Not Without The Truth

“I didn’t know that,” she said. “At least I don’t think I did.” Failing to keep the defeat from her voice, she spoke again. “I can’t believe this! Amnesia is something you see in movies or read about in books—it’s not supposed to happen to real people.”

“The condition has been glamorized,” he agreed, “but it obviously does affect ‘real’ people. It’s affected you.”

His reassurance made her feel much better but she immediately wondered why. She’d known the man for only a few days. How could he have such sway over her so quickly? “Will my memory ever come back?”

“I think that it will,” he said. “But amnesia is one of those problems we still don’t understand. If the source is organic—that is, you hit your head when you fell into the water and a physical part of your brain has been affected—your recovery time will be related to the damage that was done when you had the accident. If it’s psychogenic, that’s a different thing.”

“‘Psychogenic’? Meaning I’m making it happen to myself?”

“No. Psychogenic meaning the problem is psychologically based.” He paused and appeared to think of how to phrase his explanation. “Psychogenic amnesia occurs after some sort of stress takes place. People who suffer this form of amnesia sometimes have a history of depression.” His stare captured hers once again, the tension in the room notching up. “Psychogenic amnesia can be linked to suicide, as well.”

IF HE HADN’T BEEN TRAINED to notice such things, Armando would have missed the reaction that crossed her expression, but his medical degree gave him an advantage.

As did his past.

Knowing what he did, he would have been surprised if she hadn’t had some psychological problems. Her issues had roots that had been growing for years.

“Are you saying you think I was trying to kill myself by jumping in the river?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “If you are, I have to disagree. I would have picked a simpler way.”

“That’s not at all what I’m suggesting. I’m merely trying to explain that amnesia is a complex disease. You may not suffer from it for very long, though. Sometimes all it takes is a single detail and everything returns.”

“But it’s still frustrating.”

“I imagine that it is, however, I may be able to help you there. Your government has been contacted by a man who claims to be your father. He wanted help in finding you, and the person who handled the call knew of my clinic. She decided to cut through the red tape and phone me first to see if I’d heard anything.”

Lauren’s face filled with shock and she struggled to sit up. “Are you kidding me?”

He shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, my God!” Her eyes huge, she leaned forward as if she could get the information faster by being that much closer. “Who is my father? What was I doing here? Where is—”

Armando held up his hand. “I’ll answer your questions the best I can, but I may not know everything—”

“I don’t care! Just tell me!”

“Your name is Lauren Stanley and you are from Dallas. You’re a writer, for a magazine called Luxury, and you were here on assignment to do an article about Machu Picchu and some of the other ruins. Your father is a doctor and he started to worry when you didn’t call in as expected. Apparently you and he have some kind of system where you check in with him on a regular basis. He was afraid something had happened.”

Her expression became remote. “What’s his name?”

“J. Freeman Stanley.”

“Does he know I’m all right?”

“He’s been told. My friend said he was very relieved and he wants to talk to you as soon as possible. When we finish here, you can call him if you like.”

He fell silent. She’d asked all the right questions, yet there was something missing. After a second, he realized what is was; none of the information he’d given her was resonating. Her expression held no reaction whatsoever. Normally he wouldn’t have been surprised by that, but because of her eagerness, he expected disappointment from her, if nothing else.

“Does any of this sound familiar?” he asked, just to be sure.

She shook her head slowly. “You could be talking about a stranger for all I know.”

Armando stood. “Don’t worry about it for now,” he ordered. “Once you speak with your father that could change.”

Lauren opened her mouth to reply, but her expression went blank. Her eyes glazed over and became unfocused, then a second later, she jerked so hard the bed moved. Fearing a seizure or even something worse, Armando grabbed her shoulders and spoke her name loudly.

The episode was over almost before it began. She blinked then looked straight into his eyes and gasped.

“I was in a jungle and there were birds,” she said. “Th-then I was flying.”

He loosened his hold on her arms but he didn’t release her. “You’re not flying, Lauren,” he said forcefully. “You’re in bed. I have you. You’re safe.”

“It felt like I was looking at you behind a veil. I thought I was dreaming but it was more real.”

“Describe what you saw.”

“Thick foliage,” she said haltingly. “The sound of birds, a rope sliding through my hands.” She stopped abruptly and went silent, the intensity of the sensation obviously still frightening to her. “I was up high but I felt a rope,” she said. “There was a rope in my hands!”

He took her hands and turned them over, shaking his head as he stared at the scabs that covered her palms. “I thought these were rope burns but then I convinced myself they were scratches from a tree limb you’d tried to grab. I should have known better.” He raised his eyes to hers. “Someone must have tried to help you after you fell into the water. Was there anyone with you?”

She screwed up her face as if she could force the memory out of her brain, but in the end, all she could do was shake her head. “I don’t know! I guess anything’s possible, but I don’t know.”

He released her hands and patted her arm, his reassurance swift and soothing. “It will come to you,” he said in a comforting voice. “It will come.”

“Is that a promise?”

“This is Peru,” he answered cryptically. “Promises are all that we have.”

CHAPTER THREE

ARMANDO TORRES GAVE HER his cell phone then stepped outside as she dialed the number written on the small slip of paper he’d handed her. The first ring had barely finished when the phone was answered at the other end.

“Children’s Clinic. How may I direct your call?”

“I need to speak with Dr. Stanley,” Lauren said. “This is his daughter calling.”

She felt strange describing herself as someone’s daughter but as Lauren waited to talk to the man who claimed to be her father, she knew that Armando had told her the truth. She trusted him but she wasn’t quite sure why.

“Lauren?”

She gripped the phone tighter as her name was spoken. “Y-yes,” she managed to say. “This is Lauren.”

“Oh, sweetheart! You don’t know how worried I’ve been. Thank God you’re all right! How do you feel? When are you coming home? They told me you lost all your things! Do you want me to come down and get you?”

The man at the other end stopped to take a breath and when he did so, he seemed to realize how rattled he sounded. He laughed apologetically. “I’m sorry—I know I’m running off at the mouth, but I’m just so relieved to know you’re okay. Tell me how you feel.”

“I’m still a little sore,” she said, “but Dr. Torres has reassured me nothing’s broken.”

His voice was strained. “Is he taking good care of you?”