“Yes, it can be quite maddening.”
“That’s how I feel. Every second of every day,” I deadpanned.
She was silent a moment, then began her typical head-shrinker spiel. “I know it’s quite frustrating,”
“Don’t placate me,” I snapped. “You have no idea what it’s like to not know! To want to move on with your life—to actually begin building a life—but having to sit in a holding pattern because the life you want might not be yours to take.”
“You feel like you’re taking someone else’s life?”
I tossed my hands up in the air. “I have no idea!”
“Because you don’t know your true identity. You don’t know if you’re Sadie.” Dr. Kline went on.
I nodded. “Yes.”
Leaning back a little in the giant leather office chair behind her desk, the woman studied me. In front of her, the desktop computer was on, the blue light from the screen cast over her features, making her look somewhat garish.
“Does it really matter if you are? Who you were before your coma, that person isn’t here anymore. You’re just you now. You seemed excited before for a fresh start, a clean slate. What’s changed? Why do you think it suddenly seems so crippling to not know?”
I bit down on the inside of my lip. I didn’t want to say it.
“Wouldn’t it be true that no matter who you were in the past, the life you are creating now and have been for the past few months would still be yours because you’ve been living it?”
Yes. Yes, to all that.
But also no.
“He won’t want me,” I whispered. I spoke so low it was practically just a tortured thought.
“What?” Dr. Kline asked, sitting forward, trying to hear.
I reworded my thoughts, speaking up. “If I’m not her, everything will change.”
“You mean Eddie.” She surmised, understanding.
I nodded. “He says it doesn’t matter… but I think it does. If I’m not her, then I’m not the girl he’s been waiting for the last twelve years.”
“You think he only loves you because of who you may be?”
“I don’t know,” I said openly. It seemed awfully unfair to think such a thing about Eddie. I knew him. I knew he cared about me… so much.
But I also couldn’t shake the way I felt. The way Widow West’s words haunted me. He doesn’t love you.
“Do you think the only thing about you that’s worth loving is your name?”
“No,” I said. I saw what she was doing. “But it’s complicated.”
“Yes. This is a very unique situation.”
“Didn’t you tell me a few weeks ago that Eddie decided you weren’t Sadie? That the allergy to shellfish was proof you weren’t her, and he didn’t care. In fact…” She went on. “I was here the night you both were brought in over a week ago. I heard him tell you he didn’t care if you were Sadie or not.”
I nodded. “I thought it was settled. But it’s not.”
“Do you think perhaps you’re projecting your worries about being Sadie onto Eddie instead of turning them toward yourself?”
“That’s a lot of shrink talk, Dr. Kline. Dumb it down for me.”
She smothered a smile. “Maybe you worry what Eddie will think because it’s easier than worrying about how you will feel if you aren’t Sadie.”
“If I’m not Sadie, then who am I?” I whispered.
“Do you want to be Sadie?”
I shrugged. “At least if I was, I would know where I came from.”
“No other memories that might give you a clue?”
I shook my head adamantly and then thought about the brief, traumatizing memory I had at the paintball field. “No. I don’t want to remember.”
“But you want to know.”
“Exactly.”
“It’s normal to feel as if you’re being held back by things you can’t remember.”
“How do you know?” I challenged.
She blinked. “I guess I don’t.”
It was wrong of me, made me feel guilty, but I felt an inkling of satisfaction when she admitted that.
“What will change if you find out your past identity? Will your future change? Will who you are now change?”
My head was going to explode. I swore it was as though she wanted me to tell her the meaning of life.
“Finding out who I am…” I began and paused. “Will get rid of the nagging thoughts in my head. It will give me some peace.”
“But will it change anything?”
It felt like it would, but in actuality? “Probably not.” Then I changed my mind. “Unless Eddie still wants to search for answers about his long-lost love.”
“I’ve been your doctor for many months now. I do my best to always stay objective and professional.”
“Yes.” I nearly groaned. “I know.”
She sat forward. The light of the computer shifted behind her, changing the garish appearance into one more human. Softer. “But I am going to share something with you, an opinion, if you will.”
“This is better than reality TV,” I said, leaning forward.
She smiled. A genuine smile that lit up her eyes. “We really should talk about your reality TV addiction.”
“I’m waiting.” I reminded her.
“I have cautioned you about your relationship with Eddie.”
“We haven’t listened,” I told her, flat. If she was about to give me her opinion of my relationship with him, I wasn’t interested.
“I’m well aware,” she mused. “However, I see the way he looks at you. I read body language and people for a living. He’s in love with you, and I truly believe it won’t matter to him if you’re Sadie or not.”
I sat back. The weight of her words anchored me in the chair. It felt good to hear her say that. It gave me some relief.
“Eddie was stuck for many years, wondering what-if. Thinking his chance at love was taken from him. Then you came along, and regardless of who you are, you showed him love was possible. In many ways, you gave him back his life.”
I nodded. He’d pretty much told me the same.
“I still think you are entirely too dependent on each other,” Dr. Kline said, slipping right back into shmucky doctor mode. I guessed that meant our “personal” moment was over.
“I still want to know.” I admitted. “Maybe not because of Eddie… because of me.” Because of Sadie. For Sadie.
“I just don’t feel I’ll ever really be able to move on until I know if I’m her… until I know what truly happened to me.”
Dr. Kline was quiet a few moments. “I think I may have a way to find out.” She moved forward, lifted the black receiver off the base on her desk, and punched in a phone number. A few seconds later, she spoke into it. “This is Dr. Kline. Could I speak to Don, please?”
Who the hell was Don?
“Don,” she said warmly after what felt like an eternity of waiting. “How have you been?”
She chuckled at whatever he said, then cleared her throat. “I’m calling on behalf of a patient of mine. Amnesia. She—” Her voice cut off, and her eyes lifted to where I sat. “Yes. Yes, that’s her.”
“I was wondering if you still had records from twelve years ago?
“Ah, wonderful. Could I send her over, get your professional opinion after an exam? We’d like to get a definitive answer, as you can imagine it’s been a difficult time.”
My heart was beating hard, thudding against my chest so forcefully it made me short of breath. There was a way to find out if I was Sadie? Like for real? Why had no one said anything?
I could find out. Today. Nerves crackled beneath my skin and vibrated my tummy.
“Ah, I see. Yes, that’s understandable,” the doctor replied. “How long?”
Some of my excitement deflated. What was she saying? I wanted to jump up, snatch the phone from her hand, and demand answers from someone named Don.
“Okay, yes, that would be great. I’ll be expecting yo
ur call.” After a few more moments, she said her good-byes and hung up the phone.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
“That was Dr. Don Shaw, the local dentist here in Lake Lochlain.”
“A dentist?” I scoffed. “You called a dentist for an opinion on who I am?”
Oh my God, if she was playing games with me.
“Let me explain,” she said serenely. “Try to calm down.”
I laughed.
“Dr. Shaw has been a dentist here for many, many years.” She began. “He was Sadie’s dentist.”
“Okay,” I said, still not following.
“He would have dental records on her, and even though Sadie is much older than the last time he saw her, the dental records would still be able to identify her.”
I sat straight up. “Really?”
Dr. Kline nodded. “Dental records are used quite often in identifying bodies of people who pass and are… unrecognizable.”
“All this time,” I said, feeling anger bubble up over the hope. “All these months, all I had to do was go over to the dentist! Why didn’t anyone say anything?” I raged.
“Because you weren’t ready.”
I laughed. “Who are you to judge?”
Her voice was indignant. “I’m your doctor.”
I shook my head. All this time…
“There are some things you just need to come to terms with on your own, Amnesia. Finding out if you were the girl who went missing twelve years ago isn’t going to solve all your problems. This is still your reality.”
“I know,” I said, some of my anger deflating.
“Given your progress lately, the recent information that has come to light, and the way you feel stuck, I feel you are ready to know.”
Gee, thanks. Glad to have her permission to find out about myself. I pushed out of the chair. “So I just go over to this Dr. Shaw’s office and let him look in my mouth?”
“Basically, but unfortunately, it won’t be for several days.”
“Why not?”
“Because the records are twelve years old. They’re packed away among many boxes in a storage unit. He has to find them.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. She gave me hope then ripped it away.
“He said he’ll get over there as soon as possible to begin searching.”
An idea popped into my head. “I’ll go,” I volunteered. “I’ll find them!”
“You can’t do that.” She burst my bubble.
“Why not?” I yelled again. I was beginning to sound like a petulant two-year-old.
“Because those records are confidential. Doctor-patient rules apply. Even twelve years later.”
Dejected, I sat back down. “How long do I have to wait?”
“Not long. A few days at most.”
“What’s a few more days?” I murmured. “It’s already been a lifetime.”
“Please remember our earlier words, Amnesia. Finding out will give you what you need to move on, but in reality, your life, the one you have now, is still yours.”
I went to the door, passing by the ugly salt rocks. “Are we finished for today?”
“Yes.”
I started to leave.
“Amnesia?” she called. I turned back. “I’ll call you the second Dr. Shaw calls me and lets me know he has the records.”
“Thank you.” I left the windowless, dim office and walked down the bright corridor. Just a few more days, I told myself.
A few more days. Then all this would be over.
There was a difference between quiet and quiet.
Know what I mean?
Quiet was when the mind was preoccupied or busy with the task before you. Then there was quiet. As in lost in your own head, bogged down by thoughts that threatened to overwhelm you, drown you… take you away from the people that loved you.
Am was a quiet person—something I expected. After all, her mind had a lot to process. But today, her quiet was of the second variety.
It was eerie… more and more so lately.
I didn’t like it. Again, I felt my patience being pulled so thin it was nearly see-through.
I didn’t want to pressure her, but maybe a little bit of pressure was required. If it was between that and letting her slip away, then I knew the choice I had to make.
After her appointment with Dr. Kline, we worked together at Loch Gen. The hours seemed to drag once more, something that seemed more excruciating than before because now I was used to the time speeding by.
Something was wrong. I was merely biding my time to find out what it was.
Once closing time came, I was quick to turn over the closed sign and lock the front door. Amnesia was at the register, cashing out the drawer and closing down the system. I shut off a few lights as I went, my eyes solely focused on her.
She was utterly beautiful, nearly breathtaking every time I glanced her way. It didn’t matter if she was standing in the sunshine or rising up over me in the middle of the night. Even comatose in a hospital bed before she ever spoke a word, I was inexplicably drawn to her in ways I never experienced before.
I didn’t know there was emotion in the universe powerful enough to invisibly tether me to someone else, not so wholly and completely.
But there was.
And she embodied it.
So when she was this kind of quiet, that unsettled me more than the loudest noise. Nothing would feel right until she was better.
Coming up behind her, my arms wound around her waist, tugging her body into mine. Her face turned toward me, and I nuzzled the smooth skin on her cheek, then peppered it with countless kisses.
“You’re my favorite,” I whispered, then kissed her some more.
She giggled, the sound lightening the worst of the heaviness that settled into my chest. “You’re my favorite,” she replied, spinning in my arms so we were facing each other.
My lips dropped to the tip of her nose. With a soft sigh, she tilted up, and our mouths merged. Everything in the moment, spoken and not, fell away. All that was left was the emotion that always pulsed between us. The slightly rough quality to her tongue sent shivers down my spine as it dragged across mine. Sucking her lower lip between mine, I tugged the fullness deep into my mouth and curved my body more closely around hers.
Her fingers grappled with the front of my T-shirt, fisting the fabric tight. Releasing her lip, I went deep, diving into her mouth and stroking everything within reach with my tongue. She moved restlessly, so I pushed my thigh between her legs, the muscle rubbing at her center, and she shivered.
Rocking a little across my jeans, Amnesia ripped her mouth away from mine and kissed across my jaw and toward my ear. The sharp edge of her teeth scraped over the delicate flesh, and I groaned. Lifting my leg, her feet left the floor, and she was completely balanced on my thigh.
Her face dropped into my neck, her breathing turning into short gasps.
As I picked her up, her ass hit the counter where I usually bagged groceries. Instantly, her legs fell open, and I stepped between them and attacked her mouth again. I made out with her until my lungs felt ready to explode, and I was forced to pull back enough to get some air.
The sound of us both gulping in oxygen filled my ears. In my pants, my cock urged me on, demanding I kiss her again. I wanted to. I wanted to strip her down right there and do wicked, wicked things to her body. Things I would secretly laugh at when I was bagging groceries tomorrow.
Just as I was centimeters from her mouth, I groaned and pulled away.
“Eddie?”
“You have the power to tempt a saint.”
“Are you a saint?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, baby. Far from it.”
“So…” She picked at the hem of my shirt.
I groaned. My knees actually trembled with need. “So the windows in here need some blinds.”
“Think anyone’s out there?” she whispered, still playing with the hem.
“I really don’t f
ucking care,” I spat. “Fuck,” I muttered. “But I sure as hell would tomorrow if someone was talking about how they saw you sprawled across the counter while I made you my dinner.”
“That’s quite a picture you paint,” she said, enticing me with her conspiratorial smile.
“You’re testing my patience.” I warned.
She leaned forward. “Good.”
I dropped my forehead onto hers and groaned. Cupping her face in my palms, I focused on getting her alone. “How about we take this somewhere with less windows?”
She nodded.
Grasping her by the waist, I helped her onto the floor. “Go lock up the drawer. I’ll be right there.” I fished the keys out of my jeans and handed them over.
She went one way and I went the other, practically jogging back to the coolers. I went to the section I wanted, yanked open the door, and plucked out a bottle of white wine. Carrying it by the neck, I backtracked to the aisle with plastic cups and grabbed a sleeve, tucking them beneath my arm.
Am was just finishing up in the back room when I stepped through the door. She saw the wine and cups, a smile transforming her face.
“You’re mine tonight, Am,” I growled.
“I’m yours every night.”
Well, that made me feel pretty cocky. I liked the feeling.
“C’mon.” I urged, wrapping my free hand around hers and pulling her along, out the back door. My truck was parked out back tonight, and the second I stepped outside, the large spotlight flicked on, flooding the entire area with artificial light.
“Walk by the water?” I asked, noting the way her gaze went straight toward the shoreline.
She nodded, smiling because I’d read her mind.
Instead of heading down toward the water, I yanked open the passenger door on the truck. “At home. It’s more private there.”
Instead of parking in my usual spot beside the house, I kept going, driving right past the place, across the yard, and down toward the water.
Amnesia laughed. “What are you doing?”
“What’s the good in having a truck if you can’t use it?” I grinned.
I parked so the bed faced the shoreline and the front end pointed to the house. Once the engine shut off and the headlights darkened, no longer illuminating the grass, I grabbed the wine and the cups, motioning for Am to follow.
Amnesty: Amnesia Duet Book 2 Page 5
