At the stroke of midnight, Jessica entered the back door of the hospital. As a nurse, she was given a key. She'd learned that there was only one doctor and one nurse who worked the late shift, so as long as she stayed away from them, she'd be fine.

She tiptoed down the corridor toward the large room. For tonight's visit, she had changed her clothes into a darker color, mainly because she couldn't get noticed or caught. That wouldn't do well for her reputation as a nurse, and if she got fired... Her heart sank. She couldn't return home, so the only other option she had was to return back to Harrow School of Nursing and beg Nurse Clara to send her somewhere else.

But she wouldn't think of that now. She'd focus on her task at hand, and pray nothing bad would happen.

At the door to the large room, she paused with her hand on the doorknob. She listened for any sounds, especially footsteps. So far, the only steps she heard were her own.

Cautiously, she opened the door and peeked inside. The room was dark, but the full moon had shone through the curtains on the windows, giving her a sliver of light in order to find Wyatt's bed. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and slowly moved to his bed.

The room was quiet, expect for the occasional snore from the patients that broke the silence. She stopped and Wyatt's bed and knelt beside it, laying her hand on his arm. From the rhythm of his chest moving up and down in a steady rhythm, he was asleep. Gently, she shook him, but he continued to slumber.

Frowning, she tried to think of something else to do to wake him, but then she didn't want to startle him too much for fear of waking the others in the room. She leaned closer to his ear. "Wyatt? Wake up."

She gently shook him again. This time, she noticed the different rhythm of his breathing. Thankfully, it was working. "Wyatt, it's me, Nurse Simone," she continued in soft tones.

His body jerked and his hand shot out, meeting with her shoulder. He patted her arm as if trying to familiarize himself.

"Nurse Simone?"

"Shhh..." She took hold of his hand, stopping its exploration. "We cannot wake the others."

"What time is it?" he asked groggily.

"It's almost midnight, but I had to come and talk to you." Her heart wrenched. She prayed he would remember – or at least be the man she thought he was. "Tell me truthfully. It's only you and I."

"Truthfully? Why would you think I wasn't being honest?"

"Please, I need to know if you really cannot remember," she pleaded earnestly.

"It's true. I don't remember anything."

Her chest tightened again. "You don't remember a woman named Jessica from before the war?"

"No."

Desperation wrenched her chest tighter. He would have to know his parents' names. "What about Henry and Martha Ryker?"

"I'm sorry, I don't remember."

She wanted to cry... or bawl like a baby. But she wouldn't. She'd try all she could to help him remember their lives together, especially how much they had deeply they had loved. This family needed to know he was alive, too. She wasn't just doing this for herself.

Jessica took hold of his hand and gently caressed it. "Wyatt, I'm a nurse and I'm going to help you remember."

"Are you certain I'm this man? Why doesn't that name sound familiar to me?"

She drew her fingers along his forearm, wondering why the mark was puckered and swollen like a burn. He flinched, so she stopped. "You have a birthmark right there on your arm in the shape of a lightning bolt. How many men do you know would have something like that? Plus," she quickly continued, knowing he wasn't going to answer, "your voice is familiar to me, and your hair color is about the same color as Wyatt's." She took a lock of his hair, gently caressing it.

Memories returned of when she and Wyatt would meet in the cornfield back home, just so they could be together and sneak a few kisses. Times have changed so much since then. They were no longer children, and the innocence of young love was long gone.

"I just want to remember something – anything." His voice broke. "I'm tired of living in this void existence. I'm tired of not being able to see, and every time the doctor takes off the bandages, the air stings my sores."

Jessica fought back the tears. He was correct. That would be a difficult challenge to bear. "Wyatt, I'll fix some poultices to go on your sores. My mother and grandmother taught me about healing, and I'm going to help you."

He grip tightened. "Thank you... Miss."

"My name is Jessica Simone. Please, call me Jessica."

"Are you the woman I'm supposed to remember?"

"Yes."

"Thank you for wanting to help me." His voice broke.

"Go back to sleep, Wyatt. I will come every night around this time. We won't be able to visit for very long since I don't want to get caught."

"What if you do get caught?"

She breathed uneasily. "I fear they will fire me. If that happens, I won't be able to stay here."

"Then go, and be very careful."

She wanted to hug him, to kiss him in some way, but she didn't dare. Not yet. Not until his memory returned. And when it did, they would be together, forever.

* * * *

"Nurse Simone? Will you please come into my office for a moment?"

Hugh Jackson stood at his office door, folding his arms over his chest. Jessica had just given a patient a spit-bath and had changed the dressing on his leg. Her apron was still slightly damp, and she was sure her hair was in disarray, even if it was in a bun and she wore the required nurse's hat. She wished she knew why she still felt the need to be presentable when in Doctor Jackson's presence. It probably stems back to the fact that she still found him quite handsome.

Nodding, she patted the back of her bun, feeling the loose hairs. Inwardly, she groaned. He would see her and think she was an untidy woman. It didn't matter that most of the other nurses looked this way, too.

"Yes, Doctor Jackson." She passed him as she entered his office. This was the first time she had been in here, and she resisted closing her eyes and inhaling his manly scent of musk.

He closed the door before walking around to his desk. Instead of sitting on the chair, he sat on the edge of the desk and looked at her. His expression was pleasant, but she still worried their little office meeting wasn't a social call. Her heartbeat flipped crazily, and yet, dread filled her. He must have known that she had sneaked into the hospital last night and talked to Wyatt.

"I had to tell you," Hugh began, "that I think you're doing a remarkable job with our patients. Several of them have commented about how helpful you've been to them."

Relief flooded through her and she sighed. "I love nursing. I'm glad I've made some of them happy."

"Isn't that what our professions are about? Helping people should be our utmost goal."

"I agree." She watched him closely, still questioning why he brought her into his office and shut the door, especially when there wasn't anything personal about this conversation. He could have told her this in the hall.

"However," he said as his pleasant expression turned into a frown, "I've noticed – and a few of the other nurses have notices – the way you almost single-out the man who lost his memory."

Jessica swallowed hard. Indeed, she'd had cause to worry. "Doctor, I haven't singled him out at all."

"Well, we see that you give him a little more special treatment. And I," he moved away from the desk, standing in front of her, "see the way you look at him."

Her heartbeat pounded quicker from his nearness. She shrugged. "I've known Wyatt since we were children."

"True, however we don't know this is your childhood friend, and we won't know that until his memory returns."

She nodded, wringing her hands against her middle. "But I feel it's him. His voice is familiar, and that birthmark... Tell me, how many men do you know have that mark on their forearm?"

"So, let's suppose it is him." Hugh cocked his head, his brown-eyed gaze narrowing on her. "Have you stopped to consider what ward of the hospital he is in?" He gently touched her shoulder. "Jessica, all those men in that ward are deserters. When they are healed, they will be delivered to their military units and most likely, they'll be in jail for a few years." He motioned toward the door. "And some of those men have done despicable things once they abandoned their posts and have been on the run."

Jessica inhaled slowly, trying to stop the panic rising inside her. "Doctor Jackson—"

"Call me Hugh when we're alone."

Butterflies jumped in her stomach. Heavens, why had that happened? "Well, Hugh, I don't believe Wyatt is a deserter. The man I remembered before the war would have never done that."

Hugh's touch slid from her shoulder, down her arm to clasp her hand. "I understand why you would feel that strongly, but most of the soldiers who had gone missing in action are either in an unmarked grave, or they deserted their posts."

Her heart tugged painfully. No, she mustn't believe Wyatt would purposely do that. "But what if he was forced to abandon his duties? Wyatt was an honorable man. That's what is so frustrating, Hugh, is because deep inside of my heart, I feel that he had a reason for going missing." She sighed. "If only he could remember." She used both of her hands to grip his. "Hugh, we must try and help him remember."

"I agree, but until he gains his memories, I pray you will keep an open mind. I'd hate to see your heart broken when he realizes he is a deserter."

In a way, it was nice that Hugh cared about getting hurt, but then part of her wanted to get annoyed by his constant reminder about the war and that Wyatt was a prisoner here in the hospital.

She dropped her hand from his arm, and the loss of warmth was quite notable. In fact, she wondered if Hugh had a fever to why he was so hot. When they had touched hands, the heat inside her had climbed a notch.

"Can... you tell me about Wyatt's burns?" She forced her thoughts to jump back to Wyatt, and she remembered when she'd felt the puckering on his arm. "Was it from the cannon blast?"

"Yes. Burns take time to heal, but his face is especially sensitive, which is why we must keep his bandages on."

"How much of his face was burned?" Jessica couldn't even imagine how much pain Wyatt had suffered because of his injuries.

"At least half. I think, however, that a few of those burns will heal and not leave much of a mark."

"We can only pray for that miracle."

"Agreed."

Silence grew between them for a few uncomfortable moments. Should she leave or was he going to talk to her about something else?

"Jessica, just promise you won't become too attached to him."

Dread filled her soul, but she wouldn't let it show on her face or in her actions. She should have left the office when she had the chance. "I will treat Wyatt like I treat the other patients." Which of course, meant she'd have to help the others extremely well so that the other nurses didn't think she was singling out Wyatt.

"That's all I ask." He smiled.

She turned to leave, but when she placed her hand on the door, he cleared his throat.

"Actually, that's not all I ask," he added.

She lowered her arm and turned back to him. He stepped closer, and the rhythm of her heart hammered faster. It was the look of interest in his eyes, and his charming smile that were making her breathless.

"Jessica, I would like to know if you are free this evening?"

"I don't work a shift tonight. Do you need me to?" Although she'd be tired when she finally returned to the boarding house, working the late shift would mean she didn't have to sneak into the hospital to see Wyatt.

He chuckled. "No, I don't need you to work another shift. I'm wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me?"

She held her breath. He couldn't be serious, and yet... the way his brown gaze softened the longer he looked at her made her weak in the knees.

Her darn throat dried again, and this time, it was harder to swallow. "You want to... court me?"

"Well, I suppose that's a start, but for now, I would just like your company for dinner. It's nothing fancy. As you've probably heard, my mother is the cook at your boarding house. I thought the two of us could have dinner with her tonight."

"Yes, Gladys mentioned that. I have briefly met your mother. She'd very kind."

Tilting his head, he arched an eyebrow. "So, is that a yes for joining me tonight?"

It would be rude of her to turn him down. Spending time in his presence would only make her jittery. Then again, she had to overcome this feeling. He might be an attractive man, but Wyatt was the one who held her heart.

"Yes, I'll join you tonight."

His smile grew. "Good. I'll arrive at the boarding house around seven."

This time when she turned to leave his office, he let her. She didn't know what Hugh wanted to gain from this dinner tonight, but she only wanted to be friends. Then again, he probably wanted to spend time with someone who was closer to his age, since everyone else at the hospital was older by at least ten years.

Just as she stepped into the hall, Sheriff Adamson and Deputy Workman stopped, tipping their hats to her. She smiled and gave them a nod.

"Good day, Sheriff Adamson," Hugh said. "What can I do for you fine men today?"

"We just brought in another deserter." The sheriff was medium height, but the crassness on his face made people pause in their tracks. Jessica knew this was a man she never wanted to go up against. The deputy, however, was a sweet man. He was younger than the sheriff by a few years, and his disposition was one that attracted people to him, and made them friends.

"Oh, good." Hugh nodded. "We have one for you to take to jail, now that he's healed."

"Yes, we know," Deputy Workman said. "Nurse Tweed is getting him ready as we speak."

"If you will excuse me," Jessica politely interrupted, "I need to get back to my duties. It was nice to see you both again." She smiled at the sheriff and deputy before leaving them to talk to Hugh.

As she walked by the ward where Wyatt was in, her emotions switched in a different direction. How was she going to jog his memory when she'd never had to work with a patient like this before? Deep in her gut, she knew that Wyatt wasn't a deserter. One way or another he must remember soon, or once he was healed, he'd be the patient the sheriff and deputy would take to jail. She prayed God would direct her in the path she needed to take. Wyatt needed to remember, and she needed him to remember her.

Being lonely wasn't a healthy way to live.