Free Washed Away by Carol Marinelli Page B

confident woman he had first met. She sat hunched over, staring down at the watch she held in her shaking hand. “I mean, why would only my mom’s name be there? Why would only my mom be proud of me?”
    “Hey, maybe you bought it from a secondhand shop,” Noah suggested, trying to take the edge off her fear. “Perhaps your real name’s Tiffany and you’ve got a husband and three kids waiting for you back home.” A surge of sympathy washed over him as he eyed her troubled expression. “You really can’t remember anything at all?”
    “Nothing,” Cheryl whispered. “Not a single thing.”
    “Well, one thing we do know is that you’re not from Turning Point.” Noah gave a wry smile. “I’m sure I’d remember your face. Maybe you’re from CorpusChristi. That’s where the storm was due to hit. They’re evacuating residents here—”
    “Corpus Christi?” She shook her head in bewilderment.
    “Or maybe you’re here on business,” Noah suggested. “I had you pegged as a reporter when we met at the gas station.”
    “Dressed in that? I don’t think so!” Cheryl exclaimed, gesturing to the pile of clothes on the floor. The flash of humor brought a welcome smile to both their lips.
    “Maybe not,” Noah conceded. “Hey, you could be a doctor or a nurse. Mitch had a team sent in from California to help deal with the evacuees, and at the gas station you said you were here to look out for humans.”
    “I said that! Why?”
    Noah almost blushed, and was thankful Cheryl was too engrossed in her own problems to notice. “We had…words.”
    “About?”
    “I jumped the line, you were pissed off….”
    “Oh, and that sounds like a nurse….”
    Noah suppressed the smile that twitched at the edge of his lips. This difficult, wary woman was snarling and snapping like the dog she’d arrived with, but Noah knew that both of them were just plain scared.
    “Still, that doesn’t explain the New York accent.” Noah kept his voice light, afraid that if she knew he was trying to assess her, she’d get her guard up. “Which part of the state are you from?”
    “New Rochelle.” It was an immediate response, andhe watched as she hugged her knees and clung to that tiny piece of knowledge.
    “You’re a long way from home, then,” he said softly.
    “On vacation perhaps?” Cheryl suggested hopefully. “Visiting relatives for a couple weeks?”
    “I don’t know, Cheryl,” Noah admitted. “But one thing is for sure. This is temporary amnesia you’re suffering from.”
    “Oh, and you know that for sure, do you.” Her voice was brittle but tears were brimming in her eyes. “I thought you said you were a vet.”
    “Animals can get it, too, after a head injury,” Noah said, deliberately not taking offense at her argumentative tone. Behind the prickly façade, this woman was terrified. “And you’re right. Given that I’m not Dr. Doolittle, I can’t get verbal confirmation of my diagnosis, but take it from me, animals do get amnesia.”
    He watched as she pleated the blanket, digesting the information he had given her. At last her troubled eyes looked up at him.
    “So how do you know it’s only temporary? How can you be sure I’m not going to be stuck like this forever?”
    “Because you make a lousy amnesiac.” Noah smiled, his casual tone halting the rising hysteria in her voice. “Because you said without thinking that you came from New Rochelle, because you’re still the same argumentative women I met a few hours ago. Now all we’ve got to do is wait until the rest of the jigsaw pieces fall into place.”
    “Jigsaw?”
    “A picture, cut up—”
    “I know what a jigsaw is, thank you! I’m not completely stupid,” Cheryl replied indignantly. “It’s just…”
    “Just what?” Noah asked. But when Cheryl shook her head, lay back on the pillow and stared at him with bewildered eyes, Noah knew she’d had enough. “You’re going to be okay,” he said softly but firmly, peeling the