the urge to go to her and take her hand. What was happening to his professional detachment? He let Johnson take over, and stood back against the wall, trying not to respond to her fear as Carl pulled a chair close to the side of her bed.

      “Hi, Amanda. I’m Dr. Carl Johnson. I performed surgery on you the night you were brought in. You’re doing just great, but I want to help you some more. Let’s have you stand beside the bed now.” Johnson laughed low in his throat, as if he were sharing a private joke. “You know hospitals. We never let you rest.”

      Dr. Johnson gestured her up, not helping, yet close enough to catch her if she faltered. Jonathan couldn’t keep himself from lunging forward to maneuver the IV pole out of her way, fighting to stay back when she struggled to keep her narrow white feet under her. This was Johnson’s examination. He had to butt out.

      “A little balance problem, Amanda?” Dr. Johnson’s mouth curled reassuringly. “That’s normal.”

      “Yes…I…I feel dizzy.”

      Dr. Johnson finally stepped forward and helped her back onto the bed. Over his shoulder, her eyes sought Jonathan’s approval. He smiled encouragingly