by Pamela Fryer
“Awesome! I’ll show you my room. I have a pet eel named Mr. McEely. He’s a snowflake eel. What’s for dinner, Uncle G?”
“I’m going to take you two gorgeous ladies out to dinner. How does that sound?”
“Hamburgers and French fries?”
Geoffrey glanced at August. “If that’s okay with you?”
She was tired and her arm was aching like the devil, but she could tell Geoffrey wanted to put some distance between himself and his brother. “That sounds great.”
“Jocelyn, you take August to meet Mr. McEely while I talk to Derek for a minute.”
She allowed the little girl to lead her away while a dramatic pause hung in the air. She glanced back to see Derek step onto the deck and light another cigarette as Geoffrey waited for them to get out of earshot.
* * *
“Listen. I’m going to tell you why August is here, and then I’m going to leave you alone so you can say whatever sarcastic thing that comes to mind to the only person who cares.”
Derek made a dramatic, wide-open gesture with his hands. “I’m not going to say anything sarcastic.”
“Right.” Geoffrey crossed the deck and leaned on the railing to look out across the sea, but left more than an arm’s length between himself and Derek. “Jocelyn and I were in an accident.”
“So it’s not only me wrecking the family cars,” Derek returned. “Yet I seem to be the only one catching shit about it.”
“Yeah, well, we’re still three to one, so the score’s not even close,” Geoffrey cut in. “And you were high when you did yours. Big difference.”
That shut him up.
Geoffrey went over the events the night of the storm as sparsely as he could. The words ground against his teeth like gravel, but somehow he knew it would be better if it came from him. Get things straight, right from the start.
“Hey, whatever you need to do to get yourself a date, it’s no business of mine.”
“Now why on earth did I think you’d say something sarcastic?” He should have known better than to think Derek would cut him an inch of slack. “I’m so glad to see your attitude has improved.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“Why did you come back here, Derek?”
“I told you. Just to chill.”
“You mean to get clean?”
Derek turned away to stare at the sea, but didn’t respond.
“You’d better get that way and stay that way, or I’ll toss you out on your ass.”
“You and what army?”
Geoffrey turned and delivered the icy glare he couldn’t keep off his face whenever he thought of Derek. Derek and Christina.
“I don’t need an army, Derek.” Geoffrey poked him in the shoulder and gave him a shove.
“Hey!” Derek swiped his hand away, but as Geoffrey expected, he backed down.
“But I haven’t decided if it’ll be more fun to call Mike, or kick your ass myself, if you even hint at giving me trouble.”
As Geoffrey suspected, his brother had no retort to that. Derek and Mike would never be called friends. “August is here to recuperate and if you do anything to interfere with that—”
“You mean interfere with your putting the moves on her.” Derek glanced sideways with narrowed eyes.
“I am not putting the moves on her,” Geoffrey said firmly. “And neither are you. Got it?”
Derek took another puff from his cigarette as he scanned the water. He let it out in a slow breath. “I’ve got as much right to be here as you. If you don’t like that, route your complaints to Dad.”
Geoffrey took one step toward the patio door, but hesitated. “What have you ever done for this family? I have the key. This is my house. Mine and Leah’s and Jocelyn’s. We’re trying to put our lives back together and we don’t need you coming in and screwing it up again.”
“Am I really the one who screwed it up the first time?” Derek stared into the distance, silent for a moment as he watched a circling gull. “You need to get over what happened,” he finally said in a softer voice.
What was that Geoffrey heard? A hint of regret? Maybe a sliver of guilt? He could hardly believe Derek capable.
“I’ll never get over what happened.”
“That’s your problem,” Derek shot back, the harshness returned to his voice. “Life goes on.”
Geoffrey shook his head. “Not for Christina, it doesn’t.”
* * *
“This sucks. How long do I have to sit in back?”
Geoffrey didn’t respond when Jocelyn whined from the back seat. He’d been silent through most of the drive back to town.
August glanced over her shoulder. “You have to be this tall to ride up front.” She held her hand four inches over her head.
“No fair!” Jocelyn complained, but she giggled, too.
August tried to appear casual as she looked at Geoffrey. His expression was like granite. She didn’t know him well enough to anticipate his thoughts.
He maneuvered the car around a bend. The Lexus SUV hugged the pavement with hardly a vibration inside.
Like the impressive house, August knew she wasn’t used to such a luxurious vehicle. The engine hummed with a throaty power almost awe-inspiring, and she felt well-protected behind its heavy doors.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she said.
He sighed. “Derek’s timing couldn’t have been better.”
“I’m glad he’s here,” Jocelyn said from the back seat. “I missed him.”
As they emerged from a rise in the coastline to see the town of Newport spreading before them, August’s gaze landed on the crowded harbor nestled into the corner of the bay. Before she fully understood what she was thinking, the profiles of some of the boats fit into her mind like puzzle pieces falling into place. Sloop. Catamaran. Bayliner.
But instead of feeling happy that she recognized them, the sight of the marina brought crushing fear that squeezed off her breath.
If she walked onto its docks, would someone recognize her? She was sure she’d never seen this marina before, but was that because of their angle, driving in like this from above? Or had she been there and simply forgotten it with everything else she couldn’t remember?
“We’re here.”
Geoffrey slowed the Lexus and pulled off the highway at the first row of buildings at the edge of town, opposite the harbor.
He angled the SUV into a parking spot in front of a large wooden building weathered by the unrelenting breath of the sea. Its large front windows looked over the harbor across the road. August recognized the symbol from the bag of soup he’d brought to the hospital.
The Mirthful Mermaid. “Your grandmother’s place?”
“Yay!” Jocelyn squealed from the back seat. She released her seatbelt and bounded out of the car before Geoffrey could stop her.
He turned off the engine and swiveled in his seat. “I’m sorry if you’re not up for this, but I know she’ll want to meet you right away. She’s protective over our family.”
August’s mouth soured at the thought. After meeting Derek, she wasn’t up for it.
“Don’t worry, her bark is worse than her bite.”
“Oh, great.”
He grinned as he released his seatbelt. “Let me get the door for you.”
Some of her anxiety faded. She let out a long breath as she watched him walk around the hood, knowing Geoffrey would never let his grandmother get too fierce with her.
The Mirthful Mermaid was as quaint as could be, its rough-hewn walls covered with seafaring treasures hanging in old-fashioned fishing nets. The dark interior created a sheltered feel, cozy and safe. The bare floor squeaked underfoot, and heavy wooden furniture filled the open eating area. A long bar ran the length of the left side. Soft country music flowed out of the jukebox in the opposite corner. The place smelled of a delicious mixture of hearty food and the salty sea.
A silver-haired woman held Jocelyn in a bear hug. She set the little girl down and faced t
hem as Geoffrey and August walked over.
“So, this is your mysterious guest.”
August swallowed, trying not to cringe as the old woman looked her up and down.
“She looks tired.” She scowled. “What are you thinking, bringing her out the day she’s released from the hospital?”
Geoffrey cleared his throat. August suspected he was trying to gently put into words that they had left because Derek showed up.
“I had a craving for some more of the New England clam chowder he tempted me with in the hospital,” August said first. “Even though I don’t have my memory, I’m certain I’ve never tasted any so delicious.”
“Ah! I like her already. Come, sit over here where nobody will jostle that arm. Does it hurt, girl?” She reached out, urging August under her arm. “I broke my index finger once. It was the darnedest thing—I couldn’t blow my nose worth a damn until it healed.”
She pulled out a heavy wooden chair for August.
“Thank you, Mrs. Barthlow.”
“You call me Millie, and as things progress we’ll see about you calling me Gran Millie, but do one thing for sure and leave that Mrs. stuff behind, y’hear?”
August smiled. “Thanks, Millie.”
Geoffrey watched her with a quirky grin playing at his lips.
She stood back and placed her hands on her hips. “Soup isn’t enough. You’re too thin. What do you like to eat, sweetheart?”
“Anything I can manage with one hand.”
“Then you’ll be wanting my famous pasta with red pepper cream sauce. I’ll have Roberto prepare it with corkscrew, so you can eat it easily.”
“I want a cheeseburger,” Jocelyn said. “And cheese fries.”
“You’re a cheese-head.” She bent down and mussed Jocelyn’s hair, and then kissed the top of her head. “For you, grandson?”
“I’ll have the pasta, too.” He cleared his throat again. “And we should probably take an order to go. Derek’s up at the house.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, why didn’t you bring him along?”
“Er, he was tired.”
“Stoned is more like it. Is that boy gonna clean up his act?”
Geoffrey leaned back in his chair. “He’d better, or you’ll find him knocking on your door. He’s all out of second chances with me.”
“Lord knows you’ve given him more than he deserves.” Millie’s voice softened. “How are you holding up?”
Geoffrey’s uncomfortable gaze flicked over August. Now she was sure of it: there was bad blood between them, and not just because of childhood bickering.
“I won’t lie to you, Gran, I don’t like him being here. But he’s my brother and I can’t turn him away.”
“Sure you can.” She placed her fists back on her hips after another twirl of the towel in her hand. “Send him on down here and I’ll give him the room upstairs. He can wash dishes to earn his board.”
Jocelyn giggled. “Yeah, right.”
Even Geoffrey laughed.
“That pretty boy needs a taste of the real world. Life isn’t about prancing around in front of a camera. Besides, if he keeps up the drinkin’ and smokin’ like he does, it’ll ruin his looks faster than a skinned apple left out in the sun. Then what’ll he do?”
She turned and started away while shaking her head.
“Derek is a model?” August asked.
Geoffrey glanced away. “Something like that.”
“He does Gucci ads,” Jocelyn volunteered. She seemed oblivious of the thick tension swirling around Geoffrey at the mere mention of his brother’s name.
A waiter appeared with glasses of water and a basket of French bread. August drank down two Tylenol with the icy water.
“This, I remember,” she said as she plucked a slice of bread from the basket. “Seaside eateries always have the greatest sourdough bread.” She was grateful for a reason to change the subject. She didn’t like seeing Geoffrey so uncomfortable.
Geoffrey’s gaze snapped over. “Do you like crab?”
She pictured sweet, moist chunks of freshly cooked crabmeat. “I do. That was a test, wasn’t it?”
He nodded. “It appears to have worked. Has anything else come to you?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.” She saw Jocelyn buttering a piece of bread and slid her bread plate over. “Would you help me butter mine, please?”
Thankfully Jocelyn chattered about her day at school through most of the meal. Millie’s famous red pepper cream sauce was everything she’d promised, including spicy. It was the first meal she’d eaten outside the hospital, August realized. The first real meal she ever remembered eating. With her stomach pleasantly full and two Tylenol taking effect, August felt better than she had in days.
She glanced across the room and saw a heavyset man at another table. His unwavering gaze was sinister, pinning her with such precise intent August knew without a doubt the reprieve she’d discovered in the hospital was over.
The man wiped his mouth, dropped his napkin, and leaned over to remove his wallet from his back pocket, all the while staring at her.
August’s blood went cold. The man rose and headed for their table. He was huge, taller than she’d first anticipated because he was so round around the middle. Her heart was pounding so fast she could hear it in her eardrums. She picked up her glass and took a long, cool drink.
Something about the man was dangerous in a specific way. His stare had been too deliberate, too knowing. The closer he got, the greater her fear grew.
He turned his gaze as he moved past the table. “See ya, Millie. Jenny.”
“Bye, Joe,” Millie responded.
“Say hi to Althea for me!” the young woman behind the bar said as he left.
August tingled from head to toe as she let out the breath she’d been holding.
I imagined the whole thing. God, what is wrong with me?
Had she also imagined the suspicion there was something dangerous about the docks? Did the boats really look familiar, or had she merely recognized them the same as a person might recognize a Maserati or Lamborghini, even if they had only seen one in a picture?
“You okay?” Geoffrey eyed her. “You look a little pale.”
She swallowed. Was it possible she’d been ill before Geoffrey hit her? Her heart continued its frantic pace as she wondered if she could be...unbalanced.
These were paranoid delusions, which might have plagued her before the accident. The idea made her sick. Could she even be so messed up as to have multiple personality disorder? That would certainly explain the gigantic blackout that was her past. She shrugged the thought away and focused on the question he’d asked.
“It’s hard lugging this cast around. Even though it’s fiberglass, after a while it gets heavy.” She didn’t want to tell him the body sling caused more pain than it helped ease.
He nodded. “I can imagine. Is your arm starting to hurt again?”
“A little,” she lied. It hurt a lot. Though the pain had dulled thanks to the Tylenol, her shoulder and back were stiff and her fingers throbbed, hot and swollen.
The idea she might have a mental illness sent chills up and down her spine. Maybe she suffered from panic attacks. They were innocent enough, and many people got them. Maybe that was what she was feeling now, caused by everything that had happened. Maybe this was her first panic attack; that would explain why she didn’t understand what was happening.
“Can I sign your cast? I write real good,” Jocelyn said.
“Sure. Maybe you could even draw a flower to brighten it up.” She hoped her voice wasn’t shaking. Slowly her heart rate returned to normal, but she was left feeling quivery and light-headed.
“How was the pasta?” Millie asked as she set a paper bag on the table.
“Wonderful as always,” Geoffrey said. “What’s the damage?”
“You know your money is no good here.”
“I also know the rule is we can eat, but we have to pay if we bring our frien
ds.” He grinned at August. “Ever since I was a kid.”
“How long has the Mirthful Mermaid been here?” she asked Millie.
“She was built in 1917, and rebuilt again in 1945 after a fire. She’s been in our family seventy years.”
“So if I were from the area, I would know this is a landmark.” The very idea caused her spirits to sink. It was so frustrating not knowing a thing about her past. Was she from Oregon? If not, what had brought her here?
“Don’t let it worry you.” Geoffrey rose and moved around the table to help her out of her chair. “It’s only been a few days. I’ll bet after your appointment with Dr. Lohman tomorrow, you’ll feel a lot better.”
The young woman behind the bar looked up as they started toward the door.
“Hey there, Geoffrey. Hiya, Jocelyn.”
Geoffrey stopped. “Hello, Jenny. I’m surprised to see you here. When’s your last day?”
“Not until next week. Who’s your friend?” The girl gave August a friendly smile.
“This is August. August, Jenny.”
August noticed the oversized sweatshirt with UOP emblazoned in bright white letters. “Nice to meet you. Are you going back to school?”
Jenny laughed. “No, I’m pregnant. I’m going to have a baby!”
She stepped around the end of the bar and displayed her rounded belly.
August hardly saw her. It was as if she’d left the room, transported back to the storm three nights ago.
I’m pregnant...I’m pregnant...
She was arguing with someone, but all she could see was darkness, sheets of torrential rain, and the flashes of red that were her anger.
“August?” Jenny’s smile faded.
“I’m pregnant.” The words slipped over her lips.
“What?” Geoffrey and Millie exclaimed in unison.
“Not me,” she clarified quickly. The memory drifted away, and August felt like she was waking up from a trance.
“I remembered something. Someone else recently told me she was pregnant, but I don’t remember who. I think it was the night of the storm.”
Chapter Seven
Morning sunlight streamed through the window over the kitchen sink and landed on a spot of linoleum that had faded to nearly white. It was almost too bright to bear. The rest of the floor was dingy yellow with faded pink flowers, a gaudy pattern from the seventies that should have been torn out years ago.
