Page 10 of Unforgettable
In Room 412, Randi Caleb lay suspended in that in-between place, neither fully gone nor fully returned.
Nurse Elena Torres adjusted the IV line with practiced ease, her movements gentle and precise. She’d checked on this patient more than the others. Not intentionally. At least… not at first.
Her gaze drifted again to the woman’s face, pale against the white pillow, strands of golden hair brushed carefully back earlier in the evening. There was something familiar there. Something that had tugged at her memory all night.
Elena stepped closer. Studied her.
Then her breath caught.
“No way…”
She reached for her phone, pulling up a saved image—oneshe’d taken months ago, standing in a quiet gallery space, proud and a little awed.
A painting. Thick strokes of color. Light layered into texture. Emotion you could almost touch and could definitely feel. She responded to it so deeply, she purchased it to hang on her living room wall. Everyone who visited her, reacted the same.
She looked from the screen… to the woman in the bed.
Back again.
The door opened softly behind her.
She gasped.
“Oh my God…”
Dr. Brewer Clay stepped in, somewhat surprised at the nurses reaction.
Even at this hour, he carried the same composed presence—broad shoulders, quiet authority, long dark hair pulled back, his gazealready assessing before a word was spoken.
“Oh my God, what? Is something wrong?”
Elena turned, still holding her phone.
“No, she’s stable. Vitals have been holding steady for the last two hours.”
Brew nodded once, already moving toward the bed. His eyes went immediately to her hand—carefully wrapped, elevated, protected. He gave her a puzzled look.
“Then, why that reaction?”
He studied the patient’s hand again in silence. Always the hand first. Always the work.
The nurse stuttered slightly.
“Da …doctor…”
There was something in the nurse’s tone that made him glance up.
Elena hesitated, then stepped closer, lowering her voice slightly.
“I think you should know something about your patient.”
He didn’t like the phrasing.Your patient.It seemed too personal.
Still –
“Nurse Torres, what is it?”
She turned her phone toward him.
