Try to Remember, page 8
“Ah, I wondered how long it would be before the talented gossips of Garett Beach would be flapping their jaws,” Frank returned dryly.
“So it’s true?” Russ’s eyebrows danced up and down in a Groucho Marx imitation. “You old fox, you,” he said with a chuckle.
“It’s true, but you can wipe that ridiculous expression off your face and stop chortling. It’s all completely innocent.”
Russ sighed in disappointment. “Yeah, that’s just what I was afraid of.” He eyed Frank wryly. “There are times I worry about you, my friend.”
“Worry?”
“I’d worry about any single man that has a woman who looks like Jane Smith living in his house and keeps things completely innocent.”
“You know me, the happy solitary man. She just needed some help. Social Services was going to put her up in the shelter in Wilmington and I couldn’t stand the thought of that. You knew I’d been talking about hiring somebody to take care of the house. It just seemed a reasonable option to have her work for me while she works on getting her memory back.”
“Any progress in that area?” Russ asked curiously, his expression once again that of a professional.
“Not much. I’ve put in a call to Harry Wilton. At the moment, he’s on vacation, but I’m hoping as soon as he gets back into town, he’ll take her on as a patient and see if he can help her.”
“Sounds like a wise idea,” Russ agreed. “Harry is a good man.”
“I hope so. She’s more of a mystery now than she was when I brought her into the hospital.” Frank hesitated a moment, then continued, “The police came by the other night and told us the name she’d used to check into that beachfront cabin wasn’t hers. Apparently, she was using an alias.”
Russ released a low whistle. “That doesn’t sound too good. Perhaps you’re wise to keep things innocent.” He looked at his wristwatch and frowned. “Oh, gotta run. Hey, this is your weekend off…have a great one.” With a smile and a wave, Russ hurried down the corridor.
Frank continued toward the doctors’ lounge, where he had been headed before Russ stopped him. He was relieved to find the small room empty.
He poured himself a cup of the inklike coffee and sat down at the mock-wood table. Sipping from the mug, he leaned back in the chair and replayed in his mind the conversation with Russ.
It had been three days since he’d tasted Jane’s lips, and since that time, everything had remained completely innocent between them…everything but his thoughts. And his thoughts were distinctly erotic where Jane was concerned.
Thankfully, his work hours were long so it was late when he got home each evening, effectively cutting into the time he spent with her. However, he found himself caught in a curious dichotomy of emotions. He enjoyed her company, loved to hear her laughter as he shared the lighter moments of his day with her. He was half-crazed by her subtle sensuality, the sweet floral scent of her hair, the graceful movements of those long legs. Yes, he liked to be with her…and he dreaded each moment spent in her company.
It worried him that she had been using a false name at the cottages. Why would a woman check into a motel using an alias? Had she been running away from someone? Who? He couldn’t imagine that she’d done anything wrong, that she was a criminal of some sort. She just wasn’t the type. Her eyes were too soft, too full of innocence.
He finished his coffee, stood up and looked at his watch, suddenly anxious to get home. He had two more patients to check on and then his weekend officially began.
He didn’t try to analyze why he was looking forward to the weekend when always before he’d lingered at the hospital on Friday nights, in no hurry to get to the emptiness of his home.
Nearly an hour later, he stepped out of the heat of the day and into the air-conditioning of his entryway. “Hello?” he called.
“In here,” Jane’s voice drifted to him from someplace in the back of the house. As Frank walked down the hallway, he heard the sounds of splashing water and smelled the fragrant scent of bubble bath. The bathroom door was open as if in invitation, but he hesitated just outside, unsure what to expect.
His mind filled with an image of her in a tubful of bubbles, the swell of her breasts visible just above the foaming water. Her legs would be bent at the knees, the shortness of the tub unable to accommodate their length. Her hair would cling to her shoulders, wet silk caressing satin skin. Heat infused him at the vividness of the image. His hands itched and he clenched them into fists, realizing the palms were sweaty.
“Frank? Are you there?” Her words were followed by the sound of splashing water.
He cleared his throat. “Yes…yes, I’m here.” His voice sounded funny to his ears. Thin and reedy, it squeaked out of him, half-constricted by his mental turmoil.
“Come on in,” her voice called out.
He moved forward on legs that suddenly felt like jelly, the fire inside him burning like a raging inferno.
The tub was full of water and bubbles, but it didn’t contain Jane. Mutt stood in the water, his expression a mix of humiliation and shame. His fur was covered with foaming soap and Jane crooned softly to him as she poured a pitcher of water over his flanks.
“What are you doing?” Frank asked inanely. The heat inside him cooled with a curious sigh of disappointment and relief.
“I let the two of them out earlier for a little run on the beach and they disappeared. I don’t know where they went or what they did, but they both came back covered in muck and mud.” She grinned up at him, her smile reigniting the flame in the pit of his stomach. “I’ve never seen a dog who hates baths as much as this one.”
“They rarely get baths,” Frank answered, trying not to notice how wet her blouse was…wet enough to turn the pale pink material nearly transparent. “Where’s Jeff?” he asked as he consciously tugged his gaze away from her.
“Last time I saw him, he was hiding behind the sofa. He knows he’s next.”
Frank gazed back at Mutt, his eyes widening as he realized the sudsy dog’s intent. “Watch out…he’s going to—” Before Frank could complete his warning, Mutt seemed to expand and grow in size, and with a howl of displeasure, he shook. Globs of soap and water flew around the room, decorating Jane’s hair and face, slapping across the mirror, even reaching the front of Frank’s shirt.
Frank was unable to contain a burst of laughter as he saw the white foam that decorated the tip of her nose and dotted the side of her neck.
“Don’t laugh,” Jane exclaimed in mock indignation, scrubbing at the bubbles on her nose with the back of one hand. “This dog has no manners at all.” Mutt whined as if to protest her words and placed one wet paw on her shoulder. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, removing the paw and pushing Mutt to sit in the water. “As soon as I finish with him, I’ll wash Jeff, then I’ll get dinner started. I thought I’d cook hamburgers out on the grill.”
“Tell you what…while you’re wrestling the dogs, I’ll cook the burgers,” Frank offered.
“That would be terrific,” she agreed, smiling at him with the bright expression that once again caused a burst of warmth to flood through him.
Minutes later, as she washed Jeff, Jane’s thoughts drifted to Frank. He was home earlier than he’d been in the past three evenings, and she was pleased that he seemed to be in a good humor.
Over the past four days of living with Frank, she had quickly gotten a picture of his work schedule and had come to the conclusion that he carried the load of two doctors. Not only did he have the patients at his own practice and his hospital routine, but he also put in several hours a week at a nearby clinic and was on staff at a nursing home. It was a lot of work for one man, and the long hours showed on him each evening when he finally got home.
She finished up with Jeff, laughing as he ran out of the bathroom as if shot from a cannon. She quickly cleaned up the bathroom, then changed into the cool, mint-green sundress.
She found Frank standing in front of the gas grill on the deck. Clad in brown shorts and a casual pullover shirt, he looked relaxed and handsome.
“Rare or well done?” he asked.
“Definitely well done. Is there anything I can do? Set the table?”
He shook his head, the evening sunlight painting an auburn glow over the dark strands. “Let’s paper-plate it and eat out here. There’s a nice breeze coming off the water.”
“Sounds great to me.” She sat down and watched as he flipped and pressed the sizzling patties. He paused a moment and took a long drink from a can of beer. He grinned as he noticed her watching him.
“Ah, there’s nothing better than a cold beer after a long day at work. Why don’t I grab you one?”
She nodded and he disappeared into the house. He returned a moment later with another can. “You look like the kind of classy woman who’d drink it out of a glass, but you can’t really get the full refreshing effect unless you drink it straight.” He popped the tab and handed it to her.
She sipped the cold beer and sat back, enjoying the pleasant evening breeze wafting off the water and Frank’s company. “This is so nice,” she finally said, breaking the comfortable silence between them.
“It is, isn’t it? Although it’s quite different in the wintertime when the damp air seems to seep into your very bones.” He smiled, then returned to the task of removing the cooked patties from the grill. Jane started to rise from the chair, but he stopped her. “Just sit. What do you want on yours? Mustard…ketchup…pickles…?”
“Everything,” she answered. Once again, he went inside and Jane gazed out toward the water, enjoying the tranquility of the scenery, the momentary quiet of her mind. All day long, her head raced with question after question, searching for fragments of memories she could claim as her past. Thankfully, she’d suffered no more of the horrible nightmares and she was beginning to believe that the visions of fire, those dreams of death, had nothing to do with memories at all. In fact, she’d decided that the dreams and images had merely been the reflection of her mental chaos.
“Ah, here we are, a truly American gourmet meal,” Frank said as he stepped back out on the deck, a serving tray holding their plates. “We’ve got overcooked hamburgers, a mound of potato chips and enormous dill pickles.”
“Add a cold beer and a gorgeous sunset, and I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto,” Jane replied, pulling her chair up to the table. She tilted her head to the side and frowned. “It’s the weirdest thing…what the mind remembers.”
He smiled sympathetically. “You mean, why is it you can remember a line from the Wizard of Oz, but can’t remember your own name?”
She nodded, pausing a moment to crunch into a chip. “I went through your record collection this morning and noticed you have a lot of show tunes. I put a couple on and listened to them while I cleaned, and suddenly I realized that I know all the words to Ado Annie’s songs.”
He eyed her curiously. “I’m sure I should know this, but who on earth is Ado Annie?”
“A character from the musical Oklahoma.”
“Oh, yes, now I remember.” He gestured for her to continue.
“Anyway, I was standing in the middle of the living room singing all the words to one of the songs and it was then that I realized I’ve played that part in a play. I think it was a high-school production.” She picked up another chip, stared at it thoughtfully, then looked back at Frank. “What I don’t understand is why the memories that are coming back are so stupid. I’m remembering all the unimportant details of my life, but none of the important ones.”
“You’re remembering all the safe ones,” he said softly.
She looked at him quizzically, noting the liquid depths of his eyes, like pools of dark mocha. They warmed her as effectively as the last lingering rays of sunshine. “What do you mean by safe?”
“If your amnesia is psychologically based as we think it is, then it was probably a trauma that made your mind shut down. For now, the memories that are surfacing are nonthreatening.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “The rest of it will come back when your mind thinks you’re ready.”
She nodded, comforted by the assurance in his tone. With a smile, she squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth of the connection race straight to her heart. For a moment, their gazes remained connected, seeking…revealing…
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she murmured.
“I’m sure you’d be fine,” he said, extracting his hand from hers. “I have a feeling you’re a survivor, Jane Smith. Now, we’d better finish eating before our burgers get cold.”
She felt him emotionally distance himself and a strange regret filled her. For that brief moment, when their eyes had touched, their hearts had spoken. It had been the quiet murmur of uncertainty, the heated whisper of suppressed desire.
“Frank, do you think it’s possible that the hospital could use me for a few hours a week as a volunteer?” she asked suddenly.
“Why?” he asked in surprise.
She shrugged, toying with the pickle on her plate. “There really isn’t much to do around here, and Mutt and Jeff are okay, but they’re lousy at conversation. Surely there’s something I could do to fill the hours of the day and feel useful.”
“Sure, I could talk to Etta and see what we could set up. I never thought about your getting lonely here.”
“It’s not lonely,” she protested. “At least not exactly.” Although she did have a deep well of loneliness inside, one she knew came from the fact that she felt so unconnected from everything and everyone. “It just somehow seems wrong to have so many empty hours in a day. It feels unnatural. I know it sounds crazy, but I have the feeling that I must have had a busy life before now. I just thought I could give the hospital a couple of hours a week and it wouldn’t interfere with my work here.”
“Okay, I’ll check it out on Monday. God knows the hospital can always use help.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
They finished eating, cleaned up after themselves, then returned to the deck, watching as the stars made a spectacular appearance overhead. Their conversation was light and easy, matching the mildness of the night surrounding them.
Jane released a contented sigh and looked up at the stars. “My mother used to tell me that every time two people fell in love, God put a new star in the sky. She’d say, ‘Just look, sugarplum, look at all the stars…all the love that’s in this world.’” Jane felt a sudden fullness in her throat at the abrupt memory, and the blanket of stars she’d been staring at blurred into a mist of unexpected tears.
It was there like a gift, a clear vision of her mother. Jane mentally grasped it to her, the heart-shaped face topped by gray curls, the spicy scent of the familiar perfume and the melodic tone of her voice. Jane reached for more, overwhelmed with disappointment when nothing else followed.
“My mother had a slight variation on the theme,” Frank said, his voice a deep rumble just audible above the distant crashing waves. “She used to tell me that every time somebody made a wish and it came true, a star appeared.”
Jane swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked rapidly to dispel the tears. She held the memory of her mother close for a moment longer, realizing whatever had prompted it was gone.
“Are some of those stars your wishes?” she asked, as she pulled her gaze from the sky to the man sitting next to her.
He didn’t answer for a long moment. “Not many.” His voice was deeper, as if the disappointment of wishes unfulfilled burdened it with a heavy weight.
“Which ones aren’t there?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t prying, but wanting to know.
He turned and looked at her, his dark gaze glittering in the moonlight reflecting off the water. “When I was ten, I wished for a horse. That one didn’t get a star.”
Jane smiled. “I think nine out of ten children didn’t get that particular star hung in the heavens.”
“I also wished for a brother or a sister, but I didn’t get that one, either.” His mouth turned upward. “But I suppose I should have taken that wish to my parents.”
Jane laughed. “Yes, it would seem they were probably in control of making that one come true.”
His gaze returned to the diamond-studded sky. For a long moment, they were both silent, captured by the beauty overhead. “I wanted children,” he said. The words, spoken so starkly, so devoid of emotion hung for a moment in the air, startling Jane in their simple need.
“You can still hang that particular star,” she said softly.
He shook his head. “No. I’m thirty-five years old and far too settled in my ways to think of a wife or a family. I’ve got a full life. There’s no time or energy for a woman or children.” There was a finality to his voice and he turned away. Jane realized he regretted giving her that personal piece of himself.
Still, the unfulfilled wish touched her deeply. She studied his features in the lunar light, seeing there the strength of character, the lines that empathy had etched in his face.
She felt a sad regret for him, and the children he would never have. She knew instinctively that he would have made a good father. His love for his children would have been tempered with strength and patience.
For a moment, she had a clear mental image of Frank walking along the beach, a toddler at his side. She could almost hear his murmuring voice as he told the child of the ocean, and the stars, of life.
Children…babies. The pleasant image was suddenly usurped by a terrifying one. Her head filled with the mournful sound from her nightmare…the horrifying cries of a terrified infant…the flames that smelled of smoke and death…the blood that stained her hands.
She closed her eyes, shivering despite the warmth of the night. Why did the vision fill her with such terror, and worse…such guilt?
A helpless sense of despair swept through her as she wondered what it all meant and what it had to do with her. Before Frank had found her lying unconscious on the beach, what had she done?
