Time Tantrums (5 page)

“Are you sure you don’t need anything? If not, we’ll be in soon to check your vitals.”

Vitals?
There was that word again.
Mariah wondered what it meant. She wondered if it had something to do with why they kept coming into her room and poking at her.

Being careful of the tube in her arm, she dropped her legs over the side of the bed and sat for a moment. Her head pounded, keeping beat with her heart. “I need to get up, but
how
if I’m connected to this horrid contraption,” she mumbled.

If only she could look out the window, maybe she’d see something familiar.

The nurse came in just as Mariah prepared to stand.
“Oh nooooo, Mrs. Morgan.
It’s much too soon for you to be up. You put those toes right back under the covers. We took your catheter tube out, but if you need to use the bathroom, it’s the bedpan for now.”

Mrs. Morgan, Mrs. Morgan. I’m not Mrs. Morgan.
Mariah’s mind screamed but the words lodged in her throat.
 

Catheter?
Bedpan?
Each time someone spoke, they created yet another question in her mind. Her shoulders sagging with the weight of her confusion, she obediently put her feet back upon the bed and allowed the nurse to pull the covers over her.

“That’s a good girl. Now, let’s check that temperature.” The white-clad woman stuck a pencil-length device in Mariah’s ear. “Good, ninety-eight point six on the nose.”

Placing her finger where the object had just been, Mariah checked to make sure nothing remained inside. “What was that?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen the newest thermometer?”
 
The woman held it up. “This little gem is certainly better than the one you held under your tongue for three minutes.”
 
She jotted some notes on a piece of paper then looked up at Mariah. “Say, sounds like your voice is getting stronger, Mrs. Morgan. How’s your throat feeling?”
 

Mariah massaged the front of her neck.
“Much better.
It’s still sore, but at least I can talk.”

After wrapping the strange-looking contraption around Mariah’s upper arm again, the woman squeezed the little bulb until the band grew uncomfortably tight. She then placed the small, circular disc on the inner side of Mariah’s elbow.

“What’s that you’re doing now?”
 

Mariah received an annoyed look in return. “Shhh,” the nurse commanded with authority. “I need to hear your pulse.”

Mariah didn’t dare utter a sound and waited until the woman straightened again. “Are you through?”

“Yes, Mrs. Morgan. Your temp and blood pressure are fine. Now that you’re able to take fluids orally, let’s get that nasty old tube out of your arm. It looks like you’re on the mend. Mr. Morgan should be able to take you home in a few days.”

The hair on the back of Mariah’s neck bristled at the thought. She snuggled deeper into her pillows and wondered to which home she was going. She gazed to the ceiling.
Please, God, let it be the Rocking C.

“There, no more annoying tube.” The nurse interrupted Mariah’s thoughts of her beloved ranch. “Would you like to watch some TV?”

Mariah rubbed the crook of her arm, relieved to be able to move it freely. “Watch what?”

“TV, you know… television?”

“No, I’m
sorry,
I don’t know what that is.”

The nurse pointed at a square box suspended in the corner. “Wow, you really are suffering from memory loss. That’s the television.” She approached the bedside table, pulled out the drawer and handed Mariah an object. “Here’s the remote control.”

She took it. What did it do, and why would one watch a black box with a glass front?
  
She studied the mysterious thing then cast a puzzled look at her attendant.

The nurse took back what she called the remote, aimed it in the direction of the box and pushed a button. The image of a man appeared on the screen. Mariah heard him talking. She stiffened and leaned back against the bed. Was he speaking to her?
 
Trying to make sense of all the strange happenings made her head hurt.

When the nurse pushed another button, the screen immediately changed to a man kissing a woman. She depressed the button again—a person cooking, then someone talking about feminine hygiene. Mariah’s mouth gaped. Why would they discuss such a private thing? This thing called a remote surely was a product of the devil himself.

The nurse handed the control back to Mariah. “Ring if there’s anything you need, Mrs. Morgan.”
 
The woman left the room.

Being called Mrs. Morgan didn’t faze Mariah—she busied herself pushing buttons. Suddenly the sound got very loud; it hurt her ears. Mariah frantically searched to find a way to lower it before the nurse came back to scold her. Fumbling with the buttons, she found the right one and sighed.

Undaunted, she scanned the channels, searching for the kissing couple, but they were gone. Instead, she found a big yellow singing bird. She settled back against her pillow and watched with wide eyes.
If only Frank was here. Maybe he could help her understand all this.

* * * *

The orderly removed her dinner tray just as David returned. He brushed her forehead with a kiss.
“Hello, darling.
I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

Although she stiffened at his show of affection, she noticed how good he smelled. Clean, yet a little like the sweet-smelling toilet water she bought at the mercantile. She still struggled to understand why this man insisted he knew her—and all too well, apparently. Her earlier statement about her identity seemed to trouble him. She hesitated to upset him again, at least until she had a chance to set things right.

“I just ate.” She picked a safe topic.

“How was it? You know what they say about hospital food.” David took off his coat and sat next to her bed.

“It was good. I enjoyed it.” She didn’t know who
they
were or what
they
said.

“The nurse tells me you tried to get out of bed.”

“I’m tired of lying here. I just wanted to look out the window.” She pulled her mouth into a pout.

David laughed. “You were never a good sick person, Taylor.
Too darn impatient.”

There he goes with that Taylor thing again. Enough is enough!

“David... uh... David, is it? We need to discuss why you think I’m Taylor. I assume since you share the same last name, she's your wife.”

David’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped. He leapt to his feet and looked deep into her eyes. “Taylor! I don’t
think
,
I
know
who you are. You
are
my wife! I’ve been married to you for over five years now. You look like my wife, you sound like her and you carry a driver’s license that told the police you are Taylor Morgan. That’s why they called me.”
 

“Police?
Driver’s license?
Your wife?
This isn’t making any sense at all. You’re scaring me.” Mariah covered her face with her hands.

David put a hand on her shoulder. “Honey, don’t cry. Maybe if we try going back to when the accident happened, you might remember.” He sat, his brow furrowed. “I hope this works.”

Mariah brushed away her tears and took a deep breath. “I’m willing to try anything.” She chewed her bottom lip while she thought hard about the last thing she recalled. “Hmmm, I remember waking up, getting dressed, waking up the kids—”

“
What kids
?” His eyes wide, David almost toppled his chair.

“Jacob and Callie, of course.”
 
His reaction stunned her into silence.

Eyeing her while grasping the chair arms, he sat straighter.
 
"Go on."

“All right."
 
She lapsed into thought, shutting her eyes and massaging her brow to summon memories. "Then, after breakfast we all got into the wagon to go into town." She opened her eyes. "That’s the last thing I remember.”
 
A shrug of her shoulders caused her to grimace at the pain.

David leaned over and rubbed her hand.
“You poor darling.
You’re all confused.”

Mariah jerked away. “I’m
not
confused. You seem to be the one who’s befuddled. If you could just find Frank, I’m sure he’ll explain everything.”

David patted her hand.
“Okay, sweetheart.
You try to get some rest, and I’ll see if I can find...Frank.”
 

He donned his coat. “Goodnight, sweetheart, I-I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Tension ridged his jaw, but thankfully he didn’t kiss her.

The moment he left, her body relaxed. She turned onto her side and fluffed her pillow. If only she could fall asleep, maybe when she woke, this bad dream would all be over. Unfortunately, her gaze rested focused on the remote control atop the table, and her hand snaked out and grabbed it. Thoughts of finding a mirror to see what David Morgan saw were lost with the wonder of the amazing black box.

Now let’s see. I push this button.

Chapter Five

Taylor opened her eyes to a room engulfed in black. Wondering how long she’d slept, she raised her stiff and sore body into a sitting position. She dangled her feet over the side of the bed and stood. “Okay, legs, don’t fail me now.”

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness,
and
 
shuffled
toward the slice of light on the floor.
 
She slapped the wall in search of a light switch, but felt none. Frustration tightened her chest, but she found the knob and opened the door just enough to peek out. A flickering lamp sat on a small, doily-covered table in an empty hallway.

 
She eased the door shut. If she planned to explore, she couldn’t do it in her nightgown. Crossing back to the bed
,
 
she
grabbed the robe hanging on the post. Her arms felt leaden as she lifted them and slid them through the sleeves. She winced in pain, but pulled the wrapper around her then tiptoed out to the railing at the top of the stairs and looked over.

Taking each stair gingerly, she made her way down into the dimly lit room. She heard voices and followed the sound to the kitchen doorway and peered around the corner into brightness. The man, Frank, and two children sat at the table. The delicious smell drifting from fried chicken heaped on a plate made Taylor’s stomach rumble. This wasn’t a time to let anger get in the way of sustenance. She pasted a smile on her face and rounded the corner. “Good evening. May I join you?”

Frank pushed his chair back so quickly he almost dumped himself onto the floor. He gulped down his mouthful of food and stood. “Yes! Please, join us,” he sputtered.

He pulled the chair out at the end of the table and retrieved another place setting. In his haste, he almost overturned the lamp on the counter.

Taylor sat and pulled a napkin into her lap. She surveyed the delicious-looking fare on the table and waited for someone to pass a dish. For a moment, no one spoke. The young boy she assumed to be Jacob, bent over his plate, shoveling food into his mouth like he’d been starved for a week. After swallowing a forkful, he looked up and grinned at her. “Gee, Ma, I’m glad you’re better. Pa said you weren’t feelin’ very good.”

She tensed. First a strange man claimed to be her husband, and now a scruffy kid called her 'Ma.'
 
What next?
 
Taylor squared her shoulders.
“Young man, I am
not
your ma. I’m... Well some of us are a bit confused about who I am exactly.” She cocked her head and glared at Frank. “I’m not sure right now where I am or why I’m here, but I do know for a fact that I do
not
have children, and I
am
extremely hungry. I would appreciate being able to have a bite to eat without being hassled any further.”

Jacob’s eyebrows knitted into one and his lips pulled into a frown. His lip quivering, he looked at his father. Frank gave a quick shake of his head, and Jacob stared at his plate and fell silent.

“May… may…I
be
excused?” The girl, visibly fighting back tears, didn’t wait for an answer. She bolted out of her chair and up the stairs.

Jacob’s gaze snapped up and his eyes widened. “Can I go too, Pa?”

“Sure, son, go ahead.”

The room fell silent. Frank cleared his throat. “Ahem, Mariah... Now wait, before you bite my head off for callin' you by your name, please hear me out.”

Taylor stared at him. “Well?”

"I know you’ve been in an accident and things are real confusin’ right now, but you have to think of the children. They don’t understand what’s going on any more than I do. You almost bit Jacob’s head off 'cause he asked how you felt. Now, I’m more than willin' to give you as much time as you need to remember who I am, but can you please, at least, act like you know your own kids. Callie and Jacob need their mother.”