The Second Chance. Catherine Mann

show the part of her brain that was affected. “Actually, she does know her name. She recalls details about herself. The memory loss focuses on more recent events.”

      “How recent?” Chuck asked, unease creeping up his spine.

      “She has the month correct. But five years prior.”

      Five years ago? That meant... “She doesn’t remember anything about me.”

      Much less about being married to him. There were some times between them lately he wouldn’t mind forgetting. But the thought of losing memories of the good times with Shana?

      Unthinkable.

      The two doctors exchanged somber looks before Shana’s other doctor took a seat in the other wingback. Dr. Gibson was young, but tops when it came to fertility specialists. It meant a lot to Chuck that the man had shown up to weigh in on Shana’s condition even though they weren’t trying for another baby.

      “Chuck, I’m sorry to say, she does not remember you,” Dr. Gibson said in the quietly comforting tone he’d used during Chuck and Shana’s failed in vitro and three miscarriages. A phantom sucker punch to the gut wracked Chuck.

      It had been bittersweet when Dr. Gibson had assisted in caring for Chuck’s stepsister two months ago, after she delivered twins in a car. Pretending nothing was wrong had been hard as hell for Chuck, and Shana hadn’t wanted his comfort.

      “We were having trouble. Do you think this memory loss is more psychological than physical?”

      He’d blamed himself repeatedly for this aneurysm. If they hadn’t been fighting, if intense emotions hadn’t raised her blood pressure, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

      “There’s no question she’s had an aneurysm, and she’s incredibly lucky to have come through it so well. But that’s not to say there aren’t psychological aspects in play. The body and mind work in tandem.”

      Staring at the tablet in the doctor’s hand, Chuck moved toward a planter, something to rest on. “How do we proceed from here? What do we tell her, and what’s her prognosis?”

      “I realize that you need answers, but it’s too early to project the long term. For now, the counselor on staff here suggests we answer questions as she asks them, no additional information,” Dr. Harris warned. “A psychiatrist will be consulting. Things are still so very new.”

      The obstetrician leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Let’s focus on the positives. Shana’s awake and physically fine. The baby’s heartbeat is strong. That’s news to celebrate.”

      Chuck frowned, certain he’d misunderstood. Gibson had to be confusing patients after a late shift.

      Dr. Harris straightened. “The baby?”

      “What baby?” Chuck said precisely. Because no way could Shana be pregnant now of all times. The dark irony of that would be too much to entertain.

      Dr. Gibson’s eyebrows shot up before he schooled his face back into an alarmingly blank expression. “She didn’t tell you about the pregnancy?”

      Chuck shook his head slowly, stunned, half-certain there was an error. Fate couldn’t be this twisted.

      “Shana is expecting,” he said baldly. “Two months along. And from your reaction, Chuck, she hadn’t told you yet.”

      Chuck sifted through the hell of the past day and a half. There hadn’t been any need to call Dr. Gibson in on the case on a weekend. Chuck had said no to the possibility of pregnancy when the admission staff had asked.

      Now he realized the truth of it. Shana had gotten pregnant without an in vitro procedure.

      The reality slammed into Chuck like a ton of bricks. Against all odds, they were expecting a child.

      Now.

      He couldn’t even sort through the layers of “stunned” to feel anything but shock.

      Chuck’s mind winged back to their attending the baptism for his sister Glenna’s daughter. He and Shana had actually spent a week getting along, drawn into their hopes for the future, loving their niece and considering adoption. Glenna clearly loved Fleur, no biological bond needed.

      Emotions running high, Chuck and Shana had spent a week in bed together. A week that had apparently defied their odds and borne fruit. He had to be there for Shana and their child.

      Dr. Harris opened his tablet again, scrolling through his notes. “While I wish we had known so we could have monitored the fetus, none of the medications she’s received should present a risk to the baby’s development. We’ll keep Shana another night for monitoring.”

      Dr. Gibson said, “We’ll also do an ultrasound and start her on progesterone given her prior miscarriages.”

      Chuck nodded, still reeling. A baby. She was two months along. She’d known and she hadn’t told him. Worse yet, she’d thrown him out without telling him she carried his child.

      She’d probably realized that if she told him about the baby, it would have taken a force of nature to budge him from their house. He didn’t have the luxury of anger right now.

      Dr. Gibson tilted his head, placing a hand on Chuck’s shoulder. “I realize this is difficult for you, too. You’ve both been waiting for this baby for so long, and these aren’t the circumstances anyone could have foreseen.” He gestured toward the door. “Perhaps seeing you will jog her memory.”

      And therein lay his problem.

      He didn’t want her to remember.

      Because if she did?

      Shana would walk, taking their baby with her.

      * * *

      Shana pushed herself up on the hospital bed, taking her time to be sure the room didn’t spin as it had the last time she’d tried. People were acting strange around her, and she wanted answers. Instead, she was stuck lying here alone with only a view of snow slamming down on the mountains.

      Well, alone except for a nurse who’d been there since she’d woken up and hadn’t left her side, even when the doctors stopped by, doctors who’d been short of answers as to why she was here. Even her phone was missing and the remote control for the TV wasn’t working. The nurse said it would be fixed soon.

      Shana touched her head, exploring her hairline. A small bandage was located just behind her ear. She’d been assured her long hair covered the shaved patch. The doctor had only told her she’d suffered a minor aneurysm, but that otherwise she was physically fine. Beyond that, they’d been cagey.

      Thinking back, she tried to remember what had happened before she’d come to the hospital. The last thing she recalled was an argument with her mother over Shana’s refusal to reconcile with her father. Even thinking about the fight and her dad made her headache worse.

      She knew avoidance when she heard it. Her work as a private detective had taught her all the signs. She also had a sixth sense for these things and trusted her gut.

      Something was going on beyond what they’d told her.

      Turning to the nurse, who was making updates on the dry-erase board in her room, Shana asked, “Excuse me? When will the doctor be back? I have questions.”

      Being in limbo was scary. Her imagination was working overtime.

      Just as the nurse opened her mouth to answer, a knock sounded and the door opened to admit a man. Not the doctor who’d been by to check her out when she’d woken. And even though it felt like a slew of staff had come through her room in the past half hour, she would have remembered this guy. He had an unforgettable face, movie-star quality in a rough-around-the-edges way. His light brown hair was just long enough to be mussed by a woman’s fingers, coarse hair that would rasp the skin.

      A doctor? He didn’t have on a white coat. In fact, he was dressed more casually than any doctor she knew. He wore