“But he’ll recover from that, right?” Brad asked.

“In time, yes.” Jasper nodded. “Unfortunately, there are certain conditions he won’t recover from. Jeff suffered a detached retina in his right eye. Had he had medical assistance available immediately, it could have been treated. Since it wasn’t, unfortunately, the blindness in that eye appears permanent. Of course, we’re consulting with our best ophthalmologists, and their assessment is not yet complete, but in situations such as these, the sooner medical treatment is given, the better the chances for recovery.”

“So you’re saying there’s little chance he’ll regain his sight in that eye,” Jess said shakily.

“Unfortunately, that’s correct. I’m sorry. But we’ll wait for the final word before we assume the worst.”

“His other eye. It’s OK?” Brad sounded anxious.

“Perfectly fine. He’s already adjusted remarkably, considering the circumstances.”

“What else?” Jess needed to know.

“At some point—at least three years ago, according to the X-rays—Jeff incurred a broken left tibia.”

“Tibia?” Brad scowled.

“The main bone in his shin,” Jess explained, interrupting Jasper’s reply. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m a nurse, Dr. Jasper. The last place I worked was Womack.”

“Well, that’s great news for Jeff.” Jasper smiled kindly, then went on. “The bone was never set; consequently, that leg causes him a deal of pain. There’s also a loss of function in that extremity. It’s not life-threatening, but it will have to be dealt with later, most likely with surgery. The concern is that he’s currently not strong enough to tolerate the procedure, so we will have to wait until he’s recovered some of this strength.”

Jess felt physically ill. Starvation. Detached retina. Broken bone. In an attack? During torture? She wanted to know. She didn’t want to know. “What… what else is he dealing with?”

Again, Dr. Jasper smiled gently. “Another concern is his diagnosis of positional vertigo. He’s fine unless he moves his head the wrong way or he’s jostled, and then it manifests itself. His vertigo is most probably a result of a traumatic brain injury. A blow or several severe blows to the head,” he clarified when Brad looked puzzled. “The TBI also causes him intense headaches. There are several good noninvasive treatments including physical therapy and medications that can help treat both the vertigo and the headaches. We’re conducting a complete neurological workup to find out exactly what we’re dealing with. The good news here is that they started him on medication in Kandahar, and he’s already seeing some relief on both counts, so that’s very positive.”

Jess nodded and attempted to smile at this bit of good news, but she suspected she hadn’t heard the worst of it yet.

“That’s the extent of his physical issues, although you must be prepared. He was tortured. He has scars from injuries that, fortunately, did not result in long-term health issues but will affect him emotionally for years to come.”

“PTSD,” Jess whispered, and closed her eyes. She’d been prepared for this diagnosis, but still a wave of nausea hit her.

“Yes, I would be very surprised if Jeff doesn’t exhibit some manifestation of post-traumatic stress disorder. Regardless, it’s going to be difficult for him to adjust to the real world again. Medications can help, if it’s determined that he needs them, but he will most likely require extensive therapy to regain some semblance of normality. We won’t know how much until we perform further evaluations. Which leads us to the final concern.” He faced Jess somberly. “Jeff’s memory has been affected by all he’s been through.”

“His memory?” Brad leaned forward in his chair. “What’s wrong with his memory?”

“Jeff advises us that it was only recently that he was able to recall his name, his unit and battalion, and what happened to him the night his team was attacked.”

“Because of the TBI or emotional trauma?” Jess asked.

“At this point, we don’t know. RA, retrograde amnesia,” he clarified for Brad, “can also be induced by either physical or severe emotional trauma. So what you must both keep in mind during the coming months is that the brain is very complex and malleable, and everyone is different in his course of recovery. How well Jeff does will only be known as time passes.”

“Wait—you’re saying Jeff has amnesia?” Brad asked in disbelief. “That there are things he still doesn’t remember?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“He… he doesn’t remember me? Or… or Jess?”

“I’m sorry. No.”

“What does he remember?” Jess asked, shocked and suddenly fearful of the doctor’s answer.

“Only portions of the last three and a half years. He basically remembers nothing of his life that predates the attack on his convoy. It’s only been within the past month or so that he remembered that.”

She must have looked as though she were in shock, because the doctor reached out and covered her clasped hands with one of his.

“He’s going to get through this, and so are you. It will take time and patience and ongoing medical care, but he will get through this.”

Jess couldn’t sit any longer. She stood and walked over to the window, stared out at the autumn-bare trees planted in neat rows in a failed attempt to break the barrenness of the concrete parking lot.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have better news for you,” Dr. Jasper said. “If you have any questions, at any time, ask the charge nurse, and she’ll get hold of me.”

“What… what happens next?” Jess asked, pulling herself together and facing him again. “I mean, when he’s well enough to be discharged, what comes next for him?”

“You’re going to have to speak to his commanding officer at Fort Bragg to get complete information, but in my experience, what generally happens when a warrior returns home with medical issues is that after he’s released from the hospital, he’ll need to be debriefed about what happened to him over there. In Jeff’s case, since he was held in captivity for so long, they’ll want to gather as much intel from him as they can.

“But please don’t worry. Treating and addressing Jeff’s emotional and mental stability are as important to us as his physical well-being. We won’t let him undergo any questioning we feel he’s unprepared to deal with. But you have to remember, until a panel can convene and determine the ongoing extent of his disabilities, he’s still in the military.”

“You don’t think he’ll be medically discharged?” Brad sounded angry.

“Oh, I absolutely do. In the meantime, he’ll be on leave—needless to say, he’s accumulated a lot of leave—and you’ll be able to take him home. I also want to reassure you that once his discharge comes through—which may be several months—his treatment won’t stop then. We’ll get him hooked up with the VA medical center closest to where you live so he’ll receive plenty of follow-up care.”

Brad had grown very quiet. Jess felt for him. His brother had left whole and had returned a badly damaged man.

“I’ll leave you to process all of this,” Dr. Jasper said gently. “You can go in and see him whenever you’re ready. My suggestion would be to take it slowly with him. All of you will have major adjustments to make. Patience is your friend.”

Then why did she feel friendless? And as barren as that parking lot?

She was married to a man who didn’t remember her.

She was in love with a man she needed to forget.

She felt confused and guilty on both counts. But there was only one thing she could do right now.

On a deep breath, she gathered herself, then made the longest walk of her life.

JESS STOPPED HESITANTLY outside the door of J.R.’s room, steeled herself, and, as Brad hung behind, walked inside.

Oh, my God, oh, my God.

She covered her mouth with her hand to smother a gasp. She barely recognized the man asleep in the bed. His hair was long and threaded with gray. He had a beard. J.R. had hated it when he’d had to grow a beard for a mission.

Tears filled her eyes, and she walked closer and better saw the ravages his captivity had done to him. A pressure squeezed so tightly in her chest she could barely breathe.

Emaciated.

Withered.

Gaunt.

Destroyed.

Those words cycled over and over in her mind as she studied him in stunned disbelief.

And pain. My God, the pain he had to have suffered.

What the years and the war had done to him crushed her heart. And what love she’d had for him revitalized and swelled as she remembered the man he had been—now as much a stranger to her as she was to him.

Any question she’d had about whether she could do this, whether she could walk away from a man who loved her and toward a man who didn’t even know her anymore, had been answered in the few seconds since she’d walked through that door. She could not turn her back on this man. This broken, damaged man. She could not be that selfish.