Jared

by Lori Wilde

  First, he’d gotten hooked on television. Daytime soaps, talk shows, cartoons, game shows, and educational TV. He loved it all. Especially commercials. And he wanted her to buy him everything from the sugary cereal with a prize in the box to almost every sports car he saw advertised.

  Then there was the phone. He’d started out taking pictures of everything new he encountered...and it was all new.

  After he got the hang of the internet, he hopped around from site to site. If he’d been confused by the horoscope predictions, he was absolutely repulsed by the assortment of skin conditions that could afflict humans.

  He’d been quiet for a while before he’d broken the silence to call out to her.

  “Why would a woman I’ve never met want to tell me what she’s wearing under her dress?” he’d asked.

  Needless to say, Kimber quickly shut down the chat session he’d joined and suggested he stay off the internet until she could steer him to more family-friendly fare.

  Turning off the stove, Kimber stacked the pancakes on plates, then poured two cups of coffee...black for him and cream and sugar for herself. A large tray accommodated the load, and she carried it to the den where she’d last seen Jerry sitting with his leg in that gaudy orange cast propped on the sofa.

  He was nowhere to be found.

  Kimber set the tray on the coffee table and went to look for him. As she headed down the short hallway, she saw that the bathroom was empty. The library, where she often caught him looking things up in the encyclopedia or dictionary, stood vacant.

  Then she heard his deep voice coming from the guest bedroom. “Sure, I’d be glad to, but would you mind telling me what I should hold on to?”

  She peeked in the open doorway and found him sitting on the bed with the phone to his ear.

  Jerry looked up and smiled, the expression open and warm. It was an endearing gesture, and Kimber tried not to be affected by it.

  He was just as handsome as when she’d first met him, and much more endearing, but she had to keep reminding herself that the real Gerald would eventually return and replace this adorable Jerry with the man who had cheated on her and lied to her about it.

  He placed his hand over the mouthpiece. “This guy told me to hold on, and then he started playing music for me. It’s really thoughtful of him, but I wish he’d stop for a moment and talk to me.”

  Kimber crossed into the room and sat on the bed beside him. “Who’s on the phone?”

  “Besides me?”

  Patience, the doctor had told her. Have patience. “Yes, besides you.”

  “The guy on television who wanted to give me more information about life insurance.”

  “But you have plenty of insurance as an employee benefit with my father’s company.”

  “Oh, no, this is for you.”

  She stared at the man who suddenly seemed so concerned about her, but his attention was diverted by the salesperson who had come back on the line.

  “Yeah, it’s for my friend,” Jerry said. “How much will it cost to ensure that she lives at least another fifty or sixty years?”

  Kimber continued staring as his face took on an expression of disbelief. He slowly hung up the phone, apparently stunned by what he’d heard.

  “What did he say?” she asked.

  “I don’t know why anyone would want to,” Jerry said, “but he told me to put the phone somewhere that I don’t think it will fit.”

  If she’d been on the receiving end of that call, she too would have been convinced it was a prank call.

  “He must have thought you were joking,” she offered in an effort to undo the effect of the salesman’s harsh words.

  Unlike the pre-accident Gerald, Jerry was at a loss for dealing with various types of stress. When the doctor had told her he would suffer memory loss, she hadn’t thought it would extend to such basic life knowledge. Jerry was certainly keeping her busy as she tried to teach him all the things he’d formerly known.

  “Buying life insurance doesn’t ensure that you’ll continue to live,” she explained. “It just means that when you die, the insurance company will give a predetermined amount of money to your survivors so they can pay your burial expenses.”

  He seemed genuinely surprised. “Then why don’t they call it death insurance?”

  Kimber shrugged, then put the phone back on the nightstand. “Come on, breakfast is waiting for you in the den. I made banana pancakes just like you asked.”

  She stood and offered an arm to help him up, but he insisted on getting to his feet under his own steam. When he was balanced against his crutches, she led the way into the hall toward the adjoining room.

  It wasn’t until she heard the thud and crash that she realized he hadn’t followed her out of the room. Dashing back to the bedroom, she found him lying in a heap on the floor, one crutch thrown to the side and the other balanced on his chest.

  “Jerry, are you all right?” She ran and knelt beside him as he tried to struggle to a sitting position. “Don’t move until we’re sure you haven’t broken anything else.”

  With a light touch, afraid that even a slight pressure could cause further damage, she ran her hands gently over his arms, body, and legs to check for possible broken bones.

  “Does that hurt?” she asked.

  He closed his eyes. “No, it feels great.”

  She jerked her hands away as if she’d been burned. It was enough that she was taking care of him these next couple of weeks. She certainly didn’t want him to get the impression he could expect anything more than room, board, and a bit of compassion.

  Kimber helped him to his feet. “What happened?”

  He lowered his head and gave her a sheepish grin. “I tried to take a shortcut through the wall.”

  She felt her eyebrows draw together. “You can’t go through walls.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed. “Not anymore, I can’t.”

  “Huh?”

  Jerry rubbed his head. “Human bodies can’t transmogrify.”

  Again, Kimber led the way to the hall, but this time she watched her charge closely to make sure he followed her. “I think you’d better lay off the cartoons for a while,” she advised as he made his way to the den and lowered himself onto the sofa.

  With his hands, Jerry moved his leg up onto the cushions and sniffed the air appreciatively.

  “Smells great,” he said of the food on the coffee table.

  “Thanks. I hope you like it.” And she did. Despite the angry way in which they’d parted and the constant annoyances he had caused her since he was released from the hospital, it was fun watching him get so excited over small things.

  Before the accident, it would have taken a drastic improvement in the stock market or the opportunity to travel abroad and do some skiing to elicit anything more than a benign, controlled smile from him.

  Jerry dug into the breakfast she’d prepared for him, and Kimber watched with delight as his expression changed from hopeful anticipation to pure ecstasy. It had taken some practice, and she was glad to see he’d finally mastered the use of a fork. His attitude changed after he sampled the coffee.

  “No offense,” he said, “but this is disgusting.”

  Kimber put down her fork. “You’ve always loved black coffee. Said you couldn’t make it through the day without at least three cups.”

  Jerry grew quiet. “I told you before...I’m a different man now.” He looked at her with such silent intensity it seemed as though he was trying to convey some truth, some deep meaning along with the words.

  The silence stretched out. Was he trying to win her back? Did he remember what he’d done to cause their breakup? For that matter, did he even remember their breakup? Was he telling her that the accident had made him a changed man and that he wouldn’t cheat on her again?

  No, she was convinced he remembered nothing from before the car crash. It was as if Gerald had received a personality transplant. Dr. Warren had told her he may have suffered some brain i
njury, which would account for some unlikely behavior, but she’d never expected he’d be like a totally different person. Why, he even insisted on a different name for the new personality he’d become.

  She could drive herself crazy if she tried to understand it. Perhaps it would be best to gradually reintroduce him to familiar things that might help him recall his past. In the meantime, she’d let him stay here until his body and mind healed enough for him to move back to his condo without further injuring himself or burning the place down.

  And if, in the meantime, she enjoyed the company of the sweet, thoughtful man who complimented her and made her laugh, what would be the harm in that? Before long, he would regain his memory and resume his relationship with that woman he’d taken to the motel.

  Her teeth clenched at the memory, but she pushed aside the hurt feelings that arose whenever she thought of that fateful day.

  “Here,” she said and handed him her coffee mug. “Try mine. Maybe you’ll like it better.”

  He sipped it, and she watched as he touched his lips to the rim of the mug and drank the sweetened beverage. After he sampled it, his handsome mouth turned downward at both corners. He handed it back to her.

  “No, thanks.”

  She got up and went to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice. When she came back, he was staring at her once again in that odd, penetrating way of his.

  She set the juice down in front of him, but he ignored it.

  “I’m sorry you’re having to miss work on account of me.”

  At first, she thought he was joking. The old Gerald would have expected as much as his due for merely existing. But when she saw how sincere he was, she gave a little shrug.

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

  “Did Gerald...do I have any relatives? Maybe someone else I could stay with?”

  She’d answered so many questions about mundane, everyday things that she was surprised it had taken him so long to get around to asking about his past.

  Perhaps what she told him would help jar his memory, and although anything she said to him at this point would be new information, she didn’t want to shock or hurt him.

  “Your parents are gone.” At his questioning glance, she added, “Your father left when you were a baby, and your mother passed away when you were a teenager. Your only relative is your Aunt Rowena who lives in a nursing home.”

  She didn’t bother to mention that he would have had a wife if only he hadn’t betrayed the love she’d offered him.

  He twisted on the sofa and moved his leg to the cleared portion of the coffee table so he could face her. “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  Forgetting about the wobbly chair leg, she scooted back into the cushions, causing the furniture to resettle with a thunk.

  Jerry moved forward as if to catch her in case she fell.

  “I’m okay,” she told him. “It’s done this before.”

  “Why don’t you sit over here?” Jerry said, patting the sofa cushion beside him. “I’d feel terrible if you got hurt.”

  Kimber had to do a double take. It was hard to believe this was the same man who’d made a grid of dates and took bets from their coworkers on when the chair would finally collapse under her.

  When she saw that he wasn’t joking, she took him up on his offer.

  “This place could use a little work,” he said once she’d settled beside him. “I noticed a loose step on the front porch, and last night when you went upstairs to your room, the banister swayed under your hand. If you’ll show me where your tools are, I’ll try to fix some of the stuff around here.”

  He was right. There were quite a few things that needed fixing in this old farmhouse. But Gerald had never before offered to do any of the handiwork, partly because he considered it beneath him to do “common labor” and partly because he hated the big white farmhouse she’d bought outside the city.

  He kept insisting that they would buy a newer, bigger house to settle into once they were married. A McMansion with groundskeepers and HOA membership. Gerald had considered it wasted effort to fix up a house he wouldn’t ultimately live in. Although she’d agreed to their engagement, they’d never finished working out where they would live.

  And now he was offering to roll up his sleeves and be her live-in handyman despite the encumbrance of a cast on his leg.

  “There’s no need,” she said. Eventually, she would get around to doing the chores herself, or she would hire someone to do the work after she was finished with the big project she was working on at the office. “I’ll take care of it before long.”

  But that wasn’t soon enough to suit Jerry. He made her promise to show him where she kept her tools so he could start work after breakfast.

  HE SHIFTED ON THE SOFA so that he faced her. Once situated, he decided instead to pursue the line of questioning he’d started earlier. The more he knew about her, the easier it would be to protect her. And having her think he suffered from amnesia was a convenient tool for getting the information he needed.

  “We never finished talking about you,” he said. “Tell me about your family.”

  For the next half hour, she told him about her father, Maxwell, her young stepmother, Alison, and her own single-child status. Jerry soaked up the warmth of the room as well as the warmth in her voice.

  The house and its furnishings reminded him of her. It was simple and unpretentious, but still classic and welcoming.

  The old white frame house was situated in the middle of forty acres, about half of which were cleared. A small lake behind the house invited quiet introspection and meditation at its edge, and a barn gave shelter to the assorted wild geese and ducks that congregated near the water.

  The inside of the house that most clearly displayed Kimber’s personality. The blue overstuffed sofa and chair invited inhabitants to put their feet up, and the wood theme of floors and half-paneled walls gave an earthy feel.

  It was a house a man could feel comfortable in, but the ruffled curtains and thick blue-and-cream rug saved it from appearing masculine.

  He knew from his forays into her library that she was an eclectic reader, sampling everything from the classics to science fiction, mystery, and romance. He had been pleased to note that not only did a Bible sit amid her collection, but it appeared by its worn condition to be well read.

  As she told him about her father’s thriving bakery business whose distribution covered a three-state region, Jerry took in the assorted magazine pictures of horses adorning the walls. On the fireplace mantel sat a framed photo of a young girl perched atop a pony while a man stood nearby holding the reins and smiling down at his tiny charge.

  When she finished describing their planned expansion of the company, he changed the subject. “Why don’t you have any horses in the barn?”

  She rolled her eyes and lolled back against the sofa. “That’s one reason I bought this place...so I’d have a place to keep the horses I’ve always wanted. But the business expansion keeps me so busy I don’t have time to care for an animal right now. Not even a cat, which is about as low maintenance as you can get.”

  “How long until you’ve finished the expansion?”

  “As soon as six months or as long as two or even three years, depending on how things go.”

  He scratched his head. “I noticed a rosebush at the corner of the house. Do you ever take time to stop and smell the roses?”

  Now it was Kimber’s turn to scratch her head. If this question had been asked before Gerald’s accident, she would have known he was joking.

  But now...well, she just wasn’t sure. “You are lecturing me about stopping to smell the roses?”

  He grinned, the action deepening the small dimple in his left cheek. His whiskery cheek. Kimber had never seen him unshaven before, and she couldn’t help noticing that the casual look on him was anything but casual.

  It made him look darker, more brooding, and more powerful than the clean-cut, three-piece-suited man
she was accustomed to. Not even the gentle charm of his grin could lessen her gut level response.

  In fact, the contrast actually emphasized the depth of his blue eyes and the sharp angle of his jaw.

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “Of course it does. You’re the workaholic pot calling me a black kettle. You were the one who talked Daddy and me into the expansion in the first place.”

  Jerry frowned slightly as he took in what she was saying. “Did I work with you and your father at Barnett’s Bakery?”

  “Yes,” she said gently, “and you worked just as hard or harder than both of us to get the merger started.”

  “I did?”

  Kimber nodded. Her bangs fell forward and tickled her eyebrows. She hadn’t taken the time to mousse her hair this morning after her shower, and now her chin-length auburn hair swung softly around her face in free abandon.

  “Then it’s about time I changed my ways,” he confessed.

  “That’ll be the day.”

  The doctor hadn’t said whether Jerry would remember his recovery period once he regained his previous memories.

  However, Kimber felt sure that once he recalled the events and motivations that had led him to become the person he’d once been, he would most likely go back to being the old Gerald. As for right now, he probably felt vulnerable and lost, which accounted for this new attitude of his.

  “No, I’m serious,” he said.

  He touched her arm, and Kimber shrank from the warmth of his touch. No matter how appealing he might be at the moment, she knew that, like a puppy that eventually outgrows its cuteness, Jerry would leave behind the innocence and charm that now warmed her heart.

  She expected he would probably also go back to the woman he’d been seeing. Her recoil didn’t go unnoticed by Jerry, and he removed his hand from her arm.

  “It’s obvious that you and Gerald...uh, you and I...have our priorities mixed up. It’s impossible to enjoy the good things we have when we’re so busy working to acquire more.”