The Other Amanda. Lynn Leslie

from that area. Actually, the less she thought about it, the better.

      There was still a monitor attached to her chest, but having her arms free gave her a real sense of getting better. She sat up and immediately lay back down. Still dizzy, she would have to be very careful. She reached for her juice and sipped at it, savoring the sweetness on her tongue.

      The doctors would be in soon. She smoothed the hospital gown, wondering just what she looked like to them, to him. She wanted to tell Jonathan…actually there was nothing to tell him, she just wanted to see him again.

      She must have dozed, for when she opened her eyes again, a nurse was setting another tray on her bedside table. She lifted the silver food cover with a flourish, revealing a thin gruellike cereal. Even that looked good to Amanda’s empty stomach, so she couldn’t wait to try it. The nurse had elevated the bed, and without too much effort Amanda was eating. Her hands felt awkward, and as she manipulated the spoon, her right wrist throbbed with pain. She wondered about the heavy bandages there.

      When she was feeling pleased that she had successfully fed herself, even if it had fatigued her a little, Jonathan walked in. A sharp jolt of joy, an awareness of him as a man echoed against something deep inside her.

      She seized on that vaguely familiar feeling—at last, something tangible to grasp. She was almost afraid to question him about it, in case, it, too, slipped through her fingers.

      “Jonathan, did we know each other? Before.”

      His eyes widened. But before he could answer, her aunt pushed through the door. “Of course you know Jonathan, Amanda!” Her arms were full of packages, one hand holding an enormous vase of red roses. “His family has a house across from us on Clear Water Lake. Here, darling. I brought you your favorite flowers. Aren’t they beautiful?”

      They were the color of blood, but Amanda nodded.

      Margaret smiled and placed them on her bedside table. Amanda couldn’t smell them. Didn’t roses have a distinct perfume?

      Jonathan distracted her by announcing, “I’m taking your bandages off today.”

      He was all business as his nurse, Bonnie, came in with a wrapped tray full of instruments. She swung a table into place and stood at Jonathan’s side.

      “This won’t hurt.” His voice was gentle but impersonal.

      “I believe you,” she whispered and closed her eyes while he slowly and carefully removed the tight wrap from around her head and throat.

      Margaret’s gasp caused her to open her eyes. Jonathan was studying her and nodding.

      He continued to work, Bonnie handing him instruments before he could even ask.

      “You should be pleased.” Margaret sounded surprised. “Darling, only someone with your superior bone structure could look so gorgeous with the butcher job they’ve done on your hair. Let me get a mirror so you can see for yourself.”

      Panic exploded in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. As curious as she was, she wasn’t ready to actually see her face.

      “No. I don’t think Amanda needs a mirror yet. We’ll wait until I remove the plate and wires next week.”

      “Yes.”

      “Good girl.” She felt pleased at Jonathan’s nod of approval and strangely bereft when he left without another word. Margaret followed him as Bonnie silently cleaned up, then left herself.

      She was afraid to touch her face, and kept her fingers clenched at her side. Finally her eyes closed of their own volition and she slept again. When she. woke, Randall was sitting in a chair pulled close to the bed, studying her face.

      “Finally you awaken, my sweet girl.” Leaning forward, he laid his cheek on the pillow beside hers.

      Shock made her blink at him. He was so close their mouths nearly touched.

      “Do you remember how much I love you?” His whisper brushed over her face.

      An odd, heavy feeling filled her chest. She didn’t want to cause him any more pain but she couldn’t give him the answer he wanted so desperately.

      “No, Uncle Randall. I…I don’t remember. But I…sense how much you and Aunt Margaret care for me,” she added, hoping it would be enough to wipe the stricken look from his face.

      A deep shudder ran through him as he squeezed his eyes shut. “My sweet, sweet girl, if only…”

      The door swung open, startling him upright. Jonathan threw him a curious look. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

      “I brought Amanda some of her things. And the gifts I promised her.” His smile looked sad as he touched his lips to one of his fingers and then laid it on her cheek. “Open your things. Perhaps they will help you remember. I’ll be back to see you later.”

      For the first time, she noticed a suitcase and two boxes at the end of her bed. The things Margaret had brought were stacked against the wall. So much generosity. Too much.

      Jonathan lifted a pink satin nightgown trimmed in black lace out of the suitcase. “Go ahead. Maybe some of these things will seem familiar to you.”

      The satin gown and matching robe were beautiful but sparked no memory. All the lingerie bore labels that she couldn’t exactly identify but knew were expensive. The gifts from Randall were identical bed jackets covered with lace and delicate beading, one powder blue, the other shell pink.

      She didn’t know what to think about all these beau tiful things. Jonathan was no help, sprawled in the chair beside the bed, his long legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, waiting for her reaction.

      “Are Aunt Margaret and Uncle Randall rich?”

      “They’re comfortable.” He laughed. “You, however, are very rich. The only heir to the Braithwaite fortune.”

      Fortune. She searched her mind but found no impression of how it felt to be wealthy.

      “What are you thinking about now?” His voice had dropped to the gentle tone she preferred.

      “About being…rich. Did I embrace it or shun it? Did it bring me happiness or sadness?”

      The dimples in Jonathan’s cheeks deepened as he smiled. “I think you enjoy every moment of being able to indulge your whims. Does any of that stuff bring anything to mind?”

      “No.” She raised her hands to her head, wishing she could force her memories out. “All I have up here are impressions and feelings.”

      “Tell me about them.” He leaned forward eagerly. “Maybe there’s something Dr. Newman can build on.”

      She rested back against the pile of pillows, searching for the right words. “The nurses make me feel warm and…cared for.”

      “Bonnie and her famous back rubs.” His burst of laughter caused her mouth to curl a little at the corners. It felt safe to smile now. It didn’t hurt as much.

      “Dr. Johnson and Dr. Newman are concerned, but a little more detached. I’m comfortable with them.”

      “What about your aunt and uncle?” he asked, watching her intently.

      Now she had to be careful. She trusted him, but didn’t know how much he would tell them. “I…I sense how much they care for me. But they confuse me.” She didn’t add that they made her tense and cold inside. She swallowed to soothe her suddenly dry throat.

      Ever observant, Jonathan handed her a glass of juice. “And me?” he prompted.

      “With you, I feel this…this…urgency to be close. To keep you with me. Do you think that’s because we knew each other before?” His eyes had gone dark, almost black. “Were we friends?”

      He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Alarmed, Amanda reached out her hand toward him. “Did I say something wrong? You asked