The sweetness of her voice and the desperation of her hug tells me she must be friend or family. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I say.

She pulls away to stare into my eyes. “Do you remember me?”

“No, I’m just glad to see a new person.”

“Oh.” She covers her disappointment with a smile. “I’m your sister, Katherine.”

My sister. Finally, someone of my own whom I can trust.

“Are you bigger than me?” Ugh. Thoughts and words start out perfect in my mind but somehow get jumbled on their way out of my mouth.

“Yes, I’m your older sister. I’m ten years older than you.”

I smile to mask the tinge of confusion that zings through my head at the mention of numbers and years—things that still confuse me on most days. “The guy told me you’d be coming.”

She pulls the guest chair closer to my bed and gracefully eases into it. “The guy?”

“Yeah, the guy who keeps saying he’s my husband.”

“Asher? He is your husband.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t think I’d marry him.”

She smiles. “You definitely did.”

“He’s always here. Watching me.” I peer at the doorway, expecting him to walk in with more flowers.

“I’m not surprised. He’s given new meaning to the in sickness and in health vow.”

“He acts like I’m an egg he laid.”

Katherine laughs. “That’s definitely Asher. He’s just worried, and he’s excited you’re awake. We all are.”

“I’m not sure I like him. So much hair and beard and tattoos. I don’t think he even has a job.”

She lets out a breath and studies me for a moment. “I can’t imagine how confusing this is for you. Not recognizing anyone...having someone you don’t even know claiming to be your husband. Especially someone who looks like the long-lost rogue Bee Gees brother.”

I nod. My first girl talk. “It’s horrible. I feel like I’m in someone else’s life. I don’t feel anything. Except confused and trapped. I don’t know anyone. I don’t know who to trust. I feel like a bad dream.”

She touches my arm. “I’m going to do whatever I can to help you. You can trust me. And you can trust Asher. He’s a good man.”

“He says he has a daughter. With me.”

“Kenzi. She’s a sweetheart. She spent the summers with me in Maine. I did my best to be there for her after your accident. Everyone did. She’s missed you terribly.”

A little muffled voice in my head tells me I should be feeling some kind of emotions as we talk. Gratitude to my sister. Regret for missing so much of my daughter’s life. Love for my husband. Sadness for not remembering any of them.

But all I feel is mild curiosity similar to when I watch a movie on the television.

Nothing else.

“Thank you for taking care of her,” I say, because it’s the polite reply.

“Don’t thank me. She was a great kid, and she’s a wonderful young woman now.” Katherine shakes her head. “This feels so strange. I almost feel like I’m dreaming sitting here talking to you. It’s been such a long time, and so much has happened.”

“Asher said the same thing.”

“I never thought...” She takes a deep breath. “I never thought you’d wake up. One year turned to two, then three, and it all felt so hopeless after that. This is a shock.”

“Almost eight years,” I repeat what the guy and the nurses have said.

“Too long. It was a nightmare—for you and for us. But you’re like an honest to goodness miracle, and the doctors say you’re doing great.” She perks up in her chair and flashes me a dazzling smile. “You should be on your feet and able to go home in no time.”

Home is another large black void. I don’t know where or what home is.

“I can’t remember anything about me.”

“I did some research of my own, and your memory can come back. Just try not to worry or pressure yourself.”

I smooth the blanket over my lap and avoid her eyes. “What if I never remember?”

Her eyes are sympathetic. “I’m sure you will in time. It’s only been a few weeks. The doctor is very optimistic.”

“But what if I don’t?”

Her expression reminds me a lot of Asher’s. Happy, but with brief moments of lowered eyes and faltering smiles that they quickly attempt to cover up with new smiles and gentle touches.

“Be honest for me. Please.”

She nods slowly and tucks her wavy hair behind her ear. “I’m not quite sure. I suppose then you’d be starting all over. Getting to know all of us, getting to know yourself. Like a new beginning.”

“Then what? What would I do? After here?”

I can’t envision anything beyond the door to my hospital room and the television. But I’ve been thinking. And wondering. Where will I go? What will I do? What kind of life will I have with this big black hole in my brain?