The Passenger

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Really? Can you find me a glove?”

  “We can do that. Let’s go.” She started walking backwards.

  “Haley, can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can you take some pictures?”

  “For your wife?”

  Grant nodded. “I want her to see.”

  “Then absolutely, I will.”

  Grant thanked her. He’d follow her in his truck to the field, wherever that happened to be. He was happy and excited to be there. He wouldn’t be able to take the photos and was glad Haley agreed to it. If anything was going to convince Cate Jonas had amnesia, watching him play sports would be the thing.

  ◆◆◆

  “It’s not a figure eight,” Cate spoke softly to herself looking at the pictures Grant had sent. He asked in a text about the figure eight garden and where he had seen it.

  Cate just shook her head. How did he not remember?

  She wanted to reply, but it was late. Grant was probably in bed, she had already ignored replying for hours, it was pointless now.

  It frustrated her Grant didn’t know, didn’t recall it.

  It wasn’t a figure eight, it was an infinity symbol.

  When she saw the picture, she was even more convinced Jonas didn’t have amnesia. The colors, the shape, it was all an exact replica of a garden her and Jonas had planted years before.

  Many years.

  He was fourteen.

  Why that garden? Why redo it?

  The day she showed him the design, he thought it was cool. It was going to be difficult, but Cate explained to Jonas it was a symbol of never ending. Like the loop kept going, so would the beauty of the garden.

  It was a huge project she and Jonas took on that summer.

  He had such a gift with gardening, she had savored every moment they did something together.

  There she was, seventeen years later looking at a picture taken hours earlier that could have been taken over a decade before.

  And yet, there she was on a Saturday night, staring at the beauty of it, seeing the garden and again, like every weekend night, her mind became occupied with thoughts of Jonas.

  Only this night it wasn’t worry or concern, it was confusion.

  Even more so was the confusion while Cate was having her dinner, a number she didn’t know, started sending her images and videos.

  Hi, your husband asked me to send these to you.

  At first, she wondered who was this poor person Grant had pulled into Jonas’ web with him?

  Then she watched.

  Cate watched the video over and over.

  It spoke volumes in more ways than one.

  The ‘clunk’ sound as the ball hit the bat, followed by a cheer of a crowd. The person recording was a female, young, guessing by the voice when she first heard it.

  “Woo. Go Mr. Truett.”

  The video badly zoomed in and out as Grant ran the bases for a double.

  Cate smiled, he looked so happy and even looked young. A part of her envied Grant for just going with it. For embracing some sort of chance he thought was long gone or he’d never see again.

  A closeness with Jonas he had avoided for many years.

  It was undeniable, even by Grant, that his choice of ‘Tough love’ with Jonas was what had driven him to look for him until he found him

  The camera turned showing a beautiful young woman doing a selfie recording. Her brown hair in a sloppy ponytail. “We’re playing Crossroads Church today. Mr. Truett just drove in what could be the winning run. Oh, wait. Chip is up.”

  Chip?

  Then Cate saw Jonas at bat. The first time she watched the video, her heart literally skipped a beat. He was wearing shorts, longer ones, but his calves didn’t look like matchsticks and if she wasn’t mistaken, he had a little bit of a belly. It had to be the shirt.

  Jonas hit the ball and carried that bat halfway to first base. The girl cheered and Jonas kept running, trying to get a double like his father, but he was thrown out at second base after doing what Cate believed was the worst slide she had ever seen.

  “It’s Okay Chip! You tried.”

  She laid on the top of her bed, the phone in her hand, looking at the pictures over and over. Cate truly tried to justify why she was still at home. Why she wasn’t there cheering in the bleachers?

  Cate didn’t have it in her to be broken again.

  How many times had she been pulled into that scheme? The ‘I’m better and stronger’ act that turned on a dime more times than she could count.

  She wasn’t angry at Grant; in fact, she was happy he was having fun.

  Oddly, Cate carried a sense of peace at that moment, an ability to relax without needing Sleepy Time tea. Much like the nights Jonas was arrested. Instantly she didn’t worry about that middle of the night phone call saying he was dead. She knew he was safe, albeit in jail.

  Now he was safe again, his father nearby. Deep in some Nebraska small town, baking cookies, creating gardens, playing music and playing on a church softball team.

  A part of Cate knew it from the moment he vanished he was okay. She had that connection to him, and it was that connection that convinced her, Jonas was only one step away from doing it again.

  Throwing all caution, and his life, to the wind to live on the edge.

  Even with Jessie telling her the amnesia was real, Cate just didn’t buy it. She knew her son too well.

  Or she just didn’t want to believe it.

  Perhaps it was the fact of what she witnessed in the pictures, videos and texts was the wish of every mother of a wayward child. To see that child grow, change, find peace and be happy.

  It was all a fairytale Grant was being pulled into and Cate had to resist, because like all fairytales, eventually they all would come to an end.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  The coffee was good, Cate didn’t expect it to be. She took small sips because it stayed hot in her travel mug. The bench was comfortable enough for her and the weather was mild enough to enjoy sitting outside.

  She wished she would stop having bad memories. Memories that made her angry or convinced Jonas stint in Williams Peak wasn’t some spiritual rehab, but rather some twisted con. Why did she lack so much faith in her son? A change of tides. Now Grant was the one who had faith, not only in Jonas, but real faith.

  It was the first Sunday in years she had missed services. In a sense, she reasoned she wasn’t. Her mind did drift to one of those bad moment memories. Nothing anyone else would see as major, Cate did.

  She had gone to a resale bookstore and found an oversized, beautiful, hardback book of Charlton Heston bible interpretations. She was excited about it, had even showed Jonas.

  Instead of saying, “Oh, cool.” The young man who skirted death, who Cate felt should have dropped to his knees and been grateful he was alive, instead said, “Why do you believe in that crap?”

  “There’s no God, certainly not like you think.”

  He said that adamantly. She often wondered if he had said them because he really believed it or only to hurt Cate. Saying hurtful things to her was not unusual.

  People in the support group would tell her, “Oh, it’s not him talking, it’s the alcohol or the drugs.”

  Cate didn’t believe them, she believed truth came out of mouths when the mind was full of substance.

  Maybe she was wrong.

  She sat on that bench, thinking of the day he claimed to not believe while staring at a church, where her son was inside playing music and singing.

  She wasn’t going to go in. In fact, she arrived a couple days earlier than she told Grant. Slipped into Williams Peak quietly and unnoticed, or so she thought.

  “I thought he mumbled,” the gentleman said as he sat next to her on the bench.

  “The pastor, I thought he mumbled a little at the end.”

  “Um, yeah, he did. I had a hard time hearing.”

  “We’re sitting outside.” He extended his hand. “Joe. Some call me
Old Joe. I’m gonna bet, call it a hunch, that you’re Cate Truett.”

  “I am. You’re good.”

  “Nah, we just don’t get strangers much. So … are you here for the revealing?”

  Cate nodded. “Tuesday is exactly a month. Grant said they’re going to tell him. I want to be here for that. He doesn’t know they’re telling him, does he?”

  Joe shook his head. “No. He thinks he’s gonna do a fingerprint with the chief. I’m glad you came.”

  “People who know don’t think I’m a horrible mother for not showing up, do they?’

  Joe laughed. “No. Plus, I think Grant has been having the time of his life with him.”

  “It seems so. I’m not a cold person, I love my son. It was hard to come here.”

  “I get it. I do. Your son has amnesia, he wouldn’t know you anyhow, right?”

  “Does he?”

  “Yes, he does. Look,” Joe said. “The wife and I had an inkling about your boy, Grant confirmed it. I like to consider myself an expert in men like your son. People that took the wrong path. I know your reluctance. I know how easy it is to jump on the thought he is manipulating everyone. But I will say he isn’t. Besides, when you meet Pastor Rick, don’t be fooled by how nice he is. He’s smart as a whip when it comes to this. I can remember him telling me and my wife not to be fooled by our son. He knew every time Matthew wasn’t clean.”

  “I probably won’t meet him,” Cate said.

  “You will. So, why did you come early if you only want to hang in the shadows?”

  “I didn’t want to miss something I might not get a chance to ever see again,” Cate explained. “It’s the wish of every parent of an addict that their child will one day see the light, stop using, stop drinking, walk the straight path. I know it happens, but I just don’t see Jonas there yet.”

  “You haven’t seen him in a month. You haven’t seen what we have, what Grant has.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m here, once he knows, he’ll probably never pick up his guitar for Christ again.”

  “You don’t know that,” Joe said. “None of us do.”

  “He’s going to be mad. Not when we tell him, but when he remembers. When Jonas comes back. When hot-headed Jonas comes back, he is going to be livid about living this life.”

  “I don’t think Chip disappears when Jonas comes back. Not sure amnesia works that way, Joe said. “But I have to agree he might be mad. Mad at himself for making wrong choices. Mad at himself maybe for the way he was.”

  “So, you’ve been there?” Cate asked.

  “I have. Very similar circumstances, the outcome not as good. Our son fought with us one night. You know the drill, the intervention, trying to help. He disappeared. For weeks we couldn’t find him. Then we did. He was walking. Heavily under the influence. He fell, got hurt and died right there buried in the brush.”

  “Oh, oh, Joe, I am so sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Joe reached over and grabbed her hand. “But we are grateful for your son. Cate, he gave us a chance to reconcile our feelings about our own son. He has helped my wife and I more than you or he realized. By us being there for him, helping him, we had a second chance. And let me tell you, he’s made changes.”

  “Like what?”

  “See all of them cars for Sunday service? A month ago, there were ten cars. He’s brought the service up so much that people come here. The Chief. He has been chasing this passenger in the car with your son. I haven’t seen him have a purpose in a long time. Look at the church garden. It’s alive. Listen to the music Cate. I like it. No, I love it.”

  “It sounds wonderful.”

  “Bet it sounds better inside. What do you say we go in for the reprise? I really liked that song. I’m interested in hearing it closer.” Joe stood and held out his hand. “We’ll sit in the back. No one will see us. Let’s go hear your son and watch him play.”

  Cate took his hand and stood. She set her coffee cup on the bench.

  They started walking towards the church, the pastor was speaking over the soft music. Which told Cate he was wrapping up.

  Joe stopped walking just before he entered the church. “Well, how about that. I just thought of another thing your son has done.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When I lost my own boy, I stopped going to service. I said I would never walk into a Sunday Service again. The anger in me, thinking those praying, weren’t praying hard enough for my boy. Yet, here I am, about to go in because of your boy.”

  “Thank you, Joe. Thank you so much.”

  Joe smiled for her and opened the door.

  The music increased in volume and sounded so much better than outside. It wasn’t an upbeat song, it was a reflection one. The woman who sang was older and truly expelled the power and emotions behind the music.

  Joe inched her forward a few pews and pointed. A woman in the row turned. Her face seemed to light up when she saw Joe, and when Cate saw her smile, she knew it was the woman they called Maw-Maw.

  Haley sent several pictures of Jonas and Maw-Maw. In fact, the young woman communicated frequently with Cate. It wasn’t a guilt thing, she just wanted to give her updates.

  Had she not, she would have been shocked when she saw her son on that stage.

  He didn’t really face the congregation too much, too busy watching the other members, giving directions with a nod.

  Jonas not only looked happy, he looked healthy. She thought instantly of the one text and picture she got from Haley. ‘Day twenty-two, flavor twenty-two, peanut butter mint.’

  Jonas was enjoying himself, Cate cringed.

  A part of her felt like she was picking up her son from rehab, one she prayed would work.

  And there was a change in Grant. She hadn’t seen him look this happy or stress free in forever. It had also been years since she saw Grant play anything other than a few Christmas songs at get togethers.

  Cate sat back and enjoyed watching her family. She was glad she made the decision to come early. If it all changed when Jonas remembered who he was, she didn’t want to miss her chance of experiencing it.

  “What an uplifting day this is,” Pastor Rick stepped center altar, holding the microphone and a hand behind his back. “We learned a lot didn’t we? Thank you for coming today, for worshiping with us and remember … When you let it go, just as fast …” he raised his hidden hand. It wore a baseball glove. And no sooner did he lift it, a ball sailed across the altar from Grant and Pastor Rick caught it. “God takes it.” Pastor Rick said. “I have to tell you. We practiced that, but still … I was afraid I’d miss.” He looked at Grant.

  “Me, too,” Grant said.

  The congregation laughed.

  “God doesn’t miss, though,” Pastor Rick said. “Have a great week, be good to one another, and remember, you are loved. Please rise and sing praises with our band.”

  The intro to the song fell on the shoulders of Grant and Jonas.

  Jonas counted it off quietly to the drummer, turned to face the congregation and stepped to the microphone, when he did something that was rare for him. He struck a wrong chord.

  It was obvious and really off. Jonas had a frozen expression on his face.

  Pastor Rick covered. “Guess the band is a little stunned by my athletics.”

  Grant mouthed the words to Jonas, “What’s wrong?”

  Jonas shook his head and stared at Grant.

  Looking at the drummer, Grant counted the song again. This time Jonas played correctly. He missed the first chord of the introduction but jumped in and caught up.

  The song was upbeat and uplifting, Jonas sang as if he had to concentrate on every word. The end of the song was music with the four person backup singers, taking the chorus as the musical instruments in the band took it home.

  Something was up, Grant didn’t know what it was, but Jonas looked odd on stage.

  He stared at Grant, then made his way over toward the keyboard, playing and jamming the last part of the s
ong.

  When the last note played, after Jonas’ hand struck downward across the string, he lifted the guitar strap over his head, and handed the guitar to Grant. “Thank you.”

  He sounded different. Grant realized why when Jonas spun, raced down half the steps, jumped the rest of the way and called out, “Mom!”

  Cate had made her way out of her seat and into the side aisle. The song was over, and she wanted to leave and go back to the hotel. Her back turned, she heard it.

  “Mom.”

  Not only did she stop, but her heart did, too. She looked up.

  “Mom!”

  She hurriedly turned around, listening to the emotional call of her name, she didn’t move. How could she, she could barely breathe.

  Jonas pushed his way through, calling for her, His eyes finally making contact with Cate a few feet before he drew close.

  Jonas stopped, his shoulders bounced up and down. His face red and eyes glossed over with emotions. “Mom.” His voice cracked.

  Then in one long stride he reached out to her.

  Cate grabbed onto him; she clutched her son close. She was strong, holding it together, until she heard him weep. Grabbing on to her like a lost little boy.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

  Throat tightening, Cate choked on any words that could possibly come out. All she could do was hold on to him, cry with relief and joy. Her legs felt too weak to stand. She wasn’t letting go of him, not out of their embrace, not yet, maybe never.

  Haley watched. She sat behind the board when it happened. She wasn’t the only one who heard it, it seemed everyone, especially those who knew Chip’s situation, just stopped. Hand over her mouth, she had watched Jonas push through the crowd, calling out, over and over. “Mom! Mom!” until he found her, grabbed her and held out.

  Haley knew the reason he froze on stage. There was no doubt.

  The moment Jonas saw his mother, he remembered.

  He remembered it all.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  It wasn’t like he believed it would happen. Jonas had seen amnesia portrayed in movies and television before. It wasn’t some big giant wave of memories and suddenly he was alright. It was bit by bit, then blast. And the memories that came first weren’t good. They were arguments with his parents, things he had said, ugly things. The memories that had probably kept him from remembering.