“No.”
“That couldn’t have waited?”
“I just wanted you to know.” He stalked out, leaving me wondering what in the world had just happened.
When I returned to the kitchen, both Maureen and Ms. Wynona were gone and all of our dirty dishes were put away.
It was a warm day, so I grabbed a book from the shelf in the main living area and went outside to the front porch. A few minutes later, I saw Smoke stalking away from the barn.
Maybe I dreamed about him being angry because that’s the way he was most of the time. But why would I be with someone like that?
“Always a war waging inside that man,” murmured Ms. Wynona, startling me.
“Why do you suppose that is?” I asked when she sat in the chair beside me.
“He can’t stay still long enough to see the life he desires is right in front of him.”
“How do you see that life?”
She reached over and put her hand on mine. “He loves this ranch with all of his heart, yet when he’s here, it doesn’t feel like home to him.”
“Why not?”
“You haven’t been here with him until now.”
I laughed. “I don’t remember much about my life or about our relationship, but the more I’m around him, the more I wonder if we were happy. It doesn’t seem like we were.”
“You’re good for him.” She squeezed my hand before getting up to go back inside.
Was I? More importantly, was he good for me?
I didn’t see Smoke at dinner and didn’t know what time he’d finally come in. I’d asked Maureen to help me move my things to a different bedroom and then, around eight, told her I felt another headache coming on.
The pain medicine she gave me made me drowsy enough that I slept through the night. When I woke, I could see the sun coming up on the horizon.
After unhooking the IV and closing the port the way Maureen had shown me, I took a quick shower and dressed. I didn’t have many clothes, and the ones I had, I had no idea where they’d come from.
When I came out of the bedroom, Smoke was standing in the hallway.
“Hello.”
“You should pack an overnight bag.”
“Okay.” I was back in the bedroom and about to ask if he had a bag I could use when he wheeled one in. “That looks like it would hold more than a night’s worth.”
“You may have to stay longer.”
He said “you,” not “we.” Should I point that out, or would it be best for me to hold my tongue? Given his apparent foul mood, I opted for the latter.
Smoke drove Maureen and me into Asheville and walked us into the medical center for my first appointment.
“I’ll check back in later,” he said when we reached the door of the doctor’s office.
“Wait.” I took Smoke’s hand and led him away from where Maureen stood. “You’re leaving?”
“Did you want me to go in with you?”
“You’re joking, right? Smoke, you’re the one who insisted I come to America. Now you’re just dumping me off with a nurse from the UK who probably isn’t licensed here for the kind of care she’s been giving me?”
“I thought you’d want privacy.”
My mouth was hanging open, and I couldn’t find the words to tell him what I thought other than what an absolute fecking eejit he was.
“I can stay,” he muttered.
“Up and down like a fiddler’s elbow,” I mumbled.
“What’s that?”
“Your moods. One minute you’re leaving, the next you’re staying. What’s it going to be, Smoke?”
“I just said I’ll stay.”
“You said you can stay.”
“I’ll stay, all right?”
I stormed back in the direction of the doctor’s office with Smoke trailing me. Part of me wanted to tell him to feck off. Another part hurt like hell at thinking he could be so cavalier about my medical condition. And finally, the last part wanted to hang onto him for dear life and beg him never to leave me.
11
Smoke
I listened as the doctor rattled off a slew of acronyms for the tests Siren would have to have. MRI, CAT, PET—I didn’t really understand why she needed so many different ones, but what the fuck did I know about medical treatment? I couldn’t help but think that someone like Decker should be able to come up with one machine that could do all three things.
Given the uncertainty of how long each would take, the doctor asked if it would be possible for us to stay in the area for at least a couple of days so he’d also have time to review the results.
“Until I know more, I’m going to suggest we hold off on any kind of physical or occupational therapy,” he added.
“We’re supposed to meet with them next,” Siren said to the man.
“They’ll need orders from me anyway, so go ahead and meet them. We’ll just wait to get your appointments scheduled.”
“Will the tests give any indication as to what is causing the amnesia?” I asked.
“That’s certainly our hope.”
“Will my memory come back?”
“From what you’ve said, it seems you’re suffering from retrograde amnesia as opposed to anterograde—the inability to form new memories.”
“That’s right.”
“Whether your memory comes back and how quickly it might, is dependent upon a large number of factors. I anticipate the damage was mainly in the hippocampus part of your brain, in which case, what we find in the scans should give us a better idea of what to expect.”
I watched as Siren processed what the doctor had said. If someone had just told me I may never regain my memory, I don’t know if I would be taking it as well as she was. I reached over and took her hand in mine.
“I have a note that you’ll be meeting with Dr. Mansfield this afternoon as well.”
“Yes,” she murmured in response.
He nodded. “Good. Anything else?”
Siren turned to the nurse who was seated in the chair behind us. “Would you excuse us, please?”
“Of course.”
“What about physical activity?” Siren asked
