Finding Mikayla

by Samantha Christy

  “It’s just that you and Mitch usually have some body part stuck to each other’s so I assumed with him being MIA . . .” I don’t miss that she smiles while she’s talking. “And he didn’t show up for work yesterday.”

  “He’s sick. I told you that, Jamie.”

  “Oh, right,” she says with sarcasm. “I guess that’s why I saw him eating a nice big breakfast after you left the dining hall today. He took it out the back door and sat by himself. He must really be pissed at you. That, or he’s just had his fill. Either way, be sure to let him know I’ll be happy to pick up where you left off.” She spins around and walks into the back room without waiting for my reply.

  He was eating breakfast out back? Maybe he thinks he’s contagious or something. Why wouldn’t he just come and talk to me about it? I have to get to the bottom of this.

  I knock, but don’t wait for a response. I open the door and let myself in his apartment. “Mitch!” I call out. “Are you feeling any better? I really don’t think you need to avoid everyone anymore.” I walk back to his room to see the door wide open but no trace of him. I look around his room and something seems off. His bed is made. His clothes are picked up and even freshly laundered. Did someone do this for him? I would have gladly done it myself.

  I don’t see any signs of sickness. No tissues strewn about or water bottles lying around. No rumpled clothing or even a simple container of pain relievers by the bed. What is going on here? I can’t corner Austin because he’s already left for work.

  I will make myself crazy if I wait around here so I walk to the stables and saddle up Sassy. I trot her around a little since I’ve not been on her for a few days and Brad said she probably needs the exercise. We head out to the far crop quad. I close my eyes and enjoy the last bit of heat on my face before the sun falls behind the trees in the west. When I open them, I spot a few people walking between the tall rows of cornstalks in the distance.

  I see Craig’s trademark bright-orange Florida Gator’s baseball cap that he rarely goes without. But I have to look twice when I think I see Mitch walking next to him. I squint my eyes and focus on the two of them walking in the other direction. I can’t see his face, but that dark, wavy hair, the same unruly hair that I’ve weaved my fingers through a hundred times, is unmistakably his.

  How did he get all the way out here if he is sick? I watch them talk and smile and joke around until I can’t see them anymore. I sit, dumbfounded, on Sassy. If he was feeling better, why wouldn’t he come find me? It’s been two days since we’ve been together, doesn’t he crave me like I crave him?

  Then it hits me. It hits me hard. Maybe he got his memory back when he was sick in bed yesterday and now he knows who he was searching for. He knows there is someone waiting for him. Maybe he even knows that he loves that someone. He’s avoiding me because he doesn’t have the guts to break up with me. I start to get angry. After all we went through, how could he just up and walk away without so much as one word.

  That jackass!

  I run Sassy back to the stables as fast as I can through my tear-blurred vision and then I go find the one person who can comfort me like a mother.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Shhh,” Claire whispers into my ear as she hugs me. “Whatever it is, it will be okay, dear.” She must wonder why I practically burst into her apartment with a tear-streaked face, almost diving into her arms.

  She sits us down on her couch and comfortingly rubs a hand down my long hair as the colonel quietly slips out the door giving us a sad nod.

  “H-he re-remembered,” I stutter. “He must have remembered that he loves someone and now he can’t even bring himself to face me.” I tell her the whole story and she listens intently, holding my hand lovingly as if I were her own daughter. “M-maybe I deserved this—moving on too quickly. Maybe I don’t deserve to be happy.”

  “Oh, Kay. Of course you deserve to be happy. We all deserve the chance to be happy in this unforgiving world we live in now.” She blots my tears with a tissue. “I’m sure there is an explanation for this. Mitch loves you. I can see it. Everyone can see it. Even if he got his memory back, that doesn’t mean he can simply turn those feelings off. Maybe he did remember something. And maybe he just needs time to sort out his feelings.”

  Everything she says makes sense. He could have remembered who he was trying to find and now he’s deciding which one of us he wants. My heart drops into my stomach and I feel sick. I know that I have to give him time to work this out on his own. I have to stand back and watch the man I love determine if he wants to stay with me. I have to give him the space to figure out if he is going to shatter my heart into a million pieces.

  How on earth am I going to get through this?

  Claire lets me stay in their apartment all night, sleeping in the guest room. I’m floored by the care and compassion of a woman whose son I basically wrote off for dead. The way she continues to take me under her wing is astonishing. It saddens me that someday she won’t be around to fill this role in my life. Surely she will go wherever the colonel ends up, which I’m certain won’t be some little town in the middle of nowhere where I make house calls to check up on the local residents.

  And right here, in the middle of the night in Claire’s apartment, I decide my future. I don’t want to go to Jacksonville and work in an emergency room. I don’t want to re-join the rat-race even as slow as it may have become since the blackout. I want to continue to do everything I’ve come to love and appreciate this past year. I want to live my life, not let my life live me.

  The only thing is . . . I want to do it all with Mitch.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  People are starting to stare and whisper. Women look at me with sad eyes. Men look at me with renewed hope. It’s only been four days since I’ve spent time with him . . . smelled him . . . touched him. But, it seems like forever.

  He’s going out of his way to avoid me and I’ve been letting him. If he decides not to choose me, nothing I say or do can influence that. I love him, but I’m not going to put that burden of guilt on him if he can’t reciprocate my feelings.

  I saw him watching me from across the courtyard yesterday. He looked incredibly sad which left me trying to figure out if it was because he’s decided not to be with me, or if it was because he misses me. It then occurred to me that the tables have turned. He is in the same exact position I was in a few weeks ago. It’s because of this that I know he needs time, just as he gave me time. I only wish he wouldn’t shut me out completely.

  Evan walks into the clinic, breaking up the monotony of my day. “Hey, Dr. Parker,” he says. “I think I found something that may belong to you on this morning’s supply run.”

  How could he possibly have something that’s mine? Did they sweep my apartment back in Gainesville? He pulls something from his pocket that, from where I’m standing across the room, looks to be a necklace. “What makes you think it’s mine, Evan?”

  “Well, the picture of you on the inside may have given it away,” he says. “Don’t know who the other gal is, or the fella’, but I recognized you straight away. Funny thing, though, we finally got back to the place we ran into Mitch and found this on the floor of his smashed-up truck. Nothing else, no belongings, only this.”

  I’m stunned. A picture of me?

  “I’ll just leave it right here, Doc,” he says, setting it on the table and walking out the front door.

  I stare at the necklace as if I’m afraid of it. Does it hold the answers to my questions? I take a calming breath and walk over to the table where it lays. My breath hitches when I take it in. It looks like a set of dog tags, but it’s actually a locket—just like the one Mitch described Gina giving to him. This is not mine, it belongs to Mitch.

  I open it with shaky hands to see a very small picture of me on one side of the locket. On the other side is a picture of a beautiful woman—one I recognize as Gina based on the detailed description Mitch gave me. Her picture is old and faded like mine is. But, there is also
a third picture that has come loose in the tiny frame as if it may have been placed over one of the other photos at some point. It flutters to the ground when I fully open the locket. I pick it up and take a look.

  My heart jumps out of my chest. My face loses all color. My breathing stops.

  It’s a picture of Jeff.

  I sit down and examine the locket that, ironically, is inscribed with ‘always remember’ on the back.

  Why was Mitch carrying around a picture of Jeff and me along with one of Gina, in a locket that she gave him no less? A hundred questions are flying through my mind. How did he get the pictures . . . which picture in the locket was covered up . . . why was he coming to Florida?

  All of a sudden, everything clicks together. The odd familiarity I sensed when Mitch was first brought into the clinic, the proficiency in which he learned to suture—as if he’d been trained by an expert—and the way he played guitar that reminded me of another. Oh, God—the way he suddenly got sick when I told him about ‘Special Kay.’

  He knew Jeff.

  I can’t stop myself from running to the back room and opening the file cabinet. I don’t even hesitate. For the first time, I use the cell phone only for myself. I don’t think twice about looking at the pictures Jeff sent me over a year ago. I know I’m right, yet I still need confirmation. I scroll through the pictures he sent me of his buddies where he was stationed in Afghanistan. Then I see him. I’d never miss that face anywhere. His hair is short and he looks a bit younger, but it’s him. And now I know for sure who Mitch is.

  He’s Jeff’s best friend.

  Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. I can’t think. How did this happen? How did I not know? Jeff talked about his best friend all the time in his phone calls and e-mails. But, when you are stationed overseas, everyone calls you by a nickname. Jeff’s of course was ‘Doc,’ so how was I to know that Mitch, the same man who lost his memory and ended up on my doorstep, the same man that I fell in love with, the same man who may be about to crush my heart when he leaves to find Gina, is Jeff’s best friend ‘Stitch.’

  ~ ~ ~

  The second Holly walks into the clinic to relieve me, I throw my hand-written report at her as I run by. “Where are you off to so quickly?” she asks.

  “I have to find him. I have to find him right now!” I say, practically yelling at her as I plow through the front door.

  “It’s about damn time!” she shouts back at me.

  I run all over camp looking for him but come up empty-handed. I take one last shot and head to the stables. Seeing that Rose is not in her stall, I ask Brad, “Did Mitch take Rose out?”

  He nods. “Nobody but. That boy refuses to ride any other horse. Strange attachment if you ask me. Kinda like you’ve got with Sassy.”

  I smile thinking that he still will only ride Rose, even if he is thinking of leaving me.

  I don’t know if he will be at the meadow, and if he’s not, there are far too many acres of land to cover so I’ll be out of luck. But, as I approach my favorite spot, I’m not disappointed. I find Rose tied up to a tree. I give her some company with Sassy and walk towards the clearing that we christened last week. I find Mitch sitting down, just staring at the ground where we made love.

  “Hey,” I say, startling him as I approach.

  He looks up at me briefly with sad eyes but doesn’t say anything. He just takes in a deep breath and blows it out slowly. It’s a deep, agonizing kind of sigh that tells me something is definitely wrong.

  “I need to talk to you,” I say.

  He gets up slowly and starts to walk away without uttering a single word.

  I follow him and pull his elbow to make him turn around and face me. “I said I need to talk to you . . . Stitch.”

  For the second time in a week, all the blood drains from his face as he pales at my words. “What . . . how?”

  I hold out the locket for him to see. He closes his eyes and shakes his head when I tell him it’s the only thing they found at the site of his accident.

  “When were you planning on telling me you got your memory back?” I ask. “When were you planning on telling me you are leaving to find her?”

  His eyes snap open and he finally looks directly at me. “Leaving to find who?”

  “Gina,” I say.

  “I told you before, I don’t want her. Why would you think I’m leaving to look for her?”

  I throw the locket at him. “That’s why!”

  He opens it to see exactly what I saw, the pictures of two women with a loose picture of Jeff on top.

  “It isn’t what you think, Mikayla. My memory came back the other day when you told me the ‘Special Kay’ story. Every memory—every single detail—came flooding back as if I’d never forgotten. One second I didn’t know, and then I just did. It was that fast.” He looks back at the ground where he was just sitting. “I wasn’t avoiding you because of Gina. I was avoiding you because of Jeff.” He holds out the locket and says, “I had put his picture on top of hers to cover it up. It must have come loose.”

  I’m still confused. “But, if you weren’t looking for Gina, what were you doing traveling all alone, and how did you end up here? And why do you have my picture?”

  “I came here for you, Mikayla. Because of a promise I made to Jeff—a promise to make sure you were okay if anything ever happened to him. I don’t know any more about his fate than you do right now. All I know for sure is that it was you I was trying to find all along.” He shakes his head and sighs. “Can you believe that shit?”

  My jaw drops at his revelation. “But if you were trying to find me, then why are you running away from me now?”

  “Why?” he asks, as if I’ve just posed the stupidest question in the history of mankind. “Because I’m your boyfriend’s best friend, that’s why.”

  I shake my head vehemently. “No, Mitch, you are my boyfriend,” I say. “Yes, the circumstances under which we met are strange . . . unbelievable even, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I don’t care that you were his best friend.”

  “But I do, Mikayla.”

  “So, that’s it? Are we done now? Are you walking away from me?” I’m raising my voice to him as my anger increases over his stubbornness. He can’t even stand to look at me. I reach out and pull his chin up so that we are eye to eye. “Why won’t you look at me, Mitch?” I yell.

  “Because I fucking love you, that’s why!” he shouts. “Because he’s my best friend. And because I’m not Dale.”

  My heart is now firmly lodged in my throat.

  He loves me.

  He’s not looking for anyone else.

  He was looking for me the whole time. Me!

  A tear escapes my eye as I try to compose myself enough to get words past the enormous lump blocking my airway. “You are not like Dale at all. You didn’t intentionally fall for your friend’s girl. This is totally different. The world is different. He is never coming back. I know that now. Even if I didn’t know that, it’s still you I want.” I step closer to him and put my hand over his heart. “I love you, too, Mitch.”

  He gasps. As he stares at me and absorbs the words I’ve spoken, I see a struggle going on behind his eyes. I can tell that he wants so desperately to give in to this powerful magnetism between us. But he also feels overwhelming loyalty towards a man that may no longer exist.

  Finally, he wipes the tears rolling down my cheeks. “Are you sure, Mikayla?” He cups my face with his hands. “Because there is no going back. If you let me love you, I will love you forever. I’ll never stop, that’s a promise. And we both know I keep my promises, even when I don’t remember them.”

  After that declaration, which is arguably the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard in my life, I struggle to get out the words I need him to hear. “You are the one I dream of, Mitch. I want your hands on my body. I want your heart feeding my soul. A part of me will always love him, but he was my past. You, Mitch . . . you are my future.”

  He picks me u
p and holds me to him. “Damn right I am, sweetheart,” he says, right before his lips come crashing down on mine.

  “I have so many questions,” I say between our hungry kisses.

  “And I have all the answers,” he promises, “but right now, I have to have you.” He picks me up and carries me over to our spot. “I want to bury myself in you. Will you let me make love to you?”

  Oh, God. Just hearing him say that sends shockwaves through my body. But, is he really willing to take the risk? I never told him I went on the pill a few weeks ago. I don’t want to break the spell by getting all clinical on him, but it would be irresponsible of me not to ask about his sexual past.

  He must see the indecision on my face. He laughs and says, “Two women. I was with two women after Gina. Both were well over a year ago and I never once went without a condom. I’m clean. And I’m willing to accept whatever happens here.” He leans down, still holding me in his arms and whispers close to me, “I said forever, Mikayla.”

  Oh my!

  “Me, too, Mitch. I’m in this for good, too. But we don’t have to worry about accepting anything right now, I’m on the pill.”

  His eyes go wide as a huge smile spreads across his face. I can practically see his brain trying to figure out how many times humans can have sex before collapsing from sheer exhaustion. I know this because I’m thinking the same damn thing. “Surprise!” I say, playfully.

  He places me back on my feet, removes his shirt and spreads it out on the grass. “Sorry, no blanket this time,” he apologizes. Little does he know, I would lay with him in a puddle of mud if it meant we could be together.

  I quickly rid myself of my shirt. His eyes caress my half-naked body from head to toe, making me shiver simply from his provocative gaze. He closes the gap that separates us. He wraps his hands around me and unhooks my bra before watching it fall down my arms onto the ground.

  He cups my breasts and they mold into his hands perfectly as if they were made just for him. I’m certain his thoughts mirror mine when he looks at them in wonder and then closes his eyes, punctuating the gesture with a deep sigh. With his eyes still closed and his hands still claiming my breasts, he leans into me and declares, “Mine.”