“Just before you arrived.”
She nodded and returned her gaze to Bailey’s. “Dr. Bauer’s here for rounds, I’ll get your vitals, then let him know you’re up.”
She busied herself, chatting the whole while. “How are you feeling? Any pain?”
“Thirsty,” Bailey answered, the word coming out a croak. “Headache. Bad.”
“I’ll bet you do have a headache. That was some tumble you took.” She raised the bed slightly. “I’ll get you a cup of water.”
“Wait.” Bailey touched her sleeve. “How long … was I—”
“Out? About three days.” The woman patted her hand. “And this sweet man of yours never left your side.”
A shudder rippled over her. Something … there was something she should remember. About her husband? To tell him? Or—
No, that wasn’t right. Bailey squeezed her eyes shut. About True? Was that— “Mrs. Abbott? Are you all right?”
She looked into the nurse’s kind eyes. “I don’t remember … I need to—” She choked back a sob. “What’s happening to me?”
The woman’s expression altered subtly. She exchanged a glance with Logan. “I’ll call Dr. Bauer.” She smiled reassuringly. “He’ll be able to tell you everything you need to know.”
A moment later, Logan held the cup and straw to her lips. His hand shook slightly. “Tiny sips,” he said. “That’s right. Take it slow.”
After several, she turned her head away and closed her eyes. Like a dripping faucet somewhere in the back of her brain it plucked at her. Remember … Remember … Remember.
Why couldn’t she?
“It’s going to be all right, baby. I promise it is.”
She opened her eyes, looked at him. “Are we going to be all right?”
“Yes.” He squeezed her hand. “Of course we are.”
“Were we fighting?”
“Fighting? When?”
“Before my accident.”
“Why do you ask that, Bailey?”
She shook her head slightly. Even the small movement hurt.
“No, baby. Everything was perfect between us. The way it always is.”
Then why did she feel this way?
“We were happy?”
He seemed to flinch at the question. “We are happy. You’ll see. You need to rest—”
“No.” Her voice rose; her head throbbed. “What happened to me? Why can’t I … I need to know, Logan!”
A song popped into her head. Her own off-key voice singing with it.
Shatter every window ’til it’s all blown away …
Carrie Underwood on the car radio, she realized. A brilliantly sunny day. She’d been happy. Deliriously happy.
Even as the memory spilled over her, realization struck.
A car accident. She must have been in a wreck.
Bailey imagined it. Imagined the crunch of metal and glass shattering. Imagined hurting someone, their blood on her hands. Spilled across the pavement.
Her pulse began to race; it felt as if her heart were flinging itself against the wall of her chest. The monitor by the bed screamed.
“The accident … Did I hurt—”
“Calm down, sweetheart. You have to calm—”
She clutched his hand, the screaming monitor like a knife in her skull. “Please … you have to tell—”
“Nurse!” he shouted.
The nurse from earlier flew into the room, an aide with her. “We were just talking,” Logan said, jumping to his feet. “She got upset. I didn’t know what to do!”
The nurse instructed him to move aside. “Mrs. Abbott,” she said firmly, “look at me.” Bailey did. “You’re going to be all right. Calm down.”
The aide took the other side of the bed. “Nurse Flynn’s administering a mild dose of Ativan, it’ll help. Everything’s going to be just fine.”
“But I … please … I need to— So … much … blood…” The medicine’s effect was almost instantaneous. Her heart slowed and her anxiousness melted away. She rested her head against the pillow and closed her eyes.
When Bailey reopened them, only she and Logan remained in the room. He stood by the bed, looking hollow-eyed and anxious. “Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey.”
“How do you feel?”
“Groggy. Head still hurts.”
“Want a drink of water?”
“Yes, please.”
He held the cup and straw to her lips; she sipped, then rested her head back against the pillows. “What did they say they gave me?”
“Ativan. Nothing that would hurt the— They were afraid you would hurt yourself.”
“Logan, tell me what happened. Please.”
“Let’s not do this now. You’ve been through a terrible trauma. We both have.”
“I won’t get upset this time. I just … I need to know.”
He hesitated, then pulled over the chair and sat. He gathered her hand in his. “No one was hurt but you.”
Her breath came out in a soft whoosh. She closed her eyes. “Thank God.”
“But you weren’t in a car accident, Bailey.”
She looked at him. “But I just … I remember being in the car. I was singing to the radio.”
“No. Bailey, sweetheart, you were on Tea Biscuit.”
Bailey stared at him, struggling to come to terms with his words. She was scared of horses. To the bone terrified.
“You were in the woods, off trail. Knocked off by a low-hanging branch.”
A low-hanging branch? Knocked off? She frantically searched her memory. The incident wasn’t there.
She looked at him helplessly. “But I don’t ride.”
“August was helping you overcome your fear. So you could surprise me.”
She remembered. “That’s right. But how—”
“Paul told me. He overheard you and August talking about it.” A smile touched his mouth. “No more surprises, okay?”
“Okay.” Tears filled her eyes. “I remember now, working with August, but not the accident.”
A frown creased his brow. “Not how you came to be on Tea Biscuit? Or why you were in the woods?”
She brought a trembling hand to her head. To the bandages. She felt faint, and breathed deeply and slowly, in and out. How could she not remember?
“Bailey, there’s something else about your accident. Something I haven’t told you.”
Something bad. It was there, in the deep recesses of her brain, taunting her.