Raoul wanted to argue, but shut his mouth again. He desperately wanted to be alone with her and Zeke, but knew she needed the kind of care he was incapable of giving her. If she suffered any setbacks because he’d kept the professionals away from her, he really would never forgive himself.
Pool, Hassan, and Parker fell in with their procession the moment Raoul pushed through the doors.
“How is she?” Parker asked.
“Frightened of men,” Zeke replied before Raoul could.
“Give us some space here,” Raoul said, when Cantara opened her eyes again, obviously saw all the men peering at her, and started to quiver.
They dropped back a little, all but the bossy EMT, who directed Raoul to a private room that had been set up in the base hospital for Cantara. Raoul put her on the bed. Without saying a word she curled up in a fetal position, turned away from him, and appeared to fall asleep.
“She will still have sedative in her system,” the EMT said as Raoul pulled the covers up to her chin. “The doctor will be here shortly. You wanna wait out…”
Their identical expressions that said you have got to be kidding me killed the guy’s half-formed question. He swallowed and backed toward the door.
“Someone will be right with you,” he said.
The door closed behind him and Raoul and Zeke were finally alone with the love of their lives. They sat, one on either side of her, holding her hands and watching her sleep, not speaking. There was nothing left to be said. It shattered Raoul’s heart to see her so broken, so defeated, but whatever could be done for her, would be. If Uncle Sam didn’t pick up the check, he and Zeke would take care of it. All he needed to know was what her prognosis was and how soon they could take her home.
A female nurse came in and checked Cantara’s vital signs. She didn’t wake up, but didn’t fight against the nurse, either. The poor baby was totally wiped out. The flight, presumably, plus the sedative they have given her beforehand, to say nothing of her ordeal, had taken it out of her. The nurse told them there was a vending machine down the hall, but neither of them needed anything to eat or drink. What they needed was answers.
A male doctor appeared about half an hour later.
“You’re Washington and Orion.”
It wasn’t a question, so Raoul merely stuck out his hand. “Washington,” he said.
“Orion,” Zeke said, following suit.
“I’m Major Blackhurst,” he said, shaking each of their hands in turn. “Your gal here has had quite a time of it.” He flipped through her medical records on an iPad. Presumably they had been sent from the Israel facility where she’d been treated. “She was lucky to come through it all. She must have quite a strong determination to live.”
“What can you tell us about her condition?” Raoul asked.
“She had a severely fractured skull, which is healed.”
“Is that why she’s lost her memory?” Zeke asked.
“Could be. Taking a hit to the head is a pretty common reason for short-term memory loss. But we don’t know if Ms. Amari’s memory loss is short term because we don’t know how long she’s been like this.”
“She’s been held captive in pretty primitive conditions,” Raoul replied, grinding his jaw. “We have no idea yet what was done to her, but could her memory have closed down as part of her body’s defense mechanism?”
Blackhurst nodded. “Quite possibly. She might well have retreated in on herself to distract herself from her circumstances. It happens. I’ve seen quite a few victims of domestic abuse who use that technique to get by. They separate mind from body and don’t feel what’s happening to the body because their minds are saying it’s not happening to them.”
“Fuck!” Zeke muttered.
“There again,” Blackhurst said, “it could be the skull fracture that caused the problems with her memory.”
“Are you saying she won’t ever recover?” Zeke asked.
“There’s a good chance that she will. I’ve been told she screamed the place down in Israel when male doctors tried to go anywhere near her. And yet she recognized you two and let you carry her from the plane. That’s a very good sign. She knew your names as well, right?” Both men nodded. “Well then, I’m optimistic. I’m gonna run some tests. I’d like to keep her here for twenty-four hours, then you can take her home.”
“We can?” Raoul had expected the military to make an almighty fuss about her leaving.
“Best place for her. Peace and quiet. Time for her body and mind to heal, away from stresses and strains and, most importantly of all, away from figures of authority asking inane questions she’s in no fit state to answer.” He flashed a brief grin. “Not that you heard that from me.”
“Did someone speak?” Zeke asked, causing Raoul to crack the first smile he’d been able to manage since Cantara lost consciousness again.
“When she starts to feel better, should we encourage her to remember?” Raoul asked.
“I’m sure that posse of high-ranking officers pacing about outside would be delighted if you succeeded,” the physician replied with a wry smile.
“It’s not them we’re thinking about. We want to know if it would be dangerous for her physiologically to remember details of her ordeal, or if it would be therapeutic.”
Blackhurst shook his head. “Not my field. You’re gonna either have to use your own judgment as she starts to heal and—”
“See if she wants to know.”
“Yep. Or better yet, get her to see a shrink.”
Raoul sniffed, always having been of the opinion that naval-gazers did more harm than good with their intrusive questions. “We’ll have to see about that. What I was thinking is that we’ve got pictures of her family, her life, before she got involved with what she was doing. Happy times before her family was wiped out by a bomb.”
“Ouch!” Blackhurst flinched. “She’s not had a good time of it, has she?”