More Than We Remember

by Christina Suzann Nelson

  Addison shook her head. “I don’t know. I never knew him.”

  “Did it bother you?”

  She shrugged. “It’s like he never existed. The way my mother talked about men, I guess I assumed he wasn’t worth missing.”

  They drove along the outskirts of town, then climbed the hill that separated West Crow and Darlington.

  Brianne unrolled her window and let the sweet mountain air drift across her face. “Maybe you should talk to Caleb about how you’re feeling. I’m guessing he’s frustrated by this too.”

  Addison turned toward Brianne. “What do you mean?”

  “I just wonder if Caleb is every bit as bothered by not being able to pull his true memories out of the rubble.” Brianne bit her bottom lip. She’d taken a risk that wouldn’t be such an investment if Addison were a client, but she was a friend, the closest one Brianne had at the moment.

  39

  Addison’s mouth dried as she sat, stunned by the hit she’d taken from Brianne’s words. How was she supposed to balance her feelings of possible rejection and infidelity with the very real possibility that Caleb might truly not remember what had happened?

  Did an indiscretion that wasn’t remembered still count? It did to her.

  Brianne parked in front of a white building with gold-painted trim. The entrance was decorated to look as if it were a walkway into a luxury hotel, but no one stood outside to greet them. Though the paint gave a bright look to the outside, the lighting seemed almost muted.

  The car door pinged as Brianne opened it, nearly forgetting her keys in the ignition. “Do you still want to do this?”

  “I do.” Addison climbed out. “I at least need to see where he was that night. The not knowing and not understanding are more than I can handle.”

  “Are you prepared for the worst or even the best?”

  She shrugged. What was the best she could hope for? It’s not like they would walk in and find Jeff Delmar standing in the foyer with a surprise note admitting he’d actually been with Caleb all along. The best-case scenario still had her husband lying to her about who he was meeting that night. Even good was bad.

  Brianne pushed the door open.

  To the left was a lounge with dark lighting and red velvet everything. The scent wafting from the kitchen reminded Addison of a Chinese restaurant her mother would take them to when things were good. The place had served fried rice, fried shrimp, and Shirley Temples. As an adult, Addison would be horrified to eat in an establishment that dark, especially with children, but at the time, it had seemed glamourous to her and her sisters.

  “Did the bill indicate if he was in the restaurant or the lounge?”

  Addison shook her head. “It just said Virtue.”

  They moved forward through an entryway and approached the stand where a maître d’ would be present in a more posh establishment. To the right were tables with white linens, water glasses already at each setting.

  Addison ran her tongue over her lips. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she’d become until she watched a waiter pour ice water for a new customer. “Let’s get a table. They might be more helpful if we’re customers.”

  Brianne nodded. “I’m not sure I want to eat anything, but an iced tea would be amazing.” She looked around, then pointed her elbow toward a couple in the corner sharing a hot fudge sundae. “Okay, maybe one of those. But no sharing.” She grinned.

  Why had Addison let so much time go without investing in a good friendship? Brianne had a way of bringing out the funny in life, even when everything else pointed toward tragic. “We’ll see.”

  Finally, a man with a belly the size of an opera singer and a dozen hairs slicked over his bald head approached. “Ladies, how can I help you tonight?” He stretched his upper lip as if his overgrown mustache was tickling the inside of his nose.

  “Table for two.” Addison looked back at Brianne. “And I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

  “I’d be delighted.” His nose twitched like a nervous bunny’s.

  Addison pulled the credit card bill from her purse. “My husband was in here a couple months ago. Unfortunately, he was in an accident, and he’s unable to remember what happened that day.” She pointed to the charges. “We can see he was here. We were wondering if anyone might have seen him that night.”

  The man tipped his head back. “Ma’am, if your husband has a question about this, I’d feel better talking to him. We do not go around spreading gossip about our customers. It’s one of the reasons people continue to return to us.”

  Brianne leaned in close to Addison. “And I thought it was the charming employees.”

  Once again, Addison went from frustration to holding back her amusement. “I’m not asking you to divulge a great secret. Just a little information.” She scrolled through her phone and held it out in front of his face. “This is my husband. Do you recognize him?”

  The man shrugged. “It could be anyone. Please follow me to your table.”

  They were seated as near to the door as possible, but it gave Addison a view of the lounge, as well as the dining area.

  He set a menu in front of each of them. “Barbie is your server this evening. She’ll be right with you. And I assure you that she takes the privacy of our patrons as seriously as I do. Thank you for visiting Virtue.” He moved away in a kind of side-to-side amble.

  “Well, I feel welcome.” Brianne lifted the menu. “I suppose he’s the manager.”

  Every other employee was dressed in black pants or skirts with a white buttoned-up shirt and a thin black tie. “He must be. I hope the tips are at least good here. I can’t imagine working for that guy.”

  “Good evening, ladies. Can I get you a drink from the bar before you order?” Barbie filled both water glasses.

  Addison ran her finger down the menu. “Let’s say I had just twenty-two dollars to spend for maybe myself or myself and my friend. What would you suggest? A drink would need to be included.”

  Barbie tapped the side of her head with her pen. “If you’re getting drinks from the bar, that would pretty much do you in, after tip, that is. You might have enough for an appetizer depending on what you ordered.”

  Addison punched the code into her cell and slid it toward Barbie. “Do you remember this man coming in a couple months ago?”

  The server looked around the room. “Listen. I know you must be in an awful spot to ask like this, but I need this job. I have a kid to support. Can I get you anything to drink?”

  Brianne shook her head. “I’m not feeling so hungry. Thank you, though.”

  Reaching into her purse, Addison pulled out a five-dollar bill and laid it on the table. “We appreciate your situation.”

  Barbie pocketed the bill. “You’d be surprised how often we get wives in here with questions. I hope you find what you need.” She slipped her old-style order sheet into the pocket on the front of her black apron and stepped to the next table.

  Brianne got up first. She waited as Addison checked the contents of her purse, finally rising.

  Addison bit at the inside of her cheek. There had to be something to gain from this visit. When they’d pulled up, she’d been overcome with a confidence that some key to that night would be found inside these walls. As they walked out, desperation slowed her pace.

  “Do you mind if I pop into the restroom before we go?” Brianne pointed down a long hall.

  “No problem.”

  After emerging from the restroom, Brianne turned and ran into the side of a man with a tub of dirty dishes. “I’m sorry.” She looked up, and her face paled.

  HE LOOKED HER square in the eye. “Do I know you?”

  Brianne struggled to gain enough control to speak. He was the same man he’d been, but thinner and stronger. Yet at the same time, there was a weakness in his eyes, a vulnerability. “We’ve met.”

  He shifted the weight of the tub and tipped his head to the side. “I’m afraid I can’t recall where.”

  “I
was Amanda’s therapist.” She blinked hard. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Clyde Tanger’s face grew red and splotchy. His chin dipped, and his gaze dropped to the floor. “Thank you. No one has ever said that to me.”

  There were so many things to ask, to say, but Brianne’s mouth was paralyzed by the shock of the encounter.

  “Well. Thanks.” He nodded, still not able to look at her eyes, then left the hall through a swinging door. Clanks and crashes of dishes and silverware escaped from the room he’d retreated into.

  Brianne braced a hand on the rough-textured wall.

  “Are you okay? Who was that?”

  She swallowed, tears forming in her eyes. “That was Clyde Tanger . . . Amanda’s father.”

  “Oh, Brianne.” Addison pulled her into a side hug.

  “I need to talk with him, but not now, not here.” She wiped a hand across the back of her neck. “I need to hear his side of the story.”

  “What good does that do anyone now? He served his time. He has a job and probably a new life.”

  “And he registers as a sex offender every time he moves. What if I saddled him with that forever, and it’s not even true?” Brianne picked at the peeling cuticle on her thumb. “I feel like I took part in destroying his life.”

  “Listen, I’m not Caroline’s biggest fan right now, but there’s something she’s said to me many times that makes a lot of sense, and I think you could stand to hear it.” Addison turned Brianne around and started guiding her toward the exit. Low country tunes hummed from the lounge, where a band had started playing. “She says we’re too big for our britches when we take responsibility for things that are ultimately out of our control. If we trust God, we trust that He can work through even the most upside-down situation. Then she always tops it off with this whammy: ‘You are not God.’”

  40

  No. I really don’t think the school secretary will be much help on the stand. She’s a behind-the-back kind of person, not the sort who’s willing to make a public statement.”

  Seth Wallace stood next to Emilia’s desk, waiting for a chance to speak.

  “I’ll get back to you as soon as I gather some more information.” Emilia hung up the phone. The DA had fully bought into the angle she’d given her, and though politics generally made Emilia’s stomach ache, they could be used on occasion to get criminals off the streets. “What’s up? I only have a minute. I need to get back to the hospital.”

  “How’s Roger doing?”

  Emilia felt the grin rise on her face. “Actually, he’s doing well. There’s some odd memory loss, but he’s closer to his old self than he has been since the accident.”

  Seth nodded. “That’s great news.”

  “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

  “No. Not all of it, anyway.” Seth took a seat on the edge of her desk. “So, listen, I’ve been seeing Brianne Demanno. Do you know who she is?”

  “The therapist who left after that girl killed herself, right?” Emilia had never met Brianne in person, but she’d found herself wondering about the character and strength of a woman who gave up so easily.

  “Yes. But she’s also the Kilbourns’ neighbor. She and Addison have become good friends.”

  Emilia leaned back in her desk chair, crossing her arms tight against her chest. “And?”

  “And, well, I think you may have missed something.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Give me a break. You’re not the kind of cop to come in here trying to sway a case because your girlfriend blinked her eyes and asked you to. Have some self-respect, Seth.”

  Seth held up a hand. “No way. She didn’t ask me to say anything, and she doesn’t know I am. This is for your benefit as much as anyone else’s. It turns out—and please do not say this information came from me—that the older Mrs. Kilbourn may have a problem with oxy.”

  Emilia shrugged. “That stinks, but I don’t see how this changes the case.”

  “Addison and Brianne are wondering if Caleb might have taken the medication by accident.”

  She pushed the chair back and got up. “Sure. By accident. I bet that would make all the difference to Georgianna Bosch’s children.”

  WHO DOESN’T KNOW the difference between oxy and over-the-counter pain relievers? No one over the age of twelve, that’s who. Emilia couldn’t shake the conversation with Seth. Had he really thought this would make a difference?

  Emilia ticked off the evidence against Caleb Kilbourn as she drove toward the hospital. The testimony of Harper and Ivy would go a long way to that end. How could a jury possibly acquit with their stories? Eyewitnesses who’d seen it all happen. Ivy’s emotional state could actually help the prosecution’s case.

  She parked in the patient pickup area behind a gigantic Ford F-150. Her engine sputtered to a stop. The last few nights without Roger at home, she’d gotten to sleep in her own bed. There was no tension, fear, or nervous energy, but she’d missed his presence. Almost losing him made having him so much more precious, even though he’d changed. Emilia rededicated herself to the commitment of in sickness and in health. She’d choose to love in times of illness and hope for health to return.

  The smell of the hospital always made her stomach swim. It brought back the fear and horror of the worst night of her life. It teased her heart with the hope she’d had when the doctor had said Roger would survive, and the disappointment when the man admitted a couple weeks later to a rehab facility was a shadow of the one she’d married.

  Today wasn’t any different.

  She rode the elevator to the second floor and walked down the corridor to Roger’s room like she had every day for the past week.

  The nurse met her at the door, a file folder under her arm. “There you are. Roger is ready to go, I just wanted to talk over a few items the doctor wants you to understand.”

  Emilia blew out a breath. “Okay.”

  She opened the folder and pulled out the top paper. “First, Roger is doing well. He’s struggling with headaches, but that’s to be expected. Dr. Harrison is concerned that the oxycodone may be causing rebound headaches. He feels it might be better for him to come completely off opioids.”

  Emilia’s shoulders ached as if the burden on her back had grown by another two hundred pounds. “He’s been dependent on those to survive the last months.”

  “I understand, but Dr. Harrison feels this will lead to a better long-term outcome.”

  It was so easy for people on the outside to determine what was best for their family. Would any of them be there when Roger was heaving and crying out in pain? Emilia would be able to hear the animal-like sounds that haunted her memories into her old age. That sound was something she could never escape.

  “My advice to you would be to give this a try for a few weeks. If he really can’t get by on the levels of ibuprofen Dr. Harrison suggests, bring it up to him again.”

  Emilia nodded, but inside, she started to die again. A little at a time, Roger’s pain was taking away her will. She took the folder from the nurse and entered the hospital room.

  Roger slumped in the wheelchair, his head in his hands.

  The migraines were back. And her husband was gone again.

  CALEB STOOD AT the edge of the lawn, looking down to where the ground dipped away from his feet.

  For a few moments, Addison just watched. She watched the sun as it sank below the horizon, painting the sky with colors that made her think of Brianne’s amazing artwork. She watched as the bats came from wherever they spent their days to dip and dive in the fading light, collecting their dinner of mosquitos. And she watched as her husband took in the freedom that hung in the balance of justice.

  She watched the man she’d always loved, the one who’d taught her she could trust another person. How easily she’d walked away from that trust when he couldn’t or wouldn’t answer her questions.

  Now Addison approached with caution, as if he were a stranger and not the man who’d slept next to her for fift
een years. She laid her hand on his upper arm.

  Without turning to look at her, Caleb covered her hand with his palm. “It’s beautiful out here.”

  “It is.”

  “This was why I wanted to move here now, rather than wait for the house to be finished.” He held out his arm toward the sky. “I didn’t want any of us to miss another summer of this. But we have. We lost the time because I did something stupid.”

  Her stomach fluttered as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Every joint took on the pain her heart could not contain. The breaking was starting before his confession.

  Caleb turned to her, took her chin in his hand. “I don’t remember, Addison. I’m not lying about that, but I obviously wasn’t with Jeff. I somehow took the oxycodone. I drank. I can almost see myself cheating too. But at the same time, I can’t believe I ever would. I’ve never wanted anyone other than you. I want you to know that, even though I can’t tell you exactly what I did, I’m so sorry, because, at the very least, I lied to you. You deserve so much better than this.”

  She’d thought this would be the moment when she’d walk away, take the children, and start a new life somewhere else. But she knew she would feel like a coward if she left without untangling the mess. Their vows had been for better or worse. This was worse than anything she’d imagined, but her children still needed their dad, and Addison, for whatever reason, still loved him. She leaned forward, her forehead on his chest, and Caleb covered the back of her head with his palm.

  Waves of guilt crashed over her. She pulled away. “Last weekend Brianne and I went to Darlington, to a restaurant named Virtue.”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “That sounds familiar. Have we been there before?”

  “It was my first time, but . . .” She wrapped her arms around herself, holding back the night’s chill. “I should have told you. You were there the night of the accident. It was on the credit card bill. I thought I could go and find out who you’d been with. I’m sorry. I didn’t handle this well.”

  He grabbed her arm. “Did you find out? What did they say?”