Page 34 of Serious Cowboy
“Yes, but he’s out of it.”
“That’s understandable, I would think.”
They stepped forward to stand in the doorway which allowed Callie to overhear what was being said.
“Sir? Sir, can you look at me?” a man in blue scrubs was asking Zeke. “Good. Now, can you tell me your name?”
“Name?” he rasped out, his expression one of total bewilderment.
“How about what month it is?”
Zeke merely blinked at him.
“What color is my shirt?”
Very slowly, Zeke spoke, the word sounding like a question. “Blue?”
“Excellent. Good job. Okay, can you read my nametag?”
“Henry.” Zeke still sounded unsure.
“Yes. Perfect, buddy.” Henry patted his patient’s arm in encouragement.
Callie felt encouraged, too. Right up until Henry pivoted toward her, and asked Zeke one more inquiry. “Can you tell me who this lady is?”
Zeke peered at her, studying her closely. But his gaze was almost blank. Uncomprehending. There was no recognition in it whatsoever.
“No. Do I know her?”
And Callie felt like falling straight through the tile floor.
Amnesia.That was the official diagnosis.
No one could tell her whether the condition would be temporary or permanent, and for the next several hours, Zeke disappeared from the room frequently as they ran a battery of tests. Callie debated on if she should return to see him or not. If visiting Zeke only served to puzzle him, maybe she should give him some time away from her presence.
But upon hearing this, Martha offered her an opposing view. “Most forms of amnesia are temporary. I would recommend sharing your time with him. Just don’t expect much, at first. And be patient.” Oh no! Patience is required again. She was determined to give Zeke all the patience he needed no matter what it took for her to give it to him.
Callie did as Martha recommended. It felt surreal to enter that room and have the man she had such strong feelings for eye Callie without knowing her, but she couldn’t give up on him. She refused to.
“Hi, Zeke,” she said, doing her best to be bright. “How are you this evening?”
“Doing okay, I guess.”
She jaunted across the room to straighten the floral arrangements and plants along his windowsill, needing something to do with her hands. On a whiteboard in his eyeline someone had printed out his first and last name, the month, day, and year, his age, and the nurse on duty. The name written there now was red rather than the black of the rest of the whiteboard, denoting that a change of shift had occurred.
An orderly pushing a cart full of dinner meals strode in. “Hello there, Mr. Knight. You’re supposed to be on liquids today.”
Callie knew he’d been receiving all his nourishment intravenously. He’d been given a bowl of some kind of creamy soup, apple sauce, lime Jell-O, and a drink with a straw. Once the orderly set his tray on the little table on wheels, he left without fanfare.
Zeke peeked at his dinner, making a slight smacking noise with his lips. Callie tried not to think about how she’d kissed thoselips more than once. Mainly because she didn’t know if he’d ever remember what she did.
Zeke attempted to bring the tabletop over his bed but struggled. “Man, I’m as weak as a kitten.”
Automatically, Callie bustled over to situate it for him. “Being out of commission for a couple of weeks will do that to anybody.” He moved again, this time wincing. “Are you sore?”
He squeezed his eyes closed. “Some.”
Two weeks was far from enough time to heal after the devastating nature of his injuries, and with two surgeries… She twisted toward the door. “Need me to get someone?”