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In the morning it was softly raining outside, gloomy and cold. The clerk told him it had not let up all night. The world was wet and slippery. Matt successfully sidestepped the two great hounds and stepped through the door pulling the collar of his jacket up around his ears. With directions to the local library in his hand, Matt traveled nearly two blocks in the cold, with the dampness chilling him through to the bone. In spite of the weather, he was sure it would be his lucky day.
As he approached the main street, he looked in both directions in an attempt to get his bearings. The mist was heavy and forced him to squint against the moisture blowing in his face. As he looked across the street, he could see an old church on the corner and stood rooted to the spot taking in the ancient decorative architecture. He was barely aware of a woman coming out of the door until something flickered in his subconscious, making him turn his full attention to her. What he saw caused his heart to stop. Strawberry blond hair escaped the hood she wore, which was pulled up around her face. Her frame was slim and petite. She was walking briskly in the other direction, but the little he could see, something about her seemed familiar. His heart thudded in his chest. He didn’t want to appear crazed, but he needed to catch her, see her face. He practically leaped forward in his haste, looking briefly to the left before stepping into the street, yelling out as he did across the mist, “Kate!”
At the sound of the voice behind her, the woman turned to see who was shouting, just in time to see the motorcycle with two riders hit a dark-haired young man and send him flying to the curb. Matt never saw or heard the motorbike, which came from an unusual direction. His last thought before he passed out was of Jeremy York’s affirmation that tourists were often hurt in Great Britain.
Elizabeth Champion heard the name Kate and turned to see a young man hurled to the curb by the force of the impact. Two other bodies went sliding past as the bike skidded by her, narrowly missing an oncoming car. The young couple was thoroughly shaken and badly bruised by the event, but they survived to enjoy the rest of their honeymoon. They were fortunate enough to walk away with limited injuries.
Matt was not so lucky. He landed unceremoniously with his head and one leg on the curb, and his body bent in half like a broken toothpick. Immediately Elizabeth ran to his side as the two bikers began to pick themselves up off the road. Matt, however, was a different matter. Unconscious, he was bleeding from a broken leg bone which jutted raggedly through the skin. His face was scraped along one side, and mud, stones, and a cigarette butt clung to his hair. A pool of blood was forming under his head as a result of the blow to the curb. Several passing cars stopped and offered assistance to the young bike riders, and someone called for an ambulance for Matt.
Elizabeth was drawn to the helpless young man without knowing why. She had no idea who he was or why he came after her, but he called her Kate and instinct told her it was something to do with her daughter. When the ambulance bundled him into the back, Elizabeth asked if she could ride along with him to the hospital. Matt had sustained a severe concussion and was bleeding from his ear. He was taken into surgery immediately, and the broken bone in his leg was set. After a series of x-rays, it was determined he also had three broken ribs, a sprained neck, and a depressed skull fracture. Although the doctors knew the head injury was serious, they were forced to wait until the swelling subsided to determine the extent of the damage. They could set his leg, wrap up his ribs, and put a brace around his neck, but surgery to repair his head injuries would have to wait.
Elizabeth was anxious to talk to the young man and find out why he stepped in front of the motorcycle calling Kate’s name, but it was clear from the doctor’s prognosis, and Matt’s unconscious state, that might not be possible for several days. Without logic or reason, she felt a responsibility to this young man and became a frequent visitor to the hospital over the next couple of days, waiting for him to awaken. After the death of her sister-in-law, Elizabeth was more in tune with anything that seemed out of the ordinary. This was a mystery that needed an answer.
Two days later, with the swelling subsiding, the physicians decided they waited long enough, and Matt was wheeled into surgery the following morning. Matt slept for two more days before he finally opened his eyes. The nurses immediately called the doctor along with Mrs. Champion, who had asked to be notified as well.
Matt immediately panicked when his eyes eventually opened in a hospital room. He had no idea what happened but instantly knew it was not a good place to be. There were bandages on his head and his leg. Tubes were sticking out of his arm, which was strapped to a board. He had trouble breathing and felt like a vise was holding his chest. It was difficult to see anything, and he couldn’t turn his head. Every inch of him hurt. He had no recollection of how he got there or even where that actually may be.
“Hello! Anyone?” he called out loud. The nurse on duty heard him, and happy to see him awake, rushed over to try and keep him calm.
“There, there, my fine lad, don’t be going on quite yet.”
“Where am I? What happened to me?” Matt asked, turning as best he could toward the strange woman who flew into the room.
“You are in Saint Hedgewick’s Hospital,” answered the white-smocked nurse. “You had a nasty spill. The doctor will be with you in just a short while.”
“Where?” he asked again.
“Why, Aberystwyth,” she answered with a perplexed tilt to her head. “Aberystwyth, Wales.”
Noting his alarmed look, she lowered her voice and gently asked him, “And just what is your name, my fine lad?” her voice thick with a Welsh accent. “You had no identification with you when you decided to pay us a visit.”
“I’m not sure,” Matt searched his memory for a simple answer. His lips were cracked, and his mouth dry. His tongue felt thick. It was hard to talk. His name wouldn’t come easily to him, and it made his head hurt to think about it. “I’m not sure,” he said again.
“Well, no matter,” the nurse said, patting his good leg, “it will come back to you shortly. You got a nasty bang to your head, and most likely it will just be a while before it all comes back to you. Try to rest now; the doctor will be here shortly to check up on you. Are you in any pain?” she asked before stepping out into the hall.
“God, yes, I hurt everywhere,” Matt answered.
“Everywhere?” she questioned.
“Yes,” he replied, expecting her immediate attention. “I hurt from my head to my toes.”
“Good,” she replied with a little shake of her head. “That is good. If you can feel all that pain, it means you will be alright.” She left him lying there and walked out the door.
When the ambulance delivered Matt to the hospital, there was no information on him, so he was given a number, and they left the chart unnamed. The only thing found on him was some money in his pocket. No wallet, no I.D., nothing to help the hospital staff find his relatives if there were any in the area.
Upon impact with the motorcycle, his body went sailing into the curb, and his wallet and passport went skidding through the grime and mud on the side of the road right through the grate of the gutter. There it fell to the bottom of the sewer, slowly buried by the steady trickle of bloody water and mud. The rain cleaned the pavement and washed away the evidence of the accident, and with it, Matt’s identity.