“No, not this evening.”
John wondered why, but he didn’t ask. There wasn’t any need for Dr. Graham to think he was hoping for a little tender loving care himself. Or for him to think John was crushing on the pretty redhead who lived only a few footsteps away.
While they ate, Doc chatted about his life as the only physician in the valley, about some of the miracles and mishaps he’d been a witness to.
John found the man and his stories more than a little interesting, and each time Doc grew quiet, John asked him a question, just as he’d done with Betsy earlier. He’d spent too many lonely days in the hospital with only the television to keep him company. And because he had nothing to offer in terms of his own past, he enjoyed getting to know the new people in his life.
Of course, the one he wanted to know the most about was Betsy.
“Why doesn’t she work days? Is she a night owl by nature?”
“Actually, she’s a real team player and steps in whenever the hospital is shorthanded. And that means she’s got the worst of both worlds. Sometimes she works nights, then she’s back on days. And changing shifts like that is really tough.”
“Sounds like she’s a good employee.”
“And loyal to a fault,” Doc said as he stood and began to gather the empty plates.
John scooted his chair back and got to his feet. “Let me help.”
“Nope,” Doc said, “not tonight. You need to take it easy for the next day or two. And then, at that point, I’ll let you start doing some of the easier chores. We’ll slowly build up from there.”
John wouldn’t argue with the man because this was his first day out of the hospital. But he wasn’t ready for bed, either. So he asked, “Do you mind if I sit out on the porch for a while?”
“Not at all,” the old man said. “It’s not too cold tonight, but you might want a jacket. I’ve got one hanging on the coat tree in the living room. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.”
John made his way to the front of the house. Then he took the black corduroy jacket from the hook, slipped it on and went out on the porch where two wicker rockers sat.
Once outside in the winter evening, he couldn’t help wishing that the crisp air would clear his mind. He’d been disappointed that no one in the medical field had been able to tell him when his memory would return, but the brief vision he’d had earlier today suggested it was coming-one piece at a time.
He took a seat in one of the rockers and tried to find comfort in the beautiful winter night. But all he could seem to think about was how insignificant he and his amnesia were in the scheme of things.
As he glanced at the empty chair beside him, he wondered if Doc ever sat out here with Betsy.
Just the thought of the attractive woman caused him to seek out her house, to notice the lamp on inside her living-room window. Did that mean she was awake?
And if so, would she like company?
What would she think if he showed up unannounced?
The idea was still in the thinking stage when her porch light went on, her front door swung open and she stepped outside.
He watched as she made her way across the yard and approached Doc’s house.
Did she know John was out here? Would his presence startle her?
“Hey,” he said, wanting to let her know he was on the porch. “What are you doing?”
“Just coming over to check on Doc. What’s he up to this evening?”
“Reading, I suspect. He’s really gotten into that novel.”
She continued to approach the porch, as if Doc wasn’t the only one she’d come to see about. And it pleased him to think that she cared about how he was faring.
“It’s a nice night,” he said. “Are you up for some stargazing?”
“Sure.” She took a seat in the rocker next to his and set hers into motion, the chair squeaking and creaking against the wood flooring.
They didn’t talk right away, didn’t really need to. The evening sky, with its nearly full moon and massive splatter of twinkling stars, was providing them with an amazing celestial display.
John easily found the Big and Little Dippers, as well as Polaris, which had played a big role in helping the people traveling on the underground railroad. In fact, there’d been a coded song called “Follow the Drinking Gourd” that had helped the escaped slaves find their way to freedom in the north.
How weird was that? he wondered. The basic knowledge he’d accrued over the years didn’t seem to be affected by his amnesia, yet he couldn’t remember the people, the places or the things that had been a part of his life before he’d set foot in Brighton Valley.
As he pondered the injustice of it all, Betsy said, “The stars are prettier than usual tonight.”
“I was thinking the same thing. Being out in the country like this makes a big difference. You don’t get the full effect of the night sky in the city.”
She turned to him. “That’s the second thing you’ve said to lead me to believe that you’re a city boy.”
He considered her comment, but other than the words that had slipped out of his mouth, he couldn’t say one way or the other. So he shrugged. “I’m not sure where that came from.”
“So you’re still drawing a blank?”
“Pretty much. I do know that I drink my coffee black and I’m not too fond of vegetables.”
“The rest will come.”
He didn’t see any reason to agree or to argue, so he let it go and stole a look at his pretty companion as she sat in the rocker, her hands perched on the armrests.
She was seated close enough to touch, close enough for him to take hold of her hand and give it a warm and gentle squeeze. But he knew better than to overstep his boundaries, no matter how much he’d like to. So instead of boldly touching her, he continued to take in the starlit sky and the smell of night-blooming jasmine, the sounds of a cow lowing in the distance.
He wasn’t sure how long they’d sat here, together in pensive silence and appreciation.
A few minutes, he supposed.
When he turned to offer her a smile, he saw that her eyes were closed and her head was resting against the back of the chair.
Hadn’t she gotten any rest this afternoon? He had a feeling that she hadn’t. No wonder Doc had been worried about her.
He let her rest for a while longer, then decided to wake her so she could go to bed, where she’d be more comfortable. So he reached over and placed his hand over hers, felt the softness of her skin, the warmth.
While he knew he should give her hand a little nudge and jar her awake, he held back for a moment and basked in the intimacy of their touch, in the connection they shared for one moment in time.
In a way, it made him feel less alone. Less isolated. Less cornered into a reality that wasn’t of his own making.
Finally, he stroked the top her hand, his fingers sliding over her knuckles. “Betsy?”
Her eyes fluttered opened and she turned to face him. “Yes?”
With reluctance, he withdrew his hand. “It’s time for bed.”
She blinked several times and yawned. Then she slowly got to her feet. “I’m sorry for dozing off.”
“Don’t be. But I hope you’re going to start working the day shift soon.”
“I’m off this weekend.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her knit jacket. “And on Monday, I’m back to working days until the medical center needs me again.”
“Good. I’m not sure how healthy it is for you to be bouncing back and forth between shifts.”
She smiled. “Have you been talking to Doc? He’s been worried about me, but I know when to slow down and when to take it easy.”
John hoped so and tossed her an I’m-glad-to-hear-it smile.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, as she started down the steps and headed for the guesthouse.
As she left him on the porch, he rubbed his thumb over his fingertips, which were still warm and charged from their brief physical contact.
Touching Betsy had been much nicer than he’d expected it to be. And for a moment, in spite of the vastness of
