Forgotten

by Sarah J. Pepper

  “Were you talking to someone?” Elsie asked.

  “Only in my sleep,” I admitted and turned my pillow over to hide my misery from a girl who had no family.

  ***

  After I leashed Max, we headed for the bus stop a few blocks from my house. John and Martha snored loudly, so I knew I couldn’t be told no. Flipping out my cell, I sent Martha a text that Max and I were restless and needed a walk. Knowing that she kept her phone on silent until she woke, I knew I was in the clear. Bakker’s Cemetery was a thirty-minute bus ride, so I packed enough treats for my bud, and me as well, as my laptop and blanket. Max sniffed out everyone on the bus who came close enough. I assumed he was blinking up at them with his puppy dog eyes, begging to be pet.

  The bus screeched to a stop half an hour later, we got off and walked down the familiar sidewalk that I’d taken many times. The bus stop was only one block from the church and vast yard. Max led the way. Finding our old oak tree in front of three old stones, I threw the blanket down. Snuggled against the stump and using the surface roots for an arm rest, I dug in my bag and popped out a treat for Max. He gobbled it up eagerly. After pulling out my computer tablet, I rested it on my legs.

  Settling against the tree, I wiggled in for a long haul. Using my voice command, I navigated to a search engine. I investigated any information about Jace Eatros. After getting nowhere fast, I closed my eyes. Refocusing my strategy, I pronounced the name he called me the first time we met. Diageo? Deno?

  The best I came up with was Deino, which lead to an old MySpace account. I would’ve searched Analee or Marco, but I didn’t know their last names. I searched Chronicler. History material popped up.

  “Lily!” My computer found a website about flowers. After telling it to “scratch that” it went back to the previous site. “Search Lily Patterson.”

  The search engine found the articles about my parents’ brutal murder and my sister’s mutilation. I didn’t have to listen to the material read back to me for very long, before I knew I wasn’t going to uncover anything not already burnt into my brain. Instead, I searched myself. Gwyneth Patterson. Again, I came up short. My life, as far as the rest of the world, was about as interesting as anyone else’s orphan. Searching about changes in blindness got me about as far as searching for information about myself.

  “Lover's sickness.”

  My computer listed off different sites giving information about its history, remedies for falling for evil, multiple sites for Valentine’s Day. Looking deeper, the term love sickness first started long ago at the dawn of humanity. It was said that humans fell ill when coming in contact with ancient spirits. The remedies website suggested wearing olive leaves to ward away unwanted attention. That wouldn’t work even if I was desperate enough because I was deathly allergic to olive leaves.

  “It’s been my experience that if you have to Google anything about love, you probably already know what it has to say, even if you don’t like the answer, munchkin.”

  John was leaning against an old fence a few paces away. I’d been too consumed with being the worst investigator ever, to notice him. He pushed off the fence and walked over to me. I scooted over so he could sit down beside me.

  “October third,” he muttered and kissed my forehead. “You know I wouldn’t be a very good lawyer if I forgot dates. It wasn’t difficult to piece together where you’d gone after Martha showed me your text. You know I would’ve driven you here if you wanted.”

  I sighed, not wanting to talk about it. I knew he’d drive me, but visiting my family’s burial place was something I wanted to do alone; thus, we sat in silence. Max enjoyed himself since John and I both decided the awkward silence was best filled by petting him.

  I broke the silence first. “Did you ever think about suing Martha when she spilled coffee on you?”

  John let out a laugh and said that was the last question he’d expected me to ask. “The woman drove me nuts. I couldn’t stand it. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t the first thought that popped in my mind when the coffee cooled, but she had already grabbed half a dozen towels and was dabbing the drink off my lap and saying sorry like she had some form of apologetic turrets. I was a goner.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, not following his train of thought.

  “She ruined my suit by spilling coffee on it; I was the one who acted like it was the end of the world; still, I refused to get my morning coffee anywhere else. I’d convinced myself it was because their brews were the best, but if I’d have been honest with myself, I would have known it was because of Martha. Her eyes lit up when she looked at me. It scared me,” John said, and put his arm around me. “My life was planned out perfectly. I was on the fast track to becoming partners in a corporate firm. Good looking ladies chased me. It was only a matter of time before I asked one of them out, settled down and got married, but then Martha came along and made a mess of my life.”

  “But you had the perfect life,” I said. “Don’t get me wrong, Martha’s great – a little crazy, and extremely disorganized – but great.”

  “Life is messy. If I wanted to live a life where I’d know exactly how everything would play out, I wouldn’t have settled down with someone who didn’t know how expensive a handmade Italian suit was. Love isn’t something you chose, Winnie. It picks you when you aren’t looking. And love isn’t just between two people; it makes a family,” John said, squeezing me tight. “Just because someone isn’t flawless doesn’t mean he’s not ideal. Martha isn’t perfect, but she’s the best fit for me. Nothing you find on the internet can explain love like that.”

  We spent the rest of the morning in a graveyard. John wasn’t my biological father, but he fit the bill. It couldn’t have been a better way to spend the anniversary of my family’s death. He left before I was ready, which was okay with me. I stayed a bit longer. After packing away my laptop, I crawled out of my nook. For over a decade, I pulled out the weeds growing around my family’s grave site after every visit. When I came to my sister’s grave, my fingers brushed against something that felt nothing like a weed. Silk petals caressed my skin. I held it up to the sun; the light gave way to three lilies that were woven together with a thin thread. I smiled and pressed the flowers to my chest, right above my heart. Hector remembered. In honor of my sister, he decorated my family’s gravesite with the flower.

  The bus ride felt like seconds compared to the long wait it took to get to Bakker’s Cemetery. When Max and I got to the house, I unleashed him so he could expel some energy before being cooped up in the house. He ran for a few minutes before he presented me with a slobbery ball.

  “Want to play fetch, buddy?” I asked him, excitedly.

  He barked with excitement. I threw the ball as hard as I could. We played until my arm ached. Before going inside, I snuck up to the old tree house to get my shoes from Saturday night.

  When I reached for the shoes, my fingers grazed upon a stem with soft petals. I could tell that it wasn’t a lily, but that was the extent of my knowledge about flowers. I walked into the house and made a bee line for the kitchen. A loud hum resonated from Martha’s mixer. Heavenly dessert was brewing.

  “What kind of flower is this?” I asked Martha, holding up the long stem with many petals.

  “Oh, that’s a larkspur,” Martha said, trading me a beater for the flower. Warm melting chocolate drizzled down my fingers. I pretended not to notice the palpable eagerness that was in her voice because I brought home a flower. “They’re given at baptisms, confirmations, or other religious ceremonies. The flower means beautiful spirit,” Martha said, handing me back the flower while simultaneously wiping a smudge of chocolate off my chin. “Are you going to tell me who gave it to you?”

  “Nope,” I said and licked the chocolate off the beater.

  “I’ll let you lick the bowl if you tell me what boy –”

  “I’m a senior; the guys I hang out with aren’t really boys.”

  “My sincere apologies,” she said and sti
fled a laugh. “You want to see if Elsie wants the other beater?”

  Eager to leave before being drilled about my morning festivities or the flower, I left. After walking to Elsie’s bedroom, I knocked on her door. “May I come in?”

  Instead of a reply, she opened it for me. I handed her the beater. After a quick inspection, she shoved it in her mouth. Her window was open.

  “Thinking about your escape plan?” I asked. When she didn’t reply, I figured I’d give some advice. I leaned on the windowsill. I recalled when this was my room. It was smaller than I remembered. “Honestly, if you need a quick escape, my window is right in front of the tree house. If you’re not afraid of heights, you can jump from the ledge and onto the tree branch. It groans, but I haven’t broken it yet, and I’m bigger than you.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  I smiled. She can speak above a whisper, I thought. “Because, you aren’t a prisoner here.”

  “You don’t think I’ll do it,” Elsie said, like she wanted me to challenge her.

  I turned to look out the window. “Running away is a hard life, Elsie. It’s not so bad here. John and Martha are lame sometimes, but they’re family.”

  “How about me – do you consider me family?” Her voice cracked on the last word.

  I glanced back at her. I wasn’t sure where we were going to stand in the future. People were born into a family or came together by chance. Not knowing how long Elsie would stay, I knew I shouldn’t get attached to the girl, but I couldn’t help it. I looked back out her window and then offered my hand. A few moments later, her small hand slipped through mine.

  ***

  I don’t know how long I stared at my cell. I’d been trying not to wonder if Bree took out his digits per my request, or not. Speaking into my phone, I commanded it to call Jace.

  “Not found.”

  “Eatros.”

  “Not found.”

  After swallowing my pride, I said, “Call Bree.”

  She answered on the first ring but then a thud echoed through the phone. If her faint curse was any indication, she’d dropped her cell. Music blared in the background. People had to yell in order to talk to each other. “What’s up?”

  “If you squeal, I swear I’ll hang up,” I warned.

  Bree said, “Ryker, can you turn that down for a sec?”

  When the blaring noise eased, I asked, “Did you delete Jace’s number the other day when I told you to?”

  She laughed and then the quality of sound changed, becoming more echoic. “Admit it!”

  “Admit what?” I asked, suspiciously, suspecting our conversation was no longer private. “Where are you at?”

  “My place!” Ryker shouted from the background. “You’re interrupting an intense game of air hockey. Get to the point.”

  “That you’re totally into Jace,” Bree said.

  “Take me off speaker,” I said. When the noise changed, became less echoed, I proceeded with our conversation. “Will you give me his number if I do?”

  “Convince me,” Bree said.

  I should never have let her mess with my cell either…“Fine, I totally want to have Jace’s babies and live happily ever after.”

  “Not buyin’ it,” she said and then the phone muffled.

  “If he were here right now, I’d swoon because the sound of his voice would completely overwhelm me. Oh, how I wish that he’d wrap his arms around me and protect me from all life’s complications that I’m facing now,” I said with equal sarcasm.

  “Well, that wasn’t so hard, Gwyneth.”

  It wasn’t Bree.

  The voice sounded like he’d fallen from heaven and taken up with a more demonic crowd. Jace said, “I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to hear such an honest confession when Bree handed me the phone. I’ll be there shortly.”

  “That was a little below the belt, Bree,” I said after Jace handed me back to my so-called bestie.

  “I’m making sure you don’t end up as the old cat lady. Future Winnie has already thanked me so no need to be bitter,” she said.

  Fifteen minutes later, the hair on my neck stood up when Jace’s car slowed in front of my house. I heard John kick his recliner chair back, stand up, and walk to the front door. He called up the stairs, informing me of my visitor. Sighing, I opened my eyes, pushed off the wall, and trudged down the steps. It was “go time.”

  “Don’t you look ravishing,” Jace said, the moment I walked around the stair rail.

  I’d never been self-conscious of my appearance. I’d never seen my reflection in a mirror, but that one comment made me miss a step. I kept a hand on the railing the rest of the way down the stairs. Shrugging nonchalantly, I waited for John to leave us alone. Even though crickets could have sounded, he didn’t get the clue to leave until Martha asked for help in the kitchen.

  “You wanted to talk?” Jace asked. “Or have you finally decided to apologize for walking away from me like I was no better than the gum under your shoe?”

  “I’m not going to play games, but there are a few things that need to be said between us. I’m going to do the speaking because you’re a terrible talker. Scratch that, you talk all the time, but you don’t say anything, and our conversations never get anywhere. Your communication skills leave much to be desired.”

  “Maybe, just maybe, you’re a terrible listener, and I’m actually a fine conversationalist,” he said smugly, as he crossed his arms. “But I do agree, we need to talk and worst case scenario – if we get sick of talking, I’m sure we can find something to keep our lips busy.”

  “You know I was being sarcastic about having your babies and living happily ever after,” I said.

  “Having kids isn’t on the table right now, but practicing with you definitely intrigues me,” he said.

  I shot him a glare, but decided that he was intentionally provoking me, so I didn’t comment. Giving away my v-card was the furthest thing from my mind. I had yet to give away my first kiss, so crawling between the sheets with Jace….

  The little weasel! He wanted that thought in my head!

  I groaned, but bit my tongue. I bent over to slip on a pair of shoes. My vertigo shifted; I momentarily lost my balance. He reached for my arm and gently stopped me. His mere touch knocked the wind from my lungs as a tingling sensation spread up my arm, into my chest, and quickly covered my entire body. I swallowed a lump the size of a basketball. I pulled away just far enough that he withdrew his grip, and tucked his hands inside his pockets.

  The soft white tones in his shape shifted enough that I caught a glimpse of his athletic body, before the definition mudded away.

  “You followed me home after I left Circus,” I said, slipping on the shoes he handed me.

  “No, Marco followed you,” he corrected. “I was already at your place when you finally showed up.”

  “So, I was right,” I replied and crossed my arms. “What were you talking to my fosters about?”

  “Your protection,” he said shamelessly. He leaned against the door frame. “Come on, I want to show you a place where we can talk privately.”

  “Stop making me sick, and I’ll go willingly,” I stated. “Getting nauseated isn’t exactly a blast suffering through every darn day.”

  “Stop acting like your tolerance hasn’t gotten better.”

  “Marco muted himself. Can’t you do the same or do you enjoy the torture treatments you have been putting me through?”

  “You’re not dripping in a pool of sweat, you’re not scrunching your face into a knot, or throwing up your lunch; ergo, you’re tolerance has improved. Why would I bother hiding what I am now?” Jace said. “I’ll make you a deal; if you give me your time today, I promise I won’t ask you to join me anywhere unaccompanied again.”

  I didn’t miss a beat. I called back to the kitchen. “I’m heading out for a bit.”

  Martha started to argue, but John stopped her. He commented about me having a messy life and said that I needed to sort it out.


  Offering me his elbow instead of his hand, Jace led me to his car. A tingle slithered across my hand that touched him. It reminded me of how he made me feel in the dreams. I blushed and looked away. I hoped he didn’t notice my reaction to him. The tingling sensation increased dramatically when he tucked me closer against his side.

  “My skin awakens to your touch too, Gwyneth.”

  Not knowing how to comment, I kept my mouth shut. He opened the car door. It smelled like it’d come fresh from the dealer. He walked around to the driver side, sat down, and backed down the driveway. The engine purred; vibrating sensations pulsated through me. I liked it in ways I shouldn’t have. Jace’s warmth grew. I pressed my legs tightly together, hoping he’d get the impression we weren’t practicing anything scandalous today. I pressed the button to unroll the window, but nothing happened. Child-lock. I heard the click of the locking system, and he unrolled the window for me. I hung my arm out the window and closed my eyes.