She's My Mom

by Rebecca Winters

  “Don’t tell me. It used to be my favorite meal.”

  Grady’s lips twitched. “It’s everyone’s around here.”

  “What did you eat at the apartment, Mom?”

  “I usually had an English muffin and orange juice. We ate our big meal at the hotel on our break because it was free.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” Brett declared. “I wish we really were going to Florida this morning.”

  “As soon as we find out who did this to your mother and he’s put away for good, we’re going to do a lot things we haven’t done before.”

  Susan hurriedly swallowed the rest of her orange juice. For the moment, her husband had quieted her fears that he might not want a future with a wife who was a complete stranger to him.

  But she had to remember this was only the second day. If she never recovered her memory, he might not feel the same way later on. Then what?

  Not wanting to think about that right now, she finished looking at the pictures in another album Brett had brought to the table. Throughout breakfast the three of them had pored over the rest of their family photos. She’d hoped to experience a flashback, but nothing had happened.

  “Hey, Dad, when I told Mike we were going on vacation, he tried to invite himself along.”

  Grady sat back in his chair. “What did you tell him?”

  “That this trip was a father-and-son thing. He got kind of upset. I had to pretend I was, too. But it wasn’t hard to fake because we can’t let anybody find out Mom’s alive yet.”

  “You’re right about that,” Grady said. “Have you called your other friends so they won’t come over?”

  “I’ll do it now.” He pushed himself away from the table. Before he ran out of the dining room, he gave Susan a hug. She kissed his cheek and hugged him back while her husband looked on with anxious eyes.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she said as soon as Brett had disappeared. “It’s true that I don’t remember being his mother, but all my natural instincts are there to love him. He is my son. Our son. I can feel how much he needs me. I—I’m hoping that in the loving, some memory will come back to me.”

  “We’re all hoping for that.” He got up from the table and started clearing it. She shut the album and worked alongside him, loading the dishwasher in the kitchen.

  “Before we buy the flowers and other things for the Benns, there’s something I’d like to do first.” She told Grady the reasons she wanted to get her hair dyed back to its original color. “Besides pleasing Brett, it’ll reassure the Benns. They won’t be so shocked if I show up looking like the blond woman they rescued.”

  He studied her for a moment. “It’s a good idea. I think we can find a salon in the north end of town that’ll be safe. As a precaution, I’m going to ask that you hide in the back seat of the car.”

  “All right.” She opened her purse. “Here are some addresses I wrote down. What do you think?”

  “That one,” he said, pointing to the last on the list. “Dyeing your hair could take a while. We need to get a move on if we plan to do that and track down the Benns all in one day.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “I want to close the rest of our shutters and sheers so no one can see in.” He clasped her upper arms and dropped a brief kiss on her mouth. The gesture of affection was made with such thoughtless ease, she guessed it had been spontaneous.

  When he suddenly let go of her as if he’d been scorched, she knew it had been.

  He looked at her with pleading in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Susan. For a moment everything seemed so norm—”

  “I understand,” she broke in. “I didn’t mind, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “You mean that?”

  “Our situation has no precedent, Grady. All I know is that when I woke up this morning, I was thankful I belonged to this family. The only thing we can do is continue to feel our way and see what happens.”

  She felt the tension leave his body.

  “I don’t think I ever realized what extraordinary courage you have. I’m in awe of it.” With that remark, he left the kitchen.

  I could say the same thing about you.

  He was a man whose life was in danger twenty-four hours a day. He had a job most people could never handle. Grady belonged to that unique world of cops and firefighters. The best of the best.

  Was the old Susan terrified of what could happen to him every time he left the house in the morning? Did that fear drive her to get a job so she wouldn’t dwell on the negative aspects of his work as a detective?

  Had she been afraid to tell him the real reason she’d resumed her career—that she couldn’t be home all day with her secret fears? Because she knew he’d worry and possibly offer to resign from the force if that would have made her happy?

  No doubt she’d kept quiet because she knew such a sacrifice would have meant the end of happiness for him.

  Even the new Susan knew that.

  Reaching for her purse, she started to leave the kitchen, then paused on her way out the door to look at a calendar of the French Impressionists hanging on the wall. It had reproductions of French Impressionist paintings and was large enough to write notes in each day’s box.

  She noted that the month and date were wrong. Without conscious thought she took it off the wall to turn it to the right page.

  Then her hands stilled as she realized it was last year’s calendar.

  Earlier that morning, when Susan had commented to Brett what an immaculate house they kept, he’d informed her that his dad had hired a Mrs. Harmon to take care of everything. Brett said she was very nice, but even more meticulous than his grandmother Nilson.

  From that statement, Susan deduced that there could be only one reason an out-of-date calendar still hung on the kitchen wall: Grady hadn’t been able to discard it yet.

  Starting with January, she leafed through each month, noting the many messages, names of people and phone numbers written in her hand. Even though the doctor at the women’s shelter had told her amnesia would affect some parts of her memory and not others, she was surprised to see that her handwriting hadn’t changed.

  March showed heavier activity. That was the month she’d gone to work. From that point on, the boxes were crammed with notations she didn’t understand. When she reached August, she could see they’d tapered off after the twentieth.

  The day she was supposedly blown up in the explosion.

  September through December only held a minimal number of reminders for things like Brett’s six-month dental exam, her mother’s birthday, the detectives’ wives’ Thanksgiving benefit for the homeless at the Las Vegas Convention Center.

  “Susan? I’ve set the lights I want to leave on. Let’s go.”

  “I’m coming.” She put back the calendar and hurried through the house to the garage. Later tonight she’d take it to bed with her. Finding it was like happening upon a diary. She was hungry to learn everything she could about herself.

  If Grady looked it over with her, they might discover something that could help him with her case. Maybe, if she was lucky, a name or event would jog her memory.

  “You’re going to have to ride in the back and scrunch down, Mom.”

  Susan smiled at her son, who held the car door open for her. “Your dad already warned me. It’s kind of exciting, isn’t it?” She was hoping to lighten his fears.

  “As long as nobody sees you.”

  She climbed inside and lay down on the floor. Two male faces looked down at her from the front seat, wearing grave expressions.

  Until they’d found her, she’d been existing in a permanently frightened state. Now she had a family afraid for her. Her memory had to come back so she could help Grady figure out who had done this monstrous thing. Then she could be a wife and mother again.

  Grady’s eyes held hers. “Comfortable?”

  “Yes.”

  “Liar.” He mouthed the word. “I’ll get us to the salon
as fast as I can without breaking the speed limit. We can’t risk a patrolman pulling us over. He’d recognize me and speculate about the woman in the back seat. Gossip would spread through the department like wildfire.”

  “I understand how dangerous it would be to draw attention to yourself right now. Don’t worry about me.”

  She saw his jaw harden before he turned around and pressed the remote to open the garage door.

  Since last night, certain comments she’d made had managed to break the temporary rapport with him. The trouble was, she never knew which ones would trigger a reaction. It was something she’d have to get used to. But each time it happened, it bothered her a little more.

  “You have to face front, Brett.”

  His father’s reminder galvanized him into action.

  With Grady’s mood altered, she didn’t want to be a distraction. It was better to stay quiet and let the two of them talk while he drove.

  After they’d been moving in traffic for a while, she heard Brett say, “What if somebody sees us when we get back from the reservation?”

  “They won’t. For one thing, it’ll be dark by then. For another, our car will be parked out of sight in Mrs. Harmon’s garage. We’ll hide on the floor of her car and she’ll drive us home. No one will question my housekeeper bringing in the mail and the newspaper during our absence.”

  “That’s a really cool plan, Dad!”

  “Did I hear my son pay me a compliment at long last?”

  “Yeah!” Brett laughed.

  The happy sound delighted Susan.

  Grady continued to tease. “I think you’ve just given your old man a heart attack.”

  “I was afraid you were having one when you saw mom’s picture on the application.”

  The distress in his voice was unmistakable.

  “If I’d been thirty years older, I probably would have.”

  “You almost fainted when you found out who we were, didn’t you, Mom?”

  Susan could just see the top of Brett’s forehead. “Yes. If your father hadn’t caught me, I would have collapsed on the stairs.”

  “After I saw you at the hotel and you didn’t know me, I got so upset I went home and threw up.”

  She cringed. “I’m so sorry, Brett.”

  “Don’t turn around, son.”

  “I forgot.”

  “We’re almost there, Susan,” her husband said. “What was the name of the salon?”

  “Loving Hair.”

  “The address is the Gateway Mall. We’ll park around back and follow you inside while you look for it. Once you’ve found the place, introduce yourself as Martha Walters. I want you to pay cash.”

  “All right.”

  A moment later, Brett dropped a hundred-dollar bill over the seat. She caught it and put it in her purse.

  They drove a little longer. Grady made a few more turns, then pulled to a stop.

  “Okay. We’re here. You can get up now. Let’s go!”

  Thankful to stretch her legs, she moved to the seat and climbed out. Without looking at her family, she headed for the door, which led into a breezeway. She entered the mall and asked a female shopper for directions to Loving Hair, then walked toward it.

  The mall was packed, probably because it was a Saturday. The salon might take people without appointments, but Susan still had to wait fifteen minutes. Even then, it took her another minute before she realized someone was calling for Martha Walters. Already she’d come a long way since yesterday.

  Jumping to her feet, she said, “I’m right here!”

  A young hairdresser with red hair told her to come on back.

  Though Susan couldn’t see Grady or Brett, she knew they were outside the entrance keeping guard. It was a luxury she hadn’t known for six months.

  It felt so good she was frightened.

  All three of them were trying their hardest. All were hoping for a miracle. But if it never happened, would Grady and Brett go on wanting her the way she was now?

  “What are we doing for you today?”

  “I want my hair dyed back to its natural color. I’m a champagne blond. If you could bring me a sample card, I’ll show you the exact shade.”

  “You look great as a brunette. Are you sure?”

  “Very sure.”

  Maybe if I see myself as a blonde, the memories will come flooding back. Do it quick!

  The appointment took several hours.

  “There you go.” After giving Susan’s feather cut a wind-blown look, the hairdresser turned off the blow-dryer. “Now you can peek.” She removed the apron and swiveled the chair toward the mirror.

  Susan gasped softly. She’d been turned back into the woman in the Corbitt family photo album. A few months from now, her hair would reach her shoulders. Then there’d be no difference at all. At least on the outside…

  “It’s perfect,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

  The hairdresser seemed pleased. “I didn’t think I was going to like it as much, but I’ve changed my mind. You have the coloring of a blonde. But you need a lipstick with coral tones now.”

  “Do you sell any here?”

  “Sure. We have a shade that’ll look great on you. Just a minute and I’ll get it.”

  Susan was starting to feel butterflies in anticipation of Grady’s and Brett’s reactions.

  “Here we are. Try this.” She handed Susan a tissue to wipe off her old lipstick.

  With trembling fingers she applied the new one.

  “See what I mean?” the other woman said when Susan had finished. “Now your eyes are a radiant blue. With your new hair and that stunning scarf around your neck, the combination is dynamite.”

  I hope so. I want my family to want me.

  “How much do I owe you?”

  “Seventy-five dollars. The lipstick’s on me.”

  Susan reached for her purse and handed her the hundred-dollar bill.

  “Thanks again. Keep the change.”

  “Thank you.”

  With her heart in her throat, she got up from the chair and headed for the doorway of the salon. In a way, she was even more nervous than she’d been last night when she’d had to walk out of her apartment and face a strange police officer in the hall.

  CHAPTER SIX

  GRADY SAT IN ONE of the chairs inside the busy salon. He held several sacks and a big fruit basket on his lap. The large bow and red cellophane hid his face from view. Brett was equally camouflaged with a huge flower arrangement. He’d kept watch over his mother while Grady rushed around getting their shopping done.

  Susan’s hair appointment was taking a long time. Too long. He’d been forced to sit there, a captive of his thoughts. They made him restless as hell.

  For the last twenty-four hours, he’d been trying to grasp the events that had restored his wife to him, but he still couldn’t quite believe it had happened.

  So many nights in the last six months, she’d come to him in dreams—but never with a changed personality that transformed her from the inside out, so that even her hair was a different style and color.

  “Oh, my gosh— Dad!”

  Brett’s excited voice jerked him back to the present. The moment he looked up, his heart skidded to a stop. The blond woman he’d fallen in love with on a beach seventeen years ago had just emerged from the cubicle.

  She was even more beautiful now. Breathtaking.

  His pulse raced from emotions he couldn’t contain.

  Brett was already on his feet hurrying toward her. Somehow he managed to balance the flowers and hug her around the waist at the same time. “Mom— Oh, Mom” was all he could say.

  Grady knew how he felt. It was a good thing his arms were full of gifts. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to prevent himself from doing exactly what his son was doing. Only he’d be kissing the daylights out of her whether she welcomed him or not.

  When Brett let her go, she lifted anxious eyes to Grady. They were as blue as the cornflowers he’d always compar
ed them to. “D-do you like it?” She’d never sounded so vulnerable.

  He couldn’t swallow. “It’s as if the woman who walked into this salon three hours ago never existed.” Except that she still didn’t look at him in the old way.

  There wasn’t that flicker of recognition singling him out from all other men as her husband, her lover, her companion through life.

  Even when she’d gotten a job without telling him and there’d been a certain emotional distance between them, her eyes would soften with remembered feelings every time he took her in his arms.

  They’d had almost two decades of loving, yet he was a stranger to her now. The knowledge cut him like a knife.

  He pulled a paisley scarf and sunglasses from one of the sacks. “Put these on before we go out to the car.”

  When she was ready, she walked out of the salon ahead of them and started toward the breezeway. Despite the scarf and sunglasses, he could see a little of her blond hair. With that voluptuous figure of hers, she drew a lot of eyes. In their private moments, he’d always called her his California girl.

  They usually vacationed at the beach where she’d been born. Her skin was the velvety kind that turned golden in the sun. While they lazed on their towels after playing in the surf, there was nothing he loved more than to bury his face in the warmth of her hair. It smelled of Coppertone, salt and her lavender shampoo.

  Her hands would start to explore his chest and shoulders. Everywhere she touched, she set him on fire. Her eyes would get that glazed-over look.

  Pretty soon Grady would take her home for a shower, and afterward they’d spend the hottest part of the day in bed, wide awake and hungry for each other.

  “Dad, open the trunk.”

  Shaken by memories that were painfully vivid in a brand-new way—because she no longer shared them—he found his hand trembling as he put his key in the lock. Brett helped place the gifts inside. After shutting the lid, Grady used the remote to open the door for her.

  “Shall I get on the floor again?” she asked without looking at him.

  “I think it would be best until we’re off the freeway.”

  Something was different since she’d turned back into the old Susan. Grady could tell his son had been similarly affected.