by Geeta Kakade
“Laurel. Shhh. It’s only me, Jacob.”
She quieted down then but her body was still shaking and sweat had her pajamas sticking to her body.
“Jacob!” she said on a sob. Dear calm wonderful Jacob.
“You’re all right honey.”
He stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder, the other patting her back as if she were a small child that needed comforting.
Her hand reached up to touch the one holding her shoulder and she clasped it tight as if to draw strength from it.
“I…I..I had a bad dream.”
“I know but you’re fine now.”
After a while when he felt her shudders stop, he said, “Want to talk about it?”
“No!” She let go of his hand and swung her legs over the side of the bed as if she wanted to get away from him. “I..I need to use the bathroom.”
She went to the chest of drawers and took out another set of pajamas.
In the bathroom she stared at her reflection in the mirror and lifted a shaky hand to push her hair back off her face.
Changing she tossed her sweaty clothes in the hamper there. Knowing she couldn’t prolong her time in the haven of the bathroom hiding from Jacob she took a deep breath and opened the door.
To her surprise he was in bed, turned away from her. There was a glass of water on the table and she drank it and lay down. She couldn’t sleep.
“Your subconscious will be at work even while your mind is taking time to rest and repair the damage,” the psychiatrist at LRMC had said. “You could have flashbacks or dreams that open the door to what happened immediately prior to your accident or you could just get all your memory back in one shot.”
She could understand dreaming of the young girl as Sylvie had been on her mind since she’d seen her but why dream of herself firing a gun? That’s what she’d done before she’d passed out. Fired at the sergeant major, wounding him.
As far as Laurel knew she’d never fired a weapon of any kind except during training exercises or that one time when she had provided cover for the wounded soldier and the medic struggling to get him to safety. Almost as if there were powder burns on her fingers she rubbed them against the sheets to get them off.
Was her dream reminding her of what she’d actually done?
She went over what she could remember. Her childhood, her parents dying in an accident, their funeral, living with Aunt Grace for a few months till she graduated and then enlisting. There was nothing more except the flashback to the Afghani children and then this dream tonight.
Why would her mind draw such a thick curtain over the past unless there was a mystery behind it and she didn’t want to acknowledge the truth?
Her last thought as she finally dozed off near dawn was her mind was trying to protect her from what had happened on base.
“Laurel had a bad night. She’s sleeping in this morning and I haven’t woken her,” Jacob said as he poured himself a mug of coffee in the kitchen.
“A nightmare?” asked Christy.
He nodded, “The first since she’s been discharged.”
“That’s too bad,” Mrs. Kemp put some toast in for him.
“I’ll make her a nice hot breakfast when she gets up,” Moira brought him the omelet he liked best filled with ham, mushrooms and bell peppers.
“Thanks,” said Jacob. “This looks great.”
He don’t know if he’d done the right thing pretending to be asleep when Laurel had finally come out of the bathroom but he’d thought she would be embarrassed if he were awake and started asking questions. With a patient he knew exactly what to do. He was detached, confident, capable. With Laurel it was totally different.
No wonder doctors didn’t treat their own families.
He hadn’t expected to develop such strong feelings for her but it had happened so suddenly that he been taken unawares.
He looked up to see three pairs of eyes watching him.
“If you have a small thermos I can fill that with coffee and leave it for her in the room with a roll.”
They flew into action as if they were glad to have something to do.
Christy got the coffee, a mug, cream and sugar. Then she put some fruit in a crystal bowl she took out of the pantry. Placing a doily on the tray she started placing things on it. Mrs. Kemp placed a couple of croissants on a plate and put three varieties of jam into little dishes and filled another with curls of butter. Moira put a cranberry muffin on a plate and said, “There’s a microwave in the kitchenette. Warm this up for ten seconds and it will taste even better.”
“Thanks,” said Jacob taking his dishes to the sink. “She’ll appreciate this. I’ll stock the refrigerator today and then we won’t bother you at breakfast time anymore.”
“It’s no bother,” said Christy. “Plus everything’s laid out here anyway. Why bother fixing your own breakfast unless you want to be on your own?”
“We all gather here after the guests are gone and talk and have our breakfast anyway as we plan the day,” Mrs. Kemp brought him his toast. “The kitchen’s open 24/7 for you and Laurel.”
“I can make her an omelet in the apartment kitchen when she’s up if she doesn’t feel like coming here. She only has to say the word.” Moira told him.
“Thanks.” It seemed that was all he could say this morning.
“Anything else we can do,” Christy sat down at the table with a mug of hot chocolate. “Don’t hesitate to let us know. We all would feel so much better if we knew what to do to help Laurel.”
“At this stage all she needs is time for her mind to heal and the reassurance that she’s among friends. I’m hoping that no matter what she finds out when her memory returns a good relationship with all of us will put it in a less frightening context.”
They all nodded and he said. “There is one other thing I need to do this morning.”
“Yes?”
“Do you mind if I run into town and pick up a new medicine to help Laurel sleep better at night? The one she’s on now could have side effects in the long run. I’d like to switch it. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Take all the time you need,” Christy placed a dish with muffins near him. “I was going to work on the website this morning so I’ll stay in your family room with my laptop.”
“Or I could take my Bridge book and read there,” Mrs. Kemp looked for her glasses. “Robert’s been saying I need to re-read Michael’s cue bid.”
“I was planning on cleaning out our apartment,” Moira’s brow was wrinkled in thought as she looked at the tray to check they had everything on it. “Frank’s room is such a mess.”
“Thanks.” He let them work it out between them and left with the tray.
Moira heard a loud bang outside an hour later and hurried out to the drive to tell whoever had made the noise to shush.
She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Captain Holt. He was driving an old Volkswagen Beetle and it must have backfired when he stopped.
“Sorry about that,” he said as he got out.
Moira put a finger to her lips. “Laurel isn’t feeling too well and she’s sleeping in,” she whispered.
“Oh Lord!” Captain Holt said in dismay. “I didn’t mean to disturb her but I just bought this car and had to bring it over. What do you think of it?”
Moira looked at it. It had a dent in the rear right bumper, needed a paint job and obviously other repairs but Captain Holt was looking at it with such a pleased smile all she could say was, “It’s nice.”
“I knew you’d like it,” his voice held a note of triumph.
She stared at him. What did it matter if she liked it or not?
“We can go for rides when you’re free now,” he announced beaming at her. “Mrs. Kemp said you’re free at mid-day and I can take time off around then and work at night.”
He missed the look of shock on her face as he opened the trunk situated in the front of the Beetle to take out his stuff.
Moira turned to go in
. “Bring it into the house through the kitchen door. I’ll just make sure your room’s all right.”
She heard him come in just as she checked the study they had made into a bedroom. No one had used it since the garaged had been converted into an all purpose room and the Captain had insisted he would be happy in the small room with the attached bathroom, when Mark had shown him around the house.
“Thank you,” he said as he set his suitcase down. “Maybe later we can go out for a cup of coffee.”
“Why?” Moira said practically. “You can have all the coffee you can drink right here. There are so many flavors and there’s an espresso machine too.”
So much for trying to get her away from the house and to himself thought Holt gloomily. And she really hadn’t liked the car either.
Laurel woke up and looked at the clock. 1200 hrs. What on earth was wrong with her?
She was in the shower before she recalled the dream. Freezing as memory came flooding back Laurel closed her eyes and let the water beat down on her willing it to wash away the pictures of the night.
As soon as she came into the bedroom her gaze fell on the tray on the table next to the armchair by the window.
She opened the flask and poured herself some coffee and then took the lid of the covered dish. The muffin made her realize she was hungry. After she’d eaten she decided to take the tray back. Picking it up she saw a note from Jacob under it. Back soon.
Wondering if he’d gone back to the Reservation she went into the family room and came to a halt. Bridget was sitting there writing in a book.
“Good Morning!”
“I..I..m sorry I slept so late. Didn’t mean to.”
“Don’t apologize. Everyone at Cupid Lodge does what they want to.”
“I..I’ll just take the tray in.”
“Leave it on the side table and come sit down. Moira’s mopping the kitchen and doesn’t want anyone in there for some time. She and Christy clean it and then put a special sealer on the old wood from time to time.”
“They work awfully hard. Do they have any help in the house?”
“We all pitch in and when the house is filled with guests as it is now, a woman from the village, Sue Tinsley, comes in to help in the afternoons.”
Laurel put the creamer jug into the refrigerator along with the dishes of jam and sat down.
“I keep a journal,” Bridget smiled. “Since I met Andrew the entries have become sporadic so I was just updating it.”
“How did you two meet?”
Bridget gave her a concise report of her time at Cupid Lodge with Andrew. She could see Laurel relaxing as she recounted their working together to save a man’s life and how it had brought them closer.
“Phil, the man we helped,” she ended, “sent us a postcard from Florida that said, “On holiday with the family. Love it here.” It was so good to see them all looking happy. I worried about them moving to a new country and then to a place where they couldn’t talk about the past and had to make so many other adjustments so it was a relief to get the postcard.”
Bridget told her about the ring she’d been left at the Orphanage with and how she’d come here because the note pinned on her baby blanket had said Bridget Cupid.
“So you found out who your parents were after you came here?” asked Laurel.
It sounded like a fairy tale with a very happy ending.
Bridget nodded. “It was amazing to find the connection through my ring. I guess they are both dead but it still helps tremendously to know who they were.”
Suddenly a picture flashed into Laurel’s mind. A soldier lying dead a few feet from her. She was backing up on her hands and knees thinking Sam shouldn’t have died. He had three small children.
“What is it?” Bridget’s voice was filled with anxiety. “Don’t you feel well?”
Laurel put her hands to her temples and rubbed them.
“No I’m fine. It’s just that from time to time I see pictures and some of them are scary.”
“It will all come back soon,” Bridget consoled her. “I can only guess how hard this time must be for you but we’re all here with you and if you need anything, anything at all, we would be happy to help. When you feel like it come visit us with Jacob any evening. Andrew’s quiet but he’s great around his friends. He says he is so impressed by the upfront way you told Frank about your amnesia. He knew you were telling all of us so we could take the velvet gloves off.”
“Thanks.” Laurel was touched and reached up to brush a tear away.
Jacob entered the family room. “Ah there you both are. How’s it going?”
“We’re just chatting about my past,” said Bridget and then wondered if that was a tactful thing to say. She stood up and picked up the tray. “I think Moira’s finished the floor. I’ll take this back as you were planning on going out.”
She looked at Jacob as she said it.
He was quick to take the hint. “I was going to ask Laurel if she would like to go to Lookout Point. Christy said it’s one of the first sights she tells people about.”
“Good idea,” Bridget said. “The view of the lake is incredible from there.”
CHAPTER SIX
Stephen frowned. Neither Ma or Pa were around and he decided to look in on his granddaughter. He was happy that Bridget and Andrew were so well matched and so much in love. When Stephen had courted Brianna in 1950 they had fallen deeply in love and been so happy. He had always been glad he had listened to his father’s suggestion to give up his mistress and his wild ways. Settling down with the young heiress, Brianna, was the smartest thing he had ever done. He had thought when it was his turn to advise a son, the boys would listen to him.
How wrong he had been.
Their first son Jake had disappointed him by marrying a Detroit heiress and refusing to return to Cupid Lodge, even for a visit.
Both their daughters, Agnes and Victoria, had fallen in love with two brothers. Originally from Canada the young men had been serving in the British Army in India, when they had visited the Tahoe area on holiday. Stephen had been disappointed when his daughters had decided to marry them and go live in India.
All his hopes had been pinned on Brian after that. When the boy had told his mother he was in love with a dancer from Reno and intended to marry her, it had been the final straw.
Looking back Stephen knew he had been wrong to deny them a chance but hindsight being 20/20 didn’t help the present. Grandfather Phillip was helping him a great deal but he was still nervous.
He needed Bridget’s help to convince his son to get on with his life. Brian was sinking further into depression and he was seeing a doctor for medical help. Stephen couldn’t bear to see his son like that.
Jacob looked at Laurel and said, “Do you want to go out?”
“I’d like that. Let me get my jacket and camera.”
“I’ll get both and meet you by the car.”
She went to the drive and stared at the Volkswagen Beetle on the drive.
“That’s Holt’s newest acquisition.” Jacob said as he came out.
Eyeing the rust on the car and the huge dent she said, “Is it running?”
Jacob smiled, “Barely but he seems to be in love with it and says once he gets it repaired and painted, no one will know it’s not brand new.”
“Beetle’s aren’t exactly cheap to repair.”
She stared at it through the windshield of Jacob’s car and said. “I remember that was the first car I drove and my parents gave it to me on the condition that I take care of repairs and gas myself. I babysat a lot that year and saved all my birthday and Christmas money just to keep my car roadworthy.”
Jacob said nothing as he reversed and headed for the main road. He was glad she was talking about the past she could remember.
“My mother had a shop,” Laurel continued. “A bookstore and I used to work there too. She said the store kept her busy when my Dad was away. I think that’s how I started to read a lot and then to write. My
interest in cameras began when I was eight and my Dad got me my own camera. I won a photography contest for children when I was ten and knew what I wanted to do.”
Jacob liked the fact Laurel had changed the channel on her mind to the stuff she could remember. He had expected her to be very stressed this morning.
“My mother was a doctor too,” he said. “That’s how she and my Dad met but he wanted to join the Navy after medical school and she wanted to work at the hospital in her hometown and stay in one place. They got on amazingly well in spite of his long absences but it was as if she didn’t want to hear about his early life on the Reservation. She told us kids she’d never been here and that was it. My grandmother visited every year though and they get along well.”
“Your mother let you visit the Reservation every summer,” Laurel pointed out.
“Yes. It’s because I told her I wanted to. My grandmother had been asking her to send me here in the summer since I was six. My first visit was when I was ten just before Irene was born. I think with her arrival they thought I would be better off with my grandmother for a couple of months.”
“What about your siblings? Did they come too?”
“No. Mom never told them to or not to. She was always busy with her own practice and she said as long as we had carefully thought out our choices we should go for our dreams.”
“That’s a great attitude to have as a parent.” Laurel said. “When did you know you wanted to go to medical school?”
“The first year on the Reservation when I got to see first hand how badly off the other children here were. I felt a connection to Ama and the stories of our family’s past. She talked of a time when our diseases hadn’t affected the native Americans and they were one with Nature and the land. When I asked her if she needed anything for Christmas that year she said she would like a doctor to come there and help the sick fight the modern afflictions she didn’t have a cure for. I wanted to be that doctor she wanted. They have a tribal clinic now on the Reservation but could still use help.”
“What kind of help?”
“Counseling for substance abuse, drinking, gambling. These are the worst problems. Following the old lifestyle leaves them with too much time on their hands. The youth don’t see a future for themselves unless they leave and some of them are not encouraged to do that. The result is they settle into a rut of indifference.”
