He woke with a start from a troubled dream. As his eyes flickered open, he heard the sound of a match head scraping on wood, and a small flame burst to life on the other side of the room. Moments later, the soft glow of a lamp illuminated the woman named Sarah, casting its light about the room to chase the darkness into the corners, along with the remnants of his nightmare.
She approached the bed and smiled when she saw his eyes. It was a genuine, if haunted, smile. "Well, hello."
"Hi," he replied, his voice still hoarse. His eyes searched the room. "Abbie?"
"It's late. She's in bed." She studied him. "Are you hungry?"
He took a mental accounting of his body, struggling to push aside the pain, and he nodded. He could stand to eat something, since his stomach was no longer churning. She sat lightly on the edge of the bed. "Think maybe you can get up?"
He gave that some thought as well. "I...I can try."
"I will help you."
He studied her. "Th-thank you."
Slowly, with patience and gentle encouragement, she helped him to sit up. Once he was at the edge of the bed, she sat beside him. "You look about Marty's size. I'll bet his clothes will fit you. If you feel up to moving, we can get you cleaned up and into clean clothes. While you eat, I'll change these sweaty sheets."
He just nodded. She did not rush him and she did not leave his side. Her hand on his arm steadied him when he faltered. He was confused as they left the house and walked to a pump in the yard. Looking around the moonlit yard, he frowned deeply at the unfamiliar surroundings. Everything seemed... wrong, but he couldn't place just how. Watching her prime the pump, he felt guilty, but he was uncertain. So he watched everything she did, committing it to memory so she would never have to do this particular task for him again. Once the water was flowing, she helped him wash up, again triggering a wave of guilt that she needed to help him with something so basic. But she offered no complaint.
Once they were back in the kitchen, she left him seated at the table to retrieve clean clothes for him. Returning, she set the clothes on the chair beside him, dropping a pair of boots to the floor near the chair. "Let me get the stove fired up and I can help you get dressed."
"Thank you, but I-I can manage."
"Do you want me to help you back to your room?"
He shook his head, reassured when the room didn't tilt at an odd angle. "I can make it."
"You call me if you need me."
"I-I will."
She watched him struggle to his feet, fighting back an urge to help him. She got the feeling he was an independent man, not used to relying on anyone's help with anything. Once he was gone from the room, she turned to the stove to fix him a hot, light meal.
Once back in the more familiar surroundings of the room he'd woken in, he set the clothes on the bed and proceeded to change, letting his mind wander. It didn't go very far before it encountered a black void beyond which he would find the answers to his questions. But he could not penetrate the darkness., and no answers were forthcoming. It didn't help that he remembered so little from his previous forays into consciousness. He remembered the little girl, Abbie. She was sweet and she had a gentle, soothing touch. He remembered Sarah and her equally gentle manner, and Abbie's mother...uh, Annie...that was it. He also remembered a boy, though vaguely...and...an older man...a doctor...but that was it. He had no memory of how he'd come to be injured, or where he was from, or any other part of his life. His name was Bobby, that much he knew. The other name that made it through the fog, Alex, belonged to someone he felt he should know, but he couldn't draw forth any memories associated with the name.
His head was beginning to throb from the effort to recall his past and he sat heavily on the side of the bed, holding his head. He heard the door open, but didn't move. Sarah sat beside him and gently rubbed his back. "How are you feeling?"
"O-okay...just...my head hurts. I-I can't remember much...of anything."
"Doctor Newton says it will take time for your memory to return."
"I-it's more than just my past. Everything seems...wrong...somehow. I don't belong here."
"Nonsense. You are welcome to stay for as long as you need to."
"No, that's not what I meant."
"Then what?"
"I-I'm not sure."
"Well, never you mind about it now. Come and try to eat something. You need time to heal and things will fall into place for you." As he stood, she looked him over, smiling sadly. "Those clothes looked just as good on Marty."
"I am sorry," he said softly.
"For what?"
"For your loss. You're still sad."
"I think I will always be sad."
They walked down he hall, through the parlor and into the kitchen. As he sat down at the table, he asked, "How long were you married?"
"Almost thirteen years."
"No children?"
She shook her head. "I had a fever when I was a child. I can't have children."
"Again, I'm sorry."
She touched his hand. "Don't be. I have Annie Mae and the children. They bring comfort and joy to my life."
"I'm glad to hear that."
He watched her bustle about, warming a thick vegetable stew left over from dinner. "Sorry we don't have any meat right now. Harry will go hunting tomorrow."
She spooned the stew into a bowl and set it in front of him with a roll she'd also warmed. "Eat what you can. I'll be right back."
"Thank you."
Since she'd gotten him up and he'd begun moving around, some of the pain in his body had faded, replaced by a degree of muscle stiffness he found preferable to the pain of inactivity. As he ate, some of the fuzziness cleared from his mind, though his memories remained trapped behind a dark, dense fog. First, he would work on physical recovery. Then he would worry about restoring the memories lost in his mind.
As the hollow emptiness in his stomach was filled, a weariness descended on him. He still had a way to go before his strength and stamina returned, but he'd taken the first steps.
Sarah returned as he pushed away the empty bowl. "Feel better?"
He nodded as she sat across from him. "I needed that," he said with a weary smile.
"I'm sure you did. You should go back to bed. You still need rest and it is late."
He didn't argue. "Thank you for staying up."
"It's not a problem. I don't sleep much these days anyway."
She walked with him back to the bedroom. He took off his shirt and the boots she'd given him. Making certain he was comfortable in the clean bed, she said, "I'll bring more clothes in here for you tomorrow, and put them in the dresser."
He gave her a shy smile. "Thank you, Sarah."
"You're welcome, Bobby. Sleep well."
She stopped in the doorway and looked back. He was already sleeping. She smiled and left the room.
