by Pamela Fryer
They had been planning to live here together. Though the house was only marginally larger than the bungalow Emily’s parents had left her, she’d said she liked this one, at the edge of the water, better. She’d never made a single complaint about his father’s neglect of its décor.
Colin looked at the half-empty coffee cup between his hands, refusing to acknowledge the ringing phone. His father hurried in, but stopped when he saw that the call was intentionally being ignored. He stepped closer to peer at the digital face on the unit, as though he needed confirmation of who was calling.
“You have to talk to them, Colin.”
Colin knew who it was, even without looking at the display. They’d been calling his cell nonstop, too. He glanced to the white square on the floor again, something satisfying in the way it stung his eyes.
“They have a right to bury their daughter.”
He squeezed the cup. The cold coffee quivered under his grip. “There’s no body.”
The phone abruptly stopped ringing, leaving heavy silence behind. The same silence had been in his head lately, an emptiness that Emily’s beautiful smile and happy voice had once filled.
“They’re going to plan the funeral without you—”
He surged to his feet, shoving his chair backward. “She might still be alive! Why are they in such a hurry to write her off?”
Graham shook his head. “You know as well as I do...”
Colin hurled the cup across the room, spraying its remaining contents. It crashed against a cabinet and shattered.
“Don’t say it.” He pointed his finger. “Don’t. She was wearing a lifejacket.”
“Colin.” His father gave him a pitying look that Colin wanted to punch right off his pathetic mug. “It’s been over a week.”
“I don’t care.” Colin whirled away and stalked out of the tiny kitchen. “No funeral!”
* * *
August awoke aching with longing as the dream slipped into the foggy recesses of her mind. It had been a dream, but also a memory, she was sure of it. The first she’d had in over a week.
She flipped the covers off and bolted out of bed, cradling her cast. The notebook Geoffrey had loaned her sat on the desk, opened to her last entry. She wrote as quickly as she could, but even still, parts of it were already gone.
Drive-up sock hop, or root beer parlor. Convertible—Mustang, or Maverick. Sunny day.
She was in an older car of some kind, a four-seater, with five other people. She crowded into the back seat with two others, sitting on the left behind the driver. They were all laughing, having a great time. It was a bright spring day, yet she couldn’t see any of the other faces in her dream. The only face she saw was her own, glimpsed in the driver’s side mirror as she leaned over and let the wind catch her hair.
August sat back and tapped her pen against her lips. This wasn’t a recent memory, she felt certain. This had been a while ago, when she was younger. In high school, perhaps. She looked back at the page. As the memory continued fading, her sparse notes took on a hopeless air of meaninglessness. They were just a collection of words.
But they had come from somewhere.
Excitement and depression battled inside her. She thought of Geoffrey, and her mood brightened. He would want to know about the dream, or memory. Whatever it had been.
Over the past week, she’d grown attached to the sweet man who had given so much of himself to helping her. He seemed genuinely happy for her accomplishments, and listened with great concern when her mood turned fragile. She enjoyed watching him in the kitchen when he cooked for her and Jocelyn, and loved the evenings playing board games with them and helping Jocelyn with her homework. Geoffrey was great with her, and August could tell the little girl adored him.
When she finished dressing and emerged from her bedroom, she found the house strangely quiet. As she passed the spacious living room with its gigantic windows, she saw the morning was bright and clear. The sea stretched out forever, glittering with the morning sun. Diamond-like shimmers trailed across the water, leading directly to her, and August wished she could go out onto the water. While the ocean still caused a thrill of fear, at least there she could be sure she was alone, truly free of the dark evil following her like a phantom.
The sound of a cupboard dropping shut drew her to the kitchen. “Geoffrey?”
Derek stopped rifling through the cabinets, a guilty look on his face. “Not here. He’s on carpool duty this morning. Gotta drive Squirt to school.”
She cradled her cast with her good hand, hugging her arms around herself. So far, Geoffrey’s brother had made himself scarce, and she’d hardly exchanged two words with him. The sudden realization she was alone in the house with him made her stomach tighten.
“Oh.” She turned to go. “Excuse me.”
“There’s coffee.”
She turned back.
“Don’t worry, I’m under threat of life and limb to leave you alone.”
She considered him for a long moment. He looked harmless enough, no longer wearing the suspicion he had when they’d first met.
“Did you find a tea bag in your exploration?”
“Yep.” He pulled open one of the closer cabinets. “That and coffee is about the strongest thing they’ve got in this house.”
He set a box of Darjeeling on the counter. “Have a seat. I’ll put the kettle on.”
“Thank you.” She sat at the small eat-in table, still not sure if she was comfortable in his presence.
He turned on the stove and then hopped up to sit on the counter. “Did you really fall out of the sky and land on my brother’s car?”
“Seems that way.”
“’Cause...he’s not exactly poor.” Derek grinned. “I wouldn’t blame you if this was some scheme to marry a rich dude.”
August tried to keep her expression passive, even though the words sparked her irritation. “I’m afraid not.”
“Naw. You don’t look like you’d need to scheme. I bet you could have any guy you want, with a face like yours.”
“That sounded like a compliment.”
“I’m not as rotten as G would have you believe.” He leaned both hands on the edge of the counter and eyed her. “What’s it like not having your memory? Like, do you know if you’re really a blond? I guess you would, if the carpets match the drapes. Know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
He chuckled sheepishly. “You really don’t even remember your name? That seems so impossible.”
“I wish it were.” She stood from the table and moved to the bar overlooking the sunken living room. The ocean stretched before her, as wide and empty as her memories. “It’s frustrating. Lonely. Scary. But I can’t help but wonder if there’s something I don’t want to remember.”
“I know how that feels. I can tell you, there’s definitely stuff in my past I don’t want to remember.”
His voice had taken a far-away essence. She glanced over her shoulder, wanting to ask but knowing it was wrong to pry. Was he talking about the incident that had caused him to be at such odds with his brother?
The teapot whistled. Derek jumped down off the counter and flipped off the burner. August moved back into the kitchen and pulled open the last cabinet. It was filled with plates.
“Where do you keep the coffee mugs?” she asked, closing it.
“Here,” Derek said.
A flash of white sailed toward her face. She screamed and threw up her good arm, desperate to block the blow heading straight for her head. Her cast rapped against the counter as she staggered back. Bright agony shot through her arm, so sharp and intense, a curtain of red filled her vision. She fell backward and landed on her tailbone.
* * *
Geoffrey flipped off Jocelyn’s bouncy music and drove the distance back to the house in silence. He’d spent another rough night battling the turbulent thoughts his mysterious guest brought alive. He hadn’t experienced emotions like this since before Christina died
.
Dammit, why did Derek have to come back now? Geoffrey couldn’t lie to himself: his brother’s return fueled half of it.
Throughout Derek’s chaotic career as a model and his heaviest drug use, Geoffrey had always tried to help, always been able to forgive. But then to learn about him and Christina, to hear from her own lips...His feelings had done a complete reversal. He could never forgive his brother.
It was Derek’s fault Christina died. She’d been getting better; she’d actually been happy in those last few months before Derek had come home that first time—or was it the second?—to dry out.
August brought out all the protective feelings all over again. He knew she wasn’t Christina, that helping her wouldn’t undo what had happened a year ago. But a part of him knew he had failed his wife, and Geoffrey wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He couldn’t possibly turn his back on this helpless young woman with unknown terror in her past.
And yet there was more to it, Geoffrey realized. He knew she had her own life. It was only a matter of time before she remembered it, and returned to it. But a part of him clung to a sliver of hope, a smidgeon of selfish need.
In these few days, Geoffrey had already learned she was the sweetest, most delightful young woman he’d ever met.
August was unlike any other woman, both in her unique and stunning beauty, and in the gentle charm that radiated from every part of her. When she spoke, her voice rang with a soft and joyous tone. When she smiled, her eyes almost appeared to twinkle. She was a woman who had known happiness, but had also known pain. Not for a second did he doubt the unseen danger her sixth sense was trying to reveal to her.
He turned the car in to the driveway and pulled to a stop under the oleander tree where he always parked. He turned off the engine and sat in the car.
Some terrible event might have happened to her, but August displayed none of the characteristics he would expect of a battered wife. She was too easygoing, too free with her smiles and her trust.
But what about the tan line?
Geoffrey shook his head. What was he thinking, clinging to a feeble hope that life here might be better than her old life? That she might be convinced to stay? He had nothing to offer her but a nice house to live in.
He was as plain as taupe wallpaper. He’d always drifted behind his brothers, who outshined and out-performed everything he did. In high school, girls had only befriended him for the chance to get close to football star Justin, or water polo champion David.
Thankfully, being three years older than Derek, he no longer faced that problem by the time his younger brother was a freshman in high school, but the steady stream of girls following Derek home always made Geoffrey slightly jealous. Derek attracted the prettiest girls. Girls like August.
He opened the door and slid out of the car in time to hear a scream inside the house.
He hardly realized his feet were carrying him at a dead run until he was through the front door and barreling into the kitchen.
August sprawled on the floor, bracing herself with her good arm. Derek loomed over her. He glanced up as Geoffrey flew at him.
“Get away from her!” He grabbed his brother by his t-shirt and shoved him off his feet. Derek staggered down the steps into the living room and tumbled over the couch.
“Whoa, bro! What the hell?”
“I should have known. I tell you one thing—to stay away from her—and you do exactly the opposite.”
“Geoffrey!” August’s shrill cry brought him back to the here and now. For a moment, déjà vu had taken hold, bringing him back to that tragic autumn day.
“Nothing happened, really!”
“Don’t make excuses for him.” Geoffrey turned back and advanced with several threatening steps toward his brother. Derek scrambled to his feet and darted away. “I want you out! You’ve used up all this family’s patience.”
“You mean your patience.” Wearing a scathing scowl, Derek straightened his t-shirt and stalked past, giving a wide berth. “Dude, chill. I’m going.”
Once his brother was out of sight, Geoffrey let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He turned around and saw August was still sprawled on the floor.
“God, August, I’m so sorry.” He rushed to help her to her feet.
“It’s all right, I’m okay.”
“What happened?” he demanded a little too harshly. He softened his tone. “Are you hurt?”
She swallowed and shook her head. The hand she braced on his arm trembled.
“I never should have left you alone.”
“He scared me, that’s all.” She managed a tremulous smile. “It wasn’t even him, really. I just saw his hand, coming at me.”
The front door slammed hard enough to make the house shudder. Stomping footsteps crunched through the gravel on the drive.
“He didn’t do anything. He was only getting a cup out of the cabinet.”
Geoffrey blew out a heavy sigh. August’s eyes were pleading. They welled with glossy tears she blinked away.
“Please, stop him. I know things are bad between you, but please, don’t let me make them worse.”
“It isn’t you, August.”
“This wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t here.”
He considered her for a long moment. “It’s long overdue.”
She glanced down. “I can’t bear knowing whatever exists between you two escalated because of me. Please, don’t make him leave.”
A knifing jealousy sliced through Geoffrey’s gut. But August wasn’t like all the other girls. Her motivation wasn’t selfish; it was simply her sweet nature to try to make things better between them. He reminded himself he had no right to feel jealous. August was free to make her own choice, even if it wasn’t him.
Even if it was Derek.
He clenched his jaw. Her warm hand found his forearm. He looked down, and all the rage flowed out of him. He sighed, feeling deflated.
“Christ.”
“Please?”
“All right.” He ground it out.
“Good. That makes me feel better.” August raised up on her toes and placed a quick kiss at his cheek.
All at once, warmth spread over his body like rivulets of bath water. “I’ll have to remember that,” he said with a chuckle.
August blushed and dipped her chin, hiding a bashful smile.
He turned and headed to the door, sparing her further embarrassment by saying something nerdy. His car keys were lying in the middle of the marble foyer where he’d tossed them on his way in.
He could hardly believe he was going after Derek. Over the past year, there wasn’t a single day when he didn’t wish his brother would stay in New York forever.
Geoffrey got behind the wheel and put the key in the ignition. Now with a few deep breaths in him, he understood how August could feel this was her fault. She didn’t understand the history between them, or know how truly bad things were. Though she was right in assuming that incident wouldn’t have happened if she weren’t here, she didn’t realize that something else would have, sooner or later.
“Christ,” he said again as he started the SUV.
Derek had made it all the way to the highway. He walked backward down the ocean road, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, one thumb stuck out. When he recognized Geoffrey coming, he turned around and kept hiking.
Geoffrey slowed the SUV and rolled down the window. “Get in.”
“Naw, dude. You made the scene clear.”
“Derek, Jesus! For once, can you act like an adult?”
He stopped and faced the open window. “August made you come after me, didn’t she?”
Geoffrey ground his teeth. He stared through the windshield, mentally counting to ten. “Are we going to sit here arguing in the middle of the road, or are you going to get in?”
Derek managed one more scowl before he opened the passenger door and slid in. Geoffrey flipped a U-turn and headed back to the house.
“August doesn’t
want to be responsible for any additional friction in our family.”
Derek gave a snort, but didn’t add whatever sarcastic thing was on the tip of his tongue.
Geoffrey guessed his thoughts; the damage was already done. August could hardly be held responsible for the bad feelings between them.
“Look, I’m not moving in on your girl,” Derek muttered.
“She isn’t my girl.”
He turned in to the driveway and brought the SUV to a stop under the oleander tree again. He shut off the motor and turned toward his brother. Derek wisely stayed put. He stared forward, as if afraid to turn and look at Geoffrey.
“August is hurt. Do you understand the situation? She needs a place to rest, heal, and feel safe. Can we pretend to be a normal family for the short time she’s here?”
“Sure.” Derek gave a flippant toss of one hand. “Whatever.”
“Thank you.” Geoffrey slipped out of the car and headed back toward the house without waiting for his brother.
* * *
“It wasn’t so much a dream as it was a memory,” August told Geoffrey on the fifteen-minute drive to town. “I’m sure it was something I experienced. I was laughing and having fun with my friends, and this burger joint, or whatever it was, was a place we went often.”
“But you couldn’t see anyone else’s faces?” He glanced over at her when the road straightened out.
“Not yet, but it was like they were right there, at the edge of my memory.” The landscape opened up, showing a breathtaking view of the ocean. “Now I can’t even remember much of it, but I wrote it down as soon as I woke up. It was one of those old-fashioned diners meant to look like a 1950s sock hop. Maybe Jocelyn’s bedroom spurred the memory.”
“I remember them. I don’t think there are any left, though. There’s never been one here. Do you want me to have Mike check on it while you’re with Dr. Lohman?”
“Definitely.” She looked over, memorizing his profile as he drove. From this view, she admired the length and thickness of his eyelashes. He had a straight, clean profile. “There’s something else.”
