Silent Memories

by Pat White

  “Because you’re itching.”

  “It hurts.”

  “I know. Here, drink this.” He held out a plastic capful of liquid antihistamine.

  “What is it?”

  “Something to stop the itch.” And hopefully calm her down.

  She sniffed it, then itched her elbow.

  “It’s grape-flavored,” he urged. “C’mon. Swallow it and you’ll feel better.”

  He had to stop the reaction before it became serious, possibly affecting her breathing.

  She downed the capful of liquid, made a face and grabbed the glass of water sitting on the nightstand. She took three swallows.

  “Okay, bath first, then lotion.” He pulled her to her feet.

  “I can bathe myself.”

  “I can’t risk you passing out on me. Especially after taking the antihistamine. It makes some people loopy.” He grabbed the box of anti-itch bath salts and made for the bathroom.

  “I don’t need an audience,” she protested, following him.

  “I won’t look.”

  “Sure you won’t.”

  He couldn’t help but smile. She’d developed a sense of humor during her long sleep.

  He closed the lid of the toilet seat. “Sit.”

  She did, crossing her arms over her chest.

  He ran the bath water and poured anti-itch granules into the tub. “You’ll feel better after this.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her scratching her face.

  “Don’t.” He grabbed her wrist. “You’re only making it worse.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “Think about something else.”

  “That’s a joke, right?”

  “No. C’mon. Think about something to keep your mind off the itch.”

  “The brain’s empty, remember?”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?” Skepticism laced her voice.

  “Just do it.”

  She closed her eyes and stuck her chin out as if to warn him not to mess with her.

  “Picture yourself on the ocean,” he said.

  “Am I in a boat?”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I can’t swim.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I just do.”

  Now he was getting somewhere. She was right. She couldn’t swim.

  “You’re on a yacht, actually. Sunbathing.”

  She opened one eye. “In a one-piece suit.”

  “Fine, in a one-piece suit. The sun is warm. The waves rock you to sleep. Back and forth. Your mind floats along, not really thinking, just floating. Back and forth.”

  She opened her eyes. “Stop.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m getting seasick.”

  “It’s probably the medicine.”

  “I hate this,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  “Being loopy.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m here.”

  “Very comforting.”

  He ignored her sarcasm and reached for her blouse.

  “What are you doing?” She batted his hand away.

  “Helping you undress.”

  “I can undress myself, thank you.”

  “Annie—”

  “Out.” She pointed at the door.

  He didn’t have the heart to remind her he’d seen it all: the curves and valleys, the rosy nipples and birthmark on her right hip.

  “Okay. I’ll be out here if you need me,” he said.

  “I won’t.” She shoved him out the door.

  “Leave the door open.”

  “Fine.” She cracked it and he sat on the edge of the bed.

  He hated not being with her, not knowing if she wobbled as she undressed. But he had to respect her privacy. He owed her that much.

  “What happens after you get my medication?” she called through the partially open door.

  “That depends. It would help if you could remember things, like where you hid your research.”

  “I hid it? Why would I do that?”

  “We’re not sure. Only you know that.” But he suspected she’d accidentally discovered Raymond’s plan to unleash the virus, and then make billions off the only known vaccine.

  “Annie? You okay?” he called.

  “Fine.”

  Humming echoed from the bathroom, an old habit of hers when she concentrated. He wondered which article of clothing she peeled away from her body. Damn, he had to stop wanting this woman. He shouldn’t have kissed her. What was he thinking?

  He wasn’t thinking. Something else had taken over, overriding his judgment and sense of decency. After all, it wasn’t decent of him to kiss her like that, even in the name of strategy. He’d promised himself that this time he wouldn’t compromise what little integrity he had by manipulating her feelings.

  He had to stop thinking about the woman in the next room, who was, most likely, naked, and focus on strategy for breaking into Appleton.

  He heard the scrape of plastic rings across the metal shower bar, then a splash.

  “How’s it going?” he asked.

  “I still itch.”

  “Give it a few minutes.”

  She splashed some more. “Does my mom love me?”

  His breath caught.

  “Come again?”

  “Does my mom love me?”

  A flash of Annie with her mom made him smile. He’d taken her to visit her mom and two sisters last fall. She’d left her family to study at Raymond’s estate more than fifteen years ago. She had to miss their warmth. The kind of warmth that was foreign to Sean, yet something he craved.

  “She loves you,” he said.

  “Then why was I living with this Raymond guy?”

  “He discovered you.”

  “You make it sound like he found me in a petridish.”

  Truth was, Raymond Phelps had taken advantage of both Mrs. Price’s grim financial situation and her trusting nature. Margaret Price and her three girls were on the verge of being homeless thanks to her husband abandoning the family. Then in walked Raymond, their savior. He offered to pay off the farm and fund Annie’s education. Her mom wanted what was best for Annie, and knew she’d never realize her potential in the small farm town. It seemed like a miracle to Mrs. Price, who’d been completely taken in by Raymond’s generosity.

  Yeah, what a guy.

  “He noticed you at a science fair,” Sean said. “He was intrigued by your intelligence.”

  “A genius that falls into poison ivy. Great,” she said. “How old was I?”

  “Seven. You went to live with him when you were eight.”

  “Didn’t my family miss me?”

  “They did, but you visited,” Sean said. But not nearly enough. No, Raymond wanted to keep a tight leash on his protégé.

  “Seven. I…I don’t remember…being seven—” she slurred.

  He stood. “Annie?”

  He pushed open the bathroom door and gently slid the curtain aside. She wore a washcloth on her head and across her chest. Her fingers were interlaced and stretched out in front of her.

  The antihistamine definitely made her loopy. “C’mon, Annie. You need to soak the inflamed areas.”

  Kneeling beside the tub, he wondered if he could do this without losing his mind. He removed the washcloth from her head, dipped it into the water and pressed it against her cheek. He struggled not to let his gaze drift to the curve of her breast. The washcloth didn’t cover it all. Damn.

  “Keep your hands in the water, honey, so the medicine soaks them.”

  “I can’t feel my skin. I’m sleepy.” She slid into the water.

  “Whoa, there.” He gripped her by her arms and guided her back up. “Don’t sink on me.”

  She leaned against the back of the tub and closed her eyes.

  He splashed water across her nose. The antihistamine was doing a number on her.

  “You’ll have to take off your clothes,” she said.


  “Excuse me?”

  “You can’t come in the tub and play if you got clothes on. Your mama will be sooo mad.”

  “More likely Dad,” he muttered.

  “Mmm. Dad. I hate Daddy.” She opened her eyes and squinted at Sean. “You know why?”

  “No, why?” He ran the cloth down her cheek.

  “Because he hates me. Always hate first, then you won’t get hurt.”

  She closed her eyes.

  “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.”

  No one could hate you.

  “He does. ‘You ask too many questions.’ ‘You never listen,’” she mocked in a deep voice. “He hated me so much he ran away.”

  You got off easy.

  “Shhh. Annie, just relax.” And keep remembering. Maybe this was the beginning. If she remembered her father, she could remember the rest of it: Raymond, the formula, the recording she’d made by accident—the reason Raymond had ordered her death. He feared she knew too much and would ruin his plans.

  If only she’d gotten wise about Sean.

  “What else do you remember?” he asked.

  “Nothing…too sleepy.”

  “A couple of more minutes in the tub, okay?”

  “Hmm.”

  He continued soaking the washcloth and squeezing it over her reddened skin. Good thing the inflammation didn’t go anywhere near her breasts. At least he could keep his focus away from the parts of her body that threatened to tear apart his restraint.

  “Wanna go home…” she mumbled, turning her cheek into the washcloth.

  It was bad enough that she hadn’t a clue who she was or who she could trust, but now her body was being attacked, as well.

  “Sleepy…” she muttered.

  She started to slide down into the tub.

  “Whoa, there. C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” He snapped the towel from the bar and laid it over his shoulder. “C’mon, Annie. Work with me.”

  He coaxed her toward him. Her wet skin warmed his chest. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped the towel around her backside. She rested her cheek against his shirt and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “Sleepy,” she whispered.

  “It’s okay. It’s bedtime.”

  He dried her off the best he could and scooped her into his arms. His chest ached with memories. God, it had been so long since he’d held her like this. She buried her lips against his neck and twined her hands tightly around his shoulders. Her warmth taunted him, reminding him of the passion they’d shared.

  But he couldn’t be intimate with her again, even if she begged and pleaded. He knew that with Annie, it wasn’t about sex; it was about love.

  Too bad she didn’t know Sean was incapable of loving anything but his job.

  Sucking in a sharp breath, he peeled her away from his body and slipped an undershirt over her head. He knew the only way he wouldn’t lose the battle of wanting to touch her was to cover the beauty that tempted him.

  “Cold, so cold,” she said, gripping his arms as he slid the shirt down below her waist. It just about covered everything. Just about.

  His cell phone went off. He laid her beneath the covers and grabbed his phone.

  “MacNeil.”

  “It’s Jackson.”

  “Tell me you identified her meds.”

  “Sorry.”

  Damn, he wanted good news. He needed this case to be over. “What then?”

  “Someone is trying to sell the antivirus.”

  “What the hell? They can’t sell something they don’t have.”

  Silence filled the line. Unless…he glanced at Annie. Had she completely finished the antivirus? Was that what she’d planned to tell him the night of her accident? She’d said when her current project was finished, she’d take him on a romantic trip for two. Before she could share her news, he’d stopped her with the truth: he was FBI, out to nail her benefactor, a benefactor who had ordered her death because she knew too much about his plans.

  “Are you sure the sale is for real?” he asked Jackson.

  “Ninety percent. Intercepted a few anonymous e-mails. Someone’s selling something.”

  “You can intercept private e-mails, but you can’t get the girl’s medication?”

  “Sorry. Hospitals.”

  “We really need her to remember.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Where are you?”

  “Safe, for now. I need you to book us a flight from Boston to Miami, midday tomorrow.”

  “Why Miami?”

  “Just do it,” he ordered in the hopes of throwing their pursuers off track.

  He clicked off his phone. Damn, more complications. Phelps couldn’t have the formula. If he did, he wouldn’t be selling it off. He’d want to keep the power of disease and death to himself.

  “I’m scared,” she whispered in her sleep. “Why did he lie?”

  Great. Was she remembering the night Sean slashed her heart open? Bastard. Worse, he was a coward. He’d dropped the bomb and turned his back on her, afraid to see her reaction: the shock and hatred in her eyes.

  He deserved her hatred. He knew that.

  He just didn’t know if he could survive it…again.

  Get a grip, man. This is about bigger things than your pride.

  “Cold. Still cold,” she whispered.

  He placed his hand to her forehead and she pulled it against her chest until he was practically on top of her.

  “Annie, you need to sleep.” He tried to pull away.

  “Warm.” Her fingers locked around his neck pulling him close.

  Hell, it wouldn’t hurt to get a few hours sleep so he’d be fresh for his second Appleton break-in.

  The box spring groaned as he shifted onto the bed. She curled up against him, her fingers clinging to his shirt. He automatically stroked her damp hair, guilt beating him for the times he’d stroked her in more intimate places, all in the name of justice.

  Justice. Absent so many times when he was growing up. But he’d make sure others wouldn’t suffer at the absence of justice. He’d done pretty well, beating every enemy he had set out to conquer. And he’d managed it without losing too much of his personal honor.

  Until Annie.

  His honor had flown out the window when he’d used her feelings to get at Raymond. Where was the honor in that?

  It wasn’t the first time he’d felt the old man’s blood pumping through his veins. Whenever Sean would go after a child abuser or rapist, he’d feel the burn start low in his gut and swell until he thought he’d burst. That’s why he’d never be gifted with love or family—he couldn’t trust himself to control his violent streak.

  The truth was, he’d inherited a legacy of violence and manipulation from his father, a man who abused and hurt the people he supposedly loved.

  For a while, Sean accepted the old man’s excuses and offered pity that a normal twelve-year-old boy shouldn’t have to feel for his father.

  But he got wise with age. When he challenged the old man’s abuse, Eddy said he respected his son’s strength of character. “Take your best shot,” Eddy would say. “Go on. Put some meat behind that smart mouth of yours.”

  Sean gritted his teeth and kept his temper in check for a while. But Eddy kept taunting him, calling him names, calling his mother names. Said she was a whore who’d slept with a garbage collector to get pregnant with Sean. And Sean lost it.

  The harder he hit, the more weapons Eddy would pull from his arsenal: a belt, baseball bat, broken glass.

  That wasn’t justice, and it surely wasn’t love. He didn’t know what love was, but knew he’d never be gifted with it himself. He was okay with that.

  Until Annie. His chest tightened.

  “Me…just for me,” she whispered. “Only wants research.”

  She jackknifed and clutched the sheets to her chest. Her breath caught on a sob.

  “Annie?”

  She jerked around, as if surprised to find him there. Even then, her eyes di
dn’t fully focus. Her lower lip trembled. His heart broke in two.

  “No one loves me,” she said.

  “Shhh. It’s okay. C’mon, lay down.” He patted at his chest.

  “Why can’t anyone say it?”

  In her eyes, he saw a hurt child, recognized the pain much like that of a teenage boy who didn’t understand what he had done to deserve punishment instead of love. No one gave him what he needed most, what Annie pleaded for. But Sean could give it to her.

  “I love you, Annie,” he said, not recognizing the sound of his ragged voice.

  She blinked, then settled against him, one arm tucked under her body, the other stretched out across his chest.

  “Annie?”

  Her fingers twitched, as if she’d fallen into a deep sleep, content and at peace. Then again, maybe she’d been asleep the whole time.

  He couldn’t help but wonder if it had been justice to say the words to her?

  Chapter Seven

  “I have no choice, Annie.” Sean slipped on the black windbreaker. He had to go back to Appleton and get her meds. She had to remember.

  “But I’m better. I don’t need my medicine.”

  He glanced at her, still bundled in the double bed. Patches of bright red splotched her pale cheeks. She looked tired, beaten and very vulnerable.

  “Jackson can’t access your files. I’ve got to go back.”

  She sat up. “Then I’m coming.”

  “No, you’re not. You’ll be a distraction.”

  She pulled the covers over her head.

  “There’s coffee and doughnuts on the table,” he said. “I’ll be back by lunchtime.”

  “I can’t believe you’re abandoning me.” She ripped the sheet from her head.

  Her words pained him more than she could know. He doubted he could ever abandon Annie, not emotionally, anyway.

  “You’ll be fine.” He slid a strand of copper-streaked hair behind her ear. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “I don’t remember.” She looked up at him and cracked a smile.

  He smiled, too; he couldn’t help it. Even with her life falling apart, she’d found a shred of humor to give her strength.

  “You will remember, Annie. You have to. That’s why I need to get the medication.”

  She pulled the covers back over her head. “Bring me back two hot dogs with everything.”

  “I’ll try.” He longed to pull down the covers and let her know she’d be okay, that he’d take care of her.