Unforgettable by Meryl Sawyer Read Free Book Online Page B

hair had been bleached a baby-white blonde that contrasted sharply with her dark eyebrows.
    She finger-combed the hair as best she could, then tugged it back into a ponytail and secured it with the rubber band Greg had brought her. The hair covered the patch on the back of her head where they’d shaved her scalp to stitch the cut. “Better, huh?”
    Dodger wagged his tail just as someone called hello from the other room. It wasn’t Greg’s voice. A surge of excitement sent her heartbeat into double-time. Someone’s come to get me, she thought.
    One hand clutching the hospital gown that gaped open at the back, she emerged, Dodger at her heels. Anticipation turned to apprehension in a heartbeat that felt like an explosion inside her chest. It was Dr. Hamalae and two other men in lab coats. They must be the doctors he’d consulted. Behind them stood Greg Braxton.
    “We have your test results,” Dr. Hamalae said. “Why don’t you si t down while we explain them to you?”
    She sat on the bed and covered her short gown with the sheet. Dodger deserted her, trotting over to Greg, and she realized he was going to leave. “Greg, please stay,” she pleaded before she could stop herself.
    She could tell Greg’s smile was forced, but she didn’t care. At least he was staying with her. She silently willed him to come stand near her. Instead, he leaned against the wall, Dodger at his side.
    “This is Dr. Klingman from the Stanford Medical Center,” Dr. Hamalae said and a man with a full head of dark hair brindled with gray shook her hand.
    “I’m Kurt Jorgen from the Sloan Kettering Institute in New York,” a second man greeted her, and she instantly liked him even though he was younger and less imposing than the other doctor.
    “They’re at the Four Seasons for a conference on neurology,” Dr. Hamalae explained. “That’s fortunate. We didn’t have to fly you to the mainland for an accurate diagnosis.”
    “What’s wrong with me?” she asked, and Dr. Hamalae looked at Dr. Klingman, then at Greg. She sensed that something terrible was wrong; this wasn’t just a simple concussion.
    Dr. Klingman cleared his throat. “The electroencephalograph indicates abnormal brain waves. This is confirmed by Dr. Jorgen’s detailed examination of the MRI. A portion of your substantia nigra cells have been destroyed, abbreviating certain cognitive capacities. It ’s called Hoyt-Mellenberger syn drome.”
    “Exactly what does this mean?”
    Dr. Klingman smiled at her as if she were a young child incapable of intellectually grasping what he was saying. “The accident damaged part of your brain.”
    “All I have is a little cut on the back of my head,” she protested.
    “You suffered a blow that caused a hairline fracture, which resulted in internal bleeding. The bleeding stopped, but not without destroying a number of cells.”
    “I feel fine,” she insisted. “Really, I do.”
    Dr. Klingman studied her for a moment. “I’m sure you feel well, but what do you remember about the past?”
    “Nothing … yet. But it’s right there. I can feel it.”
    The doctor shook his head. “I’m afraid you will never be able to remember everything.”
    What did he mean? she wondered with a grim sense of foreboding. Wasn’t she going to remember her own name? She looked at Greg to see what he thought and saw he was frowning at Dr. Klingman.
    “Just what won’t she be able to remember?” Greg walked over and stood beside her. She reached out and touched his hand. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then his strong fingers curled around hers.
    “The accident could have left her paralyzed or wiped out her entire memory bank, not just part of it.” The doctor turned to her. “Then you would have had to relearn everything again as if you were a baby. Walking, talking—everything.”
    Her breath solidified in her chest, becoming a dead weight, as she realized what he was saying. No, she wanted to scream. It couldn’t be