Forgetting August (Lost & Found #1)

by J. L. Berg

  I’d been down these winding paths more times than I could count.

  “The smell,” I answered.

  “You like the smell?”

  “Yes—take a deep breath,” I instructed, looking sideways to wait for him to do so. I watched him shake his head in amusement as his eyes met mine, but he did as I said and took a solid breath into his lungs, letting the mountain air fill his airways.

  “What do you smell?” I asked.

  “Air?” he answered, giving me a sideways grin.

  “Seriously? That’s it?”

  “Mountain air?” he specified, watching as I did the same, breathing in deeply as we walked down the shadowy path. “What do you smell?”

  “Everything,” I answered. “The crisp woodsy smell of the trees, the rustic flavor of the earth, and that clean feeling of the water rushing through. It’s like the best air freshener money can buy, but it’s impossible to bottle, because there is no way we could replicate this.”

  He didn’t say anything, as we continued to stroll along the wooded walkway and he snapped a few pictures. Others walked around us—families, couples and even a few school groups pointed toward the heavens as they looked at the giant redwoods. The drive out from the city was only about thirty minutes, but stepping out here was like visiting another world. So vastly different from the hustle and bustle, the forest breathed solitude and serene tranquility. Even as the school-aged kids ran up and down the wood walkway, nothing could sway the sense of peace I felt when I came here.

  “What else?” August asked.

  “What?” I asked, looking up at a piece of sky through the trees.

  “What else do you like about this place?” he asked softly.

  I looked around, trying to pick just one thing. I loved everything, really. The solitude. The way I felt when I was here. The time I’d spent with him in this place so long ago.

  “Oh, here—let me show you,” I said, pulling him along the path. We came to one of my favorite markers. So many trees had fallen over the years, whether due to drought or storms, and rather than trying to move them the forestry department usually left them where they fell unless they interfered with a path or caused a safety hazard. In this spot, they’d cut one of the oldest fallen trees in half to demonstrate the incredible lifespan of a giant redwood.

  “Here,” I said, pointing to the many rings within the tree. There were several markers there, designating historical events which went back nearly a thousand years.

  “When I look at this tree—stand in this place, I feel almost insignificant.”

  “What?” he said, confusion crossing his face.

  “Let me continue.” I grinned. “Before this tree fell, its life span was over 900 years. You and I would have been a speck of time—a blip, barely noticeable to its existence.”

  “This is depressing.”

  “Shut up. I’m talking.” I laughed. “Sometimes, when life is chaotic and intense, and I feel like it just can’t possibly be any worse, I like to come here and remember that I’m not the only one in the universe. That in the nearly ten centuries of this tree’s life, hundreds of thousands of people lived and died feeling exactly the same way I did at some point in their life…and chances are their lives were worse than mine because I at least have indoor plumbing and a blow dryer.”

  He chuckled and rolled his eyes.

  “There are a ton of reasons I love these woods, but one of the biggest is that one. It puts me in my place.”

  “And it smells good,” he winked.

  “Yes, and it smells incredible.”

  “You just geeked out over air and trees,” he said with a grin.

  “Yes, and?”

  “It was fucking adorable.”

  “Just wait until you hear me talk about waterfalls. I love waterfalls…oh, and streams!” He laughed.

  We continued down the path, talking the entire way as I pointed out my favorite spots and even shared a few memories.

  “You kissed me there once,” I said, pointing to a tree along the path that had a large hole in the trunk. It was a favorite of the tourists for pictures and usually had a line, but luckily due to our slow pace, we’d missed the huge rush of people and it was just us as we arrived.

  “Right here?” he asked, pushing me against the tree.

  “Yes,” I answered, gulping audibly as our eyes met.

  “Like this?” His hand cupped my jaw as his lips slowly grazed my own. The heat from his breath rushed along my neck and sent shivers down my spine.

  “Happy Birthday, Everly,” he whispered as his mouth captured mine. Butterflies fluttered in my belly as I clung to him, wishing I was suddenly anywhere but this very public setting. The only thing I wanted for my birthday was him. Alone.

  Now.

  When he pulled away, his smirk was nearly heartstopping. I saw a few young tourists skirt by us, the blushes on their faces apparent. I looked up at him, my eyes wide with embarrassment. He just laughed it off and held up his camera, showing me the images he’d just caught without my knowledge.

  Hell, with that man’s lips on mine, a semitruck could have come crashing through the woods and I probably wouldn’t have noticed.

  “I wanted to get this new kiss on record,” he explained as I looked down at our very indecent public scene.

  “Those poor teenagers are probably scarred for life,” I said.

  “Those poor teenagers probably have done that and more,” he corrected.

  “You’re probably right. When I was their age—”

  “Stop! Don’t need to know.” He held up his hands in protest as we roamed back to the welcome center.

  “What do you mean, you don’t want to know? I know all about your previous escapades.”

  “Yes—but I don’t. And, honestly—I really don’t want to know about that aspect of my life. There’s you now, and that’s all that matters.”

  “So, the same goes for me?”

  He nodded. “Yes. As far as I’m concerned—you had amnesia as well, forgot all other lovers but me, and now we’re even.”

  “That’s ridiculous, you know that.”

  “I’m a ridiculous kind of guy,” he shrugged. “And you love me for it.”

  The air changed swiftly as we both froze.

  The look of surprise sweeping across his face lead me to believe he hadn’t meant to say it, but it had been said.

  The “L” word.

  Turning to him, my heart beating like a jackhammer, I replied, “Yes. I do.”

  * * *

  “I can’t take credit for this next trick. Well, at least not all of it,” he said quickly as we pulled up to the darkened street corner.

  “Okay,” I answered, looking around for some sort of clue. “Are you going to buy me some cocaine? Take me clubbing or get me a tattoo?” I asked, glancing at some of the unsavory establishments in the neighborhood.

  I wasn’t quite scared—I’d lived in an area much like this before. Granted, I’d been slightly harder around the edges back in those days, but I’m sure if it came down to it, I could still throw a punch. Or stand behind August and give him moral support.

  That sounded like a better option.

  “That would definitely make it a memorable day, but no. Not today; sorry. This is just where we’re going to grab lunch.”

  “Really—you shouldn’t have.” I laughed, wondering where in the world we could possibly eat around here. I didn’t see any restaurants, unless you counted the convenience store on the street.

  I wasn’t a high-maintenance girl by any means, but I was averse to food poisoning and those nasty hot dogs in the window of the run down store looked like they’d been there since Bush was in office.

  The first time.

  “Come on, oh ye of little faith,” he said, opening his car door with a grin that basically told me I was a big chickenshit. Taking a deep breath, I pushed my own door open and waltzed out with my head held high. We met on the curb.

  “Where to?�
�� I asked, acting far more confident than I felt. We’d gone from my version of the happiest place on earth to the ghetto and I was trying to figure out how this worked into my best day ever.

  But I took his hand and followed. Because I trusted him. Finally.

  We walked to a little apartment complex a block down. It reminded me a lot of the shoebox hole in the wall I’d rented the year I met August. The one I’d been too afraid to show him. The one he’d never judged me for.

  The place I fell in love with him.

  There were no curtains in the windows here. Just bars. Rows and rows of bars. It reminded me of a prison—a real one, and I wondered if the people who lived there felt the same way. Jails weren’t the only forms of imprisonment. Sometimes life could feel just as cold and endless as those cold metal bars.

  I remember staring out through my ratty curtain windows, way back when, wondering if I’d ever find a home of my own—someplace worth wanting. I’d worked a dead end job with no way out and all I saw were barricades and closed doors ahead of me. August had shown me there was more to life than a pile of no’s. He’d taught me there could be kindness in the eyes of others and if I wanted to make more of myself—I could.

  Even if it was just as a barista at a coffee shop.

  He’d always been happy with me the way I was…until money had driven him to want more. More from life and more from me. Now he was different, and all I saw were pieces of the old August finding their way back again—when life had just been him and me and nothing else.

  It gave me hope for the future.

  Hope for our future.

  I held his hand as we climbed the steps to the third floor. There was no elevator, which made me wonder how they managed to get away with such out-of-date construction. But looking around at the leaky ceilings and the worn carpeting, I remembered what it was like to live in a place like this.

  The forgotten zone.

  No one cared whether your water worked or if roaches scattered along your floor at night. This was where the poor lived—where they were lost in the system and left to their own devices.

  I remembered it well.

  It made my heart bleed.

  Four doors down, August finally came to a stop. My palm felt wet in his hand as I nervously pulled it away to wipe against my jeans. I waited as he knocked on the door, standing slightly behind him but to the side, as if that made some sort of difference in my pride factor.

  It didn’t.

  I was still practically cowering.

  A former street rat. Cowering.

  How far I’d come.

  A large old man opened the door. His gray hair and long wiry mustache looked strangely familiar to me. As I gazed into his dark brown eyes, trying to pinpoint where I’d seen his face before, I heard his gruff Brooklyn accent. “You August?”

  “Yes sir,” August answered.

  “Come on in,” the man replied, stepping aside to let us through the stripped–down, ugly door. As soon as I passed over the threshold and my nose came in contact with the smells wafting through that apartment, I knew exactly where I’d met the man before.

  My eyes flew over to August.

  “How?” I managed to say, as I turned back to the old line cook who’d once owned my favorite burger spot.

  It had closed down years ago and was never heard of again.

  “Sarah,” August said. “When she was over the other day for dinner, I happened to show her some of the pictures of you at the burger place and she recognized it, too. Only—unlike you, she knew the owner’s name. Once I had a name, he wasn’t too hard to track down.”

  “Strangest call I’ve ever got,” the old man said, shaking his head as he turned over a burger on the large electric skillet he was using.

  “I’m Everly.” I walked over and held out my hand. I watched as he did the same, wiping off the grease on a towel that he’d slung over his shoulder first.

  “Joey,” he replied. “I remember you. The little redhead who used to come in every month. Twice if it was your birthday,” he said with a grin. “I remember Mr. Moneybags over there as well. Don’t forget what we agreed on,” he warned, which felt a little less threatening with the smile still plastered on his weathered face.

  “No sir,” August replied. “I intend on paying you every last dime.”

  “I don’t doubt that. Now what do you two want on your burgers?” he asked, making me grin back at him like a damn fool.

  “You’re cooking for us?” I asked.

  “Well, what do you think you’re doing here, sweetheart? Did you think you were coming to this part of town just for the scenery? Your man said you wanted my burgers for your birthday. He’s paying me a hefty sum, so that’s what I’m doing.”

  “You’re insane.” I laughed, stepping forward to run my hands up August’s neck.

  “Maybe a little,” he said with a wink. “Tell the man what you want!”

  “Okay, okay!” I answered with sheer excitement, listing everything I wanted on my epic birthday burger. Joey just nodded and smiled, not bothering to write anything down as he took the order. He never had. None of the waitresses in his restaurant had ever sent back handwritten orders when I’d visited. Everything had been called out and yelled back for accuracy.

  “Hey Joey—why did you close he restaurant?” I asked.

  He stared down at the burgers, silently flipping them as I watched the years seem to pass by his tired eyes. “I didn’t choose to shut it down. It just happened—like so many things in life. Big chain came in down the street, customer loyalty dropped and before long I was behind on rent. The restaurant business ain’t easy. There’s always something out there bigger and shinier, ready to take away your livelihood. That place was my heart and soul. I haven’t been able to get back on my feet ever since.” He took a deep breath, looking up as his tired eyes blinked several times.

  “But it’s good to know I’m missed. At least by a few.”

  “You are,” I replied. “There was no place quite like yours.”

  “It was a good little spot,” he agreed. “I drive past it every once in a while—there’s a damn frozen yogurt place there now. Looks like someone vomited the rainbow all over it.”

  I couldn’t help the snort that escaped my throat. I heard August chuckle next to me as we watched Joey finish wrapping up our burgers and fries. August and I thanked him for the meal, and I as we left August handed him a fistful of cash. Joey didn’t bother counting it, which meant he either trusted us or didn’t care. I knew it was the former. Somehow the old man who lived in the apartment that felt more like a prison than a home had come to trust us in the few minutes we’d grown to know each other.

  “Joey, I want you to have this,” I said, reaching for the watch that adorned my wrist. He looked down as I unclasped it and slid it over my petite hand.

  “Kind of big on you, isn’t it?” he asked, looking at the large silver watch.

  “Yes, it was given to me, and I just don’t think it’s a good look. I thought you might like it and if not, maybe you could use it toward your burger joint fund.”

  “Burger joint? How do you know I even want to go back in business?” he asked, looking down at me as his fingers ran over the shiny metal of the Rolex watch.

  “Because you wouldn’t look so damn happy when you cooked them if it wasn’t still your passion,” I answered.

  He swallowed deeply, as if he were holding back some deep emotion.

  “Thank you, Everly…August. Thank you very much.”

  “Good luck, Joey,” August replied.

  I waved good-bye and we stepped out the door, burgers and fries in hand, and as I looked around, the tattered floors and dingy walls didn’t look nearly as scary anymore.

  If Joey and I could survive this life, there was hope for the rest of them.

  As long as we didn’t forget.

  * * *

  “Do you have a place in mind to eat these?” I asked, peeking into the bag as the aroma began to
fill the car. My mouth was already watering and I was nearly shaking with hunger as I tried to discipline myself from snagging several of the fries and shoving them into my mouth all at once.

  I couldn’t believe he’d found Joey and had him make me a burger and fries.

  In his house.

  On an electric griddle and a tiny deep fat fryer that anyone could pick up from Walmart. It made me wonder why his burgers were amazing and mine were just all right when I had all of the same equipment in my own kitchen.

  “Not really—I thought of a few scenic locations along the water, but if you have something better in mind, let me know.”

  “Turn here,” I instructed, and he took a sharp curve off the freeway.

  A couple of interchanges later, we were pulling up to my spot—the secret spot I went to when I wanted to be alone. Alone from everything and nothing at all. It’s where I went when Ryan became overwhelming with talk of school and careers…when Sarah and I bickered and even when work became too stressful.

  Even a barista can feel overworked from time to time.

  It had always been my place—until August. He had been the only other person I’d invited here. And now I wanted to do so again.

  As he shut the engine off, he looked up at the massive bridge in the background. “I have a picture of the two of us here,” he said, lifting his wallet from his back pocket. He pulled out a tattered old photo, obviously worn from being shoved in his wallet, but it was one I recognized immediately.

  “That’s an old one,” I said, smiling, as my hair dipped down in front of me. I leaned in closer to get a better look, flipping over the photo to see the words I’d written so long ago. “We were babies,” I laughed, looking at the date.

  “Will you tell me about this day?” he asked as we dug into the food, not willing to risk the possibility of it getting any colder.

  “I think we’d been dating for a few months—maybe longer. We were already head over heels in love. I swear it was that way from the minute I saw you,” I explained candidly, a tiny moan escaping my mouth as I bit into the burger for the first time.