by Sam Crescent
“Who’s there?” she asked softly.
“Paige?” A man’s voice, raspy, barely above a whisper.
“Eli?” Daisy jerked forward again taking Paige with her. “Daisy, no!”
****
“Paige, thank God! You’re all right? Hey there, Daisy Girl.” His last words he addressed in a sing-song voice to the dog he hoped wouldn’t bite him.
The Labrador glued herself to Paige’s side and panted. Though protective of her mistress, she wasn’t looking for a fight. He took a chance, squatted and extended his hand for the dog to sniff. “It’s okay. Did you miss me? Huh?” Daisy lowered her head and flattened her ears. She would be no threat. He patted the submissive dog on the back and rubbed its belly when it flopped on its side. One down, one to go.
“Eli? Is that really you? The accident … it made my vision even worse.” Paige had straightened from her former crouch and was gazing down at him.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he answered in a low, husky tone.
“Eli, where’ve you been? My God!” She moved quickly toward him and reached out her hand as if to touch his face.
He deftly shifted away, saying, “Whoa, careful. You nearly tripped over Daisy.”
Paige dropped her hand and stopped. “Daisy, come.”
The dog rolled off its back and trotted into place by Paige’s side.
“Where’ve you been all this time? Why didn’t you call? My God, I thought you were dead!” Paige’s chest heaved beneath the hand she’d positioned over one breast. Through the tension, he could hear her rapid breathing. He could do this.
“In the hospital. I was a John Doe until yesterday. Someone found me floating on some wreckage from the boat, unconscious, took me to a hospital in Sellwood.”
“Sellwood? That’s fifty miles south of where we were when the boat exploded. Are you okay?”
“Can we sit? I’m still getting my bearings. I don’t remember everything, especially from before the accident.” He reached out and took her hand to guide her safely around the coffee table and to the sofa. Paige’s long, slender fingers were soft and warm. He stole a peek and noticed the unvarnished appearance of the short but neat nails. Her auburn curls were in disarray. She’d only just woken up. A familiar comforting aroma from the kitchen reinforced his impression. “Coffee smells good.”
Paige jerked her hand away from his. “Oh, my coffee. I nearly forgot about it.”
Eli tugged her closer to the sofa and gently pushed on her shoulders saying, “You sit. I’ll get it and one for myself and be right back. Then we’ll catch up.”
“Oh. O-okay. Except I’m not sure there is any more coffee.” Paige’s voice shook. She seemed frightened and unsure.
With a hesitant backwards glance, Eli made his way to the kitchen, right off the living room where he could keep an eye on Paige while he worked. The rich aroma led him to the coffee machine. A steaming mug sat waiting. A drawer beneath the machine was partially open. In the back corner, he spied a coffee pod—a flavored hazelnut blend—and grimaced. He made a mental note to buy a new French press coffee machine, a grinder, and his favorite Ethiopian beans. He’d buy Paige more coffee pods if that was what she preferred. His time away had changed his tastes. That’s what he’d tell her. He removed the used pod, tossed it, and slipped in the hazelnut one.
A quick peek into the refrigerator yielded a nearly empty container of hazelnut-flavored creamer, still good per the expiration date stamp. The rest of the refrigerator was also nearly empty except for a bag of expired salad, light balsamic dressing, a half gallon of fresh milk, some cheese, and lunch meat. Good Lord, she was worse off than he’d imagined. He grabbed the milk and added a splash to his coffee, grabbed the second mug of coffee, and headed back to take his seat next to Paige. He hoped she liked it black. That was a detail his brain couldn’t retrieve.
He handed her one mug and kept the other, waited until Paige sipped her drink.
She moaned softly and murmured, “Thank goodness for Kona.”
Eli smiled, raised the cup to his lips and then set his mug aside on the coffee table. “Now. Tell me everything that happened to you,” he began. He kept his face toward Paige, but his eyes freely scanned the apartment and compared what he saw with what he’d imagined these past few weeks.
****
Eli sounded different. He smelled different, too, like disinfectant and talcum powder. But having only today been discharged from the hospital, the scents weren’t that unusual. Eli usually wore some expensive designer cologne. She preferred the scents of hospital and warm, clean male to the cold, player smells of his colognes. Maybe he wouldn’t remember that part of his former life. Perhaps she could get rid of his colognes before he discovered them. Scents were powerful memory triggers. Paige wasn’t too keen on recovering every single element of the old Eli, especially his voice when raised in anger. She’d have to pick her way gingerly through the minefield he always was.
“Tell me, Paige,” he urged again. “How did you survive? How have you been faring since then?”
He wanted her to talk. She also needed answers. His demeanor was calm, concerned, interested. Maybe…
And so they talked about the accident, what little either of them claimed to remember, their respective stints in the hospital, the nature of their wounds, the obvious and the less obvious, and the sad state of Paige’s vision. Eli explained that his voice sounded different because of damage to his vocal cords from the explosion. His throat was still raw and sore so he was economical with his words.
He avoided the topic of finances and deflected when she alluded to the rent being overdue.
Paige’s stomach growled. She pressed a silencing hand against her abdomen, hoping he hadn’t heard. Eli hated bodily noises and spared no barbs even if she cleared her throat once too often.
“I’m hungry, too,” he said instead, no hint of annoyance in his tone. “How about I order us something to be delivered?”
“S-sure. That sounds nice.” He’d obviously noticed the sparseness of her food stores. Maybe he was too preoccupied with their brushes with death to recall that particular pet peeve. Maybe he’d forgotten those triggers. A girl could hope.
Aside from worrying about the return of his old nature, Paige wanted to be angry with him for leaving her all alone, but at the same time, she had to allow that he’d been in a hospital bed longer than she had. Her current situation wasn’t his fault. He had demons of his own he’d been facing.
Eli must have called on his cell phone because she heard him asking them to look up his last order and then after a brief pause advised them to deliver the same again. That was one way to deal with memory issues, she supposed.
When he stuffed his phone back in his pocket, he said, “Fifteen minutes. You can survive that long?”
Was that a genuine question or sarcasm? Paige took a deep breath and held it as she searched for the safest answer to his question. If she said ‘yes’ would he think her ungrateful? If she said ‘no’ would he think she blamed him for her hunger? The old sense of bobbing around like a cork in a stream came rushing back. Like the cork, she had no control over her destination, could only pray she avoided the rocks.
“I’ll be fine,” she mumbled and swallowed hard.
“I told them to hurry,” he said and damned if she didn’t detect a smile in his voice.
Perhaps her best move was to not assume anything but follow his lead.
Eli stood. “I need a shower and change of clothes while we wait.”
A gnawing unease took hold. “What if the delivery comes while you’re showering? I don’t have any cash.”
“Here.” He took her hand and pressed two bills into it. “Two twenties. Enough for the food and tip.”
Hoping she hadn’t mistaken his good humor, Paige grabbed his wrist with her other hand. His forearm was leaner and more muscled than she remembered. He had lost weight while recovering in the hospital. “Eli,” she began. “Before the accident, you took all the mo
ney from our account. All I have is my last disability check. The rent is past due. Why did you do that?”
He pulled free from her grasp and exhaled, drew in a deep breath and held it for a second. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. Maybe something here, in this apartment, will jog my memory. We’ll talk more later.”
Paige took a shaky breath. “Right. Okay. We’ll talk more after your shower.”
Echoing footsteps took him away and after the bedroom door closed with a soft thud, Paige wondered how long it would be before he remembered to demand sex. She hoped that part of his memory never returned, but such wishes also triggered her guilt.
****
Once in the privacy of the bedroom, Eli found the dresser. He inspected the contents of every drawer, one by one, cataloguing which ones were Paige’s and which were his. A pair of gray sweats and a t-shirt he located in a drawer full of other workout clothes would be best.
He turned on the shower and made similar perusal of the closet. Paige’s clothes were on the left, Eli’s on the right. There were more men’s clothes than women’s. Odd. But then Paige didn’t get out much, did she? That much was obvious.
What he hadn’t been prepared for was how beautiful she was. Unkempt auburn curls she’d given up trying to tame, a flawless complexion, pale from lack of sun, and almost animal-like tawny eyes framed by dark lashes and brows. She wore no makeup. She didn’t need any. Not a large woman by any measure, Paige still managed to squeeze in enough obvious curves to never be mistaken for anything but a woman in her sexual prime. Too bad she was going blind. That was the most unfair card she’d been dealt. Well, and Eli. He was also a bad card, but it remained to be determined how much she knew about him.
Eli gave the closet shelves a quick glance. Boxes occupied the space from wall to wall, and all the way to the ceiling. They beckoned to be opened and explored, but now was not the time.
He quickly stripped and jumped into the shower, stayed only long enough to shampoo and clean his pits and privates with the most masculine products he found. The sweats he slipped on were roomy and comfortable but he still shuddered in his skin a tiny bit. He weighed less and wondered if Paige would notice.
When he emerged, the dog trotted over and gave him a thorough sniff and side-eye followed by submissive ears and a tail wag. Good. Familiarity and pecking order had been re-established and he wouldn’t have to worry about Daisy anymore.
Paige sat quietly where he’d left her, nursing her coffee, staring blankly ahead. What did she see? What was she thinking? What did she know?
“Memory isn’t all back yet,” he offered as a pre-emptive defense. “Sorry if I messed up any of your drawers trying to find my clothes.”
Paige turned his way. “I didn’t even ask if you needed any help. With your wounds and all.”
Eli’s eyes grew. “Help? Not needed. You’d never know to look at me…” He trailed off, suddenly aware of his audience’s limitations. She couldn’t see him well enough to tell one way or the other unless she was within six inches staring straight at him. “I mean, I was pretty banged up, and my face got re-arranged some, but that’s mostly healed now.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. Glad you weren’t badly hurt either.” Damn. He’d stepped in it again. “I mean, except for your eyes. I am sorry about that.”
An awkward silence cloaked the room. Eli was about to speak when the intercom buzzed. “The food,” he muttered instead and headed to the intercom camera to verify and then unlock to admit the delivery guy.
He waited at the door, but his let his gaze scour the room. A computer occupied a small desk near the window. Next to the desk was a small, two-drawer file cabinet.
A knock. He opened the door and stepped outside into the hallway, out of earshot, paid the kid his money plus a generous tip and sent him on his way.
When he re-entered he nearly knocked Paige over.
“Oh! Sorry!”
“Excuse me! I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I was on my way to the kitchen to get some plates and silverware.”
“Plates? For fast food?” He shouldn’t have said that. He didn’t want to worry her by doing anything grossly out of character.
Paige laughed, an unexpected explosion of mirth that ended as quickly as it began. “Or we can eat out of the containers with the wooden chopsticks if you prefer.”
Eli cringed. He’d been a fastidious little prick, hadn’t he? She brushed past him, opened the drawer above the dishwasher and removed two forks.
“Forks as backup, at least.” She held them up and angled to slip behind him again.
Her warmth as she drew close was hard to miss, as was the woodsy scent she gave off. Had she been wearing perfume when he first walked in? An involuntary shiver rippled through him and the hairs on his neck rose.
They sat and he read aloud the various dishes, hoping she’d react to or reach for the one she preferred. When he got to the chicken and green beans, bingo! She lit up and banged her fork on the table, which was kind of cute. Eli curled his lips in to hide his amusement. Equally pleasing was the beef broccoli he claimed for himself.
“Eli, can we talk about the money now?” she asked tentatively, her shoulders drooped, gaze fixed on her container of food, her fingers white-knuckled from a death grip on her fork.
Eli stopped eating and set his utensils down. “We can, but I can’t promise to have all the answers. Whatever I can remember, I’ll tell you.”
Paige set her fork aside and took a deep breath, but she would not meet his gaze. “What happened to all the money? We’re overdue on the rent and my disability isn’t enough to cover it and my medical bills.”
After slowly wiping his mouth with his napkin, Eli said, “I’ll take care of all the bills in the morning.”
When he didn’t expand on his reply, she nodded and they finished eating while discussing Daisy and the weather.
****
Eli offered nothing of substance to Paige—no explanation of why he’d withdrawn the money, if he’d moved it to another account or spent it, no explanation of why there was a life insurance policy on her but none on him. He repeatedly claimed he couldn’t remember anything before the accident.
But he never once lost his temper with her. Maybe the knock on the head had realigned some of his loose screws. He had always been charming when he wanted to be, when he wanted something or was trying to manipulate a person, but he had an equal capacity for nastiness and acid-laden rebukes. Her love for him was much like a Bonsai tree—Eli’s tiny trims and attentions kept it alive, but stunted and small.
“I’m sorry I can’t remember more, Paige.” He took her hand in his, a move that startled her with its tenderness, but also triggered her defensive ponderings. What did he want?
This was not good, Paige thought. If he couldn’t remember where his money went, was that the same as not having any? What made him think he could settle the debts? Was he saying what he thought she needed to hear?
“I need to look through the records. Get online. Check all the accounts,” he announced.
All the accounts? How many were there? “Of course. You want to do that now?”
“Can you log me on to the computer if I can’t remember?”
“You’re probably still logged on. You never logged or turned off the computer. I assume you bookmarked most of your stuff?”
Eli’s blurry figure rose from the table and moved to the computer. Paige rose, too, and began to gather up the leftovers, trash, and dirty silverware.
“Leave all that. I’ll get it,” he barked over his shoulder.
“But I should … I mean, it’s no trouble. You just got out of the hospital, so—”
“I said I’d get it here in a bit.” The waspish tone in his voice convinced her to take him at his word, at least for now, and drop it. The work would get done by one of them, eventually. She would bet on it being her.
****
Eli leaned in closer to the screen of an ove
rsized Apple desktop. Paige had set the font to King Kong size. He switched over to the user account called “Eli Logan.” The font size returned to normal for a non-vision-impaired person. He clicked on Bookmarks, hoping for a miracle and…
Bingo! The bookmarks were organized into folders—Financial, Shopping, Social Media, Hobbies and Medical. He opened the Financial folder and found a long list of sites that included a national bank, a brokerage account and a few others that stumped him. He said a silent prayer for the hubris of having created bookmarks whose descriptions included the login ID and password. He clicked on the bank account link. The joint bank account’s balance was dangerously low, less than fifteen hundred. The most recent deposit was from an electronic funds transfer a few days earlier, most likely Paige’s disability check. The last withdrawal prior to the accident had been transacted at a branch thirty miles away. Twenty thousand dollars withdrawn. Interesting.
The brokerage account had been active until a few months prior when most of the stock positions had been liquidated and the funds withdrawn. What remained was pitiful and of token value, the dregs of what used to be a heavily traded portfolio.
The link to a site called Cayman Financial yielded the most interesting bounty of all. In an account with no name associated with it, only a number, sat a cool million. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was why he was so good at what he did.
A few keystrokes and mouse clicks later and he’d transferred twenty thousand back to the joint account.
He moved on to another link for a site called Deutschland Suisse Banke. The balance at its peak a few weeks earlier had been nearly ten million. The current balance was fifty thousand, the minimum requirement. Interesting. “Methinks you were a very bad boy. No wonder you needed to disappear,” he muttered.
“Are you finding anything helpful?” Paige stood behind him. He clicked over to another window, paranoid her vision might be better than she’d let on. She didn’t need to know about the Deutschland account activity. Something or someone told him Paige knew nothing about any of this. It was best if he kept it that way.
“Yes and no. I can’t answer why the money was transferred, but I’ve moved it back. You have twenty thousand again.”
