One Tuesday Morning (29 page)

Sierra squeezed Jamie's hand and hid partially behind her. She tilted her face up, and Jamie was struck by what she saw there.

The child was scared to death. She'd never seen Jake as anything other than the muscled, active, healthy man he'd been before Tuesday morning.

This man—lying on a hospital bed wrapped in bandages—was someone she not only didn't recognize. But someone who scared her.

“Mommy ” Sierra's voice was a whisper. “What's wrong with him?”

Jim Bryan took a few steps backwards and let them have this moment, the three of them. Jamie tried to find the right words. “Daddy got hurt at work, baby.”

Her little girl eyes became almost perfect circles. “In a fire?”

“Yes, sweetie.” Jamie looked at Jim for help, but he was staring at Jake. Probably as stunned as Sierra at the sight he made there in the hospital bed. “He got hurt in a fire.”

“Then ” Sierra shifted her gaze to Jake and swallowed hard. “I'll pray for him. So he'll get better.”

“Yes, let's do that in a few minutes, okay?” Jamie stepped closer and looked down at her husband. “How're you feeling?”

His eyes met hers, but it was impossible to make out his expression. “My face stings.”

“I'm sorry.” Seconds of silence felt like hours, and Jamie searched for something to say. Finally, she reached back and motioned for Jake's father to come alongside her. He was hesitant, but finally he took his place on the other side of Sierra.

Jamie looked back at Jake. “I brought your dad.”

Jake blinked and moved his head enough to see Jim Bryan. “You're my dad?”

“Hello, son.” Jim took Jake's hand, his eyes glistening. “Everything's going to be fine.”

“I'm your son?” Jake stared up at Jim.

Jake looked as fearful as Sierra, and Jamie wanted to jolt herself, make herself wake up from the nightmare they were suddenly thrust into. It wasn't happening … it couldn't be. Jake would never not know her … or his father. It was impossible.

“Yes, Jake.” Jim Bryan nodded as a single tear made its way down his weathered cheek. “I'm your dad.”

“Oh.” Jake stared at him for another few seconds and then let his gaze fall back to Sierra.

When she realized that Jake was looking at her, she must've decided to be brave. She peeked out from behind Jamie and touched her small fingers to Jake's hand. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi.” Jake's eyes were flat.

“Is Jesus going to make you better?”

He gave a quick glance at Jamie and his father. “I hope so.”

Jamie's knees felt weak. How must it feel to Jake, lying there unable to recognize any of them except Sierra? And why Sierra? Why not her, when he'd loved her forever? How could he remember one of the girls in his life but not the other? The entire scene felt disjointed and uncomfortable, like a poorly scripted play.

Jake's father cleared his throat and was about to say something when Jamie heard footsteps behind her. She turned and saw Captain Hisel from the station. He was in his work pants and shirt, and his face looked haggard, as though he hadn't slept in weeks. Jamie could only imagine the heartache he was dealing with at the station and throughout the city.

The station's losses made Jamie think about Sue, and how she still hadn't spoken to the woman. Not since Tuesday when they'd first learned Larry was missing.

The captain nodded at Jake's father and took slow steps into the room. “I had to check on him.” His eyes met Jamie's, and he managed a weary smile. “Everyone at the station's pulling for him, praying for him to remember who he is.”

Everyone still alive
, Jamie wanted to add. But she didn't dare. Jake had no idea how he'd been hurt. He couldn't even remember the fact that he was a fireman, let alone the names of friends he'd had. Now that they were gone, the truth, the gravity and immensity of the situation, would have no bearing on Jake. It would only frighten him more.

Jake's father stepped back so Captain Hisel could find a place up against Jake's bed. “JB … how're you feeling?”

“My head hurts.” There wasn't a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

The captain looked down and patted Sierra on the head. “I see your best girls came to visit you.”

Jake looked at their daughter. “I … I remember Sierra.”

“Well, that has to be a good sign.” Captain Hisel hesitated, not knowing what to say.

As Jamie watched the captain's awkwardness, she sympathized. What did you say to a person who no longer remembered any of your shared experiences?

“I need … to know something.” Jake's voice was still hoarse and raspy, and it was an effort for him to talk. He strained to look from the captain to Jamie and over toward the wall at his father. “What happened to me?” He winced as though he was in awful pain. “Tell me about the accident.”

Jamie took the initiative. Jake's doctors had said it would be better to wait and let him find out what happened in a few weeks—when some of his memories might be returning. “You were fighting a fire.” Jamie sent a quick look to the others, silently begging them to refrain from adding details. “You hit your head when part of the building collapsed.”

“Was anyone else hurt?” Jake lifted his hand slowly toward his face and then changed his mind and let it fall again.

“That isn't important, Jake.” Jamie's tone put an end to the line of questions. “Let's focus on getting you better.”

Captain Hisel cleared his throat. “We miss you down at the station.”

Jake blinked. “What station?”

Captain Hisel looked at the others around the room and finally back at Jake. “The fire station.” The man's eyebrows formed a deep-set V. “Don't you remember?”

“Look …” Jake gave a pained shake of his head and released a heavy sigh. “I don't know if this is … some wacky dream or … or if I've lost my mind.” Jake met Captain Hisel's eyes again. Discouragement tinged his voice. “But I don't remember the station … or you.” He shifted his gaze to Jamie and his father. His words were slow and machinelike, dimmed by his raspy voice. “Or either of you … or anything about being a fireman.” He looked at Sierra, and his eyes softened some. “The only thing I remember is Sierra.”

Jamie's head spun, and she had to grip the bed's guardrails to keep from falling. She flashed the captain a look and motioned toward the hallway. He nodded and turned as she leaned in closer to her husband. “We'll be out in the hall for a bit. Go ahead and rest, Jake.”

Taking Sierra by the hand, Jamie followed the captain and Jake's father into the hallway. The moment they were out of earshot from Jake, Captain Hisel stared at Jamie, his mouth open. This was the first time the captain had seen Jake since he'd regained consciousness. “He really doesn't remember.”

“No.” Jamie bit her lip to keep from crying. Her head was spinning harder now, and the black spots were back, dancing before her eyes and making it hard to hear. “Not … not even me.”

The men must've known she was about to fall, that she couldn't possibly stand up another minute under the weight of all that had happened. Jake's father came up along one side, Captain Hisel along the other, with Sierra in the middle. Together they formed a circle, arms linked, heads bowed, silenced by the tragedy of it all.

And for a long while no one spoke.

Jake's words had said it all.

****

Questions had been weighing on Jake since he came to, and now he wanted answers. Here and there he'd caught snippets of conversations in the hallways—sometimes when he was in and out of sleep. Something major had happened in New York City, a disaster that involved more than him.

If he really was a firefighter, then Jake had the feeling he wasn't the only man injured in the incident—whatever it was.

He reached for the television remote and clicked the On button. Strange, that his brain could remember how to talk and operate a remote control. He could even picture New York City. But if his life depended on it, he couldn't remember his name or the woman who apparently was his wife.

A picture began to take shape on the TV screen, and a logo at the corner said CNN. The all-news channel—another thing he remembered. A man was standing behind a podium talking, and Jake glanced at the doorway, hoping the people he was supposed to know wouldn't come back. Not yet. If they weren't going to tell him what had happened, he had to find out for himself.

Jake focused, and someone offscreen asked the man a question—something about football games that weekend.

“The NFL will take this weekend off in honor of the victims of September 11,” the man said. “We believe this is the least we can do to show our respect.”

NFL? That was the National Football League. So why were they taking a week off? And what had happened September 11 that would cause them to cancel all their games? They wanted to honor victims that had been hurt how? What was the man talking about? A realization hit him like a fist in the stomach. What day had he been injured, anyway? He wasn't sure, but he thought he'd been in the hospital just two days. Maybe he was one of the people hurt on September 11.

The image changed, and a somber-looking man announced that the station was going to do a recap of the events from the past two days. A picture flashed of two towering buildings. Fireballs and thick black smoke poured from the top of one of them, and before Jake could remember where he'd seen the buildings, an airplane came into view and flew smack into the other tower.

His mouth went dry. The reporter was saying something about terrorists and suicide missions, but none of it made sense. Terrorists? Flying planes into buildings? Had this happened while he was unconscious, or had he been in one of the buildings, even fighting the fire in one of them?

His hands shook, and the remote control fell to his lap.

Over the next few seconds, the recap showed the collapse of first one building, then the other. One image showed a different flaming structure—wider and nowhere near as tall. And finally, the picture changed to a rural-looking field, with what looked like a charred crater.

A chart appeared on the screen with a banner across the top that read, “Attacks on America.” The information detailed the apparent loss of four airplanes, multiple buildings in New York City, and Washington, D.C., and the deaths of some three thousand people, more than four hundred of which were firefighters or emergency personnel.

Three thousand people dead? And hundreds of firefighters?

Jake clicked off the TV, and suddenly a memory filled his mind, clear and detailed. The tall buildings were part of the World Trade Center—the famous Twin Towers in downtown Manhattan—situated in the heart of New York City.

The memory of the buildings was so clear it was striking, and Jake settled back against his pillow. There was only one reason why he would remember the buildings this well. He must've spent time there, and that meant the people outside were telling the truth. He was a firefighter, probably stationed somewhere near the towers. He and the other guys at his station had probably been in the buildings hundreds of times.

If that was true, then he must've been injured in the terrorist attacks. And not only that, but he was probably lucky to be alive. The numbers flashed through his head again. Thousands dead … hundreds of emergency personnel. How had he survived? And which close friends and colleagues had been killed when those buildings tumbled to the ground?

He tried to remember the captain's name. Hiser or Hisen…. Whoever he was, no wonder he looked so shaken. The station hadn't responded to a fire. They'd responded to a national disaster, a tragedy worse than anything America had ever seen. And he'd been right there in the middle of it.

Reality took a moment to introduce itself.

So, his name was Jake, after all, and he really was a firefighter. He had to be; he'd been found beneath his fire truck, and the captain recognized him. Jake worked the sore muscles in his jaw and tried to imagine fighting fires, wearing the heavy uniform and holding the high-pressure hoses while flames raged around him. He could conjure up such scenes in his head, but not one of them felt familiar. And nothing came to mind when he tried to picture the station, the one the captain had asked him about.

Jake closed his eyes and concentrated so hard his face hurt beneath the bandages. He had obviously worked at the station dozens of hours every month for who knew how many years, so why couldn't he remember any of it? If he could picture the World Trade Center buildings, why couldn't he picture the fire station?

And what about the woman? At first the idea of not remembering her had seemed so strange he merely dismissed the thought altogether. He couldn't be married to her, otherwise he'd know at least something about her. Instead, he'd assumed that somehow she must've been confused about him, and by believing that, he was able to convince himself the whole situation was some kind of enormous mistake.

But clearly he'd been wrong. Everything the people in the hall outside his room had been telling him was true. He was a firefighter, married to Jamie, and he worked at a station in New York City that had most likely been decimated by the terrorist attacks on September 11. Somehow he'd fought the biggest fire in the country's history and walked out of it alive. Sure, he'd lost his memory, but his doctors could do something about that. The important thing was, he'd survived.

Another understanding dawned in the dark corridors of his confused brain. If he was ever going to find his way back to the person he used to be, he'd need the support of the people outside in the hallway.

Especially Jamie and Sierra.

Recent memories came to mind, the terrified look on the woman's face each time she entered his room, the anxiety in the eyes of the other men, the man who was obviously his father, and the captain. No, Jake didn't recognize them. But he hadn't so much as smiled at them, either. However hard this ordeal was on him, they were going through something equally awful. Until a few days ago they'd shared intimate relationships and friendships with him, and now he was so disoriented he hadn't found it in himself even to be kind.

He was alive, after all. He had a family and friends who loved him. Jake pictured them again, Jamie and his father, the captain. Combined, he had not a single memory of any of them, and the reality of that would have left him utterly despondent if not for one thing—he remembered Sierra. His little daughter gave him a starting place, a single rock to cling to as he set out on the climb of his life. The hike back to reality as it had been before September 11.