Page 41 of She Found Me

Inside are Arianna’s medical notes. It lists the extensive injuries she received from the accident. Burns, fractures, head injury. But watch catches my eye are the words memory loss.

I’d found it hard to believe that Mia could still be alive and not have contacted anyone she knew. But if she had lost her memory, that would explain everything.

When I look up from the folder, Leo and Van are staring at me. But both look incredibly blurry. That’s when I notice the tears in my eyes as they fall down my face.

“She’s alive?” I ask, hoping this isn’t a dream.

“It looks that way,” says Leo with a little smile.

We sit in silence for the rest of the flight. My thoughts are completely with Mia. I’m worried for her safety. The medical notes said her next of kin was her husband and that she had been discharged form hospital to return home with him. If he has laid a finger on her, I will kill him. I feel sick at the thought of another man near her. But it has been over six months now since the accident. She obviously still doesn’t remember who she is or who I am. What if she now loves this man who is her assumed husband?

“What I don’t understand is why this guy is saying he’s her husband when he’s clearly not,” says Van in car from the airport. “And where is his actual wife?”

“His wife is probably one of the dead women. He’s obviously a psychopath,” I state angrily, infuriated that this man is with my Mia. “How long till we get there?”

“Another five minutes. You’re going to have to be patient, Marco. Mia may still not have regained her memory, and we don’t want to scare her. The police are meeting us there, and once we confirm it is Mia, they will arrest Eric Wake. I’ve also asked for a medical team to check her over while we are there.”

Leo’s words sadden me.

I’ve dreamed so many times of somehow finding Mia alive. Although we are about to see Mia in the flesh, it might not be Mia in her mind.

When we arrive at the house, I get out of the car alone. I’ve insisted I go in first alone for many reasons, like not having any witnesses if I kill the man. But mostly because I want the first person Mia sees to be me. Using my crutches, I hop up the path of a well-kept front garden and knock on the door.

Chapter 23

Mia

The driver gets out of the car behind me, and I’m glad to see it is a woman. I thought for second Eric may have gotten loose and come after me. I should have known better, there’s no way he can get out of my restraints by himself. When I get out of the car to join her, I’m struck with another contraction. This one is so intense, my knees buckle, and I have to lean on the car to hold myself up.

The elderly woman states the obvious. “Oh dear, are you in labour? You need to get to the hospital.”

“Yes, can you tell me the way?” I ask through breathing exercises.

“I can do better than that. I’ll take you. But we will have to use your car. I’ve got a flat tire.”

“That’s fine. Please just get me there.” I think I’m starting to get the urge to push. This baby is going to be here very soon.

“You get in the car. I just need to get Mr. Pickles.” The lady opens her passenger door and retrieves a small pug.

I love dogs. The images of dogs flash through my mind, making me smile.

It’s only a short ride to the hospital from here, thank goodness.

After thanking the lady for her generosity, I’m wheeled into the maternity unit by a nurse who was thankfully at the door when I arrived.

“It looks like you got here just in time,” the midwife informs me during my examination. “Now, baby is a little early, so we have got everything ready just in case they need a little help. But don’t worry, at thirty-six weeks, babies are pretty much cooked.” She laughs at her own joke.

A noise sounds on the monitor I’m now attached to just as another contraction begins.

“Looks like you’re ready to push. Come on, Arianna, you can do this.”

I listen to my body and push when I feel the urge. I take in everything the midwife says and focus completely on bringing my baby safely into the world. The more I focus on my child, the more of myself comes back to me. When I think of taking my child home, I see my house. My old Italian farmhouse. My home, the home I renovated myself. With each push, I receive more of myself, of my life, my real life.

“Just one more, Arianna. You are doing fantastically,” says my midwife encouragingly.

Finding the last of my strength, I give birth to my child.

“It’s a girl. Congratulations, Mummy, you have a beautiful daughter.”

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