Into The Storm

by Melanie Moreland

  He turned to me. “Come, Elizabeth.”

  I stood up shakily, nervous at the abrupt change in his demeanor. He turned back to Daniel. “I apologize. I’m simply anxious to get Elizabeth home. And, of course I will make sure she is seen by our doctor. I appreciate the concern for my wife, but it’s not necessary.”

  Daniel nodded silently, his brow furrowed.

  Brian turned back to me, holding his coat in his hands. “Wear this Elizabeth. I don’t want anyone to see you like that.”

  Again, I looked down. I was clean and tidy. Did it really matter? But again, I accepted his decree and allowed him to drape the coat over my shoulders. His arm came around me and he escorted me to the door. There was no comfort in his touch, only a sense of being trapped. I felt the stirrings of panic again as I realized what was happening. I was leaving the last piece of Joshua behind. I turned and caught Cecilia’s eye silently, desperately wanting her to know what I was saying.

  Look after him.

  Her nod was barely noticeable.

  “Take care, Elizabeth,” she murmured.

  I smiled tremulously. I couldn’t speak. Brian guided me firmly to the elevator. “The car is downstairs and we are well-secured. No one will see us leave.”

  I nodded, unsure what I was supposed to say to that remark.

  The elevator doors closed and, abruptly, it hit me.

  I was alone.

  The car ride was quiet. Brian’s lawyer left in his own car, and other than being introduced briefly to his assistant, Randy, my presence was ignored. I looked out the window watching the bustling city go by. None of it looked familiar to me. Brian spoke at length with Randy, listing off items he wanted done. First apparently was that the shoes he was wearing be thrown out and his suit taken to the cleaners. So much for no harm done, it would seem.

  We entered through the gates and pulled up in front of a large, imposing stone house. I gazed at it then turned to Brian. “This is where we live?” I asked quietly.

  “Yes,” he confirmed. “This is my house.”

  I didn’t fail to notice his emphasis on my house.

  He helped me out of the car and we entered. I walked in ahead of him and stood looking around the grand entrance. It was so … austere. There was nothing warm or welcoming about it. I shivered. Or was it just how I was feeling about this strange homecoming? Nothing felt welcoming.

  A woman came from the hall. “Mr. James. Mrs. James. Welcome home. Your room is waiting and I will bring up tea when you are settled.”

  Brian nodded. “Mrs. James will be resting the remainder of the day. No visitors. Take what she is wearing and get rid of it. She doesn’t want any reminders of the past few weeks.” He turned to Randy. “Wait in the den. I will be down soon.” Then he grabbed my elbow and escorted me to the staircase.

  I allowed him to lead me upstairs and into a large bedroom. I looked around trying to find something familiar. Brian cleared his throat and I turned to look at him. He stared at me for a minute.

  “I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer him. “You were looking for me though?” I said quietly, knowing I had to try and establish a connection with this man.

  He nodded. He made no move toward me. I was unsure if he was waiting for me to move to him or what I should do next. I noticed his hands were clenched at his side and he appeared tense. His stance wasn’t helping ease my nerves at all.

  He finally spoke. “I’m sure this must all feel very strange to you. I am told you have no recollection of who you are? Or of our life together?”

  “No, none,” I whispered. “The first thing I recall is waking up in the care home.”

  He frowned. “Dr. Tate informed me he thinks this is perhaps a permanent condition.”

  I blinked. I hadn’t been told that. Unsure what to say, I murmured, “I’m sorry.”

  He stood looking at me, a strange expression on his face. “We’ll discuss that later. I have matters to attend to downstairs. Mrs. Smith will bring you your tea. You can change into your own clothes and rest. I will come up later and go over the staff and your duties. I’m sure you’ll feel better once you understand what is expected of you.” With those words, he walked out.

  I sat down feeling disoriented after his speech, which felt like a string of orders.

  Was he always so formal?

  My duties? What was expected of me? Was I his wife or a member of his staff?

  Where was the man who had broken down in front of the camera desperate to have me back? I shook my head, my heart heavy and my thoughts chaotic.

  What have you sent me back to, Joshua?

  I was still sitting on the edge of the bed when Mrs. Smith appeared with a tray. She placed it on the bedside table. “You haven’t changed yet?”

  I looked at her blankly. “I, um, I don’t know where anything is,” I admitted quietly.

  Her stern expression softened. “So, it’s true. You have no memory?”

  I shook my head.

  She walked around the room and indicated the bathroom door and then opened a set of double doors. “Here is your closet and dressing room.” I followed her and stood looking at the large room. Rows of clothing hung neatly. A large set of drawers was at the end. I glanced at the racks; all blacks, browns, and navy. Suits, skirts, dresses; all organized and tidy. Blouses in white and black and beige hung in an orderly fashion. Shoes and boots were lined up straight. I looked at Mrs. Smith, confused. “Do I have anything, um, less structured?”

  She pursed her lips. “Mr. James does not approve of looking casual very much. I would think, for today, it would be all right for you to wear your night clothes since you will not be leaving your room.”

  I looked at her stunned. He did not approve of casual clothes? I was expected to be dressed-up all the time?

  She leaned forward confidentially. “You have a few items you wear when he is away and you are alone. But I think, today, you should just use one of your nightdresses.” Then she gave me a small squeeze on my arm and a smile. “I will leave you to change and be back to collect your clothes. I have been instructed to dispose of them.”

  I shook my head. “No, please. I want … I want to keep them.”

  She looked at me for a minute then shrugged. “You have to give me something,” she said quietly.

  “I will. I promise.”

  She nodded and left the dressing room. I opened the drawers until I found some nightgowns. Luckily, there were some pajamas as well, and even though they were black, they at least would be more comfortable than a suit or a dress. I changed quickly; piling the pants and underwear I was wearing into a ball, being sure to remove the small envelope first. That I tucked into the drawer of undergarments planning on opening it when I was finally alone. I found a white shirt and added it to the ball to make it look bigger. I hid Joshua’s hoodie and shirt in an almost empty drawer.

  Mrs. Smith was waiting for me, and took the pile from my hands. “Would you like to lie down or sit in the chair?”

  I chose the chair and she brought me my tea and a blanket to lie over my knees. “If you want something, the extension is 323,” she indicated the phone. “It is only an intercom. Not an outside line,” she informed me.

  I nodded and she left.

  I sat sipping my black tea with a small grimace. Apparently, I didn’t use sugar. Joshua always snuck a little extra sugar into my mugs when he thought I wasn’t looking. He seemed to think I was too thin and needed the extra calories. I sighed longingly, thinking of his subtle ways of caring for me.

  I looked around the room. It was large, with lovely mouldings, but otherwise totally vacant of any personality. No pictures or knickknacks were around. Aside from the bedroom furniture and the chair I was sitting on, the only other piece in the room was a small bookcase which was filled with books, once again in a very neat and orderly fashion. I got up and went to inspect the bookcase. It was mostly novels and my heart clenched when I saw four of
Joshua’s books on the shelves. I pulled one out and turned it over. I sighed. Of course there was no picture. I looked inside the book jacket in case, desperate to see his face, but there was nothing. His foreword included some general thanks to his editor and his assistant, CC. I smiled a little. I had never noticed that before. He never said her last name. My knees suddenly gave away as my mind tore through every conversation I had ever had with him, Cecilia or Trevor. I didn’t know any other information about Cecilia or Trevor. I had no idea where they lived. They were the only connection I had to Joshua and I had no idea how to get a hold of them. I felt my eyes fill with tears. It wasn’t like I could just ask Brian.

  The envelope. I made my way to the dressing room and my hands shook as I opened the envelope. A small black square fell into my hand and I looked at it. It was a small memory stick. No doubt the photos of my injuries that Joshua took. He promised me he would make sure I had it. I looked inside the envelope and saw a card. I pulled it out, praying it was a message from him.

  There were two lines of writing on it, one on the top and one on the bottom. I recognized his large, rather messy script.

  WIH 98

  AAW193

  That was it. I stared at the card. I didn’t understand. What did that mean? I held the card up to the light, but there was nothing. Cecilia’s words came back to me. ‘He said to tell you to guard it. That you would figure it out.’ I shook my head, my breath catching on a sob; I didn’t understand. I placed both items back in the envelope then put the envelope into a pair of socks where it would not be found. I made my way back to the chair and slumped into it.

  My head ached and I was so tired. And confused. I looked around the strange room and buried my head in my hands. I sobbed until I fell asleep.

  “Elizabeth.”

  The one word woke me instantly. Brian was standing in front of me, holding a tray and looking displeased. “You have been crying.”

  “I, ah, I get a lot of headaches. Someone … someone said it could be my mind trying to remember things,” I whispered, feeling nervous.

  “Stop trying then. You’re home. That’s all that matters.”

  I was stunned at his attitude. He didn’t want me to remember?

  He sat down on the edge of the bed. “I brought you dinner, but you didn’t drink your tea.”

  I looked at the salad with no appetite and shook my head. “It was rather bitter. I think I would like it better with sugar.”

  He snorted. “You don’t take sugar. In anything. I can see you’ve gained some weight. Obviously from laying around doing nothing. We’ll get you back on your regular diet right away. Maybe even cut back a little so you can lose those extra pounds.”

  “My regular diet?” I asked, my voice quivering, feeling a bit hurt at his comment, and confused about that being the detail he was concentrating on. Not my memory, my meagre weight gain.

  “Yes. You follow a very regimented diet. You also work with a trainer to maintain your weight.”

  I waited but he didn’t add anything. I noticed he had a folder in his hand. “What is that?”

  “I had Randy prepare this. It’s a list of your charitable work. Some information on people we socialize with. Your schedule. Upcoming events. My expectations.”

  My hand froze in midair while reaching for the folder. “Your … expectations?”

  He regarded me for a minute.

  “I hold a very important position within this community, Elizabeth. I expect you to remember that at all times and act accordingly. Your behavior reflects directly on me.”

  I started to tremble. Something about this conversation felt very familiar, as if I had heard it many times.

  “I realize you will not be able to simply pick up where you left off before you were … taken. But I won’t allow you to slack off either. As my wife, you have responsibilities.”

  Slack off?

  Before I could react, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a narrow gold ring. “I noticed your ring was gone. I assume it was taken from you.”

  I looked down at my hand. I had no idea.

  Without warning, he grabbed my hand and forced the ring down on my finger. I gasped at the uncomfortable sensation. “I think it’s too small,” I whispered.

  “Then I don’t have to worry about it coming off again,” he said curtly, ignoring any discomfort I might be feeling.

  I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat.

  “Do I work outside the house?” I asked quietly, sensing not to push him on the ring.

  “No. Twice a week you volunteer your time at the local library. Books are a great love of yours so I allow you to donate your time there. You run a reading program. You also donate some time at the children’s hospital and are active with other charitable works. It’s all in the folder.”

  He leaned forward, holding out the folder. I reached out again to take it from him, my hand trembling, the light glinting off the unfamiliar ring.

  “Are you frightened of me, Elizabeth?” His voice was low, but there was an undercurrent to it. “Is that why you’re trembling?”

  I looked at him. “I’m nervous because I don’t know you, because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” I answered.

  His face softened and, for a minute, he looked like the man I had seen on TV.

  “I understand. Randy told me downstairs I needed to be more helpful to you. I’m rather out of my element here. You’ve always been the more … open of the two of us. I know this is all overwhelming to you, but it’s not that easy for me either. I am not sure how to connect with you.”

  Abruptly, he stood up, taking the tray with him. “If you are not hungry, I will return this to the kitchen. If you need me, my room is across the hall.”

  I drew back in surprise. ”We don’t … ah … share a room?”

  He shook his head. “No. You are a very light sleeper and informed me not long after we were married that I was keeping you up and you preferred to sleep alone. My room is across the hall.”

  And he left.

  I stared after him, feeling sense of relief at his departure. But I was confused; Joshua never said anything about me being a light sleeper. It seemed to me that I slept quite deeply when I was with him. I liked sleeping in his arms. He always made me feel safe.

  What kind of relationship did I have with Brian that I would not want him close to me?

  I sat alone in the strange, cold room. My thoughts were jumbled and, I felt frightened and lost, my head aching with a constant dull pounding. I wanted Joshua and Bear. I wanted the warmth of the cabin and the feeling of Joshua’s arms around me. Trembling, I stood up, and went into the closet and wrapped myself in Joshua’s hoodie, breathing in his scent. I spent the rest of the night rocking myself on the floor of the closet, my fingers twisting and turning the ring on my hand that felt so wrong there.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Joshua

  A hand was stroking my head. “Joshua.”

  I sighed in relief. Rabbit was here. It had all been a horrid dream. I reached up for her hand and frowned. This hand was bony and had rings on it—a lot of rings.

  I opened my eyes and looked up at Cecilia, the light searing my eyes. I groaned. “Go away, Cecilia.”

  “No, I won’t go away. What the hell have you been doing, Joshua? The place smells like a distillery. Bear has broken into his food bag and there’s kibble everywhere! Why is it so fucking cold in here?”

  I sat up, my head aching and my stomach rolling.

  After I had finally gotten off the bed, I went directly to the cupboard. My writer’s imagination had taken over and image after image pounded my brain of a joyous reunion between Elizabeth and Brian. As I laid here holding her Rabbit-scented pillow, he was lying there beside her, breathing her in, making her his again. I couldn’t stop the visions. It was a never ending loop. I grabbed the tequila and started drinking. I didn’t stop until the liquor ran out. I vaguely recall stumbling around getting Bear his food a
nd water and, opening the door for him to go outside. I guess I left the door open. I wasn’t even sure how long I’d been drinking; it was as if when Rabbit left, time stopped.

  Cecilia stomped down the hall and I heard a door slam. I winced. Nope, guess I didn’t close the door. She stomped back and I leaned my head back, my arm over my eyes shielding them from the bright light. “Please, Cecilia, not so loud. I’m in pain.”

  “Which you deserve. God, you stink! And, you look like shit. Go have a shower.” She stomped even louder into the kitchen and I heard bottles being banged around.

  “What day is it?”

  “Monday. You’ve been wallowing for four days. Now go.”

  Four days? I’d been drunk for four days?

  I went into the bathroom, not wanting to risk anymore of her rage, and stripped, catching sight of myself in the mirror. I grimaced. She was right; I looked like shit. The hot water felt good pounding against my skin and I reached for the shampoo. My fingers touched something and I pulled the object off the bottle. It was a hair tie. Rabbit’s. My heart clenched and the pain of her leaving rolled through me again. I lowered myself to the floor as the agony hit me. My stomach tightened and I heaved repeatedly. Finally, I struggled to my feet and cleaned myself up. The last thing I did was wrap her hair tie around my wrist. My watch would cover it. I got dressed and made my way to the kitchen.

  Wordlessly, Cecilia sat a mug of coffee in front of me. I looked behind her, wincing. The counter was covered in empty bottles. I had drunk every drop of liquor in the house. I looked at Cecilia who was standing against the counter. Her expression was no longer angry, just sad. I looked away, muttering I was sorry.

  “I understand, Joshua. I know you’re in pain. I hate to see you going through this.” Her hand waved towards the counter. “I do know this isn’t the way to handle it. It’s not like you, Joshua.”

  I nodded. She turned to the counter and started gathering up bottles. “Leave it, Cecilia. I’ll do it. It’s my mess, I’ll clean it up.”