Pleased to Meet Me

by J. L. Salter

  Stacy’s eyes filled. “I’ve just found myself. Why do I have to go?”

  “Already told you.” He couldn’t meet her gaze. “You need to relearn who you are. You need time.”

  “I don’t want time. I want…”

  “Stacy, after things have settled, if you still want some connection to me and this mountain, I’ll be here.” He swallowed hard. “But it would be a mistake to chisel any of that on stone ‘til you get your full memory back.”

  “This isn’t about memory,” she said, squeezing back tears, “it’s…”

  Wilder turned her by the shoulders so they both faced her slowly approaching brother-in-law. “Looks like he’s healed up pretty well.”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess so.” Stacy stared up at the survivalist stranger whose tight grip close behind now prevented her from hugging him. Tears burned her eyes.

  Bishop ignored the female tears and extended his hand. “I’m Stacy’s brother-in-law.”

  Stacy wriggled out of Wilder’s grip and stepped to one side.

  “You must be the mountain man who helped her out.”

  “Cody Wilder,” said Cody, holding firmly the hand at least twenty years his senior. “She wasn’t too much trouble. Even learned to make a sandwich.”

  Stacy dabbed her eyes and attempted to smile.

  “Oh, she’s a great cook,” replied Bishop. “But I gather she’s experiencing some memory issues at present. We’ll check with her doctor as soon as we get home.”

  “Some things are coming back,” she said. “Seeing your face again was a big help, Ron.”

  Bishop hugged her sideways. “You gave me quite a scare. I barely made it down the mountain in that storm and had no idea where you’d been taken. I was afraid…”

  “I know.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence.

  Of the three, Bishop seemed the most at ease...but he also had the least to lose. “Anyway, thanks for everything you did, Wilder. Most everybody’s been helpful in some way—at least getting out the word—and several were even willing to help me hunt for Stacy. But the constable wouldn’t let anybody go up the mountain ‘til the weather cleared and that road dried out a bit. He said he didn’t have the resources to mount a second search party to find the first one.”

  “That’s the way it is up Hardscrabble.” Wilder scratched at the gravel with his boot heel. “They ever find the guys who, uh, attacked y’all?”

  “Constable has a new lead on two guys who matched the description I gave.”

  “They’re probably long gone by now,” said Wilder.

  “Actually, I just heard they were arrested in the next county, on a different assault and robbery.”

  “Carter County?”

  “No, Sullivan, I think. Up toward Bristol.”

  Stacy tried to sound chipper. “Maybe I can get my phone back.”

  “There,” said Wilder, “you remembered something else.”

  Bishop smiled. “Oh, she’s always on that phone of hers.”

  “Don’t have a phone myself,” Wilder said, “but I’ve heard people say they don’t get very good satellite reception around here.”

  “Yeah,” said Bishop, with a wave of the hand, “this hamlet is pretty much off the grid.”

  Stacy laughed in spite of herself. “You haven’t seen anything until you see the grid that he’s not on.” She pointed to Wilder.

  Her brother-in-law didn’t have a clue.

  “Oh, Ron,” she said, “Let me ask you something. Cody noticed that only my legs were tanned but not my arms or face. Seems a little odd. Any idea what I do or where?”

  “Well, you do a lot of walking and biking, for exercise.”

  “Maybe I wear a big hat. But why are my arms so pale?”

  “You always wear long sleeves, even in summer.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  Her brother-in-law smiled. “Cold-natured. Can’t stand being cold.”

  That explained her shocked reaction to Wilder’s shower. “Then why don’t I wear pants outside to cover my legs?”

  Bishop laughed but shook his head like he wasn’t going to explain.

  “Tell me. Please. I need to re-learn myself.”

  “Well, I don’t know the particulars, you understand, but Dennis always said you were a little, uh, vain about your pretty legs...and you wanted them dark enough that you didn’t have to wear any hosiery.”

  “Vain?” Stacy’s face reddened. “What other vices do I have? Am I a nice person?” When her brother-in-law started to speak, she shook her hand in front of him. “Never mind. Tell me later.”

  Bishop nodded with a wry grin.

  She felt off-balance. It was almost like a rebirth, a chance to start over. The opportunity to move forward with all the good things in her life and discard whatever might be bad...including being vain and whatever other flaws in her dealings. But she couldn’t ponder that now and needed to change the subject. “Ron, do I have any other clothes here?”

  “Not much, I don’t think.” He closed his eyes to help his memory. “But at least you have what we traveled in...before you changed clothes for our hike.”

  “Where’s that outfit?”

  “In your little suitcase...back seat of the car.”

  She grasped Wilder’s elbow. “Can you hang on another second?”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve been in these clothes for most of three days. Let me go change.” She searched his eyes imploringly. “Won’t take three minutes. I promise.” She dashed off toward the large sedan and then hustled toward room seven with a small case, which included her toothbrush.

  Wish I had time to shave my legs.

  ****

  “No woman can change clothes in three minutes,” said Cody.

  Bishop nodded in the direction his sister-in-law had gone. “You’d be surprised. Once Stacy makes up her mind to do something…”

  Cody redirected Bishop’s attention. “Where did y’all stay before you reached Boar Mount? Or did you drive here from Washington County on Friday?”

  He seemed puzzled at the question. “Well, we actually stayed at a B&B she likes in Mountain City. From there we take day trips to the spots she wants to visit.”

  “Isn’t that a little weird…?”

  “Hold on. I think I understand your confusion,” said Bishop. “We have separate rooms. Just a single room here because I was the only one staying. But in Mountain City and any other place we travel, it’s one room apiece.”

  “So you’re not, uh…?”

  “We love each other, Wilder, but it’s not the kind you’re apparently worried about. We’re still in-laws, but we’re also really good friends and companions.”

  Cody exhaled heavily. “Glad you explained that.”

  “I have a lady friend back home, but I’m not interested in marrying again.”

  “How come she doesn’t come on these jaunts with you?”

  “Hates to travel.” Bishop chuckled. “Whereas, I love to...and so does Stacy. So we travel together. Companions.”

  In the distance, Stacy emerged from number seven in a totally different outfit, with her hair combed back into a ponytail that bounced as she hurried their direction.

  “Five minutes,” said Bishop, checking his jeweled watch.

  “Didn’t make what she promised,” added Cody, “but that’s still a world record for most women.”

  “If I was in the market for a younger mate,” said Bishop nodding toward his approaching sister-in-law, “Stacy would be a catch.”

  Stacy screeched to a stop and had to hang on to Cody to keep momentum from carrying her farther. “How’d I do?”

  She’d changed into a long-sleeved, scoop neck, dressy blue T-shirt over an obviously different brassière that advantageously showed her upper curves. Also a tight white linen skirt, cut just above her lovely knees, which highlighted her curvy hips. She wore two-inch heels, the same color as her blouse. “You look gorgeous,” said Cody.

/>   Bishop nodded agreement.

  “Thanks, but I meant the time. Did I make the three minutes?”

  “Right on the nose,” lied Cody.

  As her fingertips lightly touched Cody’s sleeve, Stacy smiled warmly. “Can we drive over to Sullivan County and get our belongings?” she asked her brother-in-law.

  “Not sure if it’s that simple, but we’ll go check.” Bishop pointed east, in the direction of the courthouse. “The constable says we’ll have to come back here to testify at the trial, if they turn out to be the same guys. And assuming they’re extradited.”

  Stacy brightened. “Here?”

  “I doubt they’d send those crooks here for a town trial,” said Cody. “More likely to go to Mountain City, our county seat.”

  “Will you come to the trial, Cody, if they have one?”

  “If I hear about it in time,” he replied, with little conviction. “News tends to travel slow on the mountainside.”

  “I’ll send up a special envoy,” said Stacy. “If that’d be okay.”

  Cody’s lips parted to speak, but nothing actually came out.

  Stacy seemed about to ask, but Bishop interrupted. “Well, we ought to get moving, Stacy.”

  “Wait. I, uh, need…”

  Cody looked down at his boots.

  “When will I see you again?” she whispered.

  “Don’t know. You were here in Boar Mount at least once before. How often do you come over this way?”

  “Not sure.” She tapped Bishop’s arm. “Do we come here a lot?”

  “Since Dennis died, you’ve been here about every other month, but this was only our second time to come to Boar Mount together.”

  “What do we come here for?”

  Bishop smiled. “You don’t remember that either?”

  “Help me out.”

  “Research,” replied Bishop.

  Puzzled. “Oh, yeah.” She faced Cody. “I nearly forgot that I’d already remembered I’m a writer.”

  “Is she any good?” Cody asked Bishop.

  “I think so,” he answered with a proud smile. “She’s published.”

  “I am?” Stacy squealed. “I’ve always wanted to be published. I think.”

  “Yes, that was a big deal,” explained Bishop. “You and Dennis were both tickled pink when your books came out.”

  “So Dennis supported my writing?”

  “He encouraged all your creative endeavors, especially your writing.”

  “What else do I do?” She was like a sponge, understandably eager to soak up information about herself.

  Bishop’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t remember that either?”

  “You paint,” said Cody decisively.

  Bishop nodded. “But how do you know?”

  “I saw it in her eyes.”

  She squinted to better focus on Cody’s face.

  “Also spotted some doodles she left on my desk,” he said smiling.

  Stacy looked embarrassed.

  “Acrylics mostly, but also some sketches,” replied Bishop. “Lots of sketches, in fact, of buildings and places in this little town.”

  “Where are they?” She held out her empty hands.

  “Back home,” said Bishop. “Your studio above the garage.”

  “Sketches? Studio? How could I forget that?”

  Cody smiled warmly. “When we first met, you didn’t even know your name.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I’m Stacy Bishop,” she extended her hand. “Pleased to meet myself...and definitely you.”

  Wilder took her hand in his and held it firmly. Without shifting his eyes from Stacy, he observed to Bishop, “It sounds like Stacy has been very happy in her life after all.”

  He nodded. “Certainly seemed that way to me. Until…”

  “Until my husband died and my daughter left for college hardly ten weeks later. I remember now.”

  “It was too much too soon. Double whammy.” Bishop’s brow furrowed. “Plus, your mom broke her hip skiing and had to stay with you for several weeks.”

  “Yikes. Glad I don’t remember that. Is she okay?”

  Bishop nodded. “Recovered nicely and moved back to her own place.”

  Funny she couldn’t recall much about her mom. “Does she live nearby?”

  “In Greeneville. Just down the highway, but next county west.”

  “Wow,” said Wilder. “That’s a lot going on.”

  “Plus, the doctors said there were some hormonal things happening at that same general time,” added Bishop, as he touched Stacy’s shoulder. “Do you remember that part?”

  “Vague sense of feeling hot flashes. Thought maybe I was too close to the fireplace. Do we have a fireplace?”

  He nodded.

  “So you were right about my sadness, Cody. Just didn’t see back far enough.”

  “You have to work at the state fair booths,” he said, trying to hold back a smile, “to be able to see people’s pasts.”

  She pinched his ribs.

  He hugged her, out of self-defense. Then, to Bishop, he asked, “Does the name Scarlett mean anything special?”

  “Why?”

  “It was the name I picked for myself when I didn’t know my real one.” Stacy faced her brother-in-law expectantly.

  “Well, there’s a large print of Vivian Leigh, dressed as Scarlett O’Hara, in your living space.”

  “So I’m a fan of Gone With the Wind?”

  “Not the movie in particular,” Bishop replied. “But you’re very fond of that character.”

  “Any idea why?”

  “I never asked.”

  Wilder knew. “Scarlett, the character, had a lot of grit...and she was beautiful.”

  Her face warmed again. “But she was also cold and calculating, wasn’t she?”

  Both men nodded.

  “I hope I didn’t admire those characteristics.”

  No response from Bishop until Stacy poked his shoulder. “Well?”

  “You’ve been a savvy businesswoman, as Scarlett was,” he said finally, “but not cold and never ruthless. I wouldn’t travel with you, if you were.”

  “That’s a relief,” she said, suddenly feeling quite self-conscious.

  Wilder reached for her hand as he addressed her brother-in-law. “Can you give us a minute, Bishop?”

  Bishop eyed each of them and cleared his throat softly. “Sure.” He turned back toward his room. “I’ll finish packing and go check out, Stacy.” Then he waved once more to Wilder. “Thanks again for taking care of our girl.”

  Wilder waved half-heartedly but didn’t smile.

  Over his shoulder, Bishop added, “Soon as you’re ready, Stacy...but no big hurry, as long as we’re home by dark.”

  Stacy watched her brother-in-law depart, then turned back to Wilder. “What are you thinking, Cody?”

  He took a moment to collect the words. “I’m thinking that we’ve miraculously reached a strange impasse and each of us would like to be on the far side of it.” He reached for her again. “Together.”

  Exactly. She launched into his embrace and crushed her face against his firm chest. “But how?”

  “You’re a writer.” He smiled softly and hugged her closely. “Write us a way out of this.”

  “Okay.” She closed her eyes and clutched him tighter. “Okay, I’m a writer and an artist. Apparently I travel here, and probably other places, for research and inspiration.”

  He nodded.

  “And I’ve just started work on a new concept. Don’t even have the hook composed yet, but it deals with a mountain man.”

  Wilder joined in. “Like Kit Carson?”

  “No, a guy in modern times. A strong, handsome man who tried teaching in formal settings but decided to return to his ancestral roots on the mountainside.”

  “You’ll need to write more motivation than that or readers won’t like your hero.”

  “Oh, they’ll love this guy.” She lightly stroked his muscled ribc
age. “Young, capable, smart, self-sufficient. Readers eat that up.”

  “So, this story of yours. Does it have a beautiful heroine for that guy to interact with?”

  “Of course. She’s up on the mountain looking for inspiration and finds a little cabin in a clearing.”

  Bishop’s car was already loaded and he strolled toward the motel office to settle his bill.

  “Would it bother you,” she asked Wilder, “in this story, I mean, if the heroine was a bit older than the hero?”

  “I wouldn’t want older to mean she was bossy,” he said grinning.

  “If she was bossy before, I’m sure she will have forgotten how to behave that way.”

  “How much older is she?”

  “Oh, maybe around ten years or so?”

  He nodded. “Could you write her in such a way that she looks hardly over thirty, has gorgeous legs, and a beautiful face?”

  “I guess I could stretch my imagination.” She blushed.

  Wilder pulled her back to the shade he’d spotted earlier. “In your new mountain story with this unusual hero and heroine, how would your describe their physicality?”

  Hadn’t gotten that far. “Uh, I’d write about their mutual attraction, how she thought she would never see him again, but then things worked out to suggest they might…”

  “Never mind that part. I think you need in-depth research on their smooching. Readers love that stuff.”

  “You may be ri—”

  His lips caught the last of that word. And dozens more that may have followed. Passionate yet tentative, urgent but tender, powerful yet imbued with a sense of vulnerable yearning. And heat that coursed through her body like the mother of all hot flashes.

  As Bishop made his way back toward the car, he surreptitiously monitored their embrace, just now ending.

  Wilder noticed. “You’re about to get left behind.”

  Clinging to the mountain man, she felt an overwhelming desire to climb. “I’d survive.”

  “Maybe. But you’d still have things to straighten out first.”

  He was right, but it hurt nonetheless. “Will you come visit me in Johnson City?”

  Wilder looked deeply into her eyes as though he were practicing his carnival trick again. “If Hoop fixes his heap and lets me borrow it, I might visit the big city once in a while...provided there’s something I need that I can’t find here in Boar Mount.”