by V.
Elisabeth shook her head. “It doesn’t sound familiar.”
“It was written in French and translated into English.”
“I can look it up if you like.”
“I already checked the web and didn’t get any hits in either English or French. Maybe I got the title wrong.”
“Who told you about it?”
Sarah hesitated a moment. “Oh, uh... a friend mentioned it some time back. It might be a good book for you to read to our mystery guy.”
“What’s it about?”
“A girl in love with an older man, I believe.”
“Hmm.. .maybe your friend made up the title.” She leaned toward Sarah as if sharing a childish secret. “When I was in my teens, I loved to read Colette. Those books were considered very risque back when they were written, but even in the ’70s, they raised some eyebrows. So when anyone asked me what I was reading, I’d come up with something more tame.”
Sarah chuckled. “That’s amazing. I read Colette as well. I haven’t met anyone that knew about Colette in years.”
“Did you make up titles, too?”
“No, I didn’t, but some of my girlfriends would do that when their parents asked what they were reading. They even covered the book jacket with newsprint or sleeves from other books.”
“How come you didn’t have to?”
“My parents didn’t mind. They actually encouraged it.”
“Wow. They must have been very modern.”
Sarah shrugged. “Literary types.”
“No wonder. But why would our guy like to listen to a story about a young girl in love with an older man?”
“A little spice never hurt anyone,” Sarah winked.
“Why, Sarah!” Elisabeth elbowed her friend and giggled.
Their light demeanor turned sour as Sheriff Williams came down the hall toward them.
“I’ll stay with you if you like,” Elisabeth offered.
“Yes, thanks.”
As the Sheriff approached them, he took off his hat and nodded. “Elisabeth. Mrs. Thompson.”
They both nodded back and smiled politely.
“You have a nice family, Mrs. Thompson.”
“Thank you. My grandkids were very taken with you.”
A slight pink hue spread across Williams’s face. He cleared his throat. “Okay to talk now?” he asked Sarah.
“Sure. What can I do for you?”
Williams eyed Elisabeth who looked right back at him, smiled, and didn’t budge.
“Will you excuse us, Elisabeth?” Williams finally said.
“Billy, it’s okay with Sarah if I stay. Hope you don’t mind.”
The furrows on Williams’s forehead deepened in an expression of disapproval, but Elisabeth simply smiled, so he resigned himself to her presence.
“Very well; as you wish. Mrs. Thompson—”
“Please call me Sarah.”
“This is an investigation, ma’am, so if it’s all right with you, I’d prefer to keep it formal.”
Sarah nodded.
“Anyway,” Williams went on, “now that I’ve seen where you live, your family, and commitments, I’m even more puzzled that you experienced this ‘feeling’ and simply took off.”
“What’s so strange about that?” Elisabeth jumped in. “I have intuitions like that, too. Most people do. Why can’t you believe her? Walter says you’ve been a pest on this point.”
Sheriff Williams shot an angry glare at Elisabeth. “I’m sure you’ve got other patients to care for. This is official business. You better leave now, Elisabeth.”
This time the message came across loud and clear—there would be no arguing with him. Elisabeth shrugged and placed her hand reassuringly on Sarah’s arm. “Catch you later.” She shot the sheriff a cold stare. “Billy, you and I are going to have a chat.” And with that she turned away and marched down the corridor.
“Impossible woman,” an irritated Williams sputtered.
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
The sheriff glanced up the corridor, placed the tips of his fingers on Sarah’s elbow, and gently nudged her forward. “C’mon, Mrs. Thompson, let’s find a bit of privacy.”
The waiting room was empty, and they made their way to the nearest set of chairs. When Sarah sat down, he turned a chair around in front of her, straddled it, rested his arms on the back of the chair, and leaned forward. “Let’s talk.”
“I have no more information to give you, Sheriff. I’ve told you everything I know.”
“We’ll see,” he said curtly. “You must admit that your actions are a bit suspicious.”
Sarah’s eyes widened. “Suspicious? In what way?”
Williams held up a finger for every item on his list, pausing each time for effect. “First, you have this ‘feeling,’ then you find this injured guy, and now you come visit him all the time.”
“What’s suspicious about that?” she said, unfazed.
Williams couldn’t hide a sarcastic smirk as he raised his eyebrows. “Here you are, new to these parts.. .you’ve been here, what, about two years?”
Sarah nodded.
Williams went on. “Newlywed, surrounded by a loving family, and all of a sudden you’re driving all this way on icy roads to visit a total stranger every day since you found him.” He shook his head. “Your behavior goes way beyond that of a Good Samaritan, and that’s suspicious to me.” He leaned back and cocked his head.
“What are you implying?”
“C’mon, Mrs. Thompson, tell me the truth. Is this guy one of your old boyfriends and you’re afraid to tell your new hubby?”
Sarah bolted up from her chair and glared at him. “Listen, Sheriff Williams,” she stretched out his name with contempt. “You’re grasping at straws. Launching unfounded accusations and insults at me will not help you solve this crime. I don’t know him; he’s not one of my old boyfriends, but I do care what happens to him. Whether you like it or not I am a Good Samaritan, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you can find out what really happened, and help this man to put his life together again. I’ll let you get back to work.”
She spun on her heels and headed down the hall.
Williams shook his head as she walked out of the waiting room. “Feisty,” he muttered.
Sarah marched to the injured man’s room and sighed with relief when she found the door open and the nurses gone. Before she entered she peeked over her shoulder to make sure Williams wasn’t following her.
“Good morning,” the man said.
“Hi.” She smiled as she approached his bedside. “You’re looking a lot better; the swelling is really coming down.”
“Yes, I’m better,” he mumbled. “My head still throbs, though.”
“Any memories?”
“No. It’s maddening.”
“Well, in time it’ll all come back, I’m sure.”
“Sarah,” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“I have a feeling you’re the one.”
“The one?”
“Yes.”
“The one what?”
“The one who will help me.”
“Typical reaction toward a rescuer,” Dr. Lawrence whispered behind Sarah, making her jump.
“You startled me,” she said.
“I’m sorry, my dear. Hello, there, Daniel.”
“Good morning, Doc.”
“Daniel?” Sarah asked, glancing from doctor to patient and back again. “She hasn’t been told?” Dr. Lawrence asked Daniel who shrugged. He turned to Sarah. “Elisabeth and the nurses have named him that. They needed to call him something other than sir, and since she’s read him three or four books about Daniel Boone, they agreed on Daniel.”
“Better than no name at all,” the newly named Daniel added. “Doc, I heard what you whispered to Sarah.”
“Well,” Dr. Lawrence said, “it’s typical.”
“Nevertheless, that’s my impression,” Daniel said with conviction.
; “Do you have any other impressions about her?” the doctor asked.
“She’s going to help me find love,” Daniel said as he reached for her hand. Sarah held his hand in both of hers, a puzzled look in her eyes.
“You realize she’s married,” Dr. Lawrence admonished Daniel.
“Yes, Doc. I’ve met Conrad; I haven’t forgotten that. I’ve lost everything that precedes my being here.. .except for one thing.”
“What’s that?” the doctor asked, raising his eyebrows.
“I know I’ve been in search of peace and love and that Sarah is the one who’ll help me find them.”
Relieved, Sarah patted Daniel’s hand. “That’s a good sign, isn’t it, Doctor?” “Well,” Doctor Lawrence sighed, “yes and no. Time will tell.”
“But it means there’s something from his past that’s egging him on.”
“It’s possible.” Dr. Lawrence smiled at them. “But don’t count on it.” “What else could it be?” Daniel asked. “It’s got to be from my past. I’m certain.
“Well, if that’s the case, there’s no harm in hanging on to that belief, as long as you don’t do something hurtful to yourself or someone else.”
Daniel and Sarah gave the doctor puzzled looks.
“Listen, you two, caution is the operative word. If Elisabeth were here, I’d tell her as well. In cases of complete amnesia, as you’re exhibiting, patients sometimes latch onto an idea or notion that somehow has been”—he paused, searching for the right word—“picked up or grabbed by the mind—something someone said or the patient overheard. Then, just like that, the notion becomes entrenched, and the mind gives it credence. It’s like a lifeline; only it’s not real, it’s—”
“It is real for me, Doc.”
“All right, Daniel, I understand. Don’t go off on a fool’s errand. Take your time. And you too, Sarah, don’t rush things. The mind is a delicate instrument, and we need to tread carefully. In a week or so, Daniel will be discharged from the hospital, and we have to plan for his recovery as an outpatient. That should be our focus right now.” The doctor glanced at his watch. “I’d appreciate it if one of you would ask Elisabeth to come by and have a chat with me when she gets a chance.”
They nodded.
“Now, Sarah, I’d like some time with my patient.”
“Of course, Doctor. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Don’t forget, Sarah,” Daniel called out as she made her way to the door. “Forget?”
“You’re the one.”
Sarah smiled sheepishly and stepped out of the room, her stomach in knots.
CHAPTER 5
The film continued its uninvited play, focused on the young boy and his father leaving their house and heading down the street. Both wore black pants, short sleeve white shirts, and black ties.
The boy scampered excitedly about his father in an effort to get him to pick up the pace. “Wish Mom was with us. She loves dancing.”
“Maybe next year.”
“You’re going to come next year, too?”
“Sure, why not?”
“You’ve never agreed to come before, even when Mom begged. So I—” “Enough with the interrogation, son.”
They continued down the next block in silence.
The boy dashed across the street, looking back at his father and signaling for him to hurry up.
His father crossed the street leisurely, reaching the curb right behind a car with its windows steamed up. He peeked in on a young couple necking in the back seat. Banging on the car door, he yelled, “Linda Marie! Tony! You should be ashamed. Get out of there before I tell your parents.”
Embarrassed, the young lovers jumped out of the car and scurried down the street.
“Kids today have no morals,” the minister said, admiring his reflection in a car window and adjusting his tie. “I should’ve worn my blue shirt.”
“Mom said we had to wear white. You look fine, Dad, honest.” The boy walked backward in front of his father. “You’re going to like it. The whole town will be there, and they light up the park real nice, and the band is great, there’s lots of food and games and—”
“Calm down, son. You’re making me dizzy running around like that.” “Sorry. C’mon, it’s around the corner.”
“I’m well aware of where the park is,” Hugo said impatiently.
They turned the corner and crossed toward the park, passing underneath a huge hand-painted banner that spanned the entire street. It read: Amaray Annual Summer Picnic and Dance.
The normally quiet park vibrated with music and laughter. The dance platform at the center of the park was strewn with white lights, as were the trees that lined the periphery of the picnic area. More strings of lights adorned with fake ivy hung over the picnic tables giving the entire area a magical glow. “Look, Dad, I told you they have all kinds of booths and great food and—” “Mrs. Foster is reserving seats for us at their table.”
The boy stopped cold, while his father made his way into the park. After a few seconds, he raced after his father. “But you don’t approve of Mr. Foster. You said that lawyers like him are the vermin of the earth and that—”
“That’s enough, son.” His eyes scanned the park searching for the Fosters. “There they are.” With a huge smile, the minster shoved his bewildered son toward the Fosters’ table.
They arrived to find the Fosters and two other couples already seated. Most of the group was in their mid-forties and early fifties, well dressed, bejeweled, and elegantly coiffed. The table boasted countless bottles of wine, whiskey, gin, vodka, and brandy, along with mostly empty glasses of all types and sizes.
As the minister and his son approached, Mrs. Foster rushed forward and snatched the boy’s hand.
“You must be Danny. I’m so happy to finally meet you.” She glanced at Hugo and smiled. “Good evening, Minister, nice of you to accept our invitation.” She tilted her head and appraised the newcomers. “Aren’t you both fine-looking, all dressed up the same.”
A breathtaking woman of forty who could easily claim to be thirty, Mrs. Foster moved with an air of sensual abandon, her wavy auburn hair bouncing freely, her olive eyes filled with childlike malice. She wore a snug, low-cut, royal blue dress designed to accentuate her abundant cleavage, tied at the neck and waist leaving her back completely bare.
“Danny will sit by me,” she decreed unceremoniously, holding the boy’s hand tightly against her. “Minister, Andrew saved you the seat next to him.”
Mrs. Foster clearly relished being envied by all women and coveted by all men. Her appeal was not lost on young Danny who blushed and attempted to retrieve his hand, which she seemed unwilling to relinquish.
“Fine,” the minister answered with a forced smile. He made his way around the table shaking hands with the other guests. After the greetings he shuffled over to his place between Andrew Foster, a heavyset, balding man possessed with a booming voice and overwhelming laugh, and John Cleaves, a small, nervy man who reminded Hugo of a nervous rabbit.
“Decent of you to let us join you,” the minister said with exaggerated joy.
“So, Hugo, how’s the house of God these days?” Andrew Foster asked with a hint of sarcasm.
“Still looking for your salvation, Andrew. How’s the lawyering?” Hugo ignored the jab.
“Very profitable. Better than begging for money for that church of yours.”
“Begging? Is that what I do?” Hugo’s jaw was so tight the words barely made it out.
“Don’t let him rattle your chain,” John Cleaves interjected. “He’s a shyster. He’s bent out of shape ’cause he bought a new boat for a pretty penny, and no one’s paying attention to his bragging.”
“So he insults me?” Hugo glared at Andrew Foster.
“It’s not about you, Hugo, it’s about your church always asking for my hard-earned bread. That’s why I don’t set foot in it. I prefer to pour my dollars into my favorite prizes—the wife there and now my big new boat.”
&n
bsp; “I still say it’s too ostentatious, it’s like a floating whorehouse,” John said, sipping his drink.
“What do you care, John? You made a ton of money selling it to me.”
“Yeah, but I do share my profits with the house of God. That’s the difference between us. Besides, I did try to talk you into a more elegant boat, but you had to have it big and ostentatious.”
Andrew elbowed Hugo who looked uncomfortable with the conversation.
“Yeah, more elegant for three times the money.”
“You’re paying for quality.”
“I’ve told you I already got quality,” Andrew said with a wink and a nod toward his wife.
With the exception of Hugo, all the men chuckled. Their wives eyed one another, then sipped their drinks and whispered among themselves.
Uninterested in adult banter, Danny scanned the picnic tables searching for Ellie.
“Looking for someone in particular?” Mrs. Foster whispered in Danny’s ear.
Startled, he turned to find her close enough for her breath to caress his cheek and her breasts to press against his arm. He pulled away, but she quickly narrowed the gap again.
“The Millers. Are they here?” he asked, trying to change the direction of the encounter.
“The Millers? The folks who just moved here? Ah, you’re after that cute little girl of theirs.”
Danny blushed in spite of himself and tried to rise, but he was pinned between the table and Mrs. Foster. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to look at the booths.. .Going to check them out.”
She smiled seductively and gave the boy a small amount of room. He squirmed out of his seat, trying to cover his reaction to her proximity, but she caught his sleeve and pulled him back.
She leaned close enough to brush his ear with her lips as she whispered, “Maybe she’s at the kissing booth.”
He managed a timid smile, yanked his arm free, and rushed off, leaving her with a satisfied smile as he disappeared into the crowd.
Two rows of brightly colored booths faced each other along several hundred feet of the park, festooned with multicolored lights. The rides stood at one end of the walk created by the booths, while the food stands, kissing booth, and fortuneteller were clustered at the other.
