Remember Tomorrow

by Gabrielle Goldsby

  “Who?” Arie had the same shy curious look she’d had in the past when meeting someone new.

  A vise clamped down on Cees’s throat as she struggled to introduce herself to the woman she had once loved so fervently.

  “My name is Cees Bannigan.” There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Cees thought. What was hard was meeting Arie’s eyes.

  Cees had thought she had begun to forget and forgive. She was wrong.

  “Now, who are you to me?” Arie rasped. The words were guttural but clear. Even though she had expected the question, Cees was still speechless.

  “We used to be…lovers,” Cees said and wondered how what they were could be summed up in such simple terms.

  “Used to be?” Sharp eyes took in Cees’s casual attire and settled on the logo at the breast of Cees’s shirt. Heat settled over Cees’s face as her nipples predictably hardened. Cees didn’t remember Arie’s gaze being so piercing.

  “Yes, we…ended our relationship almost two years ago.”

  Cees Þ nally found a comfortable place to settle her eyes.

  “Cees Bannigan?”

  Cees jumped at the full use of her name. “Yes?”

  “Would you mind sitting down? It’s hurting my neck to look up at you.”

  “Oh yeah, sorry.” Cees turned one way, then another until

  • 26 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  she spotted a chair in the corner, picked it up, and moved it next to Arie’s bed. She tried to meet her eyes again, but ended up looking down into her own lap. Her chest was rising and falling as if she had just run a few miles. Who was she kidding? It wasn’t the chair. She had tool belts that weighed more than that chair.

  “Thank you. Did they tell you that I don’t—”

  “Yes,” Cees interrupted, not quite ready to hear Arie utter the words “I don’t remember you,” even though she had already said as much earlier.

  “Did they tell you what happened to me?”

  “I was told that you swerved to avoid hitting a stalled car and ß ipped your Jeep.”

  Arie nodded again. “The police said they couldn’t Þ nd any relatives.”

  “You told me your parents died when you were young, and your grandfather died just before we met.” Cees smiled wanly.

  “It was one of the things we had in common.”

  Arie went quiet. “Why did we—break up? What happened to us?” Arie’s Þ ne dark curls had been left to mat against her temples. Her face, though long and wan from weight loss, still managed to cause Cees’s pulse to quicken.

  “You said we weren’t right for each other.” Cees felt her back stiffen as she was forced to answer.

  “And you didn’t agree?”

  “It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter what I thought anymore.” But it did matter, it still does. The old hurt and anger returned, pushing any remaining vestiges of attraction from her mind. What would have been so bad that we couldn’t have worked things out? Cees forced the question to the back of her consciousness where it had lived for nearly two years. Arie would not be able to answer anyway.

  “Still, I would like to know what happened. If you don’t mind.”

  Cees hated the way Arie hesitated when she spoke. Even

  • 27 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  after things had started to go bad between them, there had always been a surety of purpose in Arie’s voice. A certainty that she knew what she wanted.

  “I don’t…we fought. You told me you wanted me to leave. I haven’t heard from you since.”

  Arie’s dark eyes raked across Cees’s face. Cees felt the Þ rst stirrings of real discomfort. The kind of discomfort she still felt when meeting new people, despite being on television.

  Cees realized that part of the problem was that she couldn’t read this Arie. Even in the early stages of their past relationship, before things went bad and Cees was forced to realize there would be no happily-ever-after for them, she had sensed that Arie was holding back. What was that saying? You never ask a question you aren’t prepared to get the answer to? She hadn’t forced Arie to tell her what was bothering her because she was too afraid of what the answer would be. She had been a coward and she had ended up alone anyway.

  “The police tell you that you were named in my medical power of attorney?”

  “Yes, they told me.”

  Arie opened her mouth, closed it, and then frowned. “Why would I explicitly say that you had to put me in a home?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that either. Arie, you have to understand. I didn’t even know you had a medical power of attorney.”

  Arie seemed to think about that. “Maybe I knew you would come if something happened to me.”

  Cees turned up her lips in what she hoped would pass for a smile. “You couldn’t possibly have known that.”

  “You’re here now, aren’t you?”

  Cees had no answer, and Arie went on as if she hadn’t expected one. She’s afraid. Arie always got methodical when she was afraid.

  “So we had a Þ ght and that was it? It had to be something else.”

  • 28 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  “I can only tell you what I know. One minute we were Þ ne and the next…” Cees raised her shoulders in a shrug, but never completed the gesture. “Arie, I think I know where you’re going with this but…as I told Dr. Parrantt, I don’t think our breakup would have been catastrophic enough to cause your amnesia. For one thing, it happened too long ago. I’m certain you moved on with your life, as I did.”

  Cees read disappointment in Arie’s face and knew without being told that Arie had probably been hoping that Cees could give her the answers, but instead she had only created more questions.

  Guilt ß ooded through her and almost made her tell the truth.

  What she hadn’t told anyone was that she had seen it coming. She had felt it when Arie had begun to keep parts of herself back. She could see it in Arie’s eyes when she didn’t think she was being observed—a sadness that Arie would deny anytime Cees asked her about it. Those moments had been few and far between at Þ rst. The closer they became, the more they talked about starting a family and building a future together, the more Cees could see that Arie was struggling. She hadn’t forced the issue because she was afraid that whatever it was would tear them apart. She’d been right. When Cees had moved her accumulation of things out of Arie’s apartment, she had hoped it would be temporary—a way to give Arie time to work out whatever was bothering her. But when Arie hadn’t even called to make sure she was okay, it had hurt. And now here she was, unable to confront Arie with how much she’d hurt her. What the hell was she even doing there?

  Cees had been so deep in thought, she hadn’t noticed the tears until they were falling down the sides of Arie’s face. “Should I go get…?”

  Cees instinctively reached out and took Arie’s hand. Arie jumped, much the way anyone would if a stranger grabbed their hand, but she did not pull away.

  Cees stroked Arie’s palm, surprised at the soft skin she found there.

  • 29 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  “What is it?” Arie’s voice sounded breathless.

  “Nothing.”

  “No, tell me?”

  “Your hands are so soft.” Cees realized she had been running her thumb slowly over the inside of Arie’s palm and abruptly released Arie’s hand. “Your hands were always work roughened.

  You would rub cream in them at night so that…”A shiver coursed through Cees’s body at the instant memory of those hands on her skin. Stop it. She’s been hurt, and more importantly, she has made it quite clear she doesn’t want you. The last thought, more than the sight of her former lover in a hospital bed, pushed the rising tendrils of arousal to the furthest reaches of her consciousness.

  The tired, agitated look on Arie’s face reminded Cees that she too was exhausted. Arie watched her stand, but didn’t speak.

  �
��I should let you get some rest.” When Arie didn’t answer, guilt made Cees rush her words. “I’ll be back tomorrow after work.”

  After all the heartache, tears, and angry words, time had given her a respite, and now here she was visiting the one person who still had the ability to break her heart with a look. Lilly would call her all kinds of fool if she knew where she was. Cees turned to leave.

  “Thank you for coming.” The words were softly spoken and brought back instant recognition of soft breaths brushing across her shoulder, neck, and breast. She wanted to look back, but she didn’t. The force in her chest had begun to swell, and swallowing had no effect on it as she walked down the hall. She wished she had not told Arie she would be back tomorrow, because what she wanted to do instead was curl into a ball and protect herself from the emotional punch to the soul she knew would come as soon as Arie started to remember.

  v

  Arie didn’t relax until the door had closed behind the stranger. “Cees Bannigan,” she said aloud, but the name felt

  • 30 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  no more familiar to her lips than the one Dr. Parrantt had told her was her own. The pain in her back and neck was her Þ rst indication that she should relax, but the throb at her temple had already begun. Past experience told her the throb would grow into a pounding that would leave her so sick she couldn’t think.

  Nurse Kerr walked in just as she reached a trembling hand to her forehead.

  “Headache?” she asked in a stern voice that didn’t match the concern in her eyes.

  “Not yet, but it’s coming,” she said while thoughts and questions rushed through her head.

  The nurse was about to leave, ostensibly to get medicine, but Arie stopped her with a question.

  “Did you see her?”

  Nurse Kerr hesitated, walked to the end table, and poured Arie a glass of water. “Yes, I saw her come in. Very pretty.”

  “Pretty?” Arie thought about that word. She didn’t think Cees Bannigan was pretty. Pretty didn’t seem to cover the way looking at Cees’s face made her feel, but she couldn’t think of a word that did.

  “Did seeing her spark any memories?”

  Arie drank from the glass before answering. “I don’t think so, but when she came in, I felt…relieved.”

  “What do you think that meant?”

  Arie frowned as she tried to identify her own emotions. “I don’t think I recognized her, but she…things felt less scary after she walked in.” She thought about mentioning something else, but kept that part to herself. How could she tell Nurse Kerr that although she didn’t remember her own name, her body was in a state of anticipation the whole time Cees Bannigan was in the room? It felt as if an invisible string had been attached to her chest and the tugging at it didn’t cease until she laid eyes on Cees. How could she tell Nurse Kerr something like that? “I don’t know if she’ll be back.”

  Deep lines appeared around Nurse Kerr’s mouth, though she

  • 31 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  didn’t quite smile. “I heard her leave her cell, work, and home phone numbers at the front desk. I think she’s planning on coming back tomorrow.”

  “I didn’t ask her anything about herself,” Arie said in relief.

  Nurse Kerr picked up the remote and turned on the TV.

  “You should take advantage of not having a roommate and watch whatever TV you want.” Nurse Kerr turned the channel to the local PBS network and looked at the clock. “The new shows aren’t on this channel, but you might Þ nd the reruns interesting.” She grinned, and Arie could picture her with grandkids, a husband, and a large family. The thought saddened her. Not because she didn’t want Nurse Kerr to have those things, but because, from what she had been told, she didn’t have anyone. Just this one…

  friend.

  “Welcome to Cees Bannigan Your Home.” The voice brought chills to her skin as she stared into the wonderful dark eyes again, this time protected by goggles. She was walking toward the camera, and Arie’s heart twisted in her chest as she said the words “welcome home.”

  “That’s her,” she breathed. “She’s on a TV show?”

  “Yes, she’s the host.”

  Arie turned up the TV volume. Cees Bannigan, executive producer and host of Cees Bannigan Your Home, was about to show her how to replace her normal light switch with a dimmer switch.

  “One of my daughters loves her show. I think she’s taped every one. When I tell her she was here, she’ll ß ip. I need to get back. Do you want me to bring you anything for the headache?”

  Arie shook her head and leaned forward as Cees turned off the power, tested the switch, and then used an electric screwdriver to remove the light panel. The camera moved in close and showed the side of Cees’s face as she appeared to concentrate on what she was doing.

  “Do you think she’ll let me borrow them?” Nurse Kerr was

  • 32 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  silent so long that Arie had to turn away from the TV to make sure she hadn’t left. “The tapes, I mean?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Look,” Arie said impatiently and then curbed her tone because in the two days since she had awakened, the nurse had gone out of her way to make sure she was as comfortable as possible. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound curt, but…I won’t be in here forever, and she’s the only one that claims to know me.

  I’d like to remember something about her.”

  “Maybe you should just ask her about herself.”

  Heat crept up around Arie’s neck as she turned back to the TV. “I will if she comes back.”

  “If she doesn’t, I don’t think a TV show is going to tell you much about her.” Nurse Kerr must have felt Arie’s frustration because she relented almost instantly. “I’ll see what I can do, but no promises. My girl was never one to share her toys.” Arie was tempted to react petulantly, but reminded herself that Nurse Kerr was not her friend. She was here to do her job. Arie didn’t even remember what her job was.

  “And that’s it,” Cees Bannigan said as she removed her eye protection and grinned into the camera, causing Arie’s heart to ß utter again. The smile was deÞ nitely compelling. She wasn’t sure if it was familiar, but she would certainly buy Banes Brand power drills because they kept that smile on TV. She sighed, feeling odd about the thought, but unconcerned. She’d try to talk more when…if Cees Bannigan returned tomorrow. She closed her eyes and fell asleep, but not before she began to dream—

  remember that smile hovering over her, teasing her, whispering words that she couldn’t hear and didn’t need to.

  The love in those eyes spoke loud enough.

  • 33 •

  • 34 •

  REMEMBER TOMORROW

  CHAPTER THREE

  Cees leaned against the door of her truck, with her head against the window. Stars dotted the sky like pinpricks in perfect black silk. Cees had been standing there for several minutes trying to calm the tumult of emotion that was causing her Þ ngers to twitch despite the fact that she had them tucked into her armpits. She should have been angry—no, livid, but instead all she felt was confusion. Her cell phone vibrated, and Cees snatched it off her hip and answered it without looking at the ID screen.

  “Hi, everything okay?”

  Cees felt inexplicably disappointed at hearing Miranda’s voice. “Yeah, Þ ne,” Cees said, although she felt anything but Þ ne.

  “What happened? I went looking for you after my call, but you were gone.”

  “Ah,” Cees sighed. “A friend had an accident. She’s in the hospital.” Miranda knew about her failed relationship with Arie, but Cees didn’t feel like explaining why, after everything Arie had put her through, she had visited her in the hospital. She had yet to convince herself of her motivations, so she certainly wasn’t going to be able to convince anyone else. Not yet, maybe not ever.

  “So, you coming by for dinner or what?” />
  • 35 •

  GABRIELLE GOLDSBY

  “Dinner or what” was usually a few bites of takeout followed by sex. Cees thought about it. She even felt her pulse quicken for a second, but the urge subsided as quickly as it had occurred.

  “No, I think I’m going to head home and get some rest.”

  “I thought you said you were going out with Lilly?”

  Cees sighed. The mere thought of a conversation with Lilly drained what little energy she had left. “Thanks for reminding me. I’ll call her and cancel.”

  “Sure I can’t convince you to come over?” Miranda sounded amused. No, not just amused, surprised, which annoyed Cees enough that she almost mentioned it, but decided not to. Lilly’s right. I need to stop dating people I work with.

  “Yeah, I’m positive. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Cees ended the call and immediately dialed Lilly’s number.

  After leaving a message on Lilly’s voicemail, she tossed the phone into her passenger seat and clambered into the truck. Why was she feeling so damn frazzled? Why? How about because you just had to reintroduce yourself to a woman who had free rein of your heart and your body and then decided she didn’t want either?

  The thought was enough to bring on the comforts of anger, and Cees spent the Þ nal ten-minute drive home gripping the steering wheel so hard that the joints of her Þ ngers hurt.

  Cees pulled slowly into her driveway and parked behind Lilly Nguyen’s roadster.

  Lilly was standing outside her car squinting down at the ground.

  “I guess you didn’t get my message. What are you looking at?” Cees walked up and stood beside her. A tiny toy soldier had been shoved headÞ rst between the paved driveway and the grass.

  “I could have rolled over that thing and punctured a tire.”

  Cees stooped and picked up the soldier. “It’s just plastic, Lilly. One of my neighbor’s kids was probably playing over here.” She managed to keep the exasperation out of her voice because she knew it would make Lilly pouty. Ever since Lilly