Destiny Defied (The Destiny Series)

by Marx, J. A.

  He looked at her strangely. “I’m sure your family is looking for you.”

  He suspects. “I hope so.”

  How long could she hide her secret?

  Chapter 15

  Eavesdropping on Riki and Kiko, Lord Vétis cursed the Asian’s friendliness. Why was the boy encouraging her? What did Kiko expect his personal sob story to accomplish? An alliance? Shame on the mongrel for whining over his past.

  Riki wisely revealed nothing of her own pitiful saga. Her fortitude no doubt forbade any crying over the constant opposition she had faced. Or the absence of a comfy home. Then again, how could she cry over situations familiar to her? The abnormal was her normal.

  Using a stolen steak knife, Vétis etched a symbol into the bungalow’s wall. He then nicked his finger and sealed the mark with blood, a custom thumbprint he’d established … in the orfanato.

  His heart lurched, and he saw his life roll backwards two, three, four decades. He had etched his rebellion into the doors, the fences, and the furniture in the Lisbon orfanato. No comfort, no pampering, yet not once had he whined. Defiance kept him alive. By his teen years, he ruled not only himself but also others. The boys no longer challenged him. The girls never squealed on his defiling actions.

  The self-righteous priests looked the other way … just as God had looked the other way when Vétis the toddler had been abandoned. When at seven he suffered third degree burns. And when Vétis the pre-teen had been beaten.

  I was there. The voice wooed him out of his long-dead memories. The Supreme Prince of the Air had been his ally from the start. Only Vétis hadn’t learned of his ways until he was liberated from the orfanato.

  I hear you, beloved prince. He wrestled his mind back into right thinking and refocused on the chosen one.

  To preserve Riki’s foundation of social intelligence, he would have to deepen Kiko’s distrust and fear of her. Fortunately, this mongrel proved acutely receptive to the Supreme One’s goading. He was a breed of pitiable human that Vétis loved to control.

  Kiko will obey me. Vétis knew how to guide the lost, especially a disoriented son needing guidance. He also needed to discredit the Asian’s influences. His friends.

  Isaac picked linens out of the bathroom storage cabinet. He trusted Hope wouldn’t mind mismatched sheets as long as she had something to sleep on.

  Women. Distracting. Entertaining. Vulnerable. Always vulnerable.

  He didn’t have time for females, and tonight confirmed that. All evening, he’d fought urges to spy on Akiko to make sure he treated Hope decently. But why? The mental exertion exceeded the benefits.

  Hearing the sliding glass door open and shut, Isaac waited in the hallway. Clatter from the main room consumed the passing seconds. Finally, he intercepted Akiko and hustled him into the bathroom. “Well? You were out there forever.”

  “She went outside to chuck dinner.” Akiko opened his toiletry kit. “I gave her pajamas from the loft and insisted she sleep on the couch.”

  Insisted? Meaning she had planned to vacate her only asylum? A woman who didn’t know her own vulnerability was a decoy for problems.

  “Gotta pee.” Akiko shoved him into the hallway and shut the door.

  Isaac entered the living room, linens and pillow in hand. He’d let suspicion guide him. If he was correct, it might explain the girl’s silence and justify her apprehension. Given her circumstances, she hadn’t even cried. He suspected her bridled emotions were scouting for an outlet.

  Hope held a nightshirt up to her front as if checking the fit.

  He tossed her the pillow as soon as she looked up. “Where’d you say you were born?”

  “Nowhere special.”

  After unloading the linens on the coffee table, he shook out one of the sheets over the couch and tucked the end under a cushion. “Why the privacy? You know where we’re from.”

  She finished loading the pillow into its case before acknowledging him with her eyes.

  No more secrecy. Folding his arms, Isaac stood solidly but kept his tongue gentle. “You’re not telling me because you can’t.”

  Her pokerfaced stare challenged him. She was durable, for a girl.

  “You don’t remember, do you?”

  Their ocular showdown lasted a few seconds longer. Then Hope shook her head and sank to the couch.

  Isaac pulled the coffee table back to give her more space. Relieved to know the truth, he dropped to one knee in front of her. “Your head wound is severe. Temporary amnesia isn’t that rare. What do you remember?”

  “Nothing.” Head down, her chocolate gaze rose to meet his. “What are you going to do to me for lying to you?”

  The question rattled him. Did she expect a beating? “Under the circumstances, lying was understandable. I’ll keep the amnesia confidential if you want.”

  Hope’s widened eyes shouted thank you.

  “But it’d be better if you’re straight with everyone.”

  Her poker face returned. “Don’t tell them.”

  “As you wish.” He had a hunch she was testing him.

  Whistling a nameless tune, he went to the kitchen. Chugged a glass of water. He took his time washing, drying, and returning the glass to the cupboard. Then he rounded the counter toward the bunkroom.

  “Isaac?”

  Expecting to see tears, he did an about face at the edge of the hallway.

  Her expression hadn’t thawed. “You can tell them.”

  I passed the test. He studied his patient. “Why’d you name yourself Hope?”

  “You did.” She smiled. “The saying on your shirt was the first thing I saw. The word slipped out of my mouth when you asked my name. I let it stick.”

  He looked at his muscle shirt. God is Hope.

  No coincidences.

  Hope wished she’d been honest from the start about the amnesia. Knowing someone cared helped her cope.

  All afternoon, her mind had meandered through a labyrinth of frightening blankness, searching for traces of a name. A title. Anything. Familiar places and faces didn’t exist. Only the sound of the surf and the sand between her toes carried an impression of familiarity.

  This villainous condition skewed her judgment on every level. Delusion tried to convince her that she’d never experienced fun as she had today with the boys. But, of course, she had family and schoolmates who indulged in bouts of playfulness.

  Didn’t she?

  Yes, I do. And they miss me.

  She put on the borrowed pajamas, stretched out on the couch, and fantasized. What did her father do? Did her mom make primo barbeque sauce like Sabio’s mom did? Did she have a big brother who teased her like Jase teased his sister? Dreaming up a family boosted her hopes of recovery.

  Her empty stomach rumbled.

  The boys hadn’t gotten sick from dinner. Only her. The voices and attacks had been painfully real, but only for her.

  Her new rose-colored glasses busted. Who am I? Perhaps her mind didn’t want to remember.

  A creepy feeling seeped in around her like sludge. Her peripheral vision perceived no immediate danger, yet she felt …

  Watched.

  Why couldn’t at least one of the two sliding glass doors have curtains?

  Ignoring the rumbles in her tummy that had turned into hunger pangs, Hope pulled the sheet up over her head.

  Chapter 16

  Sunday, May 27

  In charge of today’s breakfast, Akiko opened the package of bacon, wishing they were éclairs. The helicopter had a limited amount of cargo space, which had been monopolized by nutritious stuff. Meats, veggies, peanut butter … Nothing sweet. They were expected to supplement with fresh fruit and fish.

  He started the bacon frying then brought out the cutting board and a bag of bagels. Slicing the donut wannabes in half, he deliberately clanked the knife on the counter. His noisemaking worked. He nodded a greeting at the late riser peeking at him from under the bedcover on the couch. Hope had slept like a corpse through the earlier foot t
raffic going in and out of the bungalow.

  Corpse. Bad joke. Sabio would’ve whacked him upside the head if he’d overheard the macabre humor.

  Watching Hope roll off the couch, Akiko grinned at her bird’s nest hairdo. “Nice bed head.”

  “It’s an easy style to maintain.” She raked her fingers once through her hair, if only to get it out of her face.

  The anomalous amnesiac acted like one of the guys. Nothing dainty or refined about her. Nor could Akiko justly label her an annoying sister-tag-along. After detecting her loneliness for the first time last night, he realized how silly it was to blame her for being stranded here. And kudos to Isaac for discovering her amnesia.

  I’ll have to tell Dr. Caedis.

  Hope wrapped the sheet around her shoulders and sauntered up to the counter. “Where is everybody?”

  “Sabio and Isaac are cooling down after a run.” He sliced another bagel. “Jase is outside somewhere, probably playing his guitar.”

  She covered her yawning mouth. “Sounds like he always plays.”

  “Jase Simon eats, breathes, and dreams music.” Akiko dropped bagel halves into the four-slice toaster.

  The first bunch of bacon finished sizzling. He switched them out for the next load.

  Hope picked a dime and a game token off the counter and clacked them together.

  Humored by her interest in the coins, he wondered if common items naturally amused her or if social awkwardness was a symptom of her disorder.

  “Are these worth much in Ohio?” The girl spoke perfect English. She had to be joking.

  “Thousand bucks.” Growing hungrier by the millisecond, he layered the toasted bagel halves on a platter.

  She sniffed the money. “A thousand sounds like a lot.”

  “Good as gold.” He bit off half a bacon slice.

  Eyes growing wide, Hope held both coins out to him. “Shouldn’t you keep better track of your money?”

  I bet she’s in a theater group. He tapped the game token, which he’d emptied from his pocket earlier. “You want it? You can have it.”

  Wincing, she slid the coins back to where she’d found them. Her goofiness reminded him of last year’s drama class and trying to keep a straight face while acting out funny scenes. His professor would’ve given her an A.

  Akiko finished heaping fruit and bacon onto a second platter and caught another yawn crinkling Hope’s nose. “Tired? Was the couch uncomfortable?” He collected mismatched butter knives from of the silverware drawer.

  “The couch was perfect.” She strolled away.

  Rechecking Sabio’s scrupulous meal schedule taped on the refrigerator, Akiko made sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.

  “It was the imaginary person spying on me through the glass door that made it difficult to sleep.” Her voice reached him from the hallway before the bathroom door clicked shut.

  The pendant at his chest tingled, and Akiko did a double take at the back porch door. He had to tell Sabio about Dr. Caedis.

  Hope washed her face and put on yesterday’s clothes. A good finger-combing repaired the bed head. Hearing the boys’ voices airing from the deck, she hurried down the hallway, famished.

  Sidetracked by curiosity, she paused at the kitchen counter to re-examine the two coins. Since no one was around, she flipped the silver one over and read it.

  LIBERTY. IN GOD WE TRUST. The word Dime she recognized as an Ethiopian people group, which didn’t correspond with the United States inscription. Must be an Ohio term of currency. She concluded that both coins came from America even though the bronze one had absurd markings.

  Yesterday, Sabio had equated bucks with gold. If the bronze coin was worth a thousand bucks, what was the silver dime worth?

  Before anyone could accuse her of stealing, she left the coins on the counter and continued to the sliding glass door. The scene outside arrested her on the threshold.

  The Foursome was standing, not sitting, around the cast-iron table. Isaac motioned for her. The respect thing again?

  Plagued by goose bumps, she proceeded toward the alpha dog. Adjusting to these curious manners took every bit of her effort.

  “Morning, Hope.” Jase’s cheerfulness fumbled her gait. “Stomach doing better?”

  She kept her feet traveling. “Affirmative.”

  Either Akiko had snitched or the boys had suffered all night from the stench outside their bunkroom window. Sabio and Isaac’s post-running aroma smelled like sweet mangos in comparison.

  “For you.” Isaac held out the chair facing away from the sun.

  Unnerved by his humane behavior, she landed clumsily on the seat. Her pulse ran a hundred-meter dash before the boys’ rears settled in their chairs.

  Sabio presented the breakfast platter. “You pick this morning.”

  She reached out, and sirens squealed in her head. Reflex drew her arm back.

  “I promise I won’t bite today.” Sabio’s other hand rested harmlessly on the table. His butter knife stayed by his plate.

  What’s my problem? She took a bagel and two bacon strips, hoping her anxiety wasn’t obvious.

  Sabio passed the platter on. “Thanks for being honest about the amnesia.”

  “Ditto.” Jase opened the peanut butter jar. “Things make sense now.”

  She scoured each expression for insincerity but detected nothing fake. Their encouragement consoled her—like the sheet Isaac had covered her with when she passed out in the bathroom yesterday.

  The alpha dog smashed bacon between two bagel halves. “Sabio and I found the waterfall Mr. Fletcher told us about.”

  Mister who?

  “I’m in.” Jase poured water for her and himself.

  Smearing her bagel with peanut butter, Hope gathered info but didn’t interfere with the conversation. If the Ohioans didn’t go to the falls, she’d find it on her own.

  Chapter 17

  After breakfast, Isaac rolled up a comic book he’d found in the bunkroom basket and stuffed it in his back pocket. He then drew Hope aside. “I need to check the wound again.” And ask a few questions.

  Yesterday, the gash needed stitches, which he had no way to remedy. Her resilience over the past twenty-four hours said she was healing well. Could’ve been the fact she hadn’t put on any lipstick, but something about her told him she wasn’t going to feminize their recreation.

  He chose the sunlit deck as his examining room. At his request, she situated herself on the bench with her face in her hands, making the back of her head accessible.

  Isaac placed the first aid box beside her. As he negotiated her silky hair, the sun created a shine that brought to mind his grandfather’s ebony armoire. Hope’s thick, black strands had the same beautiful, ebony gloss.

  Applying the tweezers to a few filaments earned him a growl. “Sorry. Have to get out the imbedded hairs, otherwise everything looks cool.”

  Concussions often triggered temporary amnesia that involved the circumstances framing an accident. Hope claimed no memory whatsoever. Complete oblivion.

  He chose to believe her. Even so, amnesia didn’t explain her odd behavior. “Does it make you uncomfortable when we hold your chair at the table?”

  “Did I look uncomfortable?”

  Try fearful. “Yep.” Squatting in front of her, he moved the first aid box onto the deck. “You did last night, too, when Sabio held the chair for you.”

  She sat back against the bench, avoiding his gaze. “Guess I’m not accustomed to your ways.”

  Our ways?

  He processed her answer while checking the cuts on her face and arms for infection. The fact that she struggled every time to accept their gestures of respect gave him the impression she wasn’t the least bit accustomed to being treated with dignity. Jase may have been onto more than he realized with Etiquette Academy.

  Isaac imagined himself waking up to a foreign setting. Unfamiliar faces. No identity. No home to retreat to. No one to trust. The terror of her circumstances disturbed him to the p
oint he ached to help her feel at ease. He closed down his clinic.

  Sitting on the bench, he took out the rolled-up book from his pocket and uncurled it over his knee. “Check this out.”

  “Charlie Brown?” She fingered the front cover. “Did you draw these pictures?”

  “Uh …” Concealing his surprise at having to explain a comic book, he described the story setting then narrated for the characters. “Poor Chuck is my favorite.”

  A few pages in, Hope’s breathy giggles had him laughing. Needing to get on with the day’s agenda, he started to close the book.

  She stuck her hand between the pages. “I like Peppermint Patty. Read more?”

  How could he say no to those happy eyes? He translated a couple more strips then quickly closed the book. “Help me make a picnic lunch?”

  She stood and saluted. “At your service, Chuck.”

  Hokey. But cute. He walked her into the kitchen where he brought out foodstuff and arranged it on the counter.

  Butter knife in hand, she sang to the tune Row, Row, Row Your Boat. “Spread, spread, spread the mayo, pass it down the line. Heap the cheese upon the ham, and it will taste just fine.”

  Delighted at his patient’s spontaneous wit, he slapped meat onto the bread slice she’d painted white. “Did you make that song up?”

  “It’s that obvious?” She sang again, “Mustard, lettuce, pickles too, all squished in between. It’s amazing. Ah, such talent. Ne-ver be-fore seen.”

  Isaac had her repeat the tune as they assembled sandwiches. He joined in, making it an inharmonious round that elicited catcalls from their bungalow mates.

  She stole cheese off the last sandwich. “You’re a speedy song learner.”

  “Speedier than the Indy 500.” He replaced the stolen cheddar.

  Her brow knitted. “The what 500?”

  “Indianapolis.” Isaac realized another oddity. Hope knew a child’s song but not a comic book.

  An effect of the amnesia?

  Seeing her in yesterday’s clothes, and considering where they were headed, he directed her up to the loft to select her own apparel from the owner’s scant collection. Isaac then loaded lunch in the backpack and joined Sabio and Jase who were on the couch putting on their shoes.