“Do you remember everything after that?”
“Yes.”
Mason nodded. “That’s good. I’d be more worried if the loss was ongoing. Mind if I have a look?”
Keira obligingly bent forward and pointed to her hairline, where the skin still ached. Mason’s fingers were unexpectedly warm and careful as he brushed her hair away from the mark.
“Odd,” he murmured, so quietly that she guessed he must be talking to himself.
“What is it?”
His piercing green eyes glanced over her, and she knew he saw everything in that one swoop: the tear in her jeans, the way her wrist bones protruded, and the mud still caked over her boots. He made a small noise of discontent in the back of his throat and rose. “I’ve been a terrible guest. You said you’d just woken up; you probably want something to drink.”
“Huh? No, I’m fine—”
Already at the kitchen, he threw her a smile over his shoulder. “Well, I’m getting myself something, so I may as well boil the kettle for two. What would you like? Tea? Coffee?”
His tone was nonchalant, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to lengths to be nice to her. Keira followed him into the kitchen. “Let me make the drinks.” She opened the closest cupboard, but it turned out to be full of dusty dishes.
A warm weight rested on her forearm, and she looked down to see his hand there. Mason gave a quick squeeze. “Don’t worry about it. My dad and I used to visit Peterson, the old groundskeeper, so I know my way around. Why don’t you light the fire? It’s a brisk morning.”
Keira pulled away, her pulse unpleasantly fast, and crossed to the fireplace in two quick steps. She knelt, shoving fistfuls of kindling on top of the previous night’s ash, and poked fire starters underneath it.
She didn’t like being touched. She’d had the same reaction to Adage the night before when he’d tried to take her arm. And she thought she knew why. It had been a long time since she’d had any meaningful human contact. Possibly years.
She scrunched her mouth and glanced toward Mason. He was facing away, washing two mugs in the sink. Steam was already rising from the kettle’s spout.
Keira dropped more wood onto the growing fire. Part of her wanted to finish the visit soon. Mason would probably leave if she said she wanted to sleep for a few more hours. But at the same time, the idea made her feel horribly alone. Surrounded by monuments to the dead, in a house that wasn’t hers, she found she was grateful to have some company. Even if he’d only come as a favor to Adage.
“Keira?” Mason was standing by the counter, an old-fashioned tin raised in each hand, and rattled the containers. “Tea or coffee?”
“Uh…” She couldn’t remember if she had a preference. He might as well have asked her if she liked her eggs to come from dragons or sea lizards. “Why don’t you pick?”
Mason quirked his head. He was still smiling, but she sensed her answer concerned him. “Let’s try the tea first, and we can switch to coffee if you don’t like it. I didn’t think to bring milk. Sorry.”
“No problem.”
He popped open the lid on one of the containers and turned back to the cups. “Can you have a think back for me, Keira? Do you remember anything from your life?”
“No.” She’d already tried—multiple times. “Everything before last night is blank.”
“Hmm.” He dunked the tea bags several times then dropped them into the sink. Keira climbed onto her couch as he set the cup on the floor beside her. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know what to make of this. While complete memory loss isn’t unheard of, it’s not as common as the movies portray it. Usually, people only lose blocks of memories—a few minutes, a few months, a few decades—but can still recall earlier ones, especially from their childhood. The longer you’ve had a memory, the more solid it is.”
“Ah.” Keira pointed to her head. “And you don’t think this is enough to cause complete memory loss?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “No, I don’t. It’s not an impact wound but a glancing blow—possibly from a knife or glass or similar. It cut the skin but doesn’t look deep enough to cause any more significant damage.”
That was a surprise—Keira had implicitly assumed the injury and the amnesia were linked.
Mason raised his hands in an open shrug. “Lots of things can cause memory loss. Even something like whiplash can be enough to interrupt the flow of memories from short term to long term. But like I said, complete loss isn’t common. To lose everything, I would have expected to see severe cranial injuries.”
Keira picked the mug off the floor to give herself something to do. Mason’s tone hadn’t been accusatory, but it was hard not to feel defensive. “I’m not making it up.”
“Ah, no—that wasn’t…” He looked genuinely embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that. It’s not what I was getting at. How our brains store memories is an incredibly complex process, and we still don’t know how it works. Not really. We can guess and come up with theories, but the whole area is dotted with question marks.”
“Can they come back?”
“Often, yes.” Mason picked up his own drink, then leaned back in his chair and stared at the rising steam. “While there are some cases where the memories never return, most times, they do—either partially or completely. The brain is incredibly resilient. You might be able to help it re-form the connections by seeking out sights, sounds, smells, and tastes that might hold significance for your past life. Even just a small association—like your favorite drink—could be enough to bring something back.”
Keira looked at her cup of tea. It was still hot, but she sniffed the liquid, then sipped it. Mason watched with raised eyebrows, and Keira couldn’t stop a snorting laugh as she shook her head. “I think I like tea. But there’s no angel chorus of returning memories.”
His face warmed as he grinned. “Well, keep trying. It might take some time.” The smile dropped, and he shifted forward. “But I should add, I’m not actually a doctor yet. I can give general advice, but I won’t be anywhere near as helpful as a specialist. Some scans and X-rays could give answers, too, especially as your case is so unusual. Blighty doesn’t have a hospital, but I’d be glad to drive you to Cheltenham Medical.”
A quiet, strangling panic moved through Keira. She kept her smile in place but could feel her knuckles turning white on the mug. No hospitals. No doctors. “Honestly, it’s not so bad. I’ll, uh…I’ll see how I go over the next couple of days. It’ll probably fix itself.”
He tilted his head. The sharp green eyes flicked down to where her knuckles strained around the cup, then his smile was back in place. “Of course, it’s completely up to you. Scans could rule out certain causes, but there’s not much a hospital can do for treatment beyond therapy. You don’t need to go if you’d prefer not to.”
He must think I’m frightened of hospitals…which I guess is something close to the truth.
“Get lots of rest,” he continued. “Eat nutritious food, especially good fats and leafy, green vegetables. Try to jog your memory, but don’t push it. There’s a decent chance your mind will re-form the connections over the next day or two.”