Heartstrings

by Kelli McCracken

  Right on cue, his hand moved forward. I moved back. He hesitated going any further. I didn’t. Three additional steps set a good amount of space between us, and also left me stumbling into the chest of drawers. Bracing myself against it, the items atop pounded the floor when they fell. The noise drew Adam’s attention, as well as mine, to the vase and scattered flowers across the carpet.

  “Are you okay?”

  His voice soothed me even though my level of perception was askew. My head spun with thoughts…of him touching my hand, of him pulling me close and running his hands over my body.

  Though I managed to nod in response, I couldn’t look at Adam. Fire burned my face. If I dared to meet his eyes, I’d combust. My reaction to him was ridiculous. I knew as much, yet the embarrassment still made me tingle from head to toe.

  Or maybe that was the effect he had on me.

  Shifting my gaze to the guitar, I took a deep breath. I had to continue this game. If my subconscious was using Adam to help me, I had to pretend he was real. And if he really were, this current situation would leave me with one question. How long had he known about the scars?

  As I found the courage to face him and ask, a round of knocking shook my bedroom door. “Jo?”

  Hadley’s voice held curiosity, maybe even a smidgen of concern. Then again, nurses should be concerned with their patients. Hell, nannies felt the same with their wards. I still wasn’t sure which she was, nor was I in a hurry to find out. If it were genuine concern, like a friend would have, I may have opened the door.

  Instead, I followed through on my original thought and faced Adam. Too bad he wasn’t there. The French doors stood open as the curtains wavered in the breeze. I hated seeing him go but knew he wasn’t far away. He never was. I had him tucked neatly in the corner of my mind.

  The moment I needed him, he’d return.

  * * *

  Olive eyes and rosy cheeks glared in my direction once I opened the door. Hadley scrutinized every inch of me while gripping a coffee cup in her hand. A second later, her face softened. She glanced past my shoulder, scanning my room with hesitant sweeps.

  “Is something wrong, Hadley?”

  Her forehead creased. “Um… I was about to ask you the same. Were you, uh…were you talking to someone?”

  When she looked past me again, I eased my head to the side and blocked her view. “Of course not. Why do you ask?”

  It was a lie, but what was I supposed to tell her? Why yes, Hadley, I’m talking to this super-sexy, tattooed man with an ass so perfect, you know the package has to match.

  What the…

  I could have melted ice on my face it was so hot. I released the door and moved out of her way. She stepped further inside, still studying my room.

  “I’m sorry, Jo. Brighton said there was extra linen in the spare room. I was at the door when I heard the guitar, and then your voice.” Her attention shifted to the guitar then back to me. “I waited to see if you were calling for me, but you didn’t say anything else. Once I entered the room, I heard a different noise, like something had fallen. I thought maybe you’d passed out. That’s why I knocked.”

  “Oh that,” I scoffed and pointed toward the scattered flowers. “The vase fell. As far as hearing me talk, you must have heard me singing. I’m writing a song.”

  I removed the strap around my neck and set the guitar on the edge of my bed. There was no point in holding it. I had a mess to clean, and I couldn’t get back to my music until she left.

  “So you’re writing a song? That’s great.” She flashed a huge smile. It made the corner of my mouth twitch because her smile was more than big. It was genuine. For an instant, she felt like home and happiness, everything I assumed I would experience with a friend. I wanted her to be my friend.

  And Brighton was counting on as much.

  The thought of my brother was like being hit with a bucket of water. It washed away all other thoughts and left me cold and defensive. Hadley was the unfortunate person to deal with the aftermath.

  “It would be great if I’d quit getting interrupted.” I stomped toward the spot where the vase lay. My knees were soaked the instant they met the carpet.

  As I grumbled underneath my breath, I noticed Hadley approaching. She placed her cup on the chest and followed my lead before I could warn her about the water. Unlike me, she didn’t show any frustration over her damp knees. Instead, she reached forward and collected flowers.

  “Who interrupted you before? Brighton’s been gone for a while now.”

  I had to give her credit. She was good, but I didn’t buy her innocent act. She was fishing for information. Had I not perfected the art with my brother, I may have fallen for the ruse. Dealing with Brighton’s drug addiction taught me a lot of things, especially how to dig for info. If she thought I’d slip and give her what she wanted, she was wrong.

  “The last time I tried to work on this song, Brighton came rushing across the yard like a lunatic. Now you’re here. I wish everyone would leave me alone.”

  “Oh.”

  Hadley’s hands stilled atop the vase. A moment later, the flowers she held slid inside the glass container. Though she was facing me, she wouldn’t look in my eyes. She kept hers lowered, like I’d suspected. She knew I was on to her. Now it was time for her to cover her tracks.

  “I better not keep you.”

  As she stood, she lifted the vase from the floor. It didn’t take me long to join her. I wrapped my fingers around the glass and tugged. “I’ve got it.”

  “Please, allow me to at least help with this.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  We both tugged on the vase at the same time, but I had a better grasp. I yanked it toward my chest. Hadley stumbled forward into the dresser. I didn’t mean to pull so hard nor did I mean to hurt her. And yet I did. Not only did her shoulder catch the corner of the dresser, her coffee cup rocked to its side. The steaming contents spilled over her shirt.

  “Oh, god!” she cried.

  “Hadley, are you okay?” I drew her toward me like I had the vase, but I couldn’t save her from the scalding liquid. Her face pinched as she shook her head side to side. It made my cheeks throb with heat. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Save it,” she sobbed.

  Before I could say anything else, she spun toward the door and sprinted away. I called to her repeatedly, but she ignored me.

  It took a moment, but I finally heard another door shut across the house. The distant thump made my stomach sink. Hadley was hurt, and it wasn’t just physically. My behavior cut far deeper than the coffee could burn. If any scars remained, it wouldn’t be from the liquid. It would be from my sharp tongue.

  ~ CHAPTER NINE ~

  Muffled crying filtered from behind the bedroom door. I hadn’t been near this side of the house or the music room since Hadley claimed the bedroom as hers. I was certain that Brighton did his best to talk her into staying in the room closest to mine, but she didn’t. Perhaps if we were friends…

  The more I listened, the more her sobbing pulled at my heartstrings. There was no doubt that the coffee hurt her, but her throaty sobs said her pain stemmed from more than scalding liquid. It was emotional pain.

  It couldn’t be over me ignoring her. If so, it wasn’t professional behavior. My mother once told me how medical providers were advised not to grow attached to their patients. Provide them with quality care and compassion, yes, but no attachments. It wasn’t professional.

  I didn’t cause the sadness within Hadley. All the signs pointed to something in her personal life. I could only guess at this point because I didn’t know her, and I sure as hell hadn’t made any attempt to change that fact. Now that I was on the outside looking in, my plan to keep my distance didn’t seem such a great idea anymore.

  Inching closer, I eased my cheek against the doorframe and knocked softly. When no response came, I cracked the door and glanced inside the room. Hadley stood near the window where a full-length
mirror hung on the wall. She’d contorted her body so that her shoulders faced the window while she looked backward at her reflection. The mid length shirt she’d worn lay on the floor not far from where she stood. The black band of her bra wrapped around her chest as she hugged a charcoal t-shirt.

  It wasn’t until I lowered my eyes to see where she was gawking that I noticed the scars. They covered her lower back in various patterns. Some were indented, others were raised, and the rest discolored her skin. All were aged. Whatever happened to her, it happened long ago.

  A moment later I heard her gasp. Her eyes widened. Then they narrowed on me. As she stepped away from the mirror and stretched her shirt over her head, I turned away. I hadn’t meant to watch her for so long. In fact, my intentions were to make sure she was okay and then slip away before she noticed me.

  Nothing worked out the way I wanted lately.

  When I heard Hadley moving about the room, I peered back inside. She wasn’t looking my way like I’d expected. She carried her coffee-drenched shirt and dumped it into the hamper once she reached it.

  “Is there something you need, Miss Hayes?”

  Her formalness caught me off guard. Since she’d arrived, she’d referred to me by my name, or at least my nickname. Using my title and given name meant she was keeping things professional. Consequently, I didn’t like it.

  “What happened to calling me by my name?”

  “I thought I just did.”

  The hint of sarcasm made me chuckle. I had a reoccurring thought. Under different circumstances, Hadley and I could be friends. Good friends. I wasn’t psychic by any means, but I could sense things about people. Aside from the scars, we had things in common. What, I didn’t know, but I decided it didn’t matter. She was someone other than Brighton.

  My father said I was a good judge of character. Perhaps he was right. It would explain why my brother didn’t get by with much. Our twin bond only made things worse for him.

  Despite my assumption on how well Hadley and I would get along, there was still a problem. She’d placed a wall between us. I questioned whether she placed it there to protect herself from my rude behavior or because she didn’t want me to discover something. After seeing the scars on her back, I was convinced it was the latter.

  “I didn’t realize we were using formalities now. If it’s what you prefer, I’m okay with it. Should I refer to you as Miss James instead?”

  Hadley smirked. “It would be more suiting for our situation, don’t you think? After all, I was hired to provide you with therapy, not friendship.”

  Her words felt like a knife in my gut. I didn’t like how sensitive I’d become over the things people said. I couldn’t recall ever giving two shits about what someone thought of me. I wasn’t rude about it, just…confident. But now… Guess this was karma paying me back for my suspicions of Hadley.

  My reactions to her and Brighton didn’t make sense, but trauma never did. It’s an arduous thing to find your way back to normalcy after your entire world is flipped upside down. Yet my world didn’t just flip. It was ripped away, and I’d been shoved into an alternate universe.

  “You’re right, Miss James. Forgive me. I wanted to make sure you were okay. I won’t keep you.”

  As she nodded, I moved from the door. My inward cursing ensued as I swept through the hall, across the dining room, and into the kitchen. I turned in a circle, unsure which way to go. My bedroom would be the safest place. Instead, I stopped and gripped the refrigerator handle, concentrating on the tiles beneath my feet.

  Why was I letting Hadley get to me? I’m the one who decided I didn’t need anyone. Music and healing were my priorities and hers were rehabilitating me. I needed to focus on my health, not making a friend. The quicker I healed, the sooner I’d remember my past.

  Still, one thought haunted me. What if I didn’t have any friends?

  If Hadley were my chance at changing this, I’d ruined everything. Worse, she’d been through something horrible at some point in her life. If anyone could relate to me, it might be her.

  “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

  A quick pivot brought Hadley into view. She stood near the dining room table, clutching one of the chairs. I neither heard her approach nor understood what she was asking.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Being shunned.” Hadley strolled across the dining room in my direction as she quirked a brow. “Being treated as if you were a nuisance. Feeling like you’re not wanted. It sucks, doesn’t it?”

  I nodded.

  “Now you have a small taste of the way you made me feel the night I showed up. And I did say a small taste. You’ve made me feel like this every day that I’ve been here.”

  My cheeks felt like a cherry red poker had branded them. My impoliteness toward Hadley the night she showed up wasn’t my finest moment. I was too angry at the time to apologize. Now I had to face the repercussions of my rudeness.

  “I’m not proud of my behavior that night. I’m sorry for the way I treated you.”

  Though I couldn’t prove it, I swore I saw relief in her eyes. It was enough to provide me with the same. Regardless of whether she and I became friends, I didn’t need additional tension in my home. Brighton brought plenty when he was around.

  “Apology accepted.” Hadley offered a smile.

  My lips curled in a similar fashion on instinct. Then, I motioned toward her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  Her lips tightened and she nodded. “My shoulder is fine. I’ve been through worse.”

  My mind filled with images of her scarred back. It would be rude to ask what happened when I barely knew her. My curiosity didn’t care.

  “Are you referring to your lower back?” When she nodded, I pushed further. “Were you in some type of accident?”

  “Only if you count being born into the wrong family an accident. But everything is good now. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t ask more questions about her scars. I knew how I felt about mine and I didn’t want to make things awkward between us again. If she wanted me to know, she’d tell me when she was ready.

  “Unless you can tell me what happened to cause my amnesia, then no. As you said, everything is good.”

  She studied me for a moment before advancing toward the sink. “I can’t tell you what happened. For one, I wasn’t around, and two, it won’t help you. But I can tell you this much. It’s the reason I’m here.”

  “Beg your pardon?” I knew why she was here, though I didn’t want to accuse her of being Brighton’s spy. Not after she’d forgiven me for being rude to her. “I thought you were here to make sure I didn’t pass out again. You’re a home health nurse, right?”

  “I am,” she said as she removed a coffee filter from the cabinet above her. “And yes, part of the reason I’m here is because you passed out. I’m also here to provide therapy for your hand.”

  As she continued making a fresh pot of coffee, I walked closer to the sliding glass doors. The more we chatted, the more comfortable I felt. My guard wasn’t down by any means, but at least the conversation was somewhat informative.

  “Do you think physical therapy is going to help me regain my memories?”

  “I think it will help, but my therapy plan isn’t solely physical. It’s cognitive too.”

  I gazed out the doors to the backyard as I processed what she was saying. “Cognitive therapy? That relates to my memories, right?”

  “Yes.”

  I caught a glimpse of her bustling around the kitchen, removing cups from the cabinet, cream from the fridge, and the sugar bowl from the counter. Brighton must have tipped her off to my love of coffee. Good. I could use a cup.

  Hadley grew quiet as she removed the carafe from the warming plate. I listened to the coffee pouring into the mugs and then moved to the table. Once she approached, she set down the cups and went back for the cream and sugar. I took a seat just before she did the same.

  She slid one cu
p toward me then added cream and sugar to hers. “The type of amnesia you have is tricky. The reason your doctor doesn’t want anyone telling you what happened is because it won’t necessarily help you regain the memories you’ve lost. The human brain is complex. You may think you’re remembering events that occurred, but it’s not always a true memory. It’s one your mind creates.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She blew into her cup then glanced inside. “Each person remembers things in their own unique way, so what you’re told and what you recall are two different things.”

  “God, I’m so confused. I feel like an idiot.”

  Hadley didn’t seem the least bit frustrated with my response. In fact, she chuckled. “You’re not an idiot, Jo. Look at it like this. Say Brighton remembers a pet you once had. Maybe it was a German shepherd and he tells you about this dog, about its color, its markings, and any other information he recalls. If he told you the dog was black and tan, you could create an image in your mind just by what he said.”

  “Why is that bad?”

  She peered up from her cup and smirked. “Because your true memories could include different details, like how the dog had one white paw or a brown nose instead of a black one. If Brighton neglected to notice this, he couldn’t tell you.”

  “I still don’t see how it would be a bad thing.”

  “It’s bad because it’s not an organic thought. Your mind’s been influenced by a suggestion and now believes it to be true. The more you’re told, the higher your risk of losing organic memories forever. Your doctor and brother want you to regain your true memories, not influenced ones.”

  It finally made sense. Why couldn’t Brighton have explained the situation the way Hadley did? I still didn’t like not being told what happened any more than I had before, but I had a better understanding of their position.

  “What you’re saying makes sense, but how is cognitive therapy going to help me?”

  Hadley stilled the spoon she was twirling and stared at me. “Because I’m going to help trigger the memories you’ve lost.”