Try to Remember Read online

  Revisit a classic romance from New York Times bestselling author Carla Cassidy—in ebook for the first time!

  Every night, Dr. Frank Longford watched the beautiful stranger pace the beach. Every night, he felt more inexplicably drawn to her. And every night, he wondered who she was….

  Now she’s here, under his roof, tantalizing him with desire. And still he isn’t any closer to the answers. She is his dream woman—and she can’t remember her own name.

  All she has of her past are elusive, terrifying images of fire and a crying baby. Only Frank can chase the nightmares away. Only Frank can make her feel safe. But before she can hope for a tomorrow with him, she must unlock the secrets of yesterday….

  Originally published in 1994

  TRY TO REMEMBER

  CARLA CASSIDY

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  PROLOGUE

  She walked along the beach, struggling to keep her balance as the undertow sucked the sand from beneath her feet. Moonlight shimmered on the water, dancing on her skin with its pale, ghostly light. A ghost, yes, that was what she was…a restless spirit with a tormented soul who could find no peace.

  She stumbled, fell to one knee, not caring as she ripped her nightgown. She’d given up caring a long time ago. The last six months of her life were a blur.

  She sank backward onto the sand, allowing the waves to lick at her toes, caress her calves. The sand still retained the day’s heat, warming her backside, but it wasn’t enough to penetrate the chill that gripped her soul.

  She frowned suddenly, trying to remember if she’d taken two sleeping tablets or three. Not that it mattered. Lately it seemed to take more and more of the little pills to achieve sleep, and even then she couldn’t find peace.

  Escape…that was what she yearned for, to escape from the nightmares that plagued her nights, to get away from the memories that haunted her days. If she could just stop the relentless screaming in her head, hush the death cries that tortured her.

  She reached up and let her fingertips touch the taut scar tissue on her neck and shoulder. She stared up at the full moon, then closed her eyes against the overwhelming anguish that filled her heart.

  CHAPTER 1

  Dr. Frank Longford sighed with pleasure as he parked his sports car in the driveway of his beachfront cottage. Friday night and he wasn’t due back at the hospital again until Monday morning. The weekend stretched before him, promising plenty of cold beer, hours of lazing in the sun and enjoying the latest novel by his favorite mystery author. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d managed to have a whole weekend to himself.

  “Just what the doctor ordered,” he said with a grin, unlocking his front door and stepping inside. He was greeted by his two housemates, each jumping up on him with furry front paws. “Hi, Mutt…Jeff…” He gave each dog an affectionate pat, then walked over and opened several windows, allowing the cooler, salt-tanged air to flow in.

  Then, grabbing a cold beer from the fridge, he popped the tab and stepped out onto the back porch. Mutt and Jeff hit the beach like animals possessed, chasing each other with the abandon of children. He watched them for a moment, then took a deep drink of the cold beer.

  Breathing another sigh of satisfaction, he pulled off his suit jacket, yanked impatiently at his tie and settled into a chaise longue. His gaze immediately searched the deserted stretch of beach, even though he knew it was too early for her to make an appearance.

  It was strange really, how much the young woman who walked the beach each night had managed to capture his imagination. Her routine had been the same since the first time she’d appeared nearly a week before.

  She only came out when darkness had fallen and the moon provided the only illumination. She never walked close enough to his house for him to discern much about her. He guessed that she was fairly young simply by the grace of her movements. Even though she wore a billowy, shapeless gown, he could tell she was quite slender.

  He wondered what forces drove her to the relentless pacing. It was the same sort of agitated stalk that marked the people in waiting rooms anxious to hear the outcome of a surgery procedure on a loved one.

  “Mutt, Jeff…back,” he ordered, watching in satisfaction as the two mixed-breed dogs came running toward him, their tongues hanging out from their exertions. He got them back in the house, knowing how much they loved to torment the evening beach joggers, then settled into his chair.

  He leaned his head back, relishing the tactile pleasure of the cool evening breeze lightly caressing him, the chill of the beer can in his hand. The wind chimes hanging at the side of the house tinkled softly and provided a pleasing background music to the evening.

  He must have dozed off, for when he opened his eyes again, night had fallen and his beer can was warm. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked down the beach, unsurprised to see his mystery lady in the distance.

  He frowned, noticing that on this night there was no evidence of the graceful movements he’d admired before. Instead, she seemed to be in the middle of a slapstick comedy routine, unsteady on her feet. At one point she fell to one knee, then pulled herself up like a jerky marionette in the hands of an inexperienced puppeteer.

  He watched with interest as she lay down and stretched out on her back, like a vestal virgin offering herself as a sacrifice to the gods of the ocean. What in the hell was she doing?

  Minutes passed. The wind chimes spoke to the ocean, and the waves answered back, thundering a rhythmic reply. Frank’s gaze didn’t waver from the strange scene.

  He had no idea how much time had passed before he decided something wasn’t right. His common sense told him not to get involved, that it was none of his business. The woman obviously hadn’t expected an audience, thus her choice of waiting until after dark to venture out. But his doctor instincts told him something was horribly wrong. The woman was in need of help.

  Decision made, Frank hit the beach at a dead run, struck by a sudden urgency that burned his insides. He didn’t stop until he was about ten feet from where she lay, then he slowed, reason swallowing instincts.

  What if she simply enjoyed sleeping on the beach? Maybe it was all some sort of religious ritual. He dismissed each of these thoughts as he advanced on her.

  “Miss…?” he called tentatively, standing almost directly above her. The only answer was the ocean’s roar, and the faint music of his wind chimes in the distance.

  As Frank gazed down at her, he immediately realized several things. As a man, he noticed the classic beauty of her features…well-defined dark eyebrows arched attractively over her closed eyes. Her cheekbones were prominent in her slender face, her nose straight, her mouth full and inviting.

  As a doctor, his mind quickly assessed different facts. She was much too thin, and her complexion in the moonlight shone unhealthy, waxy and without color.

  He leaned down and shook her shoulders, noticing that the tide crept up beneath her as if trying to lay claim to her unmoving body.

  Adrenaline shot through him as he picked up her wrist and searched for a pulse. Her skin was cold, clammy beneath his touch. Where the hell was her pulse? There! There it was, thready and dangerously weak. She was in trouble.

  Assessing his options, he quickly scooped her up in his arms, the action causing her head to loll to one side, exposing a section of scar tissue that covered the lower portion of one side of her neck and disappeared beneath the shoulder of her gown. He felt a moment’s curiosity, then shoved it out of his mind. The scar was old, too old to be the cause for her present unconscious condition.

  He ran for the house, pausing there only long enough to grab his car keys. He placed her gently in the back seat, then climbed in behind the steering wheel and started the engine.

  From the beach house to the hospital was exactly a twenty-minute drive. On this night, he made it in twelve minutes flat. He used his car phone to call ahead so he would be met at the emergency entrance.

  As he pulled up, he was relieved to see the reassuring sight of an awaiting stretcher, several nurses and Dr. Russ Waylon, his friend and colleague, who was the physician on duty.

  “Any changes since you called it in?” Russ asked as they headed inside.

  Frank shook his head, not taking his eyes off the woman who lay so deathly still on the stretcher.

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I know something,” Russ said, then, with a reassuring smile, he disappeared, along with the stretcher, into the emergency room.

  Frank eyed the lime green swinging door indecisively. He could go in. He was a doctor on staff. But he knew his mystery lady was in good hands with Russ.

  And she is a mystery, Frank thought as he walked into the waiting room and sat down on one of the bright orange, molded plastic chairs.

  It took only minutes for impatience to gnaw at him. He shifted on the chair. It felt strange to be in this position, sitting here instead of on the other side of the swinging door, actively dealing with life and death.

  The room was small, and as he sat there it seemed to grow even smaller, closing in on all sides. He now understood why people in waiting rooms paced. There was little el
se to do to work off the impotent frustration and sense of helplessness.

  He rose from the seat and began to walk the short distance of the room, becoming aware that his shoes and socks were filled with sand. With a grimace of distaste, he sat back down, pulled off the loafers and peeled off the gritty socks.

  “Hey, Dr. Longford, I heard you were in here.”

  Frank looked up to see Cindy Manors leaning against the doorframe, her gamin face sporting a huge grin. “Hi, Cindy.” Frank stood up, feeling awkward in his bare feet. “You’re looking well,” he observed, noting the healthy brightness of the young girl’s blue eyes.

  “I feel good, thanks to you.” She smiled at him with all the hero worship a sixteen-year-old could muster.

  “What are you doing here at this time of night, anyway?” Frank asked, picking up his shoes and carrying them over to the trash basket, where he dumped out the sand.

  “Mom’s getting off work in just a few minutes so I’m here to pick her up.” Cindy frowned. “What are you doing?” she asked, watching as he began to shake out his socks.

  “Oh, I took a little run on the beach earlier,” Frank said, deciding not to tell the rest of the story. Garett Beach was a small place and there was no sense starting up a bunch of gossip about his “mystery lady.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Doctor, you’re not supposed to run on the beach in your good shoes,” she admonished.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Frank returned, sitting back down and pulling his socks on. He looked at Cindy fondly. “And you make sure you look both ways before you walk across a street.”

  Cindy blushed. “Don’t worry, I learned my lesson the hard way.” She looked at her wristwatch. “Well, I’d better go. Mom hates to be kept waiting.” With a wiggle of three fingers, Cindy left.

  Frank watched her go, a sense of satisfaction coursing through him as he remembered the shape she’d been in four months earlier. An impulsive dart across a street had resulted in Cindy’s being hit by a car. Frank had been the emergency doctor on duty when she was brought in.

  Suffering a broken leg and various bruises and contusions, the girl had been more frightened than seriously injured.

  It had taken him a short while to treat her physical injuries, much longer to reassure her, comfort her. The end result was a healthy Cindy, both mentally and physically.

  He shoved thoughts of the young girl out of his head, focusing instead on the woman who lay on the other side of the swinging door. Who was she? Where had she come from? What was wrong with her? Hopefully Russ would have some answers for him soon.

  As he put his shoes back on, he thought of her face, so delicate, so beautiful in the shimmering moonlight. If only he hadn’t waited so long to run to her. If only he’d gone out to talk to her when he’d first noticed her unnatural walk.

  He jumped out of his chair as Russ entered the room, a look of bewilderment on his face. “I really don’t have much to tell you, Frank,” he said, sighing with the weariness of a man who’d already worked ten too many hours.

  He motioned Frank to sit down, then he sank into the seat next to him. “Her vitals are stable. We sent blood to the lab for a drug screen. She’s slightly malnourished, but I can’t find one good reason for her to be in this near-comatose state.” Russ grimaced. “Of course, if we had a better neurological department, more modern equipment, we could run more complete tests.”

  “So, what’s the next move? Wait for the lab results?”

  Russ nodded. “I figure if they come back negative, then we’ll have to call Wilmington and get their neurosurgeon to come down and do some extensive testing.”

  Frank nodded, comfortable with Russ’s decision.

  “So what’s the deal?” Russ asked. “You didn’t say much when you called it in. Who is she?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. She was walking the beach near my place. I saw her stumble and fall. She got back up, walked a few steps and then stretched out on the beach. When she didn’t get up, I ran to her and brought her in.”

  “Did she hit her head when she fell?”

  Frank shook his head. “Not that I could tell.”

  Russ frowned. “Ten to one it’s drugs or alcohol.”

  A denial jumped to Frank’s lips, but he swallowed it instead of voicing it. What did he know about her? Her condition could very well be drug-related. “Can I see her?”

  “Don’t see why not,” Russ said with a shrug. “We’re keeping her in intensive care until she regains consciousness.”

  Frank nodded and stood up, running a hand through his hair in distraction. He started toward the doorway, but paused as Russ called to him. “You know this isn’t like the old Chinese proverb…the one that says something about, if you rescue someone, you’re then responsible for them for the rest of their life.”

  “I know. I don’t feel responsible,” Frank protested. “Besides, I have enough trouble being responsible for those two mangy mutts of mine,” he finished with a grin.

  But minutes later, standing over her bed, Frank couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of responsibility toward his mystery lady.

  She looked so frail, so beautiful with her dark hair splayed across the white of the pillow. She was like Sleeping Beauty after her finger had been pricked with the poisoned needle. Frank fought a sudden impulse to lean over and gently touch his lips to hers. Would that pull her from her world of darkness? He scoffed inwardly at his own foolishness. She wasn’t Sleeping Beauty and he definitely was no prince.

  As he stood there, looking down at her, studying her features, he found himself wondering what color her eyes were. Brown probably, given the darkness of her hair. Or blue…that would be particularly striking.

  “What’s up, Doc?” Etta Maxwell, one of Garett Memorial’s most efficient nurses walked in, smiling fondly at Frank. “I heard you brought in a fallen sparrow.” She looked down at the deathly still woman on the bed. “I take that back. This one is no plain sparrow, she’s a real beauty.”

  Etta fussed with the blankets like a mother hen clucking over a sick chick. “We’re going to fix you right up,” she said, her voice a soothing melody that calmed the most colicky baby, charmed the crabbiest of patients. “You’re in good hands with Doc Frank here,” she continued, smoothing the long dark hair with gentle, wrinkled hands. “He’s a doctor who cares…cares too much sometimes, if you ask me,” she added beneath her breath.

  “Etta,” Frank said in friendly warning. He and the older nurse had had this argument many times in the past.

  “Well, it’s true,” she retorted, the grayness of her eyes matching the color of her short, curly hair. “You let patients suck the blood right out of you.” She gently plumped the pillow beneath the woman’s head. “But don’t you worry none, pretty lady. That’s what makes him such a good doctor. He’ll heal your broken wings and soon you’ll be flying off to where you belong.” Etta checked the IV site, then straightened up and eyed Frank critically. “You should go on home and get some rest. You look like hell.”

  “Whatever happened to the concept of nurses respecting doctors?” Frank grumbled good-naturedly.

  Etta cackled a laugh. “That concept went out when we nurses realized doctors weren’t saints…they’re just men, and like all men they can be real pains in the butt at times.” With another burst of her infectious laughter, she left the room.

  Frank swallowed his smile and shook his head ruefully. Etta Maxwell was the most well balanced, centered woman he’d ever known. Widowed for over ten years, irreverent to a fault, she was a favorite in the hospital, known for her big heart and common sense approach.

  He looked again at the woman on the bed, surprised to find himself looking into the greenest pair of eyes he’d ever seen. Green…he hadn’t even considered that possibility.

  Then, realizing she was awake, he moved closer. “Hi, I’m Dr. Longford,” he said softly, not wanting to frighten her.

  But there was fear in her eyes. Not fear of him, but some inner torment so intense her wide eyes shimmered with it.

  She reached out a hand to him and Frank took it, feeling the desperation in her grasp. “Help me,” she breathed softly, her gaze echoing the plea.