The Bear With No Name

by Zoe Chant

  “Apparently.”

  After checking his blood pressure, Pete took out a pen light and tested his pupillary reflexes. He seemed more and more worried as he went on.

  “What, are my pupils not responding?” the man asked.

  “Oh, no, not that. Everything checks out fine so far. I just... I need to go talk to Lauren. Hang in there.”

  Pete pulled Lauren aside, but the man could still hear their conversation anyway.

  “The Barstowe bridge is already closed to anything heavier than a car. That means heading an hour and half south to Pittsford. With the storm... Julie and the kids...” Pete trailed off, miserably.

  “I’ll be fine! It’s just a concussion!” the man yelled, waving Pete and Lauren back over. “I don’t need to go to a hospital right now. There’ll be plenty of time when the storm’s over. My only symptoms are headache and some photosensitivity–”

  “And amnesia!” Lauren interrupted. “Or did you forget about that?”

  “My point being,” he insisted, “I really don’t think I have a hematoma. Pupillary response is normal, no slurred speech, no gait problems, I’ve been lucid since I woke up...”

  Pete gave him a considering look. “Do you have medical training?” he asked.

  “I have no idea. But I know you need to be with your family right now.” He locked eyes with Pete, willing him to make the right choice. He could see Pete struggle with the decision, but finally he gave in.

  “Okay, no hospital. But you’re coming to stay at my house.”

  “No, he can stay with me,” Lauren said. “Let’s take the bear to Fran’s and then we can all go home.”

  And for all his brave words about feeling fine, the man could feel sleep trying to pull him under as soon as the ambulance hit the road. He held it off as long as he could, searching his mind for any clues to who he was or what he was doing there, but sleep won out, leaving his questions unanswered.

  Chapter 4

  Lauren had never seen rain like this before. It had already been a downpour by the time they made it to Fran’s; now it was more like a relentless attack of water. When Pete parked at her place, he gave her one last chance to change her mind.

  “It’s okay, really,” she insisted. “I feel like he’s my responsibility. And your kids are still getting over that stomach bug.” It was as close as she could come to her real reason without seeming ridiculous. She felt like the mysterious stranger was some gift that she had been entrusted with – something precious that was hers to protect.

  Lauren darted to the porch to unlock the door, gasping at the power of the deluge from the sky, while Pete helped their hiker out of the back of the ambulance.

  On the porch, Pete repeated what he’d already told her: “Wake him up every two hours to make sure he’s still responsive. And you,” he said, pointing to the man, “Be honest with her. If there’s a problem, I want to know about it. If something goes wrong, I will regret this for the rest of my life.”

  “I promise,” the man said seriously.

  “Okay. Be safe, you two,” Pete said and then dashed back out into the storm and drove away.

  Mrs. Randall in the bottom floor apartment must have heard the footsteps on the creaky porch, because she was already out in the foyer when they came in.

  “Lauren, thank goodness! I didn’t know if you were riding out the storm at work, or what happened! And who’s this?” she said, grabbing the hiker’s hand with her frail, bony one.

  “I’m not actually sure, ma’am,” he said politely.

  “Injured hiker, bump on the head, we’re taking him to the hospital as soon as the storm is over,” Lauren explained.

  “Well isn’t that exciting! A storm and a mystery! Now, if the power goes out, you just come and see me if you need any supplies. I have boxes and boxes of candles. And you should fill your bathtub with water, just in case.”

  “Good advice, Mrs. R. Now I’m going to go get him in bed.”

  “That’s exactly what I would do,” said the old lady, with a twinkle in her eye.

  “You are awful!” Lauren joked, turning away to try to hide her blush. The mystery man chuckled.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. R,” he added as they ascended the stairs.

  Once they were in her apartment and the door shut behind them, the reality of it all started to fully sink in. She was alone here with an impossibly beautiful injured man with no name. This was not a situation that she had prepared for!

  He must have been feeling just as awkward, because he waved toward the sofa and said, “I don’t want to drip all over your furniture...”

  Right, back to problem solving mode. She held up the bag that Pete had given her.

  “Pete’s gym bag. He said there’d be some sweats that should fit you. How about you go shower and change, and then we can bandage anything that needs bandaging.”

  The man disappeared into the bathroom, walking fairly steadily now, but Lauren called after him, “I just want you to know, if I hear you fall over I’m coming in there!”

  “Fair enough!” he called back.

  Lauren threw on some dry clothes, went to the kitchen, set some lentil soup to heating on the stove and put a frozen pizza in the toaster oven. She took time to dig out her flashlights and candles, just in case, and unpacked a few supplies from her backpack, like the camp stove. With any luck, all this preparation would be overkill. But just in case, after her shower, she would fill the tub too.

  Her mystery man rejoined her soon. Pete’s sweat shorts fit him just fine, but the t-shirt was just a little tight across the chest. It was absurdly hot. So were the damp curls brushing his forehead, and his strong yet graceful hands, and even his bare feet. Lauren tried not to stare.

  “Here, why don’t you eat some soup, and I can be on band-aid duty. What kind of soup person are you, mug or bowl?”

  “Mug,” he said, without thinking it over.

  “See, now you know something about yourself! I mean, it’s the wrong answer, ‘bowl’ should always be the answer, people who drink soup from mugs are from another planet, but at least you know!”

  “What? No! I just said the first thing that popped into my head!”

  “It’s like taking a multiple choice test in college – the first answer that pops into your head is usually the right answer. You don’t change it unless you have a really compelling reason.”

  “But –“

  “Just go with it.”

  The man laughed. It was the first time she’d seen him smile or laugh, and it transformed his already handsome face into something wonderful, full of life.

  He put his arm across his chest in a mock salute and said, “Thank you, fair maiden, for returning a part of my soul to me.”

  “Damn straight.”

  Lauren served up the soup and then grabbed her first aid kit.

  “I honestly don’t think anything needs bandaging,” he said.

  “Really? Nothing? Not even one band-aid? Because I don’t want you bleeding all over my stuff.”

  “Well, maybe that one scrape, there on the side of my knee.”

  Lauren knelt down before him.

  “Pshh, yeah, that totally needs a band-aid! Or maybe two or three! That’s like a gouge!”

  Lauren hoped that her banter didn’t betray the way that her heart was beating faster. Yes, she’d been closer to him than this before, when she helped him hike to the road. And yes, god yes, she had enjoyed it, but she’d also been extremely distracted by getting everyone out of danger. But now here they were, alone and safe, and she was about to touch him.

  She unwrapped the first bandage and applied it gently, smoothing the ends out. His skin was silky and the muscles beneath it were iron-hard.

  “So, do you think you might be a ‘rip the band-aid off’ person, or a ‘peel it slowly’ person?” she asked, for further distraction. He smelled clean and masculine, but also like her own herbal shampoo; it was like their smells had intertwined, like they were already tang
led together in bed. She tried to shut down that line of thought before she blushed again.

  “My gut instinct says rip it off, but I guess we’ll find out for sure in a few days,” he chuckled.

  Lauren did add a couple more to the long scrape. She heard him set down his soup. When she had smoothed out the last bandage, she looked up and found him staring down at her, wide-eyed with a look that seemed almost yearning. She left her hand resting on his knee.

  She cast around for some quip to break the tension of the moment. And just then, the power went out.

  Lauren gasped in surprise. The man startled and sat up straight, scanning for danger, and put his hand on her shoulder in a protective way. Quickly he seemed to realize that there was no real threat, and his hand slid down and off her arm, slowly and almost regretfully.

  With the lights out, the force of the storm was all the more apparent. Even though it was nearly noon, the sky was as dark as twilight. Howling wind spat rain at the windows and rattled them in their frames.

  “Candles or flashlights?” Lauren said with a rueful smile, pointing toward her emergency supplies.

  “Candles, definitely,” he said with a yawn. “I hate to leave you alone with this storm, but I think it’s time for me to lie down again..” He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

  “I’ll show you to the bedroom,” she said.

  “No, I can sleep on the couch, it’s fine!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll get much better rest in bed. And I’m not going to be sleeping anyway – I’m going to read by candlelight and wake you up every two hours.”

  And so Lauren got her mystery man tucked into her bed without any further arguments. She sat down with a battered copy of Little Women and tried very, very hard not to imagine what it would be like to join him there.

  Chapter 5

  The man woke up to find Lauren sitting beside him on the bed, shaking his shoulder. The storm raged on outside, and a candle flickered on the nightstand.

  “Check up time,” Lauren said. “What’s my name?”

  “Lauren.”

  “Lauren what?”

  He paused to think. “I’m pretty sure you never told me.”

  “Good catch!” she said with a smile. “It’s Lauren Gold. And what’s your name?”

  He opened his mouth, hoping an answer would just leap out like it did when she asked him about the soup. He felt like there might be an answer lurking in the shadows, like his mouth was ready to form a particular shape, but it remained maddeningly elusive.

  He had to admit, “I still don’t know.”

  “How about the year?”

  “Two thousand...” he paused to consider.

  “You’re in the right millennium!” Lauren said brightly, but he interrupted her before she could complete the answer.

  “Wait, I want to try to get this.” He imagined each of the numbers in turn, starting with 2001. Some of them felt more familiar than others, but each aroused some sort of emotion or reaction until he got to 2016. That one was a blank.

  “I’m going to guess 2015?” he said.

  “Yes! So did you remember, or did you figure it out somehow?”

  He explained his method, and it was Lauren who saw the potential in it.

  “So I could guess names, or professions, or home towns, and you could tell if they mean anything to you, even if you can’t remember the details.”

  “I guess so. But what if a name sounds really familiar to me because it’s the name of my worst enemy?”

  “Then we’ll just appreciate the irony once you get your memories back. But I really need something to call you. Do you want to nap some more or do you want to play the name game right now?”

  He stretched in bed and tilted and turned his head, testing things out.

  “I’m feeling a lot better, actually. Let’s do this now.”

  He moved up to sit against the headboard and patted the bed beside him. Lauren climbed over to join him. He was under the covers and she was on top of them, but it still felt warm and intimate to be together with her like this. The candlelight put a gorgeous glow on all her features. He’d known from the first moment that she was beautiful, but until now he’d been too stunned and distracted to really focus on all the little details that made her special.

  Her skin was tanned and rosy from working out in the sun, and she had a tiny sprinkle of freckles over her nose and cheeks. Her lips were full and generous, and so was her figure. Her dark brown curls were sun-lightened to russet at the ends, and they seemed to have an energy all their own, defying gravity and framing her face with a mass of tiny ringlets.

  Lauren looked up, and when their eyes met he felt again that overwhelming sense of connection. And once again, she was the first to look away. Did she not feel the same flare? Or did she feel it, but it was unwelcome?

  So he cleared his throat and settled his shoulders. Back to the mystery of his identity.

  “Well,” Lauren started out, “you look like you’re around thirty years old, so I’m going to try to visualize all the guys who were seniors when I was a freshman back in high school and throw out some popular names at you. How about Michael, Josh, or Ryan?”

  “No, no and no.”

  “You didn’t even think about it the way you did with the years. You’re sure?”

  “I’m not sure of anything, but I’m going with my gut. No.”

  “Daniel, Brandon, or Nicholas?”

  “Hmm … nope.”

  “Matthew? Jason? Balthazar?”

  The man laughed and Lauren leaned in, looking keen. “Okay, so what was funny?”

  “That name – Balthazar. It just doesn’t seem right. I don’t believe there were multiple Balthazars at your school.”

  “You’re right, more’s the pity; the world needs more Balthazars. But how did you know that wasn’t right? What exactly did you remember?”

  “I really have no idea. I’m not a neurologist.”

  “Or are you?” Lauren said, and they both cracked up laughing.

  It just felt so right, being here with her, huddled together and laughing in their tiny, charmed circle of candlelight. What did it matter what his name was, or where he came from? What could possibly be waiting for him back there that could be any better than this? But if she wanted him to have a name, that was okay by him.

  “Try some more,” he told her.

  “Justin? Anthony? David?”

  And suddenly he was struck with a memory. No details, no time or place or even faces, but he could hear someone saying that name to him, with a voice full of love.

  “David!” he said, struggling to recapture the feeling, grasping for more, but it all slipped away from him. “I felt something when you said David,” he explained to her. “It means something to me, I’m sure of it.”

  “David,” she said, reaching out and taking hold of his hand. “Nice to meet you, David.”

  Her touch was electric. Unbidden, his imagination supplied images of everything they could do in this bed together. He could imagine just how it would feel: first a gentle tug to pull her into his arms, then leaning down to taste that warm and rosy skin, maybe at the curve of her jaw and down her neck, then sinking down into the pillows together, arms and legs entwined.

  Quickly, he let go of her hand. After her kindness, it would be a complete betrayal for him to pressure her for more, especially since they were trapped here together.

  Lauren pulled her hand back. It took every ounce of his willpower not to grab it again.

  “Well, I guess I should let you rest some more!” Lauren said. She sounded like she was trying to pretend this wasn’t awkward. The cold, lost feeling started to come back just at the thought of her leaving the room, but he held it in.

  And then something she did gave him hope. She could have just gotten off the bed and walked around it to the door, but instead she crossed the bed again. She paused, kneeling by his feet, and smiled at him. A quick, bright smile that widened as he
smiled back at her until she was grinning from ear to ear, and he caught a faint scent of attraction and arousal.

  Then she bounced off the bed and told him, “See you in another two hours,” then shut the door behind her.

  He blew out the candle and lay back down. She was happy to have him here; he believed that now. And that was something to build on.

  And despite thinking that he wouldn’t sleep again, he was out in minutes.

  Chapter 6

  Lauren was having the strangest day of her life, no doubt about it. Her book sat on her lap, open but unread, and she found herself checking the clock every two minutes to see if it was time to visit David again.

  David. She was so glad to have a name for him. It made him seem more real, more solid. But still not real enough that she was willing to leave him here. She could hear music coming from Mrs. Randall’s; it sounded like the oldies station out of Sheldon. Mrs. R must have a battery-powered radio, and Lauren was tempted to go ask her for a weather update, because the storm continued with frightening intensity. But there was a part of Lauren that felt like if she left this apartment, David would vanish like a dream and something magical would be lost from her life forever.

  And so she sat on her futon and pretended to read, and replayed a handful of moments over and over: when their eyes met in the kitchen, just before the power went out; the surge of desire she felt when she took his hand and said his name; and last, that beautiful, brilliant smile of his just before she left the bedroom.

  It was crazy to think that he might want her, but that was what she saw, what she felt from him. And after all, a gorgeous man falling for her might be strange, but it wouldn’t be the strangest thing to happen even today!

  Finally the rain started to ease and the winds died down. From the corner window in her living room, Lauren could just glimpse Main Street, and she saw a surprising number of people going to and fro. Her curiosity wouldn’t be put off, but she couldn’t leave without waking David.

  He opened his eyes as soon as she came in, and from the way he looked immediately to the window she could tell he had noticed the difference, too.