by J. Kenner
Those cookies, however, I do remember. I’d gotten the recipe from a neighbor, and passed it to Miriam for bonus in-law points. “Even with amnesia, I don’t think I could forget those.”
She laughs, then passes me an oven mitt. I pull out the tray, then start to salivate at the rich chocolatey smell.
“Just put them on the cooling rack over there,” she says. “Do you still take your coffee black?”
I nod, then sit where she indicates at the wooden kitchen table. She brings two cups over and takes the chair next to me. “I’m sure this must be strange. Such a long time has passed. Can you talk about what happened?”
“Well, you know that Winston was working on a case as sheriff.”
He and I had talked about this in the car, the mix of truth and lies that we would tell them to justify the fact that I disappeared for years. They know that he was the sheriff, but they still have no idea about his intelligence work. And as far as they’re concerned, I was exactly what I seemed to be to Winston, a low-level government employee who married the sheriff and made a home.
“Of course, we knew about that. Imagine, all that corruption in a town like Hades. I’m so glad that he left that place after you—well, after that car bomb.”
I nod. “Apparently those people were trying to get him off the case. And to do that, they decided to target what was important to him.”
“You. You were the most important thing in the world to him.” She smiles wistfully “I remember your wedding. I’ve never seen that boy look so happy. And the letters he wrote. He talked about you all the time in those letters.”
“Letters?” Winston used to write me a letter at every holiday, and I always thought it was such a sweet thing to do. I wish I still had them, but of course when one is fake-killed in a car bomb, one can’t pack their belongings ahead of time. Leaving those letters behind is one of my biggest regrets.
“Yes. It was a habit that started back when he was young. Something I trained both the boys to do. It’s a sad world we live in now with nothing but emails and texts. Who’s going to find an old shoebox in the attic fifty years from now with treasured correspondence? Nobody, that’s who.”
I can’t argue, because I don’t disagree.
“But we got off topic,” she says. “What happened in Hades?”
“Honestly, you know about as much as I do. They decided to target me, and then they bombed my car. They extracted two of my teeth. But they didn’t kill me. I don’t know why. And I don’t know why my memories disappeared.”
“And you woke up in Montana all these years later?”
I laugh. “I think maybe the first hint that something wasn’t right was the fact that I couldn’t stand the cold.” It’s a stupid joke, and she doesn’t laugh. I don’t blame her.
“Seriously,” I say. “I was working in a library and I started having these flashes. So I went to a psychiatrist, and it took a couple of years. But we got my memories back. And then, although it was terrifying, I sought out Winston.”
Miriam leans over and takes my hands. “You two had a special relationship. You still do. I know it must be very strange after all this time, but what you have is worth working for.”
I swallow, my throat suddenly too thick. “Would you mind if we changed the subject? It’s just so...”
She takes my hand and squeezes it. “Don’t you worry, honey. I understand. And it’s about time we take a plate of cookies in to the men. Don’t you think?”
“Yes. That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
We both stand, and I go automatically to the cabinet beside the window where the cookie platter is. When I pull it down, I see her looking at me, a teary-eyed smile on her face.
“I had a dream that one day you’d come back. I didn’t think it could ever come true, because well, you were dead. It’s nice to know that some things work out for the best.”
“I think so too, Miriam.”
She takes the platter from me and urges me over. “Now, I promised Dale I wouldn’t ask this, but I’m going to anyway. You two are getting a late start, but before the, well, accident, you were talking about a family. Maybe there’s still a chance for little Michelle?”
“Mom!”
We both turn, and even I feel guilty when I see the storm on Winston’s face. He leaves the doorway and comes to my side, his arm going around my waist. I lean against him, fitting perfectly, the pain of those memories soothed by his touch.
“I’m sorry,” Miriam says, looking between both of us. “I shouldn’t have said anything about that. I know it’s too soon. I just—”
“Really, Miriam, it’s okay.” I mean the words. I really do, but I’m grateful when Winston steers me out of the room. “We’re going to unpack,” he tells his mom.
“I’m sorry,” he says once we’re in his old bedroom, with the door closed behind us. “She’s just deep in the grandparent zone.”
“I know. It’s okay. Really.”
He nods, still looking frustrated. Then he draws in a breath. “Dammit, I know I should drop it. But now I have to ask.”
“Ask what?”
“You used Michelle as your alias. Michelle Moon. The last name I understand—hell, I even like it, despite the gun-for-hire part.”
I roll my eyes, but he continues.
“You were the moon to my Starr, right? But what should I think about Michelle?”
I close my eyes, then nod. “I know. I didn’t mean for it to hurt you. Hell, I never thought you’d hear it.”
Right before I had to leave, he and I had been planning our family. And although I wasn’t pregnant yet, we were trying. And we’d decided that if we had a little girl, we would name her Michelle.
“I don’t know why I decided to use it,” I say. “Except maybe, maybe it was something I didn’t want to give up.”
I meet his eyes as I speak, but as soon as the words leave me, I look away.
“Well, then. Okay.” He clears his throat. “And I am sorry if Mom made you uncomfortable.”
“No, really. It’s fine. She’s happy I’m back. She wants the family to be all healed.”
He looks at me. “The family.”
I glance down at the floor. “That’s what she wants.”
“You’re probably right,” he says. He moves to sit on the edge of the bed. “And what is the status with the family?”
It’s subtle, but I hear the edge in his voice.
“You’re asking me big questions,” I tell him.
“I want what we had,” he says. “There. I’m laying it on the table.”
“Except you can’t have it,” I counter. “I’m not the wife who makes cookies and has a garden.”
He laughs, surprising me.
“What?”
“You had a garden. I felt sorry for those vegetables.”
Despite myself, I laugh, too. “Okay, so that part of me you do know.” We share a grin before I look down. “Seriously, I’m not a homemaker. And you aren’t just a sheriff in a small town.”
“And I’m saying none of that matters. That external stuff doesn’t change the internal. Lots of people can’t tell their spouse the details of their jobs. Some spouses don’t want them to. They still love each other.”
“Don’t,” I say. “Please. Don’t you get it? I had Nirvana with you. What if we try again and it all falls apart? Then I lose those memories, too.”
“You’re scared.”
“Of course I’m scared.”
“I get it,” he says, as he comes closer and takes my hands in his. “But you need to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“That we’re explorers, you and I.”
“Are we?” My head’s tilted to the side as I study his face. I have no idea where he’s going with this.
“We’re in uncharted territory here, darlin’. We’ll just have to take it day by day.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Day by day.”
“Inch by inch.” He releases one hand
so that he can trace his finger down my neck, then slowly toward the swell of my breast. “Tell me this, at least,” he murmurs. “Are you still attracted to me?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions.”
His eyes light with his smile. “Then kiss me, and we can see about doing a little bit of that exploring right now.”
Chapter Twenty
I sip coffee on the front porch swing the next morning and watch the world go by as I remember the way Winston touched me last night. Sweet at first, and then with a wild urgency, as if he had to claim every part of me. Had to mark me as his.
Am I, though? Am I the woman he was making love to, or was he in bed with a memory?
I don’t know the answer, and I push the thoughts away, wanting to enjoy the morning. A kid on a bicycle throws papers into the yards that line the street, and I can’t help but feel as if I’ve been transported back to a different world. Hades hadn’t been much bigger than this town, but it had never felt slow to me, probably because I lived in that dark place beneath the surface of the town. I saw the gears that moved that world and knew that everything up above was little more than a facade.
Here, though, life feels real. People walk by and they wave and smile. They pick the newspaper off their front stoop and then they actually read it, possibly going the entire morning without checking their phone.
What a crazy idea.
I put my cup aside and push the swing lightly with my toes as an elderly couple walks arm-in-arm down the sidewalk in front of the house. The man moves slowly as he helps his wife, and I get a lump in my throat watching them.
“I used to think that would be us.”
I turn, the smile blooming on my face as I see Winston in the doorway. “Although I always assumed you’d be helping me along.”
I scoot over so that he can join me on the swing. “In my fantasy, we never aged,” I admit. I look back at the couple. “It was selfish of me. I never thought about what would happen when the work ended. I just wanted to be with you.”
He takes my hand and we twine our fingers together. “Then I was selfish, too. I didn’t tell you the truth, either.”
I twist to look at him. “Would you have? If I hadn’t—well, if it hadn’t all fallen apart so quickly? Would we have told each other our secrets?”
“I think so. When it was over, why wouldn’t we have?”
“Because we weren’t who we said we were. And I—”
“What?”
“I would have been so scared of losing you,” I admit. “I don’t know, Winston. I honestly don’t. I might have kept on lying. And I hate myself for that, because in the end, it would have poisoned everything.”
“But it didn’t happen.”
I have to laugh. “No, instead this did. Not exactly the better alternative, you finding out I’m alive like that. And thinking I’m an assassin for hire.”
“Oh, I don’t know, darlin’,” he says, laying his drawl on thick. “We’re here now, aren’t we?”
“Yeah,” I say, a bit amazed that he’s not still furious with me. I’d seen the rage in his eyes back in that hotel room. More important, I knew that I’d deserved it. He’d lied, too—that’s true enough. But I’d left him broken, believing I was dead. And while I would do it again to keep him alive, I can’t fault his fury. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a miracle he doesn’t hate me now.
I lean over and kiss his cheek, then watch his face light up. “What was that for?”
I shrug. “Does it have to be for anything?”
He shakes his head. “An unsolicited kiss with no strings attached.” He narrows his eyes as a playful grin dances at the corner of his mouth. “Protest all you want, sugar, but that sounds to me like the start of something real.”
“Winston…”
He lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender, then pushes off of the swing. “I called Noah this morning. Gave him my new cell number,” he adds, referring to the burner phones we’d picked up in a Walmart on the way to Winston’s parents’ house. “He said things were progressing nicely, but it was going to take an extra day, maybe two.”
“Oh,” I say.
“I told him to take the time he needs. Can’t risk that laptop frying itself. I hope that’s not a problem.” His eyes lock on mine as he speaks. “It’s a small town, true. But surely we can find some way to pass the time.”
“It’s no problem,” I say, hoping he can’t hear the way my heart has started to flutter with the pleasure of knowing that, at the very least, we’ll have an extra day together.
His grin is smug as he says, “I’m very glad to hear it.” He pulls open the screen door and starts to step inside. “By the way, Mom’s making banana pancakes. Should be ready soon.”
“Those are my favorite.”
“I know,” he says, then winks. “Why do you think I asked her to make them?”
He steps inside, letting the door slam shut before I can respond. I consider following, but decide to stay, and I swing gently as I finish my now-cold coffee, a pleased smile lingering on my lips as I try very hard not to think about what might be.
There’s something wonderfully settling about spending a lazy afternoon helping Miriam in the garden or watching Dale and Winston switch out the battery on Dale’s ancient Chevy truck. And I’m completely fascinated by the catalogs of old movies that Dale has scattered around the living room.
He flips open a catalog to show me. “See? I use these to decide what to order for the theater. Each page has the basics about the movie, plus all the information on how I can go about getting it for my theater. But it’s this here that I love the best.” He taps the page. “These tidbits about the movies they add. Little bits of history to keep you intrigued.”
He turns the catalog so I can see it better. “Who wouldn’t want to know about Humphrey Bogart? Or Cary Grant?”
“I can’t even imagine such a person,” I say honestly.
He chuckles. “That’s why we love you.”
It’s a casual statement to him, but it completely ricochets through me, and I have to work to keep my smile light and my eyes dry. “So what are you going to show next?”
“You’re in trouble now,” Winston says as he comes from the kitchen to join us. He slides his arm casually around my waist, and I lean into him without even thinking about it. “He’s going to suck you into the whole decision-making process.”
“What do you think I was hoping for?”
“That’s our girl,” Dale says, and I have to swallow the lump in my throat. Because I’ve never had this. No close-knit family. No crazy chatter over the dinner table. No lazy afternoons sprawled in the living room with people you love.
When I was young, I’d had no family to sprawl with. And even when Winston and I were in Hades, it was just the two of us. We’d fantasized about a family—about our Michelle and her even more imaginary baby brother—but fantasies aren’t the same. And while we’d come out here once in a while to visit, Hades is a long way from Llano.
At least, that was what Winston always said when his parents or Richie called to invite us out. Now I realize that part of his reticence was the need to keep secrets from them. And, probably, the fact that he had a job to do in Hades that went a lot deeper than his day job, just the same as me.
This isn’t a vacation; I know that, of course. But I can’t deny how much I love this bit of familial time. And I’m secretly glad that Noah’s work on the biometrics is taking longer than planned.
By the time Miriam and Winston get tonight’s dinner on the table, Dale and I have picked out the next few months of films for his little theater. “We can’t do much about when we get to Christmas,” he tells me. He holds up the catalog, showing one page bookmarked on It’s A Wonderful Life, another on Christmas in Connecticut, and the third on Die Hard. I laugh. “I like the way you think, sir.”
“How many times have I told you? Call me Dad.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I give him a smile and a quick kiss on the
cheek, and when I turn around, I see Winston leaning against the doorframe, an odd expression on his face.
I walk to him and put my arms around his waist. “What?” He shakes his head, then bends to kiss me. I feel a twinge of guilt, because I know how disappointed his parents will be later when they learn that we’re not together, especially since we can’t tell them the reason behind our years-long ruse in the first place.
Right now, though…?
Well, right now, I don’t care about what will happen later. For tonight, at least, I just want this moment, this man, and this family.
Chapter Twenty-One
Winston woke slowly, his body spooned against Linda’s, his face buried in her hair. It smelled like strawberries from the shampoo his mother kept in the guest bathroom, and he breathed it in, enjoying the intimacy of this moment.
Slowly, he traced his fingertip over her bare shoulder and down her arm, part of him wanting to rouse her, and the other part wanting to simply watch her sleep. The early morning light drifted through the curtains, and there was something so sweet and familiar about this moment, as if all the horror of the last few years had floated out to sea, gone and forgotten.
Ironic, since just a few days ago he’d raged at her, infuriated by the fraud he believed she’d perpetrated on him. But now he knew the truth—she’d been trapped in a horrible situation, possibly even more horrible than what he’d endured. At least he’d been allowed to mourn. She’d had to live with the truth every single day. With the knowledge that he was out there, and yet they couldn’t be together.
So many days had passed since Hades. But somehow, now that they were back together, it felt as if they had never been apart. She kept telling him that they were different people—that they never really knew each other—but that wasn’t something he believed. He knew her heart, and she’d known his.
Now, he wanted to make this work.
Gently, he brushed a lock of hair off her face, careful not to wake her. She sighed, then rolled over in her sleep, her lips parted, her expression so soft. So innocent.
