Page 11 of Giorgio

“Coffee?”

“What?”

His father’s voice halted his prowl around the room. He felt jerky and uncertain of himself. The hood of the car was only dented and was drivable. He had followed behind the ambulance to the clinic.

“You need fuel.” Alfredo held out a foam cup in his direction. He was concerned, even though he did not show it. His son looked pale beneath his usually healthy tan and there was a line of strain around his lips. His hair was disheveled as if he had been dragging his fingers through the thick strands constantly.

“What I need is…” He broke off as the door was pushed open and the doctor came walking in. Dragging off his skull cap, he passed a hand around the back of his neck as if to ease the strain. His demeanor caused Giorgio to stumble, his hands clenching.

Before he could ask the dreaded question, the man spoke. “She is still out of it and will probably be for the remainder of the night.

A broken leg, contusions to the upper body and an impact on the brain. We won’t know for sure how bad it is until she wakes up. We will be doing some scans to see what’s going on there, but for now she is stable.” He divided a glance between the two men. “Any idea who she is?”

“No...” Giorgio swallowed the lump in his throat. “I retrieved her phone at the scene, but nothing else. I need to see her.”

“She is unconscious…”

“I need to see her.” His deep voice was authoritative. The doctor glanced at Alfredo, who nodded.

“You go ahead, the room to the left.”

With a jerky nod, he left the room.

“Were you being straight?” Alfredo asked tersely as soon as they were alone.

“Yes.” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat, Edoardo nodded and made his way to the refreshment table. “Except the part where I suspect that she might be suffering from amnesia.”

Alfredo’s heart slammed into his chest. “How bad?”

“It might be temporary.” The man poured some quality coffee into a large mug. The clinic was funded by Alfredo’s company and was a research facility as well. Edoardo owed everything to his friend and benefactor and his silence and discretion was guaranteed.

“Is there any fear of her succumbing to her injuries?” He could not bear the thought of his son paying that high a price. Right now, Dario could keep everything under wraps from the police and the press, but if God forbid and the woman died, all bets would be off.

“Early times yet, but I have every confidence she will recover.”

*****

The room was shrouded in partial darkness, with the drapes drawn. The silence was punctured by the beeping of the machines. Tubes were attached to her and her forehead was bandaged, the stark white startling against the ebony skin.

She looked so still, that at first, he wondered if she was breathing, but he noticed the rise and fall of her bosom beneath the hospital gown.

Pulling up a chair, he sat heavily, feeling as if he had aged thirty years in a little over an hour. His life had changed irrevocably and no matter the outcome of this disaster, he would never be the same.

Edoardo had assured them that she would make it, but he knew instinctually that anything could happen and the woman lying on the bed could take a turn.

Her left leg was encased in plaster and elevated. Picking up her hand, he noticed the slender fingers and how slender she was. His touch was light and gentle. He wanted to apologize for driving too fast while under the influence. And if she gets out of this alive, he was going to make it up to her.

“I am supposed to talk to you.” He began and had to clear his throat to continue. “I really don’t know what to say except I am sorry as hell. I didn’t see you, but then I rounded the corner too quickly…”

Closing his eyes briefly, he struggled with guilt and despair. “I don’t know who you are,” he stopped, remembering the phone he had shoved into the pocket of his trousers.

Taking it out, he stared at the screen saver. There was a family photo of what looked like a father and his two children. She was on the right and the man on the left bore enough of a striking resemblance to her to be a family member, possibly a brother.

And it was not an Italian number, he also recognized the series of number because he had spent some time in America. She was a visitor! Letting go of her hand, he took her thumb and pressed it down hard on the LED. It opened immediately.

Pushing away the guilt he felt for invading her privacy, he pushed away from the bed and walked over to the corner. Leaning against the wall, he stood there staring at the icons for a minute, before touching the phone icon.

The last number was someone name Julian – brother. Taking a deep breath and checking the time, he calculated the difference. It was now after ten at night in his country, which would make it way too early to be calling a stranger with bad news.