You Must Remember This

by Clara Wimberly

But she also sensed that afterward he would kiss her sweetly and tenderly, and then he would simply walk away. Back to the dangerous life that gave him his identity.

  “I…I think I’d better start breakfast now,” she said, turning away.

  Hagan watched her. He couldn’t explain the sadness that squeezed his heart. And he couldn’t even remember if it was something he’d ever felt before.

  But he had a strange feeling it wasn’t.

  Chapter 9

  Sarah was just taking biscuits out of the oven when she heard the sound of a car outside. She headed toward the front door, wiping her hands against her apron.

  Hagan, who’d been pacing in the hallway, went to the door to look outside and Sarah motioned him into the bedroom.

  “Let me make sure it’s him,” she whispered.

  She opened the front door just as Cord Jamison stepped up on the porch. He stopped, lifting his brow with sur- prise when he saw Sarah. Then be smiled and came to- ward her.

  Sarah thought she’d never felt such instant rapport with anyone in her life. Just looking at the man made her feel safe and warm. It wasn’t only his rugged good looks, or the size of him. There was something in his silvery blue eyes, something strong and compelling that she couldn’t quite explain. Having him see the scar didn’t bother her nearly as much as she’d have thought.

  Hagan had that same strength. Yet she felt nervous and uncertain with him.

  With Hagan, it’s sexual attraction, you fool, she wanted to say. But with Cord there were no underlying emotions to make her feel nervous. She smiled at him.

  “May I help you?” she asked. She felt a bit silly doing it. She was positive this was the right man, but with every- thing that had happened to Hagan she couldn’t take a chance.

  “I’m Cord Jamison,” he said. “You’re Sarah?”

  “Yes.”

  “I should have known Hag would manage to find his way into the home of the most beautiful woman in south Georgia.”

  “Oh my,” she said dryly. “Are all the Georgia Bureau boys as charming as you two?”

  Cord grinned and reached into his shirt pocket, draw- ing out a plastic-encased card and holding it in front of her eyes.

  Sarah scanned the picture and the other identifying words, then she opened the door and stepped aside.

  Once the door was closed, Hagan stepped into the hall- way. The two men faced each other, more like enemies than friends.

  Cord’s eyes studied Hagan carefully and for a moment Sarah was afraid that there might have been a mistake and that the man she’d been protecting wasn’t Hagan Cantrell after all.

  “Well?” Hagan asked. “Am I the one?”

  Cord seemed surprised by Hagan’s question and a little troubled by it as well.

  “You’re him all right,” Cord said. His eyes wandered over Hagan’s jeans and plaid shirt. “Although I hardly recognized you in such provincial clothes.” He glanced down at Hagan’s bare feet and grinned broadly. “And I swear I don’t think I’ve ever seen you barefoot before.”

  Hagan shrugged, but he didn’t seem to appreciate Cord’s sense of humor.

  “You’re different, though,” Cord said, his look more serious.

  For a moment, as the two men stared at each other, Sarah thought Cord meant to embrace Hagan. But Ha- gan’s cool, distant demeanor kept him from it.

  “Are you all right?” Cord asked.

  “Fine.”

  “He’s remembered a little about his past,” Sarah said, her voice becoming clinical and appraising. “But nothing recent.”

  Cord studied Hagan’s closed expression and then he nodded.

  “You’ve remembered Lizzie,” he said softly. “I can al- ways tell when you have her on your mind.”

  Sarah glanced quickly to Hagan. He nodded and brushed his fingers over the corner of his mouth in a self- conscious, troubled gesture.

  “Yeah…Lizzie.”

  Cord reached out and put one hand on Hagan’s shoul- der.

  “There are a lot of good things in your life, man,” Cord said. “Just because your first memory is a lousy one about your mother and your past, that doesn’t mean that’s all there is to you. That’s what I’m here for…to help you re- member the good stuff.”

  Hagan nodded and blew the air out of his lungs, then compressed his lips tightly together. The moment between the two men was so raw and intimate that Sarah felt like an intruder.

  “Breakfast is ready,” she said. “But if you two would rather talk privately…” She pointed toward the living room, wishing it didn’t smell so old and musty.

  “That’s okay,” Hagan said. “We can talk over break- fast, if that’s all right with you,” he added, looking at Cord.

  “Sounds good.” Cord smiled at Sarah. “Smells good, too.”

  Cord did most of the talking as they ate. He seemed in- tent on helping Hagan remember his past as he regaled them with stories and humorous events from their work together.

  But it was obvious Hagan couldn’t remember any of it. It seemed to make him uneasy at first and a little awk- ward. But after awhile, what Sarah sensed more than any- thing was his growing frustration and anger. Something she could certainly relate to.

  Cord saw it, too. He leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee as he studied Hagan. Cord’s gaze turned toward Sarah and she shrugged helplessly.

  “I’m not helping, am I?” Cord asked.

  “This isn’t something you can rush,” Sarah said. “It either happens or it doesn’t.”

  “Yeah,” Cord said. “It’s just that he’s so different. Hag has always been the jokester. You know, the one who usu- ally lightens the mood when things get tough.”

  Hagan was resting his elbows on the table with his mouth pressed against his hands. Now his eyes flickered open and as he straightened, Sarah could see the muscles in his jaws tighten.

  “I’m not dead, you two,” he snapped. “Or deaf. Or incapable of deciding my own fate. Don’t you think it’s time we got out of here?” he snapped, addressing Cord now.

  Cord’s eyes glittered. His teeth pulled at the inside of his lip before he spoke.

  “Well, now, there’s a problem,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know,” Hagan replied. “And I have it.”

  “That’s not so much a joke as you might think.”

  “What? Just give it to me straight.”

  Sarah’s gaze moved back and forth between the two men, as if she were watching a hard-fought tennis match.

  “I read everything I could find about this case before I left Atlanta. But you know yourself there’s nothing like working on the ground. I’m going to need a few days to find out exactly what’s going on here.”

  “I don’t think I like the sound of this,” Hagan said, shaking his head.

  Sarah frowned at the two men. She seemed to be miss- ing something because she didn’t understand what Ha- gan’s protest was about at all.

  “Look,” Cord said. He had become intense, leaning on the table and staring into Hagan’s face. “You’d be an easy target right now. At this point you can’t distinguish be- tween friend or foe. You could meet the men who tried to kill you face-to-face and you wouldn’t even know it. The thing is…they’d know you.”

  “I can go somewhere else,” Hagan said. “To a motel or-”

  “You’d be safer here.”

  The room suddenly grew quiet. Hagan turned to look into Sarah eyes and his look was troubled and filled with frustration.

  “No way,” he said. “I’ve put her in enough danger as it is. I wouldn’t let her notify the sheriff that I was here, for some reason even I can’t explain. And when he came out yesterday to check on Sarah, she was put in the position of having to lie because of me.”

  “Is that right?” Cord asked, glancing oddly at Sarah. “If Hagan had been one of the criminals, that could have put you in a bad situation.” He seemed to find her actions amazing.

  “I…I don’t really trust the sheriff, e
ither,” Sarah stammered.

  When she glanced at Hagan, he was staring at her with a frowning, incredulous expression.

  Quickly she explained about Joe and his investigation. As she spoke, she touched the scar on her face without even realizing it. Hagan and Cord exchanged looks and it was obvious by the look on Hagan’s face that this was the first time he’d heard the story. It was also obvious that it bothered him.

  Cord leaned back in his chair and whistled quietly.

  “He could be the one then,” he said almost to himself. “When the undercover assignment went bad, we sus- pected a leak in the agency, but the investigators swear our house is clean. The local sheriff, or someone in his office, could just be the one who has connections to this Satilla River bunch.” He nodded toward Hagan. “You might not have known who you were, pal, but maybe in your sub- conscious you suspected him all along. Your instincts were right on the mark as usual. This is all the more reason for you to stay where you are until I find out the whole story.”

  “I said no, dammit,” Hagan insisted. There were more reasons for him to go, he wanted to say. Not the least of which was sitting across the table, staring at him with those big, beautiful blue eyes.

  “He’s right, Hagan,” Sarah said. “If you’d stop being so stubborn for a minute, you’d see that.”

  Hagan glared at her.

  “A couple of days,” Cord said. “Four at the most.”

  “I’ll be all right,” Sarah said. Her words seemed meant for Hagan alone. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

  “Three days,” Hagan said to Cord. “If you don’t have the goods in three days, I’m out of here regardless.”

  Cord nodded curtly and stood up. “In that case, I’d better get busy.” He smiled at Sarah. “Thanks for break- fast. It was very good. I’ll call every few hours to check in. If this mutt here gives you any trouble, you just let me know.”

  Sarah nodded and said goodbye.

  Hagan walked with Cord to the door. Sarah couldn’t keep from hearing the conversation even though their words were quiet and low.

  “There’s one thing I need to know,” Hagan said.

  “Name it,” Cord answered.

  “The woman…the agent who was killed…did I know her well? Were we—”

  “Hag…why don’t we talk about this later,” Cord said, his voice low. “When you’re feeling better and when I have something solid to tell you.”

  “Tell me now,” Hagan insisted, his deep voice steady.

  Sarah noted Cord’s frustration…the way he ran his hand through his hair as he stared at Hagan. But then he nodded, seeming to relent.

  “There was nothing sexual going on between you if that’s what you’re asking,” Cord said. “Although it wasn’t for her lack of trying.” There was a wistful humor in Cord’s voice as he spoke of the young woman who died. “Cindy was just a kid, cute and sweet—a rookie fresh out of the academy. She had a huge crush on you, though. We used to kid you about that.”

  “So I didn’t…we didn’t…”

  “Hell, Hagan,” Cord muttered. “I’m not sure this is you after all. I can’t remember your ever having such an active conscience before where women were concerned.” He lowered his voice as he glanced toward the kitchen.

  “It’s just that…this amnesia has me buffaloed.” Ha- gansaid.

  Sarah couldn’t move her eyes away from him. She wanted so much to touch him…offer him comfort. Even more. She watched as he rubbed his temples, the way he did when he was trying to remember something.

  “I thought…maybe the reason I couldn’t remember was because of her. Because of what happened to her.” He shrugged again.

  “That still could be the reason, partner.” Cord’s voice was steady, warmer now and completely devoid of teas- ing. “You liked her a lot. Kind of looked out for her, like a kid sister. When I heard what happened to her, I was re- ally worried because I knew you’d have died before you’d let anyone hurt her.”

  Hagan leaned his head back with a loud sigh. His fin- gers were splayed across his jeans, just beneath the belt loops.

  “Yeah? So what happened?” Hagan’s voice was flat, with a hint of self accusation.

  “We don’t know for sure.” Cord said. “Unfortunately, you were the only eye witness.

  “Listen,” Cord continued, clasping Hagan’s shoul- ders. “Don’t blame yourself for this. I know you better than anyone and I know for a fact that you’d have done everything humanly possibly to save her. They probably dumped you first and then—”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Hagan said.

  “Why?” Cord asked. “Have you remembered—?”

  “Flashes here and there,” Hagan murmured, his voice quiet. Once he glanced over his shoulder and Sarah pre- tended to be working. “At first they didn’t mean much…I thought they were just nightmares. But now, maybe…” His voice trailed away and he sighed again. “Look, you’d better go. We’ll talk later. Maybe between the two of us we can piece this thing together.”

  “You can count on it,” Cord said. “In the meantime, you might need this.” He placed a gun in Hagan’s hands.

  They shook hands and Cord left. Hagan stood at the door, peering out past the porch. His hands were jammed into the pockets of his jeans, shoulders hunched. Sarah thought he looked like a little boy who’d been left out of the game.

  Even after the sound of the car drifted away, he still continued to stand there very still.

  “Hagan?” Sarah asked, moving quietly into the hall- way. “Are you all right?”

  “Sure,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her. “Fine.”

  He pushed himself away from the door, not quite meet- ing her eyes as he stepped toward his bedroom.

  “I think I’ll lie down awhile.”

  Sarah was left standing in the hall. When he closed the door to the bedroom, she actually winced, as if he had physically pushed her away from him.

  She busied herself cleaning up the rest of the breakfast mess and putting the dishes away. She took steaks out of the freezer, although she wasn’t sure Hagan would wel- come a steak dinner now. She swept the kitchen floor and made up her bed.

  And all the while what she really wanted to do was peek into Hagan’s room to see what he was doing. Was he sleeping? Or was he, as she suspected, lying there brood- ing about what had happened to Cindy and the part he thought he’d played in her death?

  She went to his door several times. Once with the thought of checking his temperature as an excuse.

  But each time she turned away. He had not shut her out this way before and she hadn’t the courage to intrude on his privacy.

  Finally she went out to the workshop, put an old shirt over her clothes and took out a new canvas.

  She painted until her head and eyes ached and her back felt stiff from sitting so long. When she went back into the kitchen she could see that Hagan’s door was still closed although it was well past noon.

  She shook her head and decided to go outside and cut some roses for the table. She had just taken a pair of pruning scissors out of a drawer when she heard a noise from Hagan’s room.

  She walked quietly down the hall and stood listening outside the door. When she heard him cry out she put the scissors on the hall table and pushed open the door.

  He was lying on the bed. She could see his clenched fists against the quilts as he thrashed around.

  “Hagan?” she said, moving toward the bed.

  She sat down beside him, placing her hands on his shoulders. His teeth were clenched, eyes closed tightly. His muscles beneath her hands were tensed to a rock hard- ness. He could easily swat her away like an insect, yet still she kept holding on to him.

  He felt warm, but she didn’t think it was fever that caused him all this anguish.

  “No,” he said, moving his head back and forth against the pillow. “No!”

  Suddenly he sat up, the weight and strength of him al- most sending Sarah off the bed. When he saw her
, it seemed to take a moment for him to realize who she was and where he was.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  Hagan closed his eyes, his breathing fast and hard. He rubbed his hand down his face and then opened his eyes again. Sarah thought she’d never seen such sorrow in any- one’s eyes.

  “Hagan…?” She reached for him, placing her hands on his chest as she looked into his eyes. Her actions were instinctive, something she didn’t even have to think about.

  Hagan’s mouth opened and his eyes changed. He caught her wrists and pushed her away, the look in his eyes one of warning.

  “Get out of here, Sarah,” he whispered.

  “I want to help you,” she said.

  “You can’t help me,” he growled. “No one can help me.

  “Just talk to me,” she said. “Tell me what hap- pened…what you were dreaming about.”

  For a moment he seemed to weaken. He released one of her wrists and reached up to touch her face.

  “Things you don’t ever want to know,” he said. There was a sheen of perspiration on his forehead and his eyes were dark and troubled.

  “I’ve worked in a hospital. I’ve seen every kind of vio- lence you can imagine,” she said.

  “No,” he said with a grimace. “No, darlin’, you haven’t.”

  He looked straight into her eyes and gently, but firmly, pushed her away from him.

  His look warned that the subject was closed.

  “Why didn’t you tell me the story behind how your husband died?” he asked. “And your suspicions about the sheriff being involved then?”

  “I was planning to,” she said.

  “When?” he asked. “When he sent some goon out here to make sure you don’t talk? When it was too late for me to help you?”

  “That’s not going to happen,” she said.

  “God, girl,” he snapped. “You’ve seen firsthand what these people can do.” When he touched her scar, his hand was gentle, despite the anger and hardness in his voice. “Are you just completely naive or—?”

  “I’m not afraid,” she said, despite the pounding of her heart.

  “Well, you damn well should be. I know you’re not stupid.”

  “What can they do to me?” she whispered. “Kill me? They did that a year ago. I told you before,” she said, tightening her lips together. “I don’t care about much anymore…including myself.”