Retrogame

By Lee Martin

Tom Huxley, owner and CEO of a large accounting firm in the town of Jasmine, South Carolina, is on his way to the opening ceremony of the 1996 Atlanta Olympics when he is assaulted at a rest area near the Georgia border. His wife, Amanda, is notified by the Anderson County Sheriff that Tom was transported to a local hospital and currently in a coma. Within a matter of hours, she and her daughter Brie travel across the state to take up their vigil in the ICU waiting room, praying for him to awaken. The good news is that a day later he does regain consciousness; however, they then discover he has lost memory of the last twenty years of his life. While convalescing the following week in the hospital, he is horrified to find that he is a thirteen-year-old in a thirty-three-year-old man’s body. Even weeks later at home, both he and Amanda are trying to cope with the reality that a teenager in an adult body who doesn’t know his own family is incapable of being a husband and father. So how long will his amnesia last? Or is it actually real? And what was it Amanda found in Tom’s car that poses an even bigger threat to their marriage? Retrogame contains all the ingredients that excites readers…mystery, suspense, surprise, secrets, action, murder, romance, deception and on top of it all, betrayal. Be electrified all the way up to the surprise ending.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781663244406

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Copyright © 2022 Lee Martin.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by

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without the written permission of the author except in the case of

brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-6632-4439-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6632-4440-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022915611

iUniverse rev. date:  08/22/2022

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

Chapter Thirty-four

Chapter Thirty-five

Chapter Thirty-six

Chapter Thirty-seven

Chapter Thirty-eight

Chapter Thirty-nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-one

Chapter Forty-two

Chapter Forty-three

Chapter Forty-four

Chapter Forty-five

Chapter Forty-six

Chapter Forty-seven

Chapter Forty-eight

Chapter Forty-nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-one

Chapter Fifty-two

Chapter Fifty-three

Chapter Fifty-four

Chapter Fifty-five

Chapter Fifty-six

Chapter Fifty-seven

Chapter Fifty-eight

Chapter Fifty-nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-one

Chapter Sixty-two

Chapter Sixty-three

Chapter Sixty-four

Chapter Sixty-five

Chapter Sixty-six

Chapter Sixty-seven

Chapter Sixty-eight

CHAPTER

ONE

T heir house, a white, historic Victorian with twin turrets, sat majestically on a piece of high ground two blocks off the Santee, looking stereotypically like something a southern aristocratic family ought to live in, complete with a wide veranda and a lawn of manicured centipede grass over which stood a half dozen stately live oaks covered with resurrection fern and Spanish moss. The Huxleys of Jasmine…Tom, Amanda and their six year old daughter, Brie.

The town, population maybe three thousand, give or take a body, thirty miles north of antebellum Charleston, like other small South Carolina burgs, showcased a circa 1880s square containing a Confederate soldier statue similar to those standing in hundreds of other town squares throughout the southern states. Quaint little shops, some dating back to the turn of the 20th Century, surrounded the town square which boasted as its centerpiece the stately Jasmine City Hall. One of the businesses on the square was at one time a long-standing hardware store more recently remodeled into an accounting firm owned and operated by thirty-three year old Thomas (Tom) Huxley, a CPA and possibly the wealthiest and most educated young professional in the county. One could easily recognize Tom flitting out and about most days in his seersucker sports coat, light-pink Oxford shirt and Joseph Abboud necktie that was covered with a goodly number of embroidered images of the sabal palmetto and crescent moon representing the South Carolina state flag. Always GQ.

Back in late April or maybe early May when the Carolina Jasmine was in bloom, one might see Tom stopping before entering the Huxley and Associates Accounting office to take in the sweet aroma of the blossoms on the ten foot bush adjacent to the door. He might pluck from one of the branches a bloom, then tuck it up under his nostrils and smile. The town was literally bestrewn with jasmine bushes from one end to the other, ergo its name.

On one side of his office sat the post office, and the other, Dixie’s Dolls, the owner being 78 year old Dinah (Dixie) Dawson, who created most of the dolls in the shop. It was the year 1996 when she was making Brie one that would end up the image of a southern belle, complete with long, curly blonde hair, like Brie’s, and a frilly white, full-length dress with ruffles. Dixie would then finish her up with chic miniature copies of Marie-Anne Lecoeur shoes all the way from France. She promised to be done with it well before Christmas.

On July 18th of that year, Tom sat at the kitchen table putting down the last few bites of the ham and poached eggs that Amanda had prepared. Brie sat across from him mostly just moving around her scrambled eggs with a fork. She wasn’t much of a breakfast eater, and generally only nibbled most anything put on her plate. That’s why she only weighed just over sixty pounds. Ten pounds less than she should have weighed, considering her age and size. It wasn’t anything her pediatrician was worried about. She’ll eat when she gets hungry and should pick up weight when she gets older, Dr. Moore told her.

Tom glanced at his watch a couple of times which prompted Amanda to ask, Do you have to leave so soon? It’s only a four hour drive over to Atlanta and the ceremony doesn’t begin until tonight.

And why can’t we go with you, Daddy? added Brie.

I told you I have a meeting with the Chartered Global Accounting Group and we have a row of seats designated for us at not only the opening ceremony, but tomorrow’s games.

But Tom, this may be the only opportunity Brie and I will have to attend an olympics.

The ceremony and tomorrow’s events are sold out, dear. We went over that. I’m only staying a couple of days and will be back home Wednesday. I have to get back. Got an office to run, you know.

Could we maybe go as a family next week? While you’re over there, you could check to see if there are any events that are not sold out.

Maybe…but we’ll see. He then gulped down the last of his coffee and winked at Brie. We’ll see, baby.

"Will you bring me back an Olympics souvenir, Daddy, like an Izzy mascot figure?"

Tom reached across the table and patted Brie’s hand. You got it, honey. Izzy it is. Well, gotta go. I have to gas up and swing by the office for a few minutes.

Having earlier brought his suit bag down from the bedroom, Tom then retrieved it from the arm of the couch. After giving Amanda a peck on the cheek and applying a second to Brie’s forehead, he walked to the door. Bye, girls. See you in a few.

Amanda smiled. Drive carefully, Tom. Remember there will be a lot of traffic going into Atlanta.

Not to worry. You know me. I always look for the other guy to make the dumb move.

She followed him with her eyes as he walked toward the door. At thirty-three, he was unquestionably one the most handsome guys in the county…tall with dark brown hair, taut physique, wearing a well-established golden tan. Amanda knew she had to be the envy of every unattached woman in town, whether age twenty or fifty.

When Amanda heard Tom’s BMW leaving the driveway, she returned to the kitchen to begin clearing the breakfast table. Brie was still playing with her cereal. Okay, little miss, quit lollygagging and go on up to your room to start getting ready for church and Sunday school. We have to leave in less than an hour.

After Brie had scampered away, Amanda paused at the sink to look out the window across their vast lawn and into the horizon. The sky had turned red…a beautiful orange-red…bringing with it a hint of sudden doom. She then caught herself whispering the old adage, Red skies in the morning, sailors take warning… Where that came from she didn’t know, but knew it had to do with storms that would brew up from out of nowhere and rock the seas, making a boat’s navigation treacherous. Of course nobody locally had to worry about sailing unless the Sunday morning fishermen ventured further out into the wider and deeper waters of the Santee. But that was their problem and all she herself had to worry about was Brie’s new pink dress getting soaked coming out of the church. However, Tom would soon be out on the road and those sudden southern storms could come up so quickly with sweeping sheets of rain that made it nearly impossible for one to see to drive. But Tom was always careful on the road and knew to pull off under an overpass on the interstate when it began raining sideways. Tom also had with him one of those new Nokia phones he used in the business; so what was there to worry about?

Amanda finished up in the kitchen, took her morning shower and stepped into Brie’s bedroom to see if she had gotten herself ready for church. She hadn’t. Brie was still in her pajamas and back on her bed reading one of her Nancy Drew books.

Briana Huxley, what were you told? You’re gonna make us late. Now go wash your face and brush your teeth. I’ll lay your dress out. Get moving.

Slowly and reluctantly, Brie laid aside her book and scooted off the bed. Do we have to go to church today, Mommy? Daddy’s not going to be with us and I…I might not be feeling all that good.

You feel fine. Don’t try to pull that on me. You’re just lazy, little girl. And Daddy doesn’t go but a couple of times a year anyway, so don’t use him as an excuse. Now go!

Alright. Don’t get all cross and make that face. It won’t look good on you when we get to church.

Amanda stifled the grin that had formed and turned her head. Brie had gotten even more briggedy as she had gotten older, but what sometimes came out of her mouth was down-right cute.

It did rain a little that morning, but thankfully, the stormy weather had stayed farther south. As Amanda sat in her pew alongside a squirmy Brie listening to their dry, long-winded preacher, she allowed her mind to drift westward, wondering how far Tom was into Georgia. She wasn’t all that worried about him being on the road as he traveled a lot, both on the interstate and county routes. Much of his time away from home would be evenings and weekends. She actually couldn’t find fault with him being gone so much, considering their six figure income which helped them live quite comfortably, financially. There was a small mortgage, and he had paid cash for both the BMW and her Honda. Their only significant expense was Brie’s tuition at the Monmouth Academy. The year before, Amanda quit work at the insurance agency allowing her to now enjoy some time to herself and sweet afternoons with Brie.

Deidre Richards, a beautiful, very popular socialite in Jasmine with a brogue as southern as sweet tea, was Amanda’s best friend and confidant. Having gone through all the school years together since kindergarten, Deidre had been there for Amanda to lean on a number of occasions, especially two years before when Amanda’s mother passed from cancer. And then there was that couple of months when she and Tom hardly spoke to one another…whatever that was about. Over the years they had become like sisters, bonded and true.

As much as they were alike in looks and personality, Amanda, however, was not quite the social butterfly as Deidre. When they gathered with other friends, Deidre was always the most magnetic. She, a wealthy divorcee who took her former spouse, the town’s bank president, to the cleaners, liked to engage in activities that took her out of town…like Saturday jaunts down to Charleston, shopping and meeting up with her citified friends. Conversely, Amanda preferred spending her weekends at home with Brie, and of course Tom, on those rare Saturdays and Sundays he was not working. Being a divorcee, Deidre was always the fun girl of the two, a fully involved community socialite flitting about with a carefree lifestyle. At times, however, Amanda thought she may be envious, even outright jealous of Deidre. Still, she loved her like she had never loved any other woman except her mother.

Having just sat through Pastor Williams’ hour and fifteen minute sermon delivered in droning monotone, Amanda’s eyelids were heavy. Brie had long since fallen asleep, but now cranky that she had to wake up. "Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes. It’s over. Thank the good Lord it’s over."

I’m hungry, Momma.

Of course you are, darling. You didn’t eat two bites this morning.

What are we having for Sunday dinner?

Your favorite…fried chicken…that is, if you promise to eat it. I’m not going to the trouble fixing it for just the two of us if you won’t eat.

I promise, Momma. Daddy likes it, too. I wish he was here to eat with us.

Your daddy is probably putting down a greasy burger in some roadside diner over in Georgia right about now. His loss.

When the two of them arrived home, Amanda called Deidre to see if she would like to join them for Sunday dinner. There was no answer, which of course didn’t surprise her. She then remembered Deidre had said something to her about spending the weekend in Charleston. Some kind of festival going on. In hindsight, Amanda wished she and Brie had gone with her.

After dinner, around two, Amanda thought Tom should certainly have reached his destination and that he would have called. However, since she hadn’t heard from him, she called his Nokia from the house phone. After hearing seven or eight rings and on the verge of giving up, she heard Hello. It wasn’t his voice.

Tom?

Uh, no, replied the voice. This is Anderson County South Carolina Sheriff Jim Collingsworth.

A sudden shard of pain fired through her chest. Oh, God. Why do you have my husband’s phone? Has something happened to him?

Mrs. Huxley, we were wonderin’ how to get hold of you. There was no answer this mornin’ on your phone.

Please tell me, Sheriff, is Tom alright. Has he been in an accident? Is he…? He can’t be…

No, he’s not dead, ma’am. Mr. Huxley is in Pelham Medical Center. He wasn’t in any kind of accident. He…he was attacked and robbed, ma’am.

What? I…don’t understand. Where?

He pulled off the interstate at a rest stop and as he was gettin’ back into his car, someone in a van parked beside him, broke his door glass, clubbed him on the head and took his wallet. We were able to get your address from the registration. I contacted your Chief of Police Finch who went by your house around eleven but didn’t find you home. He…

Never mind about that. How bad is my husband?

He’s in a coma, ma’am. He has a large hematoma on the left side of his head. I don’t have any more information than that.

A coma? My God, that’s serious.

There’s brain activity, though, according to the doctor. He thinks he’ll be come out of it in short order.

Thank the Lord. Did anyone see this happen?

There were a couple of people who saw it. A man who was parked next to Mr. Huxley. A woman who was returnin’ from the restroom apparently did as well, but she wasn’t on the scene when our deputies got there.

Well, I’m getting my things together right now and my daughter and I will be at the hospital as quickly as we can.

It’ll either be me or one of our deputies who’ll meet you when you arrive. So sorry about this, ma’am. Now you drive careful-like gettin’ over here.

I will. Thank you, Sheriff.

Brie, noting her mother’s tears, asked, What’s wrong, Momma. Why are you crying?

Amanda pulled Brie tightly into her. It’s your daddy, sweetheart. He was in a bit of an accident on his way to Atlanta. I want you to get your little suitcase out from under the bed and pack some underwear, a couple pair of shorts and some tops. Don’t forget your toothbrush. We may be gone a few days.

Is Daddy hurt?

Yes, but I don’t know how badly.

Was he in a car wreck?

Amanda was reluctant to tell Brie he was beaten and robbed by someone. She didn’t want to scare her. No. But I don’t know all the facts yet, sweetheart.

Tears also began rolling down Brie’s cheeks and she dabbed at them with the sleeve of her dress. He’s got to be alright, Momma. Right?

Yes, I’m sure he will be. Now scoot on upstairs.

CHAPTER

TWO

A manda had missed Augie Finch’s card when she came home from church. Upon opening the door to leave the house, that’s when she saw it lying at the threshold. The chief must have stuck it between the door edge and frame. But, no sooner had she and Brie made their way to the Honda, Augie’s cruiser was just pulling into the long driveway.

After quickly exiting, he rushed toward them before they opened the car doors. Amanda, seeing you with the suitcase, you must have somehow gotten the message.

Augie and Tom, roommates at the Citadel their senior year, had remained close friends. Not only had the chief been to the house numerous times for dinner, he could usually be found watching Sunday afternoon pro football with Tom in the Huxley den with Brie planted in the middle of them, she cheering every time a team, any team, made a touchdown.

Sorry, Augie, I didn’t see your card until just a minute ago or I would have called.

I checked with the hospital in Anderson on Tom’s status as you probably have, and he’s still unconscious.

Amanda shook her head. I didn’t. Anxious to get going, I just went on what the county sheriff told me. How could something like that happen in broad daylight, Augie?

Crooks are brazen these days, Amanda. I have cautioned people many times to refrain from parking next to a panel van where a door can be slid open in a couple of seconds and somebody jumps out to attack. Just recently down in a mall parking lot in Charleston, a woman was pulled into a van and violated. Women are especially vulnerable.

But Tom is a big guy, six-two and a black belt.

It can happen in a flash to any unsuspecting person, especially if the attacker has some kind of weapon.

It makes me wonder what this world is coming to. Anyway, I’ve got to get going. Thanks, Augie.

"Be careful yourself and keep your mind on the road. Stay within the speed limit and don’t stop for anything."

I just remembered, I’ve got to get gas, so I have to stop.

I will follow you to the Chevron out on 42. Gas stations are other places people get hijacked and attacked. Go on. I’ll be behind you.

"Thanks. And oh, Augie, will you be so kind to go by Tom’s office in the morning and inform his staff of what happened? I don’t know what Tom’s situation will be when I get there or when he’ll be back to work. Just tell Norman to handle things while he’s out. He’ll know what to do."

After Amanda gassed up, she waved to Augie and then pulled away. The three and a half hour trip would seem like five or six by the time she arrived at the hospital. At least that’s the amount of time she had calculated by looking at the map. She had been to Greenville a half dozen times, but not by herself. Tom had always been the driver. She thought she’d have no trouble finding Anderson which was a half hour from Greenville, but she had no idea where the hospital was. Somebody would give her directions. But then, she’d have to roll her window down, stop and ask somebody…maybe even get out of the car, which she was afraid to do. She had barely gotten onto I-26 when it began…that hateful feeling she called ‘bangxiety.’

Amanda had been treated over the years for anxiety attacks, a crushing feeling that hit her with a ‘bang.’ She knew immediately what it was when it came over her. The sweating and hyperventilating, like she would either pass out or even die. At times she even thought her mind was trying to escape from her body, placing her into some kind of surreal world. And she couldn’t control it. If a panic attack came on while she was driving, she would spiral into an even worse state of anxiety fearing she would then lose control of the vehicle. If her anxiety didn’t kill her, the crash would.

Momma, what’s wrong? Brie screamed. You’re going off the road.

Amanda, mouth now dry and pressure building by the second, quickly pulled onto the shoulder and threw the Honda into park. Her skin had become cold and she had difficulty getting her breath.

Are you having a heart attack, Momma? Say something. You’re scaring me.

Amanda closed her eyes and laid her seat back a couple notches. I’ll be alright, baby. It’s just…just that I’ve got a lot on me. Worried about your Daddy. I need a couple minutes to… She was now having trouble getting her words out. It was familiar territory. The doctor had placed her on Valium to control the panic episodes, but she hadn’t taken one for a couple of days.

When she was finally able to breathe normally and the pressure on her chest was relieved, she dropped her sun visor and checked out her face in the mirror. She was still pale and the sweat that had formed around her mouth was still there. I’m not sweating, she said under her breath. "We southern women call it glistening." That thought put a smile on her face, helping her to regain her sense of reality. From her purse, she pulled out the container of pills and placed one of the small Valium capsules in her mouth, washing it down with a sip of water from the bottle she kept beside her.

Are you okay now? Brie asked, placing her hand on her mother’s.

Amanda nodded. Yeah, baby. Not to worry. I’m gonna pull out.

The worry about Tom, the fear of herself and Brie being attacked, the apprehension of searching for the hospital, all of it together she guessed had caused the bangxiety. It shouldn’t happen again. At least that day. The Valium would work its magic.

The music on the FM station she found allowed her to relax even more. Toni Braxton’s You’re Making Me High had just debuted, but it was LeAnne Rimes’ Blue that started Brie warbling in her high pitch voice. That put another smile on Amanda’s face. She had a gorgeous smile that blended beautifully with her stunning blue eyes which Tom often referred to as ‘bedroom eyes.’ At least he used to a few years ago. The compliments didn’t much happen anymore. She hadn’t lost her hourglass figure nor had her blonde hair lost its luster. In fact, several of her lady friends had told her she was more beautiful now at thirty-two than she had ever been. But, even so, Amanda was beginning to learn that after twelve years of marriage, the fire had started to simmer. Maybe one day it would die out completely. At least that’s what Deidre told her. It was what had happened in her marriage.

After exiting I-85 a few miles out of Greenville, she continued on the road to Anderson. Any fear that she had had about finding Pelham Medical was quickly quelled. All she needed to do was follow the blue hospital signs which thankfully led her into the parking lot. When she had found a place to park among the hundreds of cars, she took Brie’s hand and hustled into the main entrance. At the information desk she only said, Thomas Huxley’s room number, please.

The large lady behind the desk looked at her chart for a few seconds and then replied, He’s in Intensive Care on the second floor. You can go to the ICU waiting room and the station nurse will talk with you.

Thanks. Amanda gave her a faint smile and began walking to the elevator with Brie trailing. Once on the upper floor, she immediately saw the sign that read ICU. After entering the double doors, she was at once greeted by a nurse in a white coat, wearing a stethoscope around her neck. May I Help you?

I’m Tom Huxley’s wife and this is my daughter. May I see him?

Not now. He’s not conscious, you know.

I heard that. Can you tell me what his condition is?

I can have a doctor speak with you in the waiting room. There’s also a uniformed officer in there who said you’d be coming. He wants to see you.

Amanda nodded and then walked toward the entrance of the waiting room. When she entered the doorway, the officer seemed to know immediately she was Tom’s wife. He stood and greeted her, You are Mrs. Huxley, I presume. You said you’d have your daughter with you.

I am. Then you are Sheriff Collingsworth.

Yes. I thought I’d wait here for you myself. It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon and no reports of crime in the county today as far as I know. I’m pleased to meet you. Hate that it’s under these circumstances, however. He was balding, maybe sixty, and had a bit of a paunch which hung over his gun belt. Given Amanda’s looks, his roaming eyes indicated he was well-taken with her.

She sat down on a vinyl couch while Brie plopped beside her, clutching her small purse tightly as though someone could at any moment snatch it. Collingsworth took a metal chair across from them.

Amanda said, Can I ask you some questions that I’ve thought about since our telephone conversation?

Absolutely, ma’am. Everything I know or will find out about the incident, I will share.

She then looked at Brie and took a deep breath. I haven’t told my daughter here exactly what happened that put her father in the hospital, so I’d like our conversation to not be graphic in nature, if that’s okay.

I understand. Go ahead, Mrs. Huxley.

Has the perpetrator been caught?

Not yet. I have my investigators out lookin’ for the van. The male witness, a man named Robert Barham, said it was a dark blue panel van he thought to be a Dodge, maybe an 85 or 86. After the incident, the van backed out and sped off. He was only able to get the last three numbers of the license plate…063. There was some mud on the rear end and it partially covered the plate. That’s all we have.

Did the witness identify the attacker?

He described him as a white male with a short beard, about thirty, wearin’ a baseball cap and a brown shirt. The perp jumped out, smashed Mr. Huxley’s door glass, approached him as soon as he entered his car, swung some sort of club which hit and knocked him down, and then the attacker rifled his trousers, taking your husband’s wallet. In less than ten seconds it all happened. Unfortunately, the witness didn’t think he could identify the man in a lineup as there wasn’t anything remarkable about him. And he said it happened so fast, he was almost in shock. By the way, we found Mr. Huxley’s phone, a large Nokia, in the front floor and his suitcases were in the trunk. His BMW is in the county impound lot but I have the keys for you.

Thanks. There was another witness, right?

The male witness said there was a woman comin’ down the steps from the rest area building who obviously saw the incident, let out a low scream and ran back in. She didn’t stay around to talk to my investigator.

Brie then interjected. Momma, what is this about? What happened to Daddy?

Amanda glanced at the sheriff and then sighed. A bad man hit your daddy, Brie. That’s how he got hurt.

Why did he hit him? Was he mad at him? Was it a fight Daddy was in?

No, not a fight. He…just attacked your father, that’s all. Bad people do this sometimes.

Brie then looked at the sheriff. Will you put the man in jail?

When we find this man, he will most definitely be put in jail, little one. Don’t you worry.

She nodded and that seemed to satisfy her for the moment.

As Amanda was preparing to explore the ‘incident’ further, a tall African-American man in a white coat came through the door. Are you Mrs. Huxley? he asked.

She stood. Yes.

I’m Philip Yancy, chief ER physician here at Pelham. I’m the doctor who first examined your husband when he came in. Along with Dr. Bernice Miller, I’ve been monitoring his status. I know you’re wondering what that is, so here’s what we know. First, is this your daughter?

Yes she is.

Are you comfortable with allowing her to hear information about Mr. Huxley’s condition?

I don’t know. Probably not. Can we talk elsewhere?

Yes. Come on back to my office, if you will.

Amanda then asked, Sheriff, could you kindly watch out for Brie for a few minutes?

Sure thing. Brie and I will be just fine, won’t we, little one?

When Brie smiled and nodded, Amanda kissed her on the forehead and said, I’ll be right back, sweetie. Don’t give Sheriff Collingsworth any trouble.

Like he said, Momma, we’ll be just fine.

And don’t talk his ear off.

CHAPTER

THREE

D r. Yancy escorted Amanda past the ICU nurses’ station to a small back room and closed the door. He seated her and then took a chair himself.

The blow to his head was to the left temporal area. From what the officer said, he was found unconscious when they arrived. A nurse who had just pulled off the interstate tended to him. At no point up through the arrival of the paramedics did he regain consciousness. The blow was severe, Mrs. Huxley. He suffered a subdural hematoma and that’s where the swelling is more internal, pressing on the brain. There’s evidence of bleeding on the temporal part of the brain. I suspect he’ll regain consciousness once the swelling goes down, but when that will be is up in the air. Right now he’s not breathing on his own. We’re not sure why.

Is there danger that he may not survive this?

I have to tell you, there’s always that possibility. But, the EEG shows good brain activity. His chance of survival and total recovery is very good. The next twenty-four hours will tell us more. There’s a part of the temporal lobe called the hippocampus which is responsible for functions like human behavior, judgment and memory. Any one or all of these functions may be affected.

Amanda sat digesting the information for a few moments, her eyes again welling up. Can I see him?

I can take you to where he is, but I need to get you a mask. You can only stay a few minutes.

Can I say something to him? Maybe somehow he’ll hear me and respond.

We continue to talk to him very softly, hoping it will create some cognitive response. Again, I only want you to see him, say a few words, then depart.

Okay. I guess until he leaves here, I’ll be camping out in the family room.

"Could be days and maybe longer. If he doesn’t come around, you may need to get a place to stay. There are several motels close by. It’s possible he could also be transferred elsewhere for therapy, rehabilitation and re-education at a place like the Shepherd Center in