Heavenly Stranger

by Tina Wainscott

  “Why yes, I am. Get in the car or become roadkill, your choice.”

  She looked serious. He was sure she wasn’t, but then again, she had clearly gone over the edge of nuttiness. He got in the car, slamming the door in retribution. Now he had more grass and dew to add to the results of her previous assault. The woman was a menace.

  “Good choice.” And she calmly headed down the highway.

  He was still having trouble catching his breath, but he screamed, “You are freaking mad! What the hell were you trying to prove back there?”

  “That you need me.”

  “Yeah, and I need to get run over, too.”

  She gave him a sweet smile. “I wasn’t going to run you over. Well, unless you still refused to get in the car. But I’d have given you a few chances.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “What are you doing, Maddie?”

  “You’re the one who told me to grow up and stop expecting others to fix my problems. I’m taking your advice.”

  “You’re blaming me for your crazy behavior?”

  “I’m giving you credit. Do you realize how you’ve changed my life? God, when I think how I was just a couple weeks ago. Remember when I first came to the boat, and you ran me off?”

  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Sweet memories. I’ve created a monster.”

  “Just call me Maddiestein.” Her giggle pulled his attention to her.

  She looked stronger than he’d ever seen her, and sexier. A credit to his own madness that he could even think that about the woman who’d nearly flattened him. Instead of the baggy clothes she usually wore, the autumn-colored top fit close to her skin.

  “I’ve never been to Miami. Do you know how to get there?” she asked.

  “Have you ever left Sugar Bay?”

  “Couple of times, with Wayne. He died, you know.”

  He was getting flashbacks from the spaceship dude. “Yeah, I know.”

  “And so do I.”

  “You look happy about it, too. You’re really starting to scare me, Maddie.”

  She gave him a look as though he were the one who’d lost his mind. “You accused me of not being able to admit that he died. Now I can say it. Do you know what you’ve done to me?”

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “You’ve brought me back to life in a way I can’t even describe. I have never felt like this before. Strong. Independent. It’s like a drug, or maybe a few bottles of wine since I’ve never done drugs, but it’s incredible, intoxicating.”

  “You didn’t happen to have that wine, say, recently, did you? That would explain a lot.”

  “Course not. I wouldn’t be driving. I’m sure you were right, too, about Wayne having sent you.” He knew those words would come back to haunt him. “All these years,” she continued, “my whole life, I’ve been living like a baby, letting everyone tell me what to do and what to be. Even when I thought I was happy with Wayne, and I was for the most part, I wasn’t really living. I told my family I was moving back home. I still have to work on that one. You should have seen the look on their faces when I said I was going with you!” The words were pouring out of her, as though someone had pulled a plug.

  He’d pulled the plug, he realized. From that first day, and every day he’d spent with her, he’d nudged her into growing and becoming independent. He had created a monster!

  When she’d told him about her parents being separated but not really separated, and how her sister was now the baby of the house, when she’d expended all that energy, she finally fell silent.

  Maybe this wasn’t so out-of-character for her after all. She had no problem fighting for something—or mostly someone—she believed in. And this time, that person happened to be him.

  After a moment she looked over at him. “Chase? I’m sorry about almost running you over. I knew you wouldn’t let me come with you any other way.”

  “You were right about that.”

  “I won’t do it again.”

  He found himself laughing at the absurdity of that statement. “That’s good to know.”

  “You’re not going to change once you get back to your life, are you?”

  He glanced over at the softness of her voice. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. All I know is I have a life, and a woman’s death, to figure out…a death I had something to do with. I have no future and nothing to offer you.”

  Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m not doing this because I think we have a future. Don’t get the wrong idea about my coming with you.”

  “Good.” He actually sighed in relief.

  “I’m only doing it because I love you.”

  Those words punched him in the stomach.

  “I don’t love you like…loving you,” Maddie explained when too much silence had passed. “Not like I want to marry you love you.”

  He shot her a chagrinned look. “Maddie, you don’t love me. You’ve made me your cause. Now don’t argue with me about this.” Then he realized she wasn’t. She was actually listening to him, and for some reason, that bothered him. He’d expected her to argue the point, to say those words that couldn’t be true, yet moved him anyway.

  “I hadn’t intended to actually run you down.”

  “Ah, that’s comforting.” He slouched in his seat, face leaning against his hand.

  “I mean, it never occurred to me until you refused to get in the car. I was thinking, ‘Why is everyone fighting me all of a sudden? What’s changed?’ Then I realized: I’d changed. I wasn’t that whiny Maddie who backs down from every fight, who gives in even when she doesn’t want to. And that was all because of you.”

  “So you decided to run me over out of gratitude?”

  “In a weird way, yes. No, listen. You were trying to push me away for my own good. I get that. But I wasn’t going to let you face Miami alone. We’re friends, right? Because it wouldn’t be smart to be anything more.”

  “More than you know.”

  “Friends look out for each other. You helped me, and now I’m going to help you.”

  “Even if it kills me.”

  She gave him a big smile. “Right.”

  Chase drove into Miami five hours later. Maddie had obviously spent all her energy trying to assault him because she’d slept for the last two hours. She looked small and fragile curled up against the door with her cheek pressed against her hand. A hand, he noticed, that bore no wedding ring. He caught himself glancing over much too often. The woman had him in knots, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

  Nothing, that’s what. He was a man incapable of offering her a future, and more importantly, of loving her. He was a murderer, for God’s sake.

  He hit the brakes when a black Porsche pulled out in front of him. Maddie fell forward, and he instinctively reached out to hold her back. Just the feel of her body against his hand sent a jolt through him.

  “Sorry about that,” he said.

  Still dazed, she slipped the shoulder harness of her seat belt back into place and looked around. “We’re in Miami.”

  “Home,” he said, though he felt nothing. “Let’s stop for gas and find out where Allister Augustine lives.”

  Good thing he knew a little Spanish from the ship, since neither attendant knew much English. He washed up and changed his shirt. Maddie walked out of the women’s room at the same time he walked out of the men’s room. She still wore the brown shirt and white pants, but her face was scrubbed pink, and her golden-brown hair fell loosely around her shoulders. He realized he was staring and looked toward the car. “Hungry?”

  “My, yes.” She cleared the hoarseness from her voice. Her hand had gone to her chest, and she slid it down to her stomach. “Starved.”

  Armed with full stomachs and directions, such as they were, they headed across Biscayne Bay toward Miami Beach.

  Maddie gawked at the mansions. “You’re rich.”

  “And here I’ve been saving pennies for a haircut.” His hair had long bee
n on his nerves, hanging in his face.

  “It’s right up there,” she said, pointing at two large columns flanking a driveway.

  He pulled in and paused, looking ahead at the ostentatious mansion right on Biscayne Bay: finely manicured lawn, more columns at the grand entrance that spanned the height of both stories of the house.

  “Remember it?” she asked, not looking at the house but at him.

  He shook his head, though he kept studying it. Something should come back. It may as well have been any other mansion along the road, and that made him wonder if he had the right address. The phone book had only listed an A. Augustine. He had to start somewhere.

  “So, where are you on the nervous meter?” she asked as he started pulling ahead.

  “I’ll tell you later,” he said, sharing a grin that eased the anxiety a notch. “If this is the right address, my father probably won’t even be here, if he runs a company. But it’s better than showing up there, with all those people around to recognize me.”

  Chase wanted to know more about himself and that night before he approached his father, but he’d waited long enough. In the news stories, his father had been sure that his son hadn’t killed Julie on purpose. Hopefully he could provide the missing pieces. had long ago decided to keep a low profile until he had a handle on his former life. Hopefully all of it, including the events of that night on the boat. He needed to know what kind of person he was, and if he was capable of murder.

  They pulled around the circular drive and parked in front of the house. He combed his hair, as though that would make any difference. He’d been missing for months. Neat hair wasn’t going to lessen the impact of his arrival.

  He looked up at the grand, ornate wood doors. Hell, yes, he was nervous. He had no idea what to expect.

  A thin Hispanic man opened the door. His pleasant but puzzled expression dripped away to shock. He stuttered for a moment, then said, “Mister Chase?”

  Chase almost wanted to hug the man. It was the first time he’d seen recognition in anyone’s eyes. But along with the shocked surprise mingled apprehension, so Chase just said, “Si. I’m looking for my father.”

  It took the man a few more seconds of staring before he nodded and backed inside. Chase and Maddie followed into a grand foyer with a view straight through the formal living room to the bay.

  Chase must know the guy who led them up a curving staircase, but nothing clicked. He figured the guy was going to phone his father, but the man led them to a door near the end of the hallway and hesitated. He seemed to study Chase as though making sure he was really there. Then he knocked.

  “Mister Augustine?”

  “I told you not to disturb me, Eduardo,” an authoritative voice barked from the other side.

  “You’re going to want to be disturbed, sir.” He opened the door.

  Allister Augustine sat at an immense glass-and-chrome desk with an air of power and dignity. He was in his fifties, with silver hair and clean features. His gaze went to Eduardo first, shadowed with frustration, then to Maddie, and finally, to Chase. He looked like a man turning to stone. Disbelief colored his blue eyes, as though he were facing a ghost. Chase held his breath, waiting for the man’s reaction.

  “Ch-Chase? Is that you?”

  Chase nodded. Again, he felt nothing. There wasn’t a hint of similarity in their features.

  Allister took a few steps forward and placed his hands on Chase’s shoulders. “You came back,” he whispered. “You’re alive.”

  He nodded, unable to move his hands to touch his father back. Then Allister pulled him hard against him.

  “I thought you were dead. You’ve been gone so long. We had to assume…” He backed away. “What took you so long to come back?”

  “I didn’t—don’t know who I am.”

  At Allister’s puzzled expression, Maddie added, “He lost his memory.”

  “He what?” He looked at Chase. “You what?”

  “I don’t know who I am.”

  Allister studied Chase’s eyes, perhaps searching for a glimmer of recognition. He let out a soft breath. “I don’t understand how this could happen. Are you all right…otherwise?”

  “Fine for a guy who has no past.”

  Allister glanced up at Eduardo watching from the doorway. “Bring us something to drink. Are you hungry?”

  “We’re fine,” Chase said when he saw Maddie shaking her head.

  “Leave us then,” Allister said to Eduardo. “And tell no one he’s come back.”

  “But—”

  “No one.”

  Once the door had closed, Allister gestured for them to sit on the couch and fumbled with a carved wood box, extracting a cigarette.

  “This is Maddie Schaeffer, by the way.” Chase gave her an apologetic look for forgetting to introduce her, but she waved it off.

  Maddie and Allister awkwardly shook hands over the coffee table.

  “I want to know everything,” Allister said to Chase.

  Chase told his story, though he didn’t tell him everything. “Can you tell me how I ended up out there?”

  Again, Allister studied him. “You really don’t remember?”

  “No.”

  Allister opened one of the cabinet doors and pulled out a leather-bound scrapbook. Chase took in the details of the high-ceilinged office. Understated, masculine, overlooking the bay and a large yacht behind the mansion. Pictures on the wall drew Chase over. Many were of Allister with important-looking men. There was one of a sailboat with the name Augustine Aero painted along the side. Another was a beautiful brown-haired woman posed with two boys. He felt a melancholy twinge.

  “Your mother,” Allister said, coming up behind him. His fingers worked the unlit cigarette. “You and Patrick.”

  His brother. Nothing stirred when he studied Patrick, who took after his father in looks. He had light hair and skin, patrician features. Chase was younger, but not by much. He looked tan and dark in contrast. He took after his mother.

  “You don’t remember her?” Allister asked, studying Chase’s expression.

  “No.” Shame and frustration bombarded him at not remembering his own family. That black pit that held his memories hostage released nothing.

  Allister set the scrapbook on the glass coffee table in front of the couch. Chase sat next to Maddie, and Allister sat across from them on a chair, his back straight. He watched Chase’s expression as he opened the book, searching for a flicker of recognition perhaps.

  “How much do you know about yourself?” Allister asked. He fiddled with the cigarette, then put it in his mouth. He hadn’t lit it yet.

  “That I’m divorced, that I raced sailboats, and I guess I’m pretty good at it. And that…I’m considered missing at sea.”

  His father couldn’t meet his eyes. “After an intensive search, the Coast Guard had to give up. I paid boats to keep searching long after. But eventually…”

  “It’s all right. I would have given up, too.”

  Allister’s visible anxiety only lessened a bit. “So, you harbor no ill feelings toward me?”

  “I don’t even know you, other than that you’re my father.”

  “Will it return? Your memory, I mean?”

  “It might. Or it might not.”

  “Maybe it’s better if it doesn’t. It would mean a fresh start. How many people get that chance?”

  Chase’s chest tightened. “Why would I want one?” When Allister didn’t answer, Chase asked, “Tell me about Chase Augustine. Who was he? I mean, who was I?”

  Chase wished Maddie wasn’t there to hear this. Was he someone worthy of the love she thought she felt for him? Probably not.

  “You may know about Augustine Aero. I founded it in my twenties, when you and Patrick were just babies. I envisioned it being the consummate family company with you and your brother taking on responsibility.” Allister continued to fondle the unlit cigarette, running it beneath his nose and inhaling. “Doctor said I had to quit,” he explained
when he realized they were both watching him. He stuck it in his mouth and talked around it. “Anyway, Patrick did as he was supposed to. He’s always been like that, no fight in the boy. Hard worker, not a doubt about that. Still hasn’t gotten the hang of it yet. After your…accident, and with my chest pains, I decided to give Patrick the reins. Well,” he added, gesturing to the piles of paperwork on his massive desk, “most of them. Promoted him to president.” Allister studied Chase and again asked, “You really don’t remember any of this?”

  Chase shook his head.

  Allister took the cigarette out of his mouth and stared at it. “You, on the other hand, were the fighter. Your mother used to say Patrick was the angel, and you were the hellion. At least until I reminded her that Patrick took after me, you took after her.”

  “My mother…where is she?” He felt a flicker of pressure in his chest. Why hadn’t she been called?

  Allister lowered his chin into his hand. “Ella died when you were five. We were on a sailing vacation, on our way back from Bermuda. It was perfectly calm that evening. You and Patrick were downstairs asleep, thank God. It was late, probably past midnight. A rogue wave came out of nowhere. Well, that’s what a rogue wave is, I guess. Comes out of nowhere, maybe from shifts in the earth or some weather system far out at sea.”

  When Allister paused, Chase could see the pain etched in his face. He wanted to tell him not to go on if it hurt that much, but he had to know. “What happened?”

  “The wave was probably forty feet high. It was a severe knockdown, with the mast going under. She was knocked out of the boat. I tried to grab for her, but she fell out of my reach. I never saw her again. Nobody did. It was just like the way you disappeared without a trace. Another victim of the Bermuda Triangle.” He stuck the cigarette into his mouth and bit down so hard, it broke.

  Chase felt a fist in his gut at the loss of a mother he couldn’t remember. And probably had little memory of anyway. He looked at the woman who shared his features and knew she was the reason he felt melancholy whenever he looked out at sea.

  “We survived. It wasn’t easy, three of us not knowing a thing about running a house. The business was young then and didn’t afford us the luxury of someone like Eduardo. I thought you’d never want to get on a boat again. That’s how Patrick felt for a long time. But you got into sailing when you were eight. You raced the kids—”