by Linda Verji
“Dress up, then we’ll head over to the house. The girls can-”
“No, you can’t come with me,” she interrupted. Her eyes flashed with something resembling anxiety as she added, “If it’s really Lincoln, I can’t – we can’t. He doesn’t know…” She let the sentence hang.
“He doesn’t know about me,” Damián finished for her slowly.
Lincoln not knowing about Damián was just one complication out of the many that would arise if indeed he was back. If it really was Lincoln, did it mean that Aiko would leave Damián? Was she still in love-
No. No. Stop getting ahead of yourself. Damián pulled himself back to the situation at hand. His gaze following his obviously frazzled fiancée as she headed towards the walk-in closet he acknowledged, “You’re right! It’s probably better if you go alone. But promise me something.”
Aiko stopped at the door to face him. “What?”
Damián closed the distance between them and set his hands on her bare shoulders. “That you’ll let me know how it goes. And if anything – absolutely anything – goes wrong you’ll call me.”
She nodded. “I will.”
IN SOME HAZY corner of her mind, Aiko was aware of everything she was doing; dressing, bidding Damián and the kids goodbye, getting into her BMW, heading to her childhood home. Yet only one phrase kept bouncing in her head. He’s alive.
Lincoln was alive.
Her heart lurched at the thought, its beat becoming louder the closer to the house she got until it felt like the organ was now residing in her throat. It was strange how one could experience fear and excitement at the same time. How hope and skepticism could co-exist in one person.
A part of her was already jumping and dancing in delight, lighting up at the thought of seeing him once again. The other part of her was still coiled in denial. It couldn’t be true. There was no way Lincoln was alive. She’d been at his funeral and wept with everyone else. Granted there’d been no body, but she’d seen Lincoln’s ashes in that blue urn before they’d spread them at False River. She’d watched her fellow soldiers fire three volleys for him then hand his folded flag to his mother, Brenda and his brother. He couldn’t be alive.
This had to be a dream – no, it had to be a nightmare. Because only nightmares could be this cruel, taunting her with hopes that were impossible to fulfill. Already, part of her was preparing itself for disappointment and sadness, preparing to mourn Lincoln again because he couldn’t be alive.
Aiko released a long breath which sounded suspiciously like a strangled sob, as she turned down the road that led to her childhood home. Hardly a minute later, she parked her car in front of the two-story colonial brownstone. For a long moment she sat in her car staring at the house, wondering if it was even wise for her to go in. Maybe she could just rev up her engine and high-tail it out of here. It would certainly save her the disappointment of going in and finding out that the ‘Lincoln’ in there was nothing more than a cruel imposter.
But what if it was him?
No. No. It couldn’t be. She just needed to walk in there, confirm it, send the imposter away, then walk back out. There was no Lincoln. Sucking in a steadying breath, she exited her car.
Her heels crunched into the gravel driveway as she made her way to the front door. As usual the door was unlocked. The moment she pushed it inwards the sound of the TV met her. Her pulse throbbing so hard she could hear it in her ears, she strode to the living room expecting to find the imposter there. However, the only people there were her father, Samuel, who was watching a cartoon, and Samuel’s nurse, Howard, who was ironing clothes on the dining table.
“Donna?” Samuel lit up the moment Aiko walked into the room. “You’re back.”
“Yes, I am.” Aiko forced a smile as she crossed the room. Acknowledging Howard with a wave, she bent to give her father a hug.
People said that of the three Vaughn daughters, she was the one who looked most like their late mother, Donna. There was obviously some truth to their assertion because ever since Samuel’s Alzheimer had shoved him into a world where reality and the past blurred he frequently mixed up Aiko with his wife.
“You said you’d only be ten minutes.” Samuel turned his wrist to check out his imaginary watch before wagging his finger at her. “It’s been almost an hour.”
“I’m sorry. Gloria kept me at her stall,” Aiko played along. “You know how chatty she can get.”
“That Gloria.” Samuel shook his head and clucked his tongue against his teeth before turning back to his cartoon. Aiko stared at him for a moment, a sad smile playing on her lips. For that moment all thoughts of Lincoln were pushed back and only thoughts of the grim reality of her father’s condition prevailed.
Considering his condition a few months ago, his being able to conduct a long, coherent conversation like this one was a miracle. That miracle was all because of Damián. Not only had Damián cleared the debts that the Vaughn’s owed to the bank allowing them to keep the home Samuel and Donna had built, he’d also taken over Samuel’s medical care. Pulling strings Aiko didn’t even know could be pulled, he’d somehow enrolled Samuel into an Alzheimer’s clinical trial meant to slow down loss of memory and improve his quality of living. So far it seemed the drug was doing its job – but time would tell. Still, Aiko was beyond grateful to Damián. If she hadn’t met him…
Immediately thoughts of Lincoln intruded back in.
Aiko turned to her father’s nurse. “Howard, Femi said there was someone here to see me.”
“Oh, you mean that shaggy-” Howard rushed to correct himself “- um - that guy who came in the morning?” When Aiko nodded, he said, “I saw him in the backyard when I went to get your Dad’s clothes. He might still be there.”
“Okay, thanks.” She bent to kiss her father’s leathery cheek before exiting the living room and the house. Once outside, she circled the house. The moment she emerged in the backyard she saw him. He was seated on the wrought-iron bench a distance from the clothes-lines with his back to the house and his face tilted up as if he was inhaling the sun.
From the back there was nothing that said he was Lincoln. Lincoln was one of the most athletic, meticulous men she knew; clothes ironed precisely, hair trimmed in a neat buzz-cut and body fine-tuned into a muscular work of art. This man was painfully thin; Even the black t-shirt he was wearing couldn’t hide how bony his arms were as they poked from the sleeves. His hair was a scraggly salt and pepper affair that looked like the badly done dreadlocks of an aging man.
Definitely not Lincoln, she decided even as she took a step forward. The sound of her footsteps shifting the grass must’ve drawn his attention because he turned his head swiftly to face her. The first thing she noted was his full beard, almost as untidy and peppered with gray hairs as the hair on his head. But then her eyes met his –
And she knew! She knew those eyes.
“Linc.” Her hands flew to her mouth just as Lincoln stood up to face her. The impact of seeing him was like being struck by a lightning bolt. Her world seemingly tilted on its axis and her stomach lurched. A weird buzzing noise started in her ears as all the neurons in her brain scrambled around trying to reconcile what she’d believed to be true for the last five years with the truth that was standing before her now. It shouldn’t have been possible. Yet it was. Lincoln was supposed to be dead. Yet he wasn’t.
His eyes lighting up with undeniable happiness, he started to limp towards her, and even without meaning to she started towards him. Then she was in his arms and he was in hers. In that moment her world righted itself as complete certainty flooded her. It was him.
It didn’t matter that his body was all skin and jutting bones as she pressed her body to his. It didn’t matter that the sharp scent of soap bit into her nostrils the moment she buried her head in the crook of his shoulders rather than the soothing cologne she was used to. It didn’t matter that he was bone and skin rather than the muscular man she’d loved. It didn’t matter that the hand he used to tilt he
r face upwards so that he could press a his lips to hers was missing two fingers.
It was Lincoln, and he was back.
CHAPTER 3
“I can’t believe it’s you.” Aiko patted Lincoln’s chest for what had to the millionth time. “I can’t believe you’re alive.”
“It’s me and I am.” He grabbed her hand and placed it over his heart. “See.”
“It really is,” she said, obvious awe in her voice as her palm picked up his heartbeat, a heartbeat that told her that he was a living, breathing man. Looking him up and down, she said, “You’re freaking alive.”
“I’m freaking alive.” The corners of his lips lifted in a tired smile as he pulled her towards the bench.
Once they were seated, she asked, “How – where have you been for the last five years? I thought you were dead.”
He frowned. “You did?”
“Yeah, we had your funeral and everything. Your mum even-” She rocketed to her feet. “We need to call her. Brenda will be so hap-”
“No.” Lincoln captured her wrist to keep her from moving. “Not yet.”
“Why not?” Aiko looked at Lincoln in confusion. “She’ll be so happy. You can’t imagine what she and your brother went through when they told us you were dead. What made it even worse was that they didn’t even have the decency to tell us how or where you’d died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Aiko squeezed his hand. “What happened? Where were you?”
Lincoln was silent for a long moment. His gaze drifted downwards before he said, “I don’t remember.”
She frowned in confusion. “Sorry.”
“I don’t remember what happened.” His gaze rose to meet hers. “All I remember is saying goodbye to you when I was recruited into Delta Force then-” He paused for a moment. “- then nothing.”
Feeling like all the air had been drained out of her lungs, Aiko collapsed onto the bench beside him. She swallowed hard as her mind raced trying to wrap itself around what he was saying. “You’re saying that you don’t remember where you’ve been for the last five years?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him in wide-eyed shock. “You don’t remember what happened between then and now?”
“I don’t.”
“That’s not possible.” How could it be? She waved her hand helplessly. “Surely you remember something. What about how you got here?”
Lincoln’s gaze lowered and he squinted as if trying to wring the memories out. After a moment he shook his head. “All I remember is getting off the bus then walking here.”
“You don’t even remember getting on the bus?” She stared at him askance. His response was a simple shake of the head.
Judging from his physical state it was obvious wherever he’d been was the furthest thing from a leisure resort and whatever had happened him was nothing good. How could someone forget something like that? Was it even possible for someone to be missing five years of their life?
Aiko rubbed her forehead as the deluge of questions swept through her thoughts. Lincoln just watched her in silence. She’d heard of things like these happening, but it was always in soap operas and books, not in real life, and certainly not to people she knew.
She closed her eyes then released her breath. “We need to get you to a doctor.”
“No.” He shook his head.
“What do you mean No? Apart from the obvious injuries to your body,” She gave his injured leg a once-over to emphasize her point. “- you have memory loss. If that doesn’t warrant a doctor’s visit, I don’t know what does.”
“No.” Lincoln’s voice was as firm as it was determined.
“Linc, you need to get checked out,” she insisted. “Even if it’s just for your memor-”
“No.” And before she could say anything more to convince him, he said, “I’m really tired. Do you have somewhere where I can lie down?”
“Of course. You can use my apartment.” The both stood from the bench. But before they moved, Aiko leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “I’m glad you’re back.”
He smiled. “So am I.”
DAMIÁN WAS BEGINNING to wonder if he should skip the girls’ Sports Day and go check on Aiko. It was now three hours since she’d left the house in a panic, and he hadn’t heard from her. She wasn’t picking up his calls either. Worry gnawing at his nerves, he dialed her number again and pressed the phone to his ear. But even before the first ring, he felt something – or rather someone – tugging at his pants.
“Uncle Dama.” Seraphina looked up at him. “Where’s Mummy? She’s going to miss my tourma- tournanet.”
“Tournament,” Damián corrected automatically as he lifted the little girl into his arms. Like all the other Lowell School students milling around the extensive field, she was wearing her sports kit; a polo shirt in her house colors (in this case yellow), beige shorts and sneakers. Pressing a kiss to her temple, he said, “And Mommy is on her way. She’s just running a little late.”
Seraphina tilted her head. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I am.” He tweaked her nose. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”
Seraphina watched him for a moment before nodding. “Okay then.” Wriggling in his arms, she added, “I have to go practice my stroke. Ryan Williams said that he’s better than me, and he’s not.”
“Of course he isn’t.” Damián laughed as he set the little girl back on the ground. “Go get ‘em tiger.”
With a cheerful wave, Seraphina ran off to join her classmates on field.
“She may have believed that bullshit but I didn’t,” Josiah Neal, Damián’s best friend, called out from behind him.
Damián turned swiftly to face his friend. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough.” Josiah came to a stop beside him. “What’s going on with Aiko?”
“Why would you think there’s something wrong?” Damián huffed.
“Because you’ve had your worried face on since you got here,” his friend explained. “Plus Misty Carlisle has been throwing coy looks at you for the last ten minutes and you haven’t even noticed.”
“I don’t have a worried face. And as for Misty Carlisle,” Damián snuck a glance at the woman; auburn-haired, slender and dressed to the nines. “I’m married. As is she.”
“As if that ever stopped anyone.” Josiah snorted, before adding, “Then riddle me this. Why do you keep checking your phone like you’re waiting for bad news? Come on, what’s going on with Aiko?”
“Fine, you got me.” Damián surrendered. “But this one’s private.”
Josiah’s frowned. “So private you can’t tell me?”
“Yup!” Actually privacy wasn’t really the issue. Damián was more afraid that if he said the words “Lincoln is alive” they might actually come true. Selfish as it was, he wanted this to be hoax. Yes, he knew Aiko would be hurt if it was, but just thinking of what would happen if it turned out to be true was enough to make his head spin.
Eager to change the subject, Damián asked, “Speaking of wives, where’s Caroline?”
Josiah glanced backwards as if looking for his wife then shrugged. “Around here somewhere. She’s still sulking because Keira decided to play polo instead of golf. Apparently golf is more ladylike.”
Damián laughed. “I bet you didn’t help matters either by siding with Keira.”
“What can I say?” Josiah shrugged, a roguish glint in his eyes. “I like that my baby has some street in her.”
“Polo is now street?”
“I mean it’s not street street. But it’s the closest thing around here and…” Josiah’s words drifted into silence as his gaze focused on something beyond Damián’s shoulders. He whistled. “Look who’s here.”
Damián turned to see what, or rather who had captured his friend’s attention just in time to see his mother, Carmen, and Zoe cutting their way through the crowd of parents as they headed towards he and Josiah.
&nb
sp; “Oh, God. What is she doing here?” Damián murmured even as he plastered a welcoming smile on his face. He’d deliberately avoided telling his mother about today because his father, as Chairman of the school’s Board of Governors, was bound to make an appearance. Having the two within seeing distance of each other was like mixing gasoline and fire. An explosion was inevitable.
Josiah whose admiring gaze never strayed from Carmen said, “I gotta say, I don’t mind that she’s here. I don’t mind at all.”
Damián punched him in the arm. “Dude, that’s my mother.”
He wasn’t surprised that Josiah was mesmerized by his mother. Even at fifty, Carmen was the kind of woman who made heads turn. With her wavy mane of red hair with streaks of blonde, olive skin, Spanish accent, surgically enhanced curvy figure she looked like an aging but still stunning telenovela star – which she was. Add in that stylish, red dress and the ridiculously high heels she was wearing and she fit right in with the Real Moms of Lowell School.
But that wasn’t enough for Carmen. She had to be the most popular ‘girl’ in the school. Even as she made her way towards he and Josiah, she kept stopping to greet everyone in their path. Damián had to wonder how Zoe, who wasn’t the most patient of daughters, stuck with Carmen through her whole parade.
“Mamá.” He leaned forward to embrace Carmen when she finally got to them and was immediately assaulted by her strong perfume. “I didn’t know you were joining us.”
“Zoe told me about their Sports Day.” She turned an indulgent smile to her granddaughter. Now that she’d stopped dyeing her hair that terrifying shade of platinum, Zoe looked like a younger replica of Carmen. She like all the other kids was dressed in her sports kids but unlike Seraphina’s her polo shirt was red. Carmen added, “I couldn’t miss it. What kind of abuela would that make me?”
“I see.” Damián said, even as he recalled how ‘busy’ she’d always claimed to be during his own sports events.
