by Carian Cole
I think my mother just dropped the mic on us.
After she stands and crosses the room to talk to Storm and Evie, Ember looks at me and smiles with a little fiery glint in her eye.
I think that glint is Ransom Valentine waving at us.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Five Months Later
“Are you okay?”
Without answering, she blinks at me absently, then looks down at the wavy lock of hair she’s been twisting around her index finger for the past few minutes.
“Em? You’ve barely touched your breakfast.”
The slight wind blows her hair across her face, and she turns into the breeze with her eyes closed, breathing deeply.
“I will,” she says softly. “I’m enjoying the air. I love the sound of the birds chirping in the morning.”
Teddy walks through the open French doors and joins us on the balcony, most likely hoping for a piece of muffin or bacon.
Ember stops fiddling with her hair and staring out at the yard when she hears the tap of the dog’s nails. She fixes her gaze on Teddy in the same way she looked at me a few minutes ago.
Like she wasn’t expecting us to be here.
I watch her over the rim of my coffee mug as I slowly sip my latte. She pulls her lemon poppy seed muffin apart and tentatively places a bite-sized piece in her mouth. Chewing slowly, she wiggles the fingers of her left hand, watching her diamond ring sparkle under the sun.
I want to believe she’s just daydreaming about our upcoming wedding, but her odd behavior has an uneasy feeling creeping down my spine and settling in my gut.
“Babe?” I clear my throat with a rough cough. “Do you feel alright?”
Her face perks up. Finally, a smile. “I’m okay,” she says. “I didn’t sleep very well last night. I think I have brain fog.”
I recall waking up around three a.m. and finding her sitting up next to me reading the journals. She does that a lot, though, so it didn’t stand out as odd to me.
“I can call Storm and tell him I’ll come over tomorrow instead. We’re just moving some furniture. He won’t mind.”
“No, you should go. I’m fine, honey. Just tired and a little headachey.” She stands and starts to clean up the small table. “I’ll take a hot shower. That always wakes me up.”
We carry the dishes down to the kitchen, and after loading them in the dishwasher, I pull her into my arms.
“I won’t be gone long.” I smooth her hair away from her face.
She looks up at me, smiling. Her eyes are animated, bright, engaging with mine. “Maybe you can pick up some s’mores ice cream, and we’ll have an ice cream and movie-in-bed date tonight after Kenzi goes to sleep?”
I force the smile to remain on my face, even though my heart rate has suddenly ramped up, and the hairs on my arms have prickled.
“I could go for that. I’ll stop at the store and get that and some whipped cream.” I swallow and tilt my head. “Kenzi won’t be here, though.” I purposely don’t say anything else so I can gauge her reaction.
Her forehead creases. “Oh. That’s right.” She laughs and glances toward the foyer. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I feel like a space cadet today.”
“Maybe I should stay home.”
Half her mouth quirks up. “No. Don’t be silly.” She stands up on her tiptoes to kiss me and winds her arms around my neck. “You go, and I’ll see you when you get home.”
Reluctantly, I gather up my keys and my cell phone, and she walks me to the garage door, where I kiss her goodbye before I walk out. When I get in my car, she’s still in the doorway watching me. Her hand is raised to her throat, and I realize she’s touching the skeleton key necklace.
I wave at her from inside my car, and she waves back, then disappears inside the house. I sit in the car for a few minutes debating whether I should go help my brother move his furniture or stay home and make sure Ember’s really okay. I haven’t seen her act so distracted, confused, and disoriented in almost a year.
My hovering days are behind me, though, and I should leave them there. Things have been great between us, and we’ve never been happier. She’s been writing her book and painting, and I’ve been writing new songs. We spend tons of time with our friends and family. We’ve reached a level of closeness and intimacy that has surpassed what we had before the accident, and that’s saying a lot.
The only things that could possibly make my life remotely better is having another baby and Ember remembering her past—and remembering me.
I think I’ll always hold on to hope that those things will happen someday.
Chapter Fifty-Six
What the heck is wrong with me?
Right after Asher drives off, I go straight upstairs to the master bathroom and take two ibuprofen for the stabbing ache in my temple and a Xanax to calm me down. My body feels like it’s vibrating, as if thousands of tiny bees are buzzing through my veins.
I rub my hands over my arms, but it does nothing to alleviate the stinging sensation.
As I stand in the middle of the bathroom, my head pounds and spins. My heart beats erratically, skipping and thumping. I can’t catch my breath. My skin is warm and flushed. It’s like I just spent an hour working out—only I haven’t.
I’m literally doing nothing except thinking.
What is happening?
Last night I had the dream again. Yes, that one. The one where someone is trying to rip my face off. This time, the person in the dream was showing me things.
Good things and bad things.
Pictures of Ash and I together.
Toys.
Jewelry.
A box.
Flowers.
A keychain.
A guitar pick.
Kenzi.
A waterfall.
Tor.
A big rock.
Teddy.
A cliff.
Butterflies.
The skeleton key.
Shaking, I sit on the edge of the bathtub and rest my head in my hands. The spinning won’t quit. Teddy has followed me and lays at my feet on the bathmat with his chin on top of my bare foot. His big brown eyes peer up at me.
Maybe I should’ve asked Asher to stay home. Today’s Sarah’s day off, so I’m here alone, feeling like I’m losing my mind or about to have a coronary arrest.
I could call Kenzi and Tor… But what would I say? “Oh, hi, sorry to bother you, but I had a weird dream last night, and now I feel strange and sick.”
No.
I don’t want to bother them or be the relative across the street who always needs something.
I’m sure the pills will kick in any minute, and I’ll feel fine.
Late last night, after the dream, I scoured the journals, exhausted, poring through pages and pages and years of entries, and yet I couldn’t find one thing that matched up with some of the things the person in the dream showed me.
What does it mean?
Asher must’ve thought I was nuts this morning when he woke to find the leather journals all over the bed between us and on the floor, some of them still open.
He didn’t say anything, though. He just smiled his usual loving smile, closed them all up, and put them back in a neat pile before he went to make us breakfast.
I could tell he knew something was wrong, though. He always knows. I tried to hide it with smiles and kisses, then I rushed him off to Storm’s house. As much as I wanted him to stay, I had to get him out of here.
I needed to be alone to try to hear the voice in my head.
She’s been whispering since I woke up, and I think it’s the person in the dream.
Even now, I can hear her.
Wake up.
Wake up.
I’m still here.
Let me in.
Let me help you.
Ember!
Do you remember?
Stop fighting.
Remember!
It’s right in front of you.
Stop running.
It’s me.
I’m you.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Ember’s car isn’t in the garage when I get home four hours later. I check my cell phone to see if she’s texted me about going out somewhere, but the last text I received from her is two hours ago:
Me: How’s my baby feeling?
Ember: Much better now. xo
Me: Good. I’ll be home soon. I love you.
Ember: I love you too. I can’t wait to see you.
Maybe Sarah borrowed her car, which she does sometimes. I grab the grocery bag off the passenger seat and go in the house through the kitchen door.
“Em?” I call out.
Nothing.
Just Teddy lounging in the hall, thumping his tail against the floor.
When I put the ice cream away, I find a note on the counter. It’s written on paper from a little notepad with music notes and hearts on it that we used to leave cute messages for each other on.
I study the note in more detail than twelve simple words require. Her handwriting is different. Actually, it looks the same as it did before the accident. But it looks different than it has recently.
Holding the note, I go upstairs to our balcony—our special place.
She’s not there, and a part of me is glad she’s not because it’s giving me a spark of hope that I’m almost afraid to let myself think about or believe.
“Ember?”
Turning my head slowly, I listen for any clue that she’s in the house, but there’s not a sound.
Exhilaration courses through me as I practically run back downstairs to check the sunroom, then the studio, then the backyard. Wanting to find her, but not wanting to either.
No, I don’t want to find her here at all.
We really only have one special place, and it’s not here in this house. It’s up in the mountains, on a big mossy rock, near the waterfall.
I could never bring myself to go back up there after she fell, and we haven’t gone there since she woke up.
My brain battles with excitement and confusion as I go back to the kitchen and pick my phone up off the counter to check Ember’s cell phone GPS location.
User cannot be found.
That must mean she’s in a dead tower area, but the last location of her phone, according to the app, is directly on the way to the mountains, twenty minutes ago.
My pulse races with excitement.
Is she really going there? Up to the waterfall?
She is.
Fear comes over me in a quick wave as visions of her falling, and then lying lifeless on the rocks, assault me. She shouldn’t be up there alone.
She could fall again. I could lose her again.
Shaking my head to clear the horrible memories, I wonder why she didn’t wait for me to get home. If she wanted to go back to our special place, why didn’t she want us to go together?
I slip into my leather motorcycle jacket, throw on my earbuds, and jump on my bike. I roar down our street, wishing Ember was on the back and we were on our way up to the falls together, just like we used to. Only this time, we’d ride home together, with her arms wrapped tight around my waist, her chin resting on my shoulder.
We never got our ride home together that last day. Ember’s true spirit got left on that mountain.
Not this time. Today, I’m bringing my wife home.
Ember’s car is in the place where we always park—at the end of the trails off a dirt side road. When I pull up next to it, I’m disappointed to see she’s not waiting in the car for me to arrive so we can take the walk together to the waterfall.
Regardless, my heart pounds with a mix of apprehension and giddy happiness with every step as I hike up the woodsy trail that leads to the top of the mountain. The last time I was on this path, my entire life was being torn apart in the worst way imaginable and would never be the same.
I have no idea what Ember’s feeling or thinking right now, but I can’t help but hope some of her memories have come back. The note, the reference to our “special place,” asking for our favorite ice cream, it all points to her remembering those things. I can’t dismiss how worrying her odd behavior this morning was, though. She seemed confused, even disoriented. What if she’s having some kind of mental breakdown on the top of the mountain?
But…what if she actually does remember? Her past? Herself? Kenzi? Us?
I wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand and look up at the clouds. Is she looking at the same clouds right now while she waits for me? Is she remembering me and all our special things?
I love where we’re at in our relationship now, but I can’t lie—I want all of her back. She deserves to remember her entire life—the good, the bad—every moment. Not just the past year and a half.
Fuck. I can’t let myself go wild with wishes and questions. I’ll lose my mind before I get to the top of this mountain.
When I reach the narrow, overgrown fork in the path that leads to our spot, the wind carries the scent of her perfume right to me. My favorite perfume. My aphrodisiac.
I push a few low branches out of the way, ducking my head beneath them, and there she is. Standing a few feet away from our rock with the biggest smile on her face, leaning on an old shovel, which is usually kept in the shed in our backyard. She’s wearing the leather jacket I gave her in high school—the same one she wore the night she got us the Airbnb. I always loved seeing that jacket on her, because it screamed that’s my girl.
“What took ya so long, Valentine?” she teases with a flirty grin.
My breath catches on the lump in my throat, and tears burn in my eyes. Happiness hits me like a freight train. So powerful it almost renders me unable to move.
“Baby,” I choke out as I walk slowly toward her. I want to run and scoop her up, but my legs are like concrete weights, refusing to move faster. “What are you doing up here? Why didn’t you wait for me?”
She tosses the old rusty shovel to me, and I catch it with one hand. I feel like I’m dreaming when she takes the necklace off and holds the key up. The gem glistens in the sun.
“I remember what this opens,” she says, swinging it between us.
I swallow hard. “Do you?”
“Yup, and I think it’s right there.” She points to the ground in front of her. “If I remember right?”
“Ember…” I can barely get the words out. My heart is beating too fast. My hopes are swirling too fast. “Do you—?”
With a confident, flirty smile—the smile I’ve ached to see—she touches my lips with her finger. “Shh…let’s do this first.”
Taking a deep breath, I chew the inside of my cheek and let her happiness infect me. Everything is okay now. This is my Ember—happy, playful, and loving.
I push the tip of the shovel into the ground and lean my boot into it, lifting up the earth and tossing it to the side.
I do it again.
Shaking my hair out of my face, I grin at her, playing along with the game. “You sure it’s here, baby?”
She nods confidently. “Yup. You put it right there.”
I dig up another layer of dirt.
“How far down did I put it?”
“Hmm. About two or three feet.”
“You sure?”
“I’m positive.”
I dig a little deeper as she watches impatiently, holding on to the key.
Clink.
The shovel hits something solid.
I look up and wink at her. “Well, well, I guess you were right. As usual.”
“Yay!” she exclaims. “And you thought we’d never be able to find it after so many years.”
She’s right. I always thought when we came back to find it, after it being buried for fifteen years, the ground would be so overgrown that we’d have to hunt for it. It’s been much longer than the fifteen years we originally planned, and here it is, right where we buried it on our first anniversary.
Our memory box.
I
toss the shovel off to the side, and we lock eyes, both of us breathing heavily. So many emotions pass between us. Love. Desire. Longing. Devotion. A thousand feelings that words can’t come close to describing.
We kneel down in front of the hole, and I pull out the small, wooden treasure chest I made when I was a teenager. Ember’s hand trembles as she puts the key in the lock, turns it, and lifts the lid open.
“It’s all here,” she whispers with tears falling down her cheeks. “Our memories and our wishes, Ash.”
I’m subdued with emotion, unable to do anything but watch her in total wonder as she pulls out each item and narrates what it is.
“This is our first photo together. And this is the first flower you gave me. And this is the first song we wrote. This is the guitar pick I gave you. This is the teddy bear you gave me when I was sick. This is the keychain from your first car, where we—”
“Had sex in the back seat,” I finish, raising my eyebrows at her and touching the metal ring with the guitar charm hanging off it. One of my favorite memories.
“And this is Kenzi’s first pacifier. And here’s the butterfly keychain you gave me when I got my first car! This is a sketch of our dream house with the waterfall inside. And the Valentine compound dream! Remember this? And a picture of your dream car—a Porsche. We never thought you’d actually get one. And our list of future song titles! Wow, we actually did write all of these!” She hands me the list.
“These little baby biker boots…for the second baby we wanted to have someday. And Teddy’s favorite toy.” Her smile wavers as she turns the tiny boots and toy in her hands. “And these.” She pulls out two envelopes, one with a black ribbon, one with a pink ribbon. “Our letters to each other.”
I sit back on the ground and look at all the stuff in front of us. It’s overwhelming. So many memories. So many emotions. All these hopes and dreams we had and worked for.
I’ve never forgotten them. Everything in that box is what made me never give up.
And now, Ember remembers too.
