by Rimmy London
Inside, it was more lively than he'd seen in a long time. Several groups of kids, both older and younger, were dispersed around the room, playing various games or simply laughing together. It made for a chaotic moment as he attempted to make his way through the maze of enjoyment and up the stairs.
The hall was empty, and Chase was grateful for the evening to himself as he closed the room to their master suite. He wanted to text Abby, but she was no doubt busy arranging a design plan for her new client. She was the most talented interior designer he'd ever seen, especially since she'd successfully turned Poppyridge Inn around. It had been an abandoned, broken heap when they'd first seen it. Now, it was luxurious and sought after. Guests commented frequently on the style, taking pictures and vowing to have their house looking the same once they got home. It was a big compliment to Abby, all of it.
There was a knock at the door, and Chase set his bag down, taking a minute to brush one hand through his hair. When he opened the door, he recognized one of the guests of the inn, a mother of two teenagers. She smiled a little apologetically.
"Sorry to bother you." She tilted her head to the stairs. "There's a gentleman here who says he'd like to speak with you?"
Chase felt suddenly exhausted. He wished he could just stay in his empty, quiet room. But most likely, this person wanted to reserve a room, and they needed to keep the inn full, after all. "Okay." He smiled, following her into the hall. "I'll talk to him."
She pointed down by the front door, to a man in a suit. He observed the energetic kids around him with a pleased smile on his face. Chase walked down to meet him, directing him through the crowded kitchen where everyone was getting dinners ready, and into a small office.
"Hello, sir"—Chase extended his hand—"I'm Chase, one of the owners here. I apologize for the excitement, it's usually not as crowded as it is today."
"Yes, of course. Hello, I'm Daylen Baker." The man smiled, relaxing into a chair opposite Chase's. His eyes roamed the small room for a brief moment, seeming to appreciate the simple, elegant touches that were so authentically Abby. The oversized lantern with sprigs of mint tied atop, a distressed window frame hung on the wall, and a bookshelf painted the perfect gray-blue color of a stormy sea.
Chase took the moment to size up his guest. Most people came in with a significant other or children in tow, but this man looked more business-oriented. Perhaps hoping to get away from it all? He wasn't giving anything away with his eyes, just admiring the surroundings.
"I have an offer for you," he stated with a grin, finally meeting Chase's gaze again. "How would you like a little or a lot less responsibility?"
"I'm not sure I understand," Chase said, waiting for more of an explanation.
"You've got a lot going on here, and from what I've looked into, a career and small family as well. That's a lot of responsibility."
A pinch of discomfort formed in Chase's stomach after hearing that he'd been researched, but the man continued before he could fully feel it.
"I've built a very successful business stocking hotels and inns just like yours. I can see you've got exquisite taste and very high standards, so I assure you, we would work closely with you as we select bedding, gifts, and toiletries to make sure your guests get the welcome they've surely come to expect. I guarantee it will save you money and possibly more important, time."
Chase was so caught off guard, he didn't know what to say. It sounded perfect. Abby had commented a few times on how much time it took preparing rooms, even after the cleaning crew had finished. Perhaps this would give them both a little more downtime? He noticed a briefcase aside the man's chair and decided to give him a chance.
"You say this will save us money?"
Mr. Baker smiled and reached for his briefcase. His hair was longer, the light brown strands slicked back into a ponytail. He pulled out a magazine and a few papers and set them atop the desk between them. "I promise you, no one can do this for less, not even you."
The magazine was impressive, showing before and after pictures of hotel bathrooms and bedrooms. The style was organic and modern, very closely matching Abby's. And a glance at the price had him quite sure it would be saving them a lot in the long run. He flipped through the magazine slowly, asking questions and scribbling notes on a notepad, excited to share it with Abby.
It wasn't until he heard her car pull up that he realized more time must have passed than he thought. The inn had quieted, meaning the dinner rush was over, and guests had either returned to their rooms or gone to the beach or woods.
He typed out a quick text, letting her know he was in the office. "My wife's just arrived." He smiled back at Mr. Baker, who nodded appreciatively. Abby could be heard talking to Ava, and Ava's small voice carried to the office as well. But when they got to the office, Abby didn't look well. Her face was colorless, and her eyes were tired. She looked like she'd been up all night, even though it was barely eight o'clock.
A thrill of panic trailed up Chase's spine; he felt bad for not telling her about Mr. Baker, and he could see she was uncomfortable with the surprise. She stood silently in the doorway, glancing between them.
"I'm sorry, honey, are you not feeling well?" Chase joined her at the doorway, walking with her to the stairs. "This is Daylen Baker, he's got a pretty impressive business stocking hotels and just stopped by to offer us a contract." Abby's face looked paler by the second. "Do you need to go to a doctor?" he asked, increasingly concerned.
She shook her head, still holding Ava who was looking tired as well. "No, it's okay." Her voice was hollow and nearly whispered, "I think we both just played too hard. You go ahead and meet with him, and we can talk about it later?" She looked like she was trying to smile, but her lips only lifted a fraction before falling again.
"I won't be long," Chase said, anxious to take care of the both of them. "I can get Ava to bed. Do you want me to take her so you can relax?"
Abby's eyes widened. "No, I've got her."
Her voice sounded choked, and Chase wanted to hurry and finish up with Mr. Baker. Abby was clearly sick. He held her quickly and kissed her forehead, concerned at how cold she felt. "I'll be up in just a few minutes."
"Okay, thank you." Abby turned and hurried up the stairs, making it to the top before Chase had even turned around.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Baker." He didn't waste any time gathering up the magazine and contracts the moment he returned. "My wife isn't feeling well, and I think we'll have to meet another time. I would like her to be present when we make a decision."
"Of course, of course." Concern swept across his face as well. "I wouldn't want to inconvenience you in any way." He closed his briefcase and left the room. "Tell your wife I wish her the best."
"I'll give you a call tomorrow." Chase shook his hand and waited only until he'd walked out the door. Then he was on his way, hurrying up the steps and feeling more anxious by the second. What had happened? If Abby was feeling so sick, why hadn't she called him? He could have driven out and picked her up.
He opened the door to their suite to find her sitting in the corner chair and gazing out the window… or more like staring. Her neck was craned to the side as she seemed to be searching out something far in the distance.
When she turned to him, he could see the fear that had been there before, except now it had multiplied. She looked overwhelmed with it. Ava played on the floor, and Chase hurried to Abby, taking her hands and sitting on his heels in front of her. She took a slow breath, her eyes never leaving him, but this time she wasn't trying to wipe away the fear. Perhaps she couldn't.
"What were you doing talking to Kyle?"
Chapter 4
Abby felt sick. Her head was a chaotic mess of questions, although one stood out above everything. Why was Chase talking to Kyle? She recognized him the moment she saw him and was sure she'd seen that same recognition in his eyes. Her body went numb, likely why Chase thought she was sick. But thanks to that small detail, she was able to leave the room almost before she
entered it.
Now, she craned her neck, watching him get into his car and drive away. She kept him in sight until he dipped down the hill and out of view. Every inch added between them was welcome. Why would he come? What did he want? Chills trailed down her spine, cold and unwelcome.
"Abigail." Chase's hand settled on her arm. His other hand lifted to her forehead. "Are you sick? Why didn't you call me?"
Abby couldn't help the anger that was exploding inside of her at the fact that Chase had openly welcomed Kyle into their home without a thought. She forced the emotions down hard, struggling to maintain control. She glanced at Ava sleeping in her crib and kept her voice down.
"I'm not sick." She stood, slipping out of his hands and creating some distance between them. "Why were you talking to Kyle?"
Chase flinched back, shaking his head. "What? No, that wasn't—Kyle. His name was Daylen Baker. He just wanted to work with us, stock the rooms and that sort of thing." He paused, looking back at her like he still didn't understand. "It sounds like a great deal. I think it would give you a little more time to relax."
"That was Kyle—I recognized him the second I saw him." Abby thought back to the man sitting in their office. His hair was different, and he was a man now, but it had to be him.
"I tried to find Kyle today, just in your school records." Chase shrugged. "It's like he didn't exist. There was no student named Kyle. Not a single one. There was a teacher named Kyle, though. Do you remember him? He taught biology your sophomore year." He smiled, his eyebrows lifted as if this were great news. But all Abby could think of was her husband researching her story behind her back as if he didn't believe it.
She sat down again, trying to take it all in. "Well, he was there. I can't remember a lot about his family or what classes he took." A memory surfaced of Kyle working in the school office. "I think he was an office aide."
"Do you think it might be possible you got him mixed up? Your biology teacher sounded like a great guy. Do you remember anything about him?"
"My biology teacher?" Abby thought back to the dark oblivion that was sophomore year, to the biology class she actually didn't hate. She remembered it surprised her that the teacher was clever and funny, easier to understand than any previous science teacher. It was why she did so well in the class. In fact, it was her only A that year. Mr. Miller. "I remember he was a good teacher, and I did well in his class. But what does that have to do with Kyle? Just because there's a teacher with the same name, that doesn't mean I was lying about my boyfriend Kyle."
"No, I know that. I do." Chase nodded reassuringly but looked uncomfortable, and his eyes strayed to their daughter as if he were buying a little time. When he turned back to her, she could see he was standing on some type of inner ledge, perched to jump. "Is it possible you were projecting your struggles with your home life and somehow created a persona to focus on? Something you could use to release all your anger and feelings of injustice?" Chase had a lot more to say, she could tell, but he left it at that, waiting for her answer.
"Uh…" Abby shifted, her eyes far away as she searched her memories. The thought that she'd made Kyle up was ridiculous. Did Chase think so little of her? She was so stunned by it all; she couldn't think of a response and sat gazing across the room at everything and nothing.
"It's just a possibility, Abby, and it would be good, wouldn't it? It would allow you to stop worrying about him coming to find you or plotting to do something harmful. We can keep researching and looking for him, of course, but is it possible?"
Abby's eyes wandered back to his as she thought it over. Was it possible? Something grabbed hold of her heart and dragged it down to a sinking, bottomless pit. Her first reaction had been to yell at him that she knew what she was talking about. But did she? Kyle had been such a mystery, and it had been one of the things that drew her to him. They never went to his house. She couldn't even remember where it might have been. The only time she'd been with him was at school, where he worked in the office, or at her house. She had to admit it was strange. She'd never seen him with friends or family, always alone. Always with her. Just the two of them.
"I don't know," she whispered, suddenly afraid of her own thoughts. She'd never introduced him to her mother because, well, she didn't want to. So, the only person in her life who knew anything about Kyle… was her.
She ran one hand through her hair, separating the curly tendrils. "I'd never considered something like that before." The explosion of fear she'd felt at Ava's birthday party surfaced in her thoughts. "But it wouldn't make sense to have him suddenly return to my life, would it? I hadn't planned on that gift, it just appeared. And the ring inside?" She looked back at Chase with confusion swirling her thoughts into something closer to dreams.
His eyes were focused, watching her as he rubbed his hands together. He took a step closer and brought his arms around her again. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to alarm you. It's nothing to be worried about. The only reason he would return to your thoughts is if you're struggling with something similar that you were then. Can you think of anything?"
Tears came to her eyes, and she tried to blink them away. Why would her life now have anything at all to do with her life then? She was so content; there were no words for it. Chase was her happily ever after, and Ava was the cherry on top.
She wrapped her arms tighter, holding herself against Chase and resting her head on his strong chest. "I can't think of a single thing now that would remind me of my childhood." His chest rose in a deep breath, and she looked up at him. His hands held her gently, and in his face was the kindness she'd fallen in love with. The genuine, unselfish concern.
"I have complete faith in you, Abigail," he whispered, touching on her biggest concern as if he knew her thoughts. "Until we know for sure, let's try to find out what we can about Kyle. If that man was him, and I can't say for certain that it wasn't, then we need to know. Okay?"
Abby hoped he wasn't just humoring her while suspecting she'd invented someone. If Kyle was in her imagination, then she had a lot of inner searching to do. And if he wasn't, she had to find out fast, because for him to track her down after all these years… That kind of deranged devotion was closer to insanity than anything else.
The week had been a strange mix of ordinary and extreme. Just like the weeks before, guests had come and gone. Families and couples, young and old. The leaves on the spruce trees that hid between the redwoods were turning a brilliant yellow, changing from top to bottom like some giant pitcher had been slowly poured atop their boughs.
But like no other week before, each day had brought incessant thoughts of Kyle. Of their relationship and his validity. Abby sat on the back porch, planning to enjoy a peaceful moment alone. Ava had gone down for a nap, and the guests were mostly out sightseeing. Instead of relaxation, her shoulders felt knitted together and tense. She couldn't shake the thought that he was near—that he was planning. That there was something big she was overlooking.
She suddenly noticed she'd gripped the flannel throw across her legs into a wadded knot. With a breath, she tried to release her anxiety as she released the soft material, but unlike the blanket, her fear stayed with her. There hadn't been many new memories, even though she'd devoted nearly every moment of the past five days attempting to remember.
There were only a handful of memories that surfaced. One of him in the school office, winking at her as he filed papers. She'd stopped by the office to ask for a permission slip, claiming her mother would sign it that night. Abby would be the one to forge her signature, never sure if her mother would be home or lucid enough to perform such a technical task.
Then there was the memory of their one day together, the day they walked across town and talked about everything from movies, and favorite beaches, to lifelong dreams. She'd fallen in love that day, easily and willingly. The next memory was the day he brought her the ring. It was the memory she'd spent the most time on, challenging her mind to produce proof of its deceit. But there was none. It had to
be real—it had to have happened. Kyle had given her a ring. He had told her he loved her, seriously and intensely. The atmosphere around that conversation had made her nervous, but she didn't hesitate to confess that she loved him too.
A chilling breeze riffled through her hair, the whispers of October chasing the heels of September. She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, tucking her feet up and into its warmth, and forced her mind through the timeline she'd repeated a dozen times. He'd given her the ring and his eyes had become fierce, there was no other word for it. She remembered not being able to look away while wondering what it meant. And throughout the next two weeks, she found out.
He turned into someone she feared, trailing her on the way home and asking about friends she'd spoken to when she'd been sure they were alone. Always watching, he didn't approve of anyone. The last time they were together had only been a matter of minutes. He'd stopped by her house unexpectedly, and although it was two in the afternoon, her mother was sleeping. He had seemed inconsolable, holding her hands and begging her to write to him every day. She'd agreed, secretly relieved to be separated from someone she'd begun to fear. She had promised him everything, anything he wanted, just to get him out the door and on the way to Mexico with his family. The family she'd never met or even heard about.
Abby squinted her eyes, picking through her thoughts. Slowly she sat up, eyes wide, remembering one image like a still frame. Faded and worn, was the memory of an old station wagon. A man and woman in the front and a teenage boy in the back. His forehead had been pressed against the glass woefully, and his hand had lifted in a final wave. The license plate surfaced in her mind. GVMESUN.
She gasped, clutching the blanket again.
The sound of Ava waking reached her, the coos and babbling of a happy two-year-old. She stood mechanically and walked inside, still exploring this new memory with fascination. She knew the year, the place, and the license plate. It just might be enough to track down some solid facts.
