by Suzi Davis
“Last week?” she repeated. “And you’re only telling me now?” Her voice became more shrill as she spoke. I winced, this was going to be bad.
I left my mother’s house several hours later, feeling truly exhausted. She had been more than a little displeased about my making wedding plans without consulting her and Susanna first. The afternoon had been full of criticisms, glares and sour comments, all directed at me. And that was not to mention all the new details she was now throwing at me: demanding a guest list, compiling a short-list of venues available for the ceremony and reception on December 9th, trying to get me to decide upon a photographer and a caterer, and a decorator, and the invitation details… it felt like she was punishing me.
It was probably because of my exhaustion that I didn’t look too closely at the unfamiliar car parked in the driveway, assuming that the Jensons had a friend over for dinner. I was preoccupied by my own tired thoughts as I walked up to the Jensons’ front door, playing absentmindedly with my necklace as I approached the front step. I didn’t notice the tall, dark shadow leaning against the doorframe until it suddenly moved. My heart leaped into my throat as he spoke in a voice that came straight from my past.
“Hi, Grace.”
My eyes snapped up to his forgotten, yet familiar, face and as our gazes locked, a memory flashed through my mind, clear and bright, and as hot as the sun. In my mind’s eye, he knelt before me, his face pale, unshed tears in his eyes. He was terrified because I knew the truth and he wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it. I knew that he and his friends were the ones who had beaten Sebastian nearly to death. And even though he had blamed Walter for pushing them to go too far, it was still Clarke who I felt the most rage towards. It was still Clarke who I had sworn I could never forgive. That I would never forget what he had done.
I stumbled on the Jensons’ bottom step, returning to the present as I only just caught my balance, nearly falling flat on my face. My mind was swirling with confusion. I had just remembered how Clarke and his friends had put Sebastian in the hospital last winter. And I had also just remembered Walter’s involvement in the violent attack—but why? It made no sense. My ex-boyfriend Clarke had been jealous of Sebastian, that much I remembered, but why had Walter wanted the boys to hurt Sebastian? And why had Walter, Clarke and the other boys gotten away with it? Had my mother had something to do with it too? How could I ever have forgotten? And hadn’t I dated Clarke again after that? I was dizzy with confusion. I squeezed my necklace tightly with one hand and grasped for the iron railing with the other. My head was throbbing with a piercing pain, as if the memories were trying to tear their way up from my subconscious.
“Grace, are you ok?” Clarke asked, alarmed. He hurried down the stairs to help steady me. As he touched my arm and our eyes met again, the missing memories came flying back to me in a flash of searing pain.
Chapter Four – Unexpected Guests
I stared up at Clarke, trying to focus as my mind was flooded with strange and convoluted memories. My head pounded in agony as if the memories were being physically hammered back into my brain, one by one.
I could remember the last time I saw him. It was the day Sebastian and I had left for our trip across Canada, but I hadn’t started the day with Sebastian. The day had begun with Clarke, I recalled. We were dating again even though it was not long after Sebastian’s attack, and he had proposed to me at my mother’s house with some ridiculous promise ring. He had said something… I still couldn’t remember quite what it was but Clarke had said something that jolted my memory. So the explosion in Greece wasn’t the first time I’d suffered memory loss. I could remember now that I had forgotten before, I had forgotten last spring. Only then, it wasn’t caused by an injury or an accident, it was because of Sebastian. Sebastian had made me forget him somehow—I was certain of it. He had somehow made me forget our whole relationship even though it shouldn’t have been possible. He had made me forget everything we’d been through, everything I felt for him. And so I had gotten back together with Clarke and I had almost moved to Vancouver with him until I suddenly remembered Sebastian again. But how? And why? How was it possible? What did it mean?
I strained with all my might to remember, ignoring Clarke who still clung onto my arm asking me something in an urgent, worried voice. I was so close, so close to remembering something important—something vital. I was sure of it.
I could remember confronting Sebastian that day, the day I had remembered him. I could remember my anger, my hurt, my outrage. And, oh God, I remembered how much I’d missed him. But then… my mind was blank. That was it. The memories ended as abruptly as they’d began. I knew there was more. I was certain that something had happened after that. Something important—something pinnacle to my life—but what? All I had were vague impressions and mundane still-frame flashes of memories from the next few months: camping across Canada, backpacking across Europe and then waking up in the hospital in Greece. But what had happened? How had Sebastian once made me forget? And had he done it again? Was my memory loss really just from the explosion?
“Grace!” Clarke’s voice demanded an answer. I reluctantly opened my eyes.
“Yes?” I calmly replied. Even in the low, evening light I could make out the concern written across his face. His eyes were wide, his brows pulled down.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I dismissed, gently pulling my arm from his grasp. He reluctantly let go. I took a moment to quickly smooth my hair, to try to sort through the mass of confusing memories that had just struck me. “What are you doing here?”
Clarke looked down at the ground uncomfortably. He’d lost some of the confident swagger that I remembered. This hesitant, uncertain boy was a lot more difficult to be angry with than the egotistical jerk who had nearly beaten my boyfriend to death because of his stupid, childish jealousy.
“I had heard you were back in town and, well, I wanted to come and see you. I knocked but no one answered,” he explained with a shrug. He looked at me, his golden eyes slowly taking me in with an almost shy smile. “You look great, Gracie. I like your hair like that.”
“Um, thanks.” I tried not to frown as I stared back at him. I hated to think it but he really was as handsome as ever. He’d grown a little taller and filled out a bit more since I’d last seen him. His shoulders had broadened and his physique was even more muscular. His hair was slightly longer and messier too, it suited him. Despite his good looks, I remained impervious to his charm. The memories of the wrongs he had done felt fresh. I continued impatiently. “Seriously, Clarke, what are you doing here? I haven’t spoken to you since June and I’ve been back for over a month now. If I’d wanted to talk to you, I would have called.”
“I know. I heard about the explosion you were in and how badly you were burned, and your memory loss. I wasn’t even sure if you would remember me. I was so worried about you, Grace.” He reached out a hand towards me but I took a quick step back.
“I remember everything about you.” The way I said it made him pause. He studied me with wary eyes. I didn’t want to play these games with him. I wanted to know why he was there and then I wanted to be done with him. I cut to the chase. “Have you heard that Sebastian and I are engaged?”
Annoyance flickered across his face. His strong jaw clenched, his brows pulled down slightly.
“Yes. Have you heard that I’m engaged?” he shot back.
“No, I haven’t.” I was honestly surprised. My mother must have known and there must have been a reason why she chose to keep it from me. “To who?” I asked curiously.
“You really haven’t heard?” Clarke sounded surprised himself, and almost a little hurt. I shook my head and he sighed. For some reason, he looked embarrassed. “Tanya,” he confessed.
An image of the tall, gorgeous, blue-eyed blonde flashed through my mind. She had always had her eye on Clarke and she’d always been cold and snobbish towards me, like most of the girls in Clarke’s group. I wasn’t sur
prised to hear they’d ended up together.
“I hadn’t heard you were dating. Congratulations.”
“We haven’t been dating for long,” Clarke confessed, looking down at the ground guiltily again. I couldn’t understand what was going on. I glanced up at the front door, wondering how long this was going to take and if I should invite Clarke inside? What would Sebastian think if he came home to that, I wondered? Would the sight of Clarke jog some of his memories also? Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible idea.
“Tanya’s pregnant,” Clarke blurted out. My jaw dropped. He continued on in a rush. “The day you walked out on me, I was heartbroken, Grace. Things were going so well between us—I still don’t understand what happened? I thought you’d be so excited about the ring I gave you and you just ran out of the house, straight back to him. And then you both disappeared, ran off together.” I could hear the hurt in his voice but I guessed that it was more injured pride than anything. I refused to feel sorry for him after all that he’d done. “I kept waiting for a call. I had no idea where you’d gone. Then your mother finally heard something: that you’d been to see your father and that Sebastian had asked him permission to marry you.” He paused to take a deep breath, shooting me an accusatory look. “Tanya kept calling me. I didn’t want to date her, she was never my type: more interested in my family’s name and money than me. And I was hoping once you came back, you’d come back to me too.” He was looking at the ground again. I tried my best to keep my expression neutral anyway, just in case he were to glance up. “It was just a casual thing between us. This was never supposed to happen. She told me she was on the pill!”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Of course he would see this as her fault.
“How far along is she?”
“Eight weeks,” Clarke mumbled bitterly. He was definitely pouting now. “She wants to keep it, she insists. I had to tell my parents. I thought my dad was going to kill me. After he calmed down, he phoned her father and they arranged everything; we’re getting married in two days. They don’t want anyone to know she’s already pregnant but I’m sure there will be rumors, the dates aren’t going to line up once the baby’s born. I haven’t told anyone… I don’t know why I told you.”
He looked completely forlorn. His eyes begged me for sympathy. I wasn’t sure if I had it in me.
“Why are you here?” I repeated, slightly more softly this time.
“I thought…” He paused, taking a deep breath and then starting again. “This is it, Grace. I’m getting married on Sunday, you’re engaged… this is our last chance to be together. We could run away…”
He noticed my expression and his voice trailed off. He at least had the decency to look ashamed. It took me several seconds to reign in my anger, to calm myself and choose the right words. I kept my voice level, using every last ounce of patience I had.
“This isn’t our last chance, this is our last goodbye,” I told him firmly. “There is no way you could have possibly convinced yourself that I was just waiting around to run away with you. What the hell, Clarke? You’re going to be a father and the first thing you do is try to find a way to run out on the mother of your child?”
“I knew it was a long shot,” he admitted, squirming uncomfortably beneath my heated glare. “I was just hoping, that maybe… Shit. I’m scared, Grace. I don’t know what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. I don’t know what I’m thinking. My life is ruined.”
He looked so genuinely miserable and afraid that I felt the beginnings of sympathy stir in my chest.
“Running away isn’t the answer.”
He nodded his agreement, looking ashamed. “I just… I didn’t know who to go to, Grace. No one knows she’s pregnant, I didn’t even mean to tell you. I just blurted it out without thinking; but really, I could use a friend,” he finished lamely. “It might be hard to believe, since I was so popular in high school but… I don’t have that many good friends. Not really.”
“Clarke,” I sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. My head was throbbing still and my legs were aching from standing around on the front walkway. Now that I could remember Clarke’s involvement in the attack against Sebastian last year, I knew I should hate him but for some reason, I still couldn’t. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt like Sebastian had forgiven Clarke—in fact, I was sure of it. I could vaguely remember Sebastian surprising me by not being angry when he’d discovered Clarke was to blame. Sebastian had been upset, I recalled. He’d almost felt like he deserved it somehow, like he deserved to be punished for something he’d done to me or something he’d done… a long time ago… What was it? What had happened? Why couldn’t I remember? The memory floated just out of reach. I was sure it was there, I could almost remember, almost complete my thoughts but each time I tried, I drew a blank. I wanted to remember so badly; I wanted Sebastian to remember too. I was tired of all these questions with no answers. But the harder I tried, the more my head hurt and throbbed with pain.
“Come inside,” I muttered as I brushed past Clarke and began unlocking the front door to the Jensons’ house. The Jensons often worked late but I was surprised Sebastian and David weren’t home yet.
“Thanks, Grace.” I could clearly hear the relief in Clarke’s voice and it made me feel a little better. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was doing but I was hoping it was the right thing. Clarke needed someone to talk to, and I needed my memories back—and answers. Perhaps we could help each other.
Since neither of us had eaten dinner I made coffee and sandwiches and we sat down in the living room in front of the unlit fireplace. Clarke did most of the talking. He told me how he wasn’t ready to be a father, how nervous he was and afraid, how he didn’t want the responsibility and he didn’t even really like kids. He told me how he didn’t love Tanya, how he barely even liked her. He complained about the overwhelming amount of pressure from his parents to “do the right thing” and to uphold their family’s reputation. He whined that it was all Tanya’s fault and it wasn’t fair that everyone was blaming him. He pouted about the fact that he was going to have to reject the rugby scholarship he’d been offered to University of British Columbia since his father wanted him to start working now that he was going to have a wife and child to support. Of course, “work” meant running one his father’s many businesses for him.
“My life is really messed up, Grace,” Clarke sulked, glancing at me, his hazel eyes wide and appealing for my sympathy. I frowned back.
“Do you want to hear what I think?”
He paused to consider. Clarke had never really liked to hear what I thought unless it was in agreement with him. I continued on without waiting for his permission, deciding that whether he liked it or not, this was something he needed to hear.
“I think you need to grow up and be happy with all that you have. You’re marrying a beautiful girl who idolizes you, from a family nearly as wealthy and prestigious as your own; what shame is there in that? Your father is giving you work and buying you and Tanya a beautiful home. And in less than nine months, you’re going to have a child. A tiny, perfect combination of you and Tanya that your whole world is about to revolve around. Maybe it wasn’t all planned, maybe this isn’t what you thought you wanted for your future but maybe you were wrong? Why can’t this be a good thing?”
Throughout my little rant, I had watched Clarke’s expression shift from pouty to annoyed to his current look of hesitant consideration.
“You don’t think my life is ruined?” he quietly asked, his brows pulled down low over his eyes.
“No. I think it might be saved,” I replied honestly. “This baby is going to be the best thing that ever happened to you, I know it.” And it was true. I could see hope for Clarke. I could picture him as a loving and doting father, a hard-working provider who cared for his family. I could imagine this changing him. I could picture him growing into a mature and dependable man. This idea suited him better than the spoiled rich boy, partying at university and taking advantage of his father’s name
and influence.
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Clarke mumbled. He looked up, his eyes brighter, his expression a little less troubled than when we’d first sat down. “Thanks, Gracie. I knew you’d be able to help.” He leaned forward to squeeze my hand, his gratitude surprisingly genuine and appreciative. I found myself smiling and squeezing his hand back. And that was when Sebastian walked in on us.
Both our heads turned as the door swung open and Sebastian walked into the room, a ready and curious smile on his face. His mirth disappeared as his eyes fell upon us. As he took in Clarke’s hand squeezing mine, resting lightly upon my thigh his eyes seemed to darken. He glared at Clarke for only a split-second, before his eyes widened, his face paled and he came to a stumbling halt. The breath rushed from his lips in a stifled gasp, his eyes scrunched up in pain as he swayed on his feet. And then his eyes flew open again and he stared at us with bewildered, unfocused eyes.
It had only lasted seconds, but there was no doubt in my mind that Sebastian had just remembered something. The sight of Clarke must have triggered some lost memories for him, just as it had for me.
His eyes refocused on Clarke’s face. Before I could speak, I watched as Sebastian’s expression shifted into that of a stranger’s. His eyes were black with fury, his mouth grim, his fists clenched, his muscles rigid with anger. He took a menacing step forward and I felt a chill run down my spine.
“Get your hands off her,” he warned Clarke, his voice a low growl. He didn’t sound at all like himself.
Clarke slowly leant backwards, sliding his hands from mine. He watched Sebastian warily, his eyes wide.
“Sebastian—” I began but he ignored me, his coal black eyes burning into Clarke’s.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice soft but chilling. “You had better not be trying to take what I want. Grace is mine,” he warned, a dangerous edge to his words. I stared at him incredulously: what the hell was going on?
