Free Until Spring by Pamela Browning

asked as he was stripping off his gloves.
    "I don't know," she answered in a small voice.
    The farmer, who told her hesitantly that his name was Carlton Jones, explained to Dr. Bergstrom that he had stumbled upon her lying not far from the highway in a ditch on the edge of one of his fields when he and his son were out looking for a lost hunting dog.
    "There she was, lying there like she was dead," he said. "I thought she was dead. At first I figured she might have had an accident on the highway, but there was no car anywhere around."
    "Do you remember anything?" Dr. Bergstrom asked her.
    "No," Jane whispered. The sharp pain in her head had subsided to a dull, pounding ache. She didn't know these people or this place or about any accident. As far as she was concerned, this experience was the first thing that had ever happened to her. She didn't know who she was or where she was supposed to be, although she understood that she was expected to know these things and that these people were beginning to be annoyed that she did not.
    Mr. Jones apparently knew the doctor, and the two men engaged in an intense discussion out in the hall, during which Jane heard Mr. Jones say, "But Doc, I don't know anything about her. I sure can't pay any hospital bill."
    The doctor said wearily, "We'll go ahead and admit her to the hospital, but I have to call the police."
    After that, the doctor, forcing a stiff smile, hurried back into the cubicle, and Jane was wheeled into a dingy little room with beige walls, cracked plaster on the ceiling, and vintage blinds with one slat missing. Finally, thankfully, she slept.
    When she awoke, a man she'd never seen before was lounging beside her bed.
    "I'm Detective Sid Reedy of the Tyree County Sheriff's Department," he said in an impersonal tone.
    She blinked.
    "I'm trying to find out a few things about your accident," he said.
    "I don't remember," she murmured, but he hadn't heard her.
    "What's that?"
    "I don't remember," she said in a louder tone.
    "I have to fill out a report," he said. "Why don't you just tell me what happened?"
    "All I know is I woke up and a boy was looking at me."
    "Right. You were lying in a ditch between Jones's field and the highway. What I need to know is how you got there."
    "I don't remember," she repeated, sounding even to her own ears like a broken record.
    "Look, lady, it's late, and I'd like to get home in time for dinner just this once. So if your boyfriend pushed you out of a car or something, don't be embarrassed. I've seen and heard everything, believe me. Just let me file my report and I'll leave you alone." He was frowning at her now.
    She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to figure out if that was what had happened. But if she had a boyfriend, she couldn't picture his face, and if she'd been riding in a car, she couldn't recall anything about it. She forced herself to narrow her range of thoughts down to a single pinpoint somewhere inside her brain, trying to remember, to remember....
    "Well?"
    The sudden question interrupted her effort. A crushing feeling of helplessness descended on her. If only she could satisfy these people—the admitting clerk, the doctor, this insensitive policeman. They all demanded something that she couldn't give, and she felt so sad that it wasn't within her power to help them.
    "I'm sorry," she said, on the verge of tears. "I'm really sorry."
    "Okay, okay," he muttered, and he strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
    Tears were etching shiny trails down Jane's cheeks and falling unheeded onto the pillow by the time a nurse arrived. The nurse's name tag identified her as R. Sanchez.
    "Oh, did he upset you? Can I get you anything?" asked the little nurse, who appeared to be very young.
    A name, she thought, staring at the nurse's name tag with longing. Get me a name. But she didn't say it.
    Dr. Bergstrom didn't return to her room until late that night. He wore an expression of concern.
    "Having any luck with your memory?"