A Forever Christmas(18)

Dr. Holliman shook his head, an action which caused his thick, dark brown hair to fall into his piercing dark blue eyes.

“No swelling, no indication of any bruising, or bleeding,” the physician replied matter-of-factly. “Just that bump she sustained when she hit her head on the steering wheel, was it?”

The last was a question, since Holliman had just skimmed over the details of the car accident. Gabe had been the one to fill in the description because Angel still had no recollection of what had happened just prior to her temporarily regaining consciousness in Gabe’s vehicle.

“Steering wheel,” Gabe confirmed. The air bag hadn’t deployed on impact, leaving Angel even more vulnerable. Luckily she hadn’t sustained any more damages than she did. “So that’s it?” he pressed the radiologist, repeating, “No damage?”

“You sound disappointed,” Dr. Holliman observed. “Most people see this as good news.”

Gabe didn’t want the doctor to misunderstand. “It is, but—”

Gabe got no further in his explanation. Angel spoke up, interrupting him.

“If there’s no sign of any injury to my brain, why can’t I remember anything?” she asked. “Why can’t I at least remember my own name?”

“You do remember some things,” Dr. Holliman pointed out.

How could he say that? Her mind was as blank as a white sheet of paper.

“Like what?” Angel asked.

“Like all those things that you do automatically and take for granted.” The skeptical look on her face had him elaborating. “How to walk, how to talk, how to dress yourself—those are all skills that, had you had a brain injury, you might not recall how to do. As for your recollection of who you are—”

She wanted the doctor to understand the full magnitude of the problem. It wasn’t just her name. “And where I came from. Who my parents are and the thousand and one other details that go into forming memories as well as filling up my life. I don’t remember any of that,” she stressed.

Dr. Holliman inclined his head indulgently. “As to that, it could all very well be a matter of hysterical amnesia.”

The assessment felt like a put-down to her. “I’m not hysterical,” she told him, doing her best to sound calm, although it was getting more and more difficult for her. There was a wall of panic just beyond her calm facade. “I’m just empty. Completely empty.”

The description was both a statement and a plea, the latter addressing the fact that she desperately needed something to help her find a way to regain what she had lost.

As Dr. Holliman stood regarding her thoughtfully, neither he nor Angel noticed that Gabe had taken a few steps back from them.

The next moment, Gabe called out, “Hey, Angel, catch.” As he voiced the instruction, he tossed a small ball of aluminum foil toward her. The foil came from the take-out lunch he’d gotten at Miss Joan’s diner and brought with him on the trip to the hospital. He hadn’t realized until a couple of minutes ago that after balling it up he’d shoved it into his pocket.

Reacting, Angel’s hand shot out to catch the small, shiny ball before it hit her or fell to the hospital floor. Still holding it in her hand, she looked at Gabe as if he’d lost his mind. Why was he throwing balled-up aluminum foil at her?

“What are you doing?” she asked, clearly surprised by his action. She threw the aluminum ball back to him.

He caught it easily. “Congratulations, you’re right-handed,” he told her, this time tossing the crushed aluminum ball into the wastebasket.

“What?” Angel looked at him, confused.

With a grin, he began to explain. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the doctor nodding in approval. The man obviously understood what he’d tried to do.

“When I tossed that ball at you, you reached for it with your right hand. You did it automatically, without thinking. That means you’re right-handed.” Gabe could see what she was thinking, that there was a whole host of things she wanted to know about herself before finding out which hand she used to pick up her fork. Gabe lifted his shoulders in a good-natured shrug. “Gotta start somewhere, right?”

Gabe was right and she was acting like a petulant child, Angel thought. God, she hoped she wasn’t one of those spoiled brats who expected to have everyone focusing their attention only on her, granting whatever wish she made.

The next moment, even that thought had her heartening just a little. The simple fact that she was aware of people like that meant that things were coming back to her, just not nearly as fast and furious as she would have liked. Still, baby steps were still steps.