by Edie Claire
“What exactly did she say?” Jamie asked. “How much does she know?”
“She knows we lived together for a couple months,” Eric answered. “She knew about it already, she just didn’t know until last night that the woman I’d told her about was you. She was shocked at first, just like you and I were—it is a pretty unbelievable coincidence. But she was able to put it all in perspective.”
Jamie sank back into her seat and stared out the window, her feeble mind still spinning. She wished she could believe Eric’s rosy assessment of Teagan’s reaction, but her skeptical side ran deep. What women said and what they were feeling were often two different things. There was no way in hell that Teagan wasn’t bothered by the thought of Jamie’s having slept with her husband—no matter how long ago it had happened. Any sane woman’s first reaction would be to toss Jamie’s butt out onto the street. But Teagan had played it magnanimous. Not only had she kept Jamie around, she had insisted that Eric spend time with her. Alone.
Why? More row houses rolled by outside Jamie’s window, but as she pondered the question, a very different scene played before her eyes.
I bet I can do a back flip.
The twelve-year-old Jamie had rolled her eyes. Yeah, right! Just go already.
Did you know I was the best tumbler in my gym class last year? The skinny girl in the ball cap had bragged. I really was. The teacher said so. If I had the money for real gymnastics lessons, I bet I could make it to the Olympics.
Jamie hadn’t answered. She had merely planted her hands on her hips and glared until Teagan had finally taken her turn off the dock. Teagan had tossed her hat onto the wooden planks, walked to the edge, and turned to face Jamie. Then she had jumped into the air, twisted…
An unexpected chill swept down Jamie’s spine. The seconds that followed had been among the most frightening in her life. Yesterday she had been able to recall pulling Teagan from the lake, but she hadn’t remembered the horror of watching her friend’s body strike the dock, crumple, and drop into the water. Jamie had screamed. She had stared into the murky depths. Waiting, watching. Hoping. Teagan hadn’t come up.
“Jamie?” Eric’s deep voice interrupted her reverie. “Take a close look at this street, okay? This is the second time we’ve been down it, but I’m not sure you were paying attention.”
Jamie straightened. She hadn’t been paying attention. But she was beginning to understand. Teagan’s apparent show of faith shouldn’t surprise her. What might be odd behavior for a typical woman was completely in character for the gum-chewing back flipper of Indian Lake. You don’t worry me, Teagan’s bold actions proclaimed, because I know he’s mine.
Jamie shook her head with a smile. Teagan might not brag out loud anymore, but she still had Chutzpah with a capital C, and sheer gall was something Jamie could appreciate in a woman. It was no wonder she’d always liked Teagan. This thing with Eric could be prickly, true, but it wasn’t insurmountable. She wouldn’t let it be.
Her gaze, which had been skipping idly along the pavement outside, came to a sudden, crashing halt. A basement window, glass block and nondescript, had leapt from the building before her and positioned itself front and center in her brain. The sight of it washed all thoughts of Teagan from her mind.
“Eric,” she said with a croak, “I know that place.”
The car slowed down. She didn’t need to tell him which place. He steered the car over to an empty spot of curb a half block down and parked. “Do you want to get out and walk around?” he asked.
His voice had changed again. It was gentle now, concerned. Jamie would think it was sexy if she were thinking that way, but she wasn’t. Instead, she felt cold inside. Hopeless. She knew the feelings had something to do with the window. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know why.
“Just tell me,” she blurted. “Why do I remember that place?”
“Probably because you hated it so much,” he answered. “You were living there when I met you. You said it was all you could afford.”
Jamie slumped down into her seat and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see the window again. She didn’t need to. The images were already in her head. Three other girls and a guy, two tiny bedrooms. Mattresses on the floor. One bathroom with a tub—no shower head. Living underground like moles, getting natural light only from the two glass-block windows in the bedrooms and the illegally barred, long-since broken one in the kitchen. She didn’t have to live there; not if she was happy to wait tables forever. But she wasn’t. She wanted more.
More took money. Money she’d worked her butt off to save. Money she’d nearly sacrificed her sanity for.
“I hated that place,” she reiterated, more to herself than to Eric. “It was always so dark inside. And so cold. The space heaters kept tripping the breaker. At night, we’d turn the fridge off so we could keep them on.”
Grim memories poured into her brain. Working, always working. Two part-time jobs, sometimes three. Never any full-time spots. Never any benefits. She hadn’t cared where she lived because she was so rarely there. She had no belongings to steal. Just a slowly but steadily growing bank account that became an obsession. She wanted out. She wanted to make it. She was going to make it.
“You told me that it was the second apartment you’d lived in since you graduated from high school,” Eric offered. “Do you remember the first? I would drive you by it too, but I don’t know where it is.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Jamie answered, both her voice and her mood dismal. “I remember it well enough.” She had left her last foster placement in what she believed to be a blaze of glory—heady with the thrill of at last gaining both her majority and her freedom. She had secured a decent apartment in the “happening” university area of town and taken on two part-time jobs she believed would pay the rent.
She had been wrong. Each month of even the most basic living expenses had driven her deeper into a financial hole, and since she was already wearing nothing but uniforms and subsisting on greasy fast-food leftovers, the only place to cut corners had been her rent. She had wriggled out of her lease early and vowed to find the absolute cheapest digs available—at least until she could land a full-time job. But at eighteen years of age, with no experience, no connections, and no family support system, she had found that task much more difficult than expected.
“I was naive,” she explained simply, not wanting to share all the sordid details of her past. For all she knew, she already had. “It took me a while to realize that being willing to work hard wasn’t enough to earn myself a decent living. My first apartment was way too expensive; that dump back there was probably less than I could afford. But after the first year or so of working my tail off, I knew that I wanted to go to college, and I was desperate to save as much money as I could.”
Eric made no response, and she turned to look at him. He had removed his seatbelt and was leaning comfortably against the inside of the driver’s door, studying her. His expression was kind, almost admiring. “You were the most headstrong, determined woman I’d ever met,” he said with a smile. “And believe me, in law school, I met plenty. I was really glad to hear that you made it to college. I never doubted that you would someday.”
Jamie blinked. Watching him speak, allowing their eyes to meet, affected her memory like a strong wind—rattling thin windows and blowing open stuck-tight doors. He had been a breath of fresh air then too, hadn’t he? So much more intelligent than the other guys she had dated. She was used to being the smart one; after a while she had believed all men were stupid. But Eric had been a surprise. Other men challenged her patience; he had challenged her intellect.
She could remember being with him—talking, laughing. She could see the two of them walking long distances around the campus, and yes—she could remember a car now, too. They had gone to the Carnegie Natural History Museum and stared at stuffed animals and dinosaur bones. They’d taken in a flick at the Omnimax theater. It had been spring. She could remember seeing all the flowers outside wh
en they walked past the Phipps Conservatory. He hadn’t much money to spare, either, but they had always found something interesting to do. She had enjoyed his company. She had enjoyed it very much.
“It’s coming back to me now,” she said, suddenly mindful of her long silence. The new images were plentiful, but they were still unfocused. She wanted to remember everything, and she wanted to remember it in order. “So tell me,” she urged again. “Exactly when and where did we meet?”
His response wasn’t immediate, but this time he did decide to answer. “Not quite six years ago, during my first year of law school. You had just started working at a restaurant where a lot of the law students used to go for drinks.”
Jamie, who had sunk down in her seat to where her knees rested on the dash, sat up abruptly. “I remembered that place last night!” she said proudly. “Dim lighting, smoky. I was always toting around those big, thick mugs of draft—those suckers were so heavy. But I liked working there—it was better pay with all the tips, and I liked the people.”
She looked back at Eric. “That’s where I finally got my first full-time job, wasn’t it?”
He shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure. You were working towards it when I knew you—you were certain that a spot would open up and that you would be next in line. But I never heard what happened after we broke up.”
“I did go full time,” Jamie answered with confidence. She suddenly knew that fact beyond question, even as the other event she strove to remember stayed outside her grasp. “I worked at that restaurant for years. But I don’t remember breaking up with you. What happened exactly?”
Eric’s eyes locked with hers for only a second. They were searching, almost sad. Then he moved to face forward again, reaching for his seat belt. “Sorry,” he said stubbornly. “You’re going to have to remember that for yourself.” He smiled a little. “I suspect your version will be different anyway.”
Jamie’s brow furrowed as he shifted the car into gear and started to pull back out onto the road. “Well,” she responded shortly. “I suppose it hardly matters. What I really need to remember is who I am now, right?”
“Exactly,” he agreed.
Jamie felt her face flush with heat, and her aggravation aggravated her. Who did he think he was, anyway? He had been fun, but it wasn’t as though he had been the love of her life. She was quite certain she’d never had one of those. If Eric had meant something to her back then, surely she would feel more for him now. She felt physical attraction, maybe even a reluctant fondness, but that was all.
So why was he being so secretive? Was it possible, perhaps, that she had meant something more to him? A smile spread slowly across her face, even as a pang of guilt nagged at her conscience. I bet he was in love with me. If so, it was no wonder the whole situation was so awkward for him—no wonder he didn’t want to discuss their breakup. The more it had hurt him, the less he would want to dwell on it. Even now.
So what had happened? What had she done to him? Were her own actions responsible for the fleeting undercurrent of resentment she had sensed in him last night?
She bit her still-sore lip. She could remember their relationship as nothing but pleasant, and yet clearly, she had thrown it away. Thrown away a chance with a smart, handsome guy whom any idiot could see was destined for success.
What the hell had she been thinking?
She wanted to remember. Whether it mattered to her recovery or not, she wanted to know.
“Eric,” she said with authority. “I want to go back to that restaurant. Will you take me there?”
She watched as the muscles of his jaw clenched, then unclenched. He breathed out heavily.
“Sure,” he said, his voice noticeably tighter. “Whatever you think will help.”
Chapter Thirteen
Teagan’s office phone rang. She was on her way back out to the ER and debating leaving it to voicemail when she had a sudden premonition that the caller might be Eric. She wanted to hear his voice.
“Social services. Teagan Hansen.”
“Hey, honey.”
Teagan’s shoulders fell. The voice was not Eric’s. It was two octaves higher.
“Hey, Mom. What’s up? I’m kind of busy at the moment. Can I call you back later?”
“No,” the voice said emphatically. “You may not. This is important. Are you sitting down?”
Teagan closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. The last thing she needed at the moment was a dose of her mother’s theatrics. Despite her best intentions at concentrating on work, she found her nerves fraying further by the hour. She wondered where Jamie and Eric were now, and what Jamie was remembering. Would she concentrate on recalling what mattered to getting her life back, or would Eric’s presence derail her thoughts in the worst possible direction?
“What is it, Mom?” she asked impatiently.
Sheryl cleared her throat. “I went by your house this morning. You know, to check up on Jamie. I didn’t think it was such a good idea to leave her there alone with Eric all day, even if she was up in the apartment. And just guess what I found?”
“They weren’t home.”
“They weren’t—” Sheryl broke off. “You knew that? Well, where did they go? You didn’t send them off together, did you?”
Teagan put her free hand to her temple. “Look, Mom. It’s fine. All those weird vibes you picked up on last night were nothing. It’s just that Jamie and Eric thought they recognized each other, and they did. She used to wait tables at one of his law student hangouts.”
Sheryl remained silent for a while. Teagan envisioned her mother’s eyes widening, her jaw dropping slowly down…
Finally, the question came. “Well, how well did they know each other?”
Teagan’s teeth clenched. She had always been a firm believer in plain, unvarnished truth as the ultimate problem solver. Unfortunately, her devotion to the cause had rendered her a lousy liar.
“As well as anybody gets to know a waitress, I guess,” she answered, cringing at the double-entendre. “In any event, I thought she might get her memory back quicker if he drove her around Oakland this morning. Maybe she still lives there… who knows?”
Sheryl allowed another long silence. Teagan’s whole body fidgeted as she itched to get off the phone and back to work. Why couldn’t her mother be in the midst of her own romantic problems now? Had not whole weeks gone by in the past when Sheryl had forgotten she even had a daughter?
The timing was too cruel.
“Teagan, honey,” the dreaded voice returned, fraught with sympathy, dripping with tragedy. “You’ve got to stop being so trusting. I adore Eric, you know I do, but the fact is—he’s a man. And as for that houseguest of yours, you take my word on it—she’s a home wrecker. I can smell her kind a mile away, and this one reeks to high heaven. If she hasn’t made a play for him yet, you’d better believe she will—”
“Mom—” Teagan interrupted.
“Don’t ‘Mom’ me,” Sheryl interrupted back. “I know exactly what I’m talking about, and we both know it. I’m telling you, if they really did know each other from before, she’s going to use that to get to him. She’ll tell him she needs him to help her remember, that he’s all that links her to her past, that he’s the only person who can make her feel whole again. My God, the possibilities are endless! Eric is in serious trouble.”
“My husband is not an idiot!” Teagan said firmly, her patience gone. Her face was hot, her hands sweating. Why did Sheryl have to be so blasted good at making her daughter’s imagined fears seem real? And she didn’t even know the worst of it. “He’s not going to fall for some stupid helpless act. As for Jamie, I’m committed to helping her get back on her feet, and I’m not going to throw her out just because she’s a flirt. What would that say about me and my faith in my marriage? You worry too much. I’ll call you later. Goodbye, Mom.”
“Teagan Nicole! You—”
Teagan pretended not to hear anything more as she dropped the phone into its cr
adle. A man. Her mother needed a man. Where could she get one? The classifieds? She’d call some likely fellow, set something up…
The phone rang again. Teagan stared at it warily. Could Sheryl hit redial that fast? Probably. And yet…
Her hand reached out and picked up the phone. She was so rattled she forgot to answer it professionally. “Hello?”
“Hey there.”
A warm wave of relief swept through her body. She sank down onto her desk. “Eric,” she replied softly. “How are you? What’s going on?”
The background noise seemed loud, and his cell phone kept cutting in and out. But every note of his calm, familiar voice soothed Teagan like a salve. “We’re in Oakland now, on our way to Vermelli’s. Jamie remembered one of the apartments she used to live in, but not much about school yet. I’m sure she will soon, though. How’s everything with you?”
Teagan let out a breath and smiled. “Fine. Saturdays are always busy. I’d rather be home, though.”
A rap on the door startled her. She looked through the narrow window pane. It was one of the ER charge nurses, gesturing sharply, holding up two fingers. Teagan was needed in room two. Now.
“I’m sorry, Eric,” she responded, her regret genuine. “I can’t talk now—they need me. Tell Jamie good luck, and… thank you. For doing this.”
His voice softened. “No problem. I love you.”
A hot, burning pressure assaulted Teagan’s eyes. She shut her lids tightly.
“I love you, too.”
She dropped the phone into its cradle for a second time and made a grab for a tissue from the box on her desk.
She blew her nose and got back to work.
***
