Amnesia

  Copyright © 2020 by Jaid Black.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Publisher: Valentina Antonia, LLC.

  AMNESIA

  By Jaid Black

  Prologue

  The pain was excruciating—sharp, intense, and all-consuming. The kind of pain that made her want to give up, to follow the peaceful, white glow people see while dying. She could see the warm light clearly now and it gave her comfort; her mind reached out toward it, welcomed it.

  “I won’t let you die!” a woman bellowed. “Stay with me!”

  She couldn’t place the disembodied voice, yet it brought back that agonizing pain with it regardless. Every time the voice spoke, the peaceful glow retreated a little further and the dark torment moved closer.

  “Do you hear me? Stay with me, damn it. Fight!”

  She didn’t want to fight; she wanted to sleep. She wanted the horrific chaos inside and around her to stop.

  No more screaming. No more dead bodies.

  “Help!” the voice shouted. “Gaia is down! Gaia was hit!”

  Gaia? Who or what was Gaia?

  The voice retreated with a final scream and suddenly rough hands were all over her injured body. The hands poked and prodded, forcing a small whimper from her lips that didn’t match up to the horrific anguish the touching made her feel.

  “She’s losing too much blood,” a man announced.

  “I want her alive!” another man ordered.

  Hands touched her head; the pain shattered her. She managed to drag in a final gulp of air before succumbing to unconsciousness.

  Chapter One

  Six Months Later

  “How are you feeling, dear?”

  “The same.”

  “You still remember nothing?”

  “Nothing you don’t already know about.”

  A gentle hand atop hers. “I know this is frustrating for you, Gaia. Hopefully, given time, your memories will return.”

  “We both know that’s unlikely.”

  A soft sigh. “I’m sorry.”

  Gaia Evans absently stared at her reflection in the hospital mirror. A face she didn’t recognize, though clearly her own, lifelessly stared back through vacant hazel eyes. Her hair, a tawny brown color with streaks of gold, had grown back long and curly despite the gunshot wound at her temple. Her skin, sun-kissed and light caramel, was nearly flawless—only the smallest scar at the bullet’s entry point remained. She supposed she would be considered a beautiful woman by the societal standards she could recall, but she hated looking at herself. Every glance was just another reminder of the cold, hard truth: she had no idea who she was anymore.

  “At any rate, this is a big day for you! You’re going to be reunited with your husband.”

  Gaia sighed. “Sheila—”

  “I know,” the nurse gently responded. “You don’t remember him either. Have you considered, though, that seeing him might spark your memory?”

  “And what if it doesn’t? What if his face is as foreign to me as my own?”

  “Hopefully you met him before five years ago,” Sheila said thoughtfully. “You have a pretty good recall of events prior to five years ago.”

  Her amnesia wasn’t exactly contained within the neatly packaged cut-off date the nurse made it sound like, but she ignored that. “A vague memory of pop culture, odd jobs I’ve worked, and other things that don’t really matter, but that’s it. I’ve regained some of my treasured personal memories, but they definitely don’t involve marrying anyone—period.”

  “That doesn’t mean you weren’t dating him.”

  “Okay fine. Except I have no memories of dating anybody special either.”

  “Perhaps he wasn’t special at the time, but became special to you later.”

  Gaia shrugged. She was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t want to meet him, Sheila. Is that terrible?”

  The nurse sighed. She plopped down next to Gaia on the hospital bed. “It’s not terrible. I would think it’s to be expected.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean whether you choose to admit it or not, you’re probably hoping that seeing him will bring back your memories.” She ran a motherly hand over her brow. “I imagine deep down inside you fear that if your memories don’t come crashing back the second you see him that they might be lost forever.”

  Gaia nibbled at her bottom lip. The older nurse was nothing if not perceptive.

  “You’ve put off this meeting for far too long as it is,” Sheila pointed out. “Now you’re going to be released from the hospital today. Do you really want to be homeless when you have a home to go to?”

  “A home I have no recollection of.”

  “Yet it’s still your home regardless.”

  “Maybe.” She ran a punishing hand through her hair. “I can’t begin to describe how hard this is, Sheila. I wouldn’t even know my own name if it hadn’t been on my wristband when the doctors woke me up from the medically induced coma. Even then I kept mispronouncing it!”

  The nurse chuckled, taking some of the sting out of the memory. “I know. You kept calling yourself Gay-uh instead of Guy-uh.” She smiled as she patted her on the knee. “But eventually you got it right and you’ve been Guy-uh ever since.”

  “What if you all have been mispronouncing it the entire time and I was initially right?”

  Sheila’s smile was sad. “You know why that isn’t possible, dear.”

  Right. She did. The doctors had already informed Gaia of the fact that a friend of hers had kept calling out for her when both of them had been brought into the emergency room. “Guy-uh!” she had phonetically cried out over and over again. “Guy-uh!” The friend, a woman she had no memory of, had apparently been named Mary. Unfortunately, Mary hadn’t survived. She succumbed to her injuries within a few hours of arriving at George Washington University Hospital. Similar to Gaia, Mary had been shot at point blank range. Every time Gaia thought about the fact she’d been shot in the head during a civil war she had no recollection of…

  It was too much. A civil war? And why would anyone want to shoot her of all people?

  The five or so years leading up to her lengthy hospitalization had been stolen from her, but she more or less recalled everything prior in as much as humans are apt to do. There were exceptions even then, as she was still regaining lost childhood memories. That qualifier aside, she did remember enough to know that although she wouldn’t ever qualify for sainthood, she’d been a good person who was decent to everyone she met. She was kind, considerate, and recalled being well-liked. She’d worked two jobs and took college classes at night and online. In essence, she was just a normal American female. That’s why the idea of someone shooting her in the head during a civil war she held no memories of was so utterly foreign and bizarre to her.

  Sheila had explained to Gaia countless times that in all her years of working at GWUH she’d yet to see a violent act that made good enough sense. She supposed the nurse’s words were true, but she still wished she had at least a hazy recollection of what led up to the moment that changed everything.

  “Now then,” Sheila said, jarring her from her thoughts, “your husband will be here to retrieve you in an hour. Let’s finish getting your things together.”

  “Sheila—”

  “You don’t have anyone else, Gaia.” Her heart was in her eyes. “I’m sorry, honey, but you don’t. You said it yourself that your last solid memory was ho
lding your mother’s hand as she surrendered to cancer. Your father died a decade before that and you’re an only child. Those are the things you do remember.” Her voice was soft, but her words were firm. “Your husband misses you. He was here to see you every day while you were in the coma. It wasn’t until you woke up and the doctors realized you had amnesia that he was discouraged from coming to see you. They feared overwhelming you.”

  And then when Gaia’d been told about his existence she’d freaked out and stupidly refused to see him. The staff hadn’t even been able to get her to look at photographs of him. Now, in an hour, she was expected to go “home” with the mystery man. The only things she really knew about him were what she’d already been told: his name was Ryan, he was fifteen years older than her thirty-two years, he was involved in politics somehow, and he was her husband.

  Husband. The word sent a shiver down her spine. No, Gaia truly didn’t have anyone else, but neither did she want him in particular. She might not have been able to recall the last several years, but the woman she did remember wouldn’t have known how to—or even wanted to—meet a politician much less marry one.

  She sighed. Being married to a politician at least explained how she’d ended up in a hospital in Washington D.C.—a city she also had no recollection of. Born and raised in Atlanta, she’d been a Georgia girl her entire life. Yet here she sat in a hospital bed in the District of Columbia.

  “Do you want to wear the pantsuit your husband sent over or—”

  “No.” Gaia had never been into fashion—of this she was certain. What had happened to cause her wardrobe to become so Vogue-esque? She supposed marrying a politician was responsible for that. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” She cleared her parched throat as best she could. “I just want to wear the clothes I remember. Maybe the matching gray yoga pants and t-shirt with my white tennis shoes?”

  Sheila looked horrified, but quickly hid her initial reaction. One of Gaia’s eyebrows rose inquisitively.

  “I’m sorry,” the nurse assured her. “It’s probably fine to dress down the day you’re released.”

  “Dress… down?”

  “Given your place in society I just assumed you’d want to look the part.”

  Gaia blinked. “My place in society? What are you talking ab—”

  “Good afternoon!” Dr. McMasters cheerfully announced as he walked into the hospital room. “How are you feeling today? Are you getting excited to go home yet?”

  The switch in topics gave her momentary pause. She wanted to keep questioning the nurse, but good manners dictated she answer the surgeon first. Besides, not only did she like Dr. McMasters, he was also the man responsible for saving her life. She’d decide after meeting Ryan whether she was glad for that outcome or not. “I feel nervous,” Gaia admitted. “Extremely on edge.”

  The doctor waved that away. “Of course you are. It’s to be expected.”

  “You get a lot of amnesia cases then?” she asked sardonically.

  “Touché.” His truthfulness was somewhat calming. “No, I don’t.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take out my feelings on you.”

  “Forgiven.” His smile was like him—weathered, warm, and sincere. “What are you feeling, Gaia?”

  She wished she had the words to describe it. “Everything and nothing, but at this moment mostly everything.” She frowned. “Including regret for putting off the inevitable.”

  “Ahh. Your husband.”

  It didn’t matter how many times people called the mystery man her husband. Her entire body still recoiled at the term. “Yeah.”

  “I’ve met him on several occasions. He seems like a very nice gentleman, Gaia.”

  “Here’s hoping he is what he seems then.”

  “Agreed.” Dr. McMasters and Sheila shared a chuckle. “We both voted for him after all.”

  A knot formed in her already dry throat. She swallowed against it. “Right. A politician. So is he like on the city council or something?”

  Their laughter faded. “We think it’s best for you to learn about your husband from your husband,” the doctor explained.

  “He’ll be here soon enough,” Sheila reminded her.

  Gaia glanced at the clock. The husband she had no memory of would be at the hospital to get her in less than forty-five minutes. She drew in a shaky breath and slowly exhaled. She really shouldn’t have waited so long to meet him.

  Chapter Two

  By the time a second nurse came in the hospital room to announce the arrival of the mystery man, Gaia’s nerves were beyond frayed. Worse, Sheila and Dr. McMasters thought it was best if they left so Gaia could meet Ryan alone. From their perspectives, she supposed it made good sense. From her nauseous POV, she would have preferred them to stay.

  “Take good care of yourself,” Sheila whispered, hugging her goodbye. “Everything will be great.”

  Dr. McMasters gently patted her on the back. “You’ve got a good-looking, God-fearing, hardworking, devoted husband. Smile, kiddo. You’ve got a lot to be happy about.”

  God-fearing? Gaia was born and raised Catholic, true, but she wasn’t religious per se and had never been attracted to those who were. She wondered what qualified as God-fearing to a sixty-something-year-old man, but said nothing. Then just like that, he and the nurse were gone.

  Gaia trembled as she looked at herself in the mirror. She probably should have went with the pantsuit, but it was too late to change her mind much less her wardrobe choice. Besides, it’s not like she looked terrible in her gray yoga pants that went up to just below the navel and her matching gray t-shirt that went down to just above it. She looked sporty.

  The sound of approaching voices made her heart rate climb. She took the scrunchie out of her hair and let the long, flowing curls cascade down. Putting the discarded scrunchie around her right wrist, she sat down at the table in her soon to be vacated hospital room. Her teeth sank into her lower lip and nibbled. Her left hand absently toyed with the scrunchie. By the time the door opened, she felt ready to vomit.

  “We’ll be a few minutes,” a masculine voice said to an unseen someone. “Make sure the car is ready.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The door closed behind him. The man she presumed to be Ryan slowly turned around. His piercing blue gaze found her wide hazel one.

  “Gaia,” he said softly. He smiled. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “Ryan?” Gaia blinked as a small glimmer of recognition struck. She had no memory of this man as her husband, but the seed of familiarity took root regardless. Surely that was a good sign? “I don’t remember you,” she said honestly. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He slowly walked toward where she sat. He was tall, his legs long and athletic, so the walk was short-lived. “May I sit?”

  “What? Yes. Yes, of course.”

  Whatever she had been expecting Ryan to look like, this was not it. Dressed in a dark blue suit that looked tailor made, the material failed to hide how in shape he was. When Gaia had been told her husband was forty-seven, she had expected him to look older, but the fit, muscular man sitting across from her had the appearance of someone in his mid-thirties at best. Though tall and masculinely lithe, it was his face that was most striking. Under his full, neatly cropped head of dark brown hair were eyes so blue they were almost wolfish in appearance. His jaw was angular, his Adam’s apple prominent. His nose, somewhat hawkish and Roman, managed to suit his features perfectly. His lips were neither too full nor too thin, but just right for his facial structure.

  Gaia blew out a breath. Dr. McMasters had been right about one thing at least. Ryan was definitely a good-looking man.

  Handsomeness aside, it was his penetrating blue eyes that kept drawing her attention. They had a kindness to them, a gentleness even, yet, conversely, his gaze remained enigmatic. When he smiled at her, laugh lines appeared, making him even better looking than he already was. His smile also caused that flash of recognition to keep comi
ng back, giving her hope that maybe in time she would regain some or all of her lost memories.

  “It’s been so hard to stay away from you,” Ryan said, his tone quiet and husky. He reached out a hand to cover one of hers. “I’ve missed you so much, baby. I’m so glad you’re coming home.”

  The sincerity in his voice made her heart break for him. “Ryan…”

  “I know.” He sighed and withdrew his hand. “You don’t remember me.”

  Gaia was quiet for a long moment. In the end she decided to give him the truth. “I don’t remember you as my husband, but seeing you has given me hope.”

  “Hope?”

  “That my memories will come back.” She offered him a tentative smile. “There is definitely something familiar about you.” His blue eyes widened. “Not familiar in the sense of remembering you or us,” she quickly qualified so as not to raise his expectations, “yet still familiar.”

  His inscrutable gaze softened. “That’s a good start. It’s also the most hope I’ve been given since this nightmare began.”

  “It’s the same for me,” Gaia admitted. “This feeling of familiarity toward you is the first spark of recognition I’ve felt towards anyone or anything that I’ve been told I knew during the years I lost.”

  Her admission softened his tense expression. His hand covered hers again. “I know this is going to be a long and difficult process for you—for us—but our marriage is worth it. I can’t imagine a life without you in it.”

  She inhaled a shaky breath. “I have one request to make of you.”

  “Anything.”

  “Be patient with me,” she murmured. “This must seem like the next day to you, but for me…”

  Ryan gently squeezed her hand. “I know, baby. You don’t have to explain.” He inclined his head. “I promise to always be patient. Would you make me a promise as well?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Promise me you’ll look to our future rather than our past. I want you to remember too, but I’m afraid if you’re constantly concerned with regaining your memories that you’ll neglect our present.”