by Pamela Fryer
“Not what I thought,” she said absently.
“That should be marked, according to code. I’m still ironing out the kinks.”
She glanced away, tamping down her increasing agitation. “How about a tour of the inside?”
“Vright zees vay. Through the grand double doors and into the foyer.” He unlocked a set of louvered doors and pushed back a hatch-cover, and then offered his hand. “Watch your step.”
A beam of sunlight cut through the small windows on the right side of the cabin.
“It looks like Derek’s been here,” August said.
He glanced to the empty pint bottle of vodka lying on the small galley counter. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I’d say you’re right,” he said, shifting his gaze to the rumpled makeshift bed. “He’s dog meat.”
“Now, wait a minute. This is good.”
He raised his eyebrows skeptically. “If you can prove that, I’ll spare him.”
“I know this—that’s usually a table, right? You unscrew the table’s support pole, and then use the table top to fill in the space and put a pad over it to make the bed.”
Geoffrey nodded. “How did you know that?”
“I wish I knew.” She shrugged. “So, is he off the hook?”
“Hmmm. I’m not sure.”
“What if we make him chip barnacles?”
He laughed. “Barnacles? On Penny Lane?”
“We can pick some off the rocks and relocate them, just for Derek.”
Geoffrey’s smile washed away her frustration. “Deal.”
* * *
This was a huge risk, but not finding out as much as she could was a bigger risk. She parked her car in the parking garage located behind the hospital and walked to the main entry.
The facility bustled with a high level of energy for a Saturday afternoon. The main desk was huge, but with several nurse attendants on duty, she didn’t have to wait. She chose the youngest looking one, hoping she’d be easier to deceive.
“Do you think I’d be able to see an OBGYN? I’m five months pregnant and last night I started having terrible pains in my abdomen. I thought it might be constipation...” She smiled sheepishly. “But I’m not constipated. I have insurance.”
The nurse’s icy expression thawed at the mention of insurance. “I’m sure we can get you in. You did the right thing coming in, even if it is just constipation. What’s your name, hon?”
“Sonja Davis.” She handed over the insurance card for Blue Cross.
“Second trimester,” the nurse said as she typed. “I need to see your ID.”
Her heart jumped, and she really did feel a cramp in her gut. She fumbled getting the driver’s license out of the plastic pocket of the wallet.
She handed it to the nurse, who looked at it, and then up at her. Her eyes flicked back and forth, suspicious.
“I had red hair when that was taken,” she said. “Can’t color it now, though, because of the baby.”
“That’s good to hear. You’d be surprised how many still do. Shouldn’t do it while you’re nursing, either, okay?”
She nodded along, obedient and agreeable. So far, so good.
The nurse set the ID and insurance card on the front of her keyboard and typed in the information. “You’re from Washington. So you’ve never been here before?”
She breathed out her relief. “No, I’m down here visiting friends. I can’t tell you how happy I was to find you have this big, beautiful hospital here. I was really worried I would have to drive all the way back to Seattle.”
The nurse beamed as she handed her back the driver’s license and insurance card. A well-placed compliment was usually all it took to persuade the simple-minded.
“You’re in luck. We have an appointment available.”
A stylish woman in a lab coat entered the nurse’s station, wearing expensive high heels. She handed a clipboard to another nurse, speaking in soft tones. She looked up when another doctor entered the station.
“Dr. Jessup, I wonder if you have a moment to discuss my amnesia patient?”
Her attention went to red-hot. Amnesia? Was it possible this was the mysterious traffic accident victim Vinnie found?
“The young woman found out on the coastal highway?” The male doctor she was talking to checked his watch. “Sure, I have time before my next appointment.”
The room around her had increased by ten degrees. Her mind worked with the fantastic possibilities as she dimly heard the printer grinding out a plastic ID band with her details. The nurse fixed it around her wrist.
“Take a seat. They’ll call you in about ten minutes. I’ve indicated this is urgent. Dr. Freeman will be seeing you.” The nurse winked. “She’s a woman.”
She gave a huge smile. “That’s a relief. Thank you so much.”
Could it really have been this easy? She’d known Emily had been in this hospital, but to have the bitch just fall into her lap...and with amnesia, no less! Fuckin’ A.
In the promised ten minutes, a nurse practitioner called her name. Swiftly and efficiently, her blood pressure and temperature were taken, and she was weighed. This chubby nurse seemed generally disinterested—in anything other than cake and cookies, it would appear—and hardly said two words. She showed her into an examination room and sat down at a computer console.
“Take off everything and put the smock on, opening in the front.” She gestured to the folded garments on the examination table. “Your birthdate?”
Shit. She swallowed. Think, think, think! Valentine’s Day. “February fourteenth.” Close one. Thank goodness it was an easy birthday to remember.
“You’re in for stomach pains...and you’re in your second trimester?”
“Yes.”
“Have you eaten any spicy foods in the last twenty-four hours?”
“No. That would be bad for the baby.”
The nurse looked at her like she’d insulted her intelligence. “The doctor will be with you in a few minutes.”
The instant the door of the exam room closed, she bolted for the computer. The screen was still visible; the nurse hadn’t locked it.
She didn’t know much about computers, and certainly not hospital programs, but there was a search bar for patient names at the top of a user-friendly looking screen.
She typed “Emily Atkinson.”
NO PATIENT FOUND.
“Dammit. Come on.” She tried again, but got the same response. Vinnie had been right; whatever record might have been in this system had been deleted.
There was another search bar, presumably to search the system by other factors. She typed in “traffic accident” and waited while it searched. The computer spit out more than twenty pages, judging by the resulting page links numbered at the bottom.
“Shit.”
She couldn’t possibly find Emily in all these. She typed “amnesia,” in the search bar and clicked the search symbol again. A single page of results came up for a Dr. Lohman in the psychiatry department. She quickly scanned through patient summaries before she realized the first one, a listing whose abbreviated description showed the word “amnesia” and “August Unknown–Barthlow,” was the one she was looking for.
She clicked the link for the first entry. No picture, but she hadn’t expected one. She didn’t know what “Barthlow” meant, either, but figured it was somebody’s name. She’d check it out later on her smart phone.
She scanned what she could as seconds ticked by. She couldn’t be caught, and she couldn’t go through with this appointment. She could not afford to be remembered here.
If this was Emily, she had walked in front of a car on the night of September ninth on the Oregon Coastal Highway. She had broken her arm, and needed eight stitches in her forehead. She didn’t remember what had happened before the accident.
“Bloody beautiful.”
The address was listed as 19 Crestview Drive. That was easy enough to remember. She typed “Sonja Davis” into the search bar, bringing up the ori
ginal patient record again, in case anyone needed reminding who had been assigned to this room and mysteriously disappeared before the doctor arrived.
She grabbed her purse and casually exited the examination room, looking like any other patient who’d finished with their appointment.
* * *
“Wow, Uncle G. You’re smokin’.” Jocelyn giggled.
Geoffrey stopped in the doorway and met August’s eyes in the mirror. She smiled as she looked over his tuxedo, and his insides turned quivery.
“I love that tux on you,” Leah said. “Jocelyn, let August borrow your beige hair ribbon, okay? It’ll go nice with my shawl.”
Leah had woven August’s long hair into a single French braid and coiled the length of it into a bun at the nape of her neck.
A sliver of guilt needled its way in to his gut. Had August asked Leah to disguise her by hiding her hair?
“It’s a little cool for this outfit this time of year, so this shawl will be perfect to drape over your cast. It’s wool, but it’s not too scratchy.” Leah tied the cream colored shawl over August’s shoulder as Jocelyn came bounding back into the room with the tiny ribbon bow.
“Let me put it on.”
August sat on the edge of the bed and Jocelyn knelt behind her on the mattress. She gingerly slipped the bobby-pin into the center of the bun.
“Perfect,” Leah said, surveying her work. “With the shawl, you can hardly tell you have a broken arm.”
“Except for this ugly body sling,” August said. She stood, and after glancing over her reflection, met Geoffrey’s eyes again in the mirror.
She looked beautiful in the borrowed turquoise dress and strappy high-heeled sandals. Wispy bangs brushed over her forehead, and Geoffrey saw Leah had replaced the Sesame Street bandage at August’s forehead with a smaller, flesh-colored one. A subtle touch of rose-toned makeup accentuated her natural coloring, and her lips were shiny with pink gloss.
Another wave of guilt surged through him. If anything happened to her tonight, he would never forgive himself.
He was being selfish. He’d watched his brothers parade around with beautiful women his whole life, and tonight was just another desperate effort to leap out of their shadows. Having her with him would make him feel a little less like an outcast in a room full of strangers.
Those were foolish thoughts. August was no more his girlfriend than Yaquina Head was his lighthouse.
The guilt morphed into something darker. Even if he and August both agreed this wasn’t a date, the plain and simple truth was his feelings were becoming dangerous. Feelings he wasn’t ready for.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked, looking to justify his own excuse.
“Sure, bro. After I get her all dressed up, now you’re trying to back out?” Leah teased.
“I did her nails,” Jocelyn volunteered.
“It sounds like you’re trying to talk me out of it.” August turned from the mirror and approached him. “Something wrong with the dress?”
“God no. August, you’re gorgeous.” Pale hints of pink eye shadow made her blue eyes more brilliant than a summer sky. The frosty-pink lip-gloss had turned her lips downright edible.
This is wrong. Somehow, I’m betraying Christina.
The hand August placed on his arm squeezed reassuringly. “I’m beginning to feel silly with all this paranoia. All that worrying was for nothing, right? I mean, who even knows if I have an enemy with red hair?”
He took her hand from his arm and wrapped it in his own. “You need to trust your gut. If this isn’t right, tell me.”
“It’s right. Don’t worry.”
He wasn’t convinced. Even if she felt safe, a nagging voice whispering in his ear told him taking August out was wrong. But was it the angelic side of his conscience, or the devilish?
Even though she clearly enjoyed his company, August truly wasn’t his, just like Christina had never truly been his. Geoffrey felt himself being pulled north and south by his emotions, but heaven help him, he liked being around her too much.
“The award, one drink, and we’ll skip out before dinner.”
“I don’t even get dinner?”
She smiled, and her eyes twinkled. Lord, he could watch that happen for the rest of his life.
“Geez, you’re a stingy date.”
Date. There, she’d said it. He didn’t know how to respond. Heat crawled into his face as an uncomfortable second stretched into an uncomfortable minute.
“Can I come, too?” Jocelyn asked.
“No, honey, it’s grown-up stuff,” Leah told her. “Besides, I thought we were going to bake a blueberry pie?” She shooed them out of the room. “Get going, you two, before Geoffrey misses his award.”
August took his arm as they walked down the hall. When Derek caught sight of them, he whistled.
“Whoa, don’t you two look like the dapper duo. Nice penguin suit, dude. Tonight’s your tree-hugging thing, isn’t it?”
Geoffrey clenched his jaw. “Yeah. The tree-hugging thing.”
“Hey, I’m all for it. Save the trees, you know. Too much logging, too much pavement.”
“That’s funny, considering you’re most at home in New York City.”
“Actually, Derek,” Leah cut in, “two years ago a fire started by campers destroyed 165 acres of national forest. This family—those members who were present anyhow—was primarily responsible for organizing and funding the reseeding. Geoffrey headed up the project, so the Newport Chamber of Commerce and the Sierra Foundation are presenting him with the Mayor’s Volunteer of the Year award.”
“To me and my very large group of volunteers,” he interrupted his sister before she embarrassed him to death. “The people who were actually shoveling and planting deserve the most recognition.”
Another miserable wave of heat crawled over his face. How he hated ceremonial foo-fa like this. He much preferred to wield his influence from the anonymity of his office, and keep it that way: anonymous.
“I think it’s wonderful,” August said, tightening the link of her arm around his. She eased closer, enveloping him in a wonderful essence of roses and citrus. “It’s always so sad when nature gets destroyed, especially from careless human error. People need to take more responsibility for this planet.”
“I would have helped out, if I’da been here,” Derek mumbled. He looked genuinely pouty. Geoffrey joined the others in ignoring him.
“Let’s go, shall we? The sooner we get there, the sooner we leave.”
August laughed. “It sounds like you don’t want to do this.”
“What gave me away?” He guided her to the door.
“It’ll be fun.”
Already, with August at his side, it was starting to be.
* * *
“This is one of your hotels?” August asked him.
“The first one.” Geoffrey sounded as uneasy as she felt.
Nerves had started as tiny pin-pricks during the short ride to town. Anxiety morphed into worry as they got out of the car and started toward the Palisades’ entry. She had the strangest sensation she was being watched.
But the worry turned to full-fledged terror when they entered the grand ballroom and found nearly a thousand people milling about. The buzz of conversation was deafening, and as soon as they saw Geoffrey, the people closest surrounded him, offering handshakes and congratulatory pats on the back. It was obvious he was well-known and well-liked in Newport. Their voices rang in her ears and August was overwhelmed by the sudden crush. She sidled behind him, lost in a sea of tuxedo-clad men and elegantly dressed women.
“It’s about time. I was wondering when you’d get here.”
August hardly recognized Gran Millie. She’d shed her Mirthful Mermaid’s t-shirt and apron for a glittering black gown. For the first time, instead of her tight ponytail, August saw a perfectly coiffed page-boy hairdo. She looked like a movie star. For all her sixty-seven years, she’d retained an air of elegant beauty.
&nb
sp; “Watch it, people, she’s got a broken arm. Come this way, darling. We’re sitting up front at a reserved table.”
Suddenly all attention turned toward August, and she heard a woman loudly ask, “Geoffrey, dear, who is your date?”
He kissed his grandmother on the cheek and took August under his arm. “This is a friend of the family. August, uh, Smith. August, this is Maxine Crawford, president of the ladies’ auxiliary.”
August shook her hand, and then allowed herself to be introduced to several other people whose names she’d never remember. She felt as if everyone in the room was staring at her, and even imagined she could hear their whispers.
Someone bumped her arm. Bright agony zinged down her forearm, followed by a surge of nausea. Suddenly everyone seemed threatening. Was one of the people in this room the person who had hurt her?
She was glad when Gran Millie pulled her away. “You look so pretty tonight, dear. I’m glad to see some color back in those cheeks.”
“It’s painted on.” She swallowed. “I think I need to sit down.”
Millie guided her to the nearest chair. “Is your arm hurting?”
“Someone bumped it. I’ll be fine in a minute.”
“Clumsy clods. You can dress ’em up but you can’t take ’em out.” Millie poured her a glass of ice water from the carafe on the table. “Did you take a pain pill tonight?”
She desperately looked around for Geoffrey. “I flushed them. We were afraid Derek would try to find them.”
“Oh, for God’s sake! Where is that grandson of mine?”
“I didn’t like them. They make my head foggy.” She forced a smile. “I’m better now. It’s just a little overwhelming, all these people.”
Gran Millie gave her a narrowed glance. “Are you sure coming tonight was a good idea?”
August nodded. “I have to stop living in fear of every person I see.” She mustered a weak laugh. “The way I figure it, I need to give the person who did this to me a big surprise.”
