August Unknown (12 page)

“Leah, this is all very nice, but I couldn’t even get this on
over my cast if I tried.”

“Well, you won’t be wearing that cast forever. Don’t worry
about it, hon. I’m a clothes horse. I have another closet full in my
ex-husband’s house. Actually, it’ll be fun dressing you up. Jocelyn’s too young
to appreciate trendy clothes, and she’s an incurable tomboy. Besides, it’s nice
to have another adult female around here to talk to.”

“I understand this must be unnerving for you,” August
volunteered. “You need to feel Jocelyn is safe, and you shouldn’t find a
strange person here.”

Leah smiled. “You’re not strange. I liked you just from what
Derek told me.”

August took a deep breath, uneasy about what might have been
said. “If you’d feel more comfortable, I can see about staying in the apartment
above the Mirthful Mermaid.”

“Don’t even think about it. Derek says Jocelyn adores you.
Besides, we need someone here to distract those two before they kill each
other.”

August glanced away.

“Sorry. Bad choice of words.” Leah sat down on the bed near
August and a moment of silence passed. “Did you think he was going to hit you?”

August thought back to the incident this morning, and the
sudden shock of fear that had exploded in her.

“Truly, it happened too fast for me to think anything. But now
that I’m in a calmer frame of mind, I realize it was the white cabinet that
frightened me more than his hand. That’s weird, isn’t it?”

She finished with a soft chuckle, but Leah’s face was deadly
serious as she shook her head. “No, it isn’t.” She looked at August’s fingers
where they curled around the edge of her cast. “Did Geoffrey tell you what I
do?”

August shook her head.

“I’m a psychologist specializing in marriage counseling. Not
exactly as gritty as an abuse counselor, but I’ve seen my share of battered
wives.”

Leah was staring at the tan line on her wedding ring finger.

“That’s what the consensus is, I gather.” Already it appeared
to be fading, but it was still there, like a brand. “That I’m running from my
husband.”

“What do you think?”

“Honestly? No, I don’t think I was married. Even though I’ve
lost my memory, if I had a husband, I would remember something about him. Or
remember the feeling of being married, at least.”

Leah gave her a sad smile. “It’s a powerful feeling. Trust the
marriage counselor who’s going through the divorce.”

* * *

August twisted in bed, unable to get comfortable around the
heavy cast. It was like sleeping with a log. She didn’t want to take one of the
painkillers just to sleep. They left her mind too foggy, even the next day. She
needed to be sharp...at
all
times.

Nighttime was the worst. Her tension rose as the sun fell, and
the darkness harbored a thousand threatening shadows. She was almost happier
not being able to sleep, and when she did, only sleeping lightly.

It had been another ring she’d had on her wedding finger, one
that she had taken off for some reason. The peridot birthstone ring simply
didn’t fit on that hand. Not even after she’d soaked her hand in ice water
until her fingers ached, and then tried to coax it on with liquid dish soap. It
wouldn’t pass over the second knuckle on her finger.

She sat up in bed. Beyond the curtains, the ocean called to
her with its never-ending crash and surge. August rose and made her way to the
giant sliding glass door. A full moon gilded the beach in silver.

Pieces of her memory were now clear, having come back so
subtly she almost didn’t realize it—just somehow knew they were there.

Walking across dark pavement, watching her steps carefully to
keep from falling down. Pummeling rain stinging her eyes, making her sore head
throb harder. Blinding headlights coming straight at her. She now remembered
the accident that had brought them together. Her broken arm was from the car
accident. Her head injury...

Everything else, anything further back, was still dark and
murky, out of reach like an item submerged in a bucket of muck she didn’t want
to sink her hand into.

At least now she knew beyond any doubt that Geoffrey was not
involved in whatever had happened to her. She had believed it already in her
heart and in her gut, but now she had the memory of the accident to cast her
trust in stone.

She smiled into the darkness as his handsome face floated
across her mind’s eye. He was the one thing in her fragile existence that gave
her strength. She could hardly wait until morning, when sunlight chased away
the darkness, to see him again.

He’d said he had a surprise for her. Her mood brightened. He
was so sweet and kind, placing his life on hold to put her first. He’d tried to
get out of his awards banquet to take her down south to the burger joints he’d
researched. August was glad Leah was here to stand behind her, because she
wasn’t about to let him do that. If there was one thing about him she’d
discovered in their brief time together, he was humble and shy when it came to
his own qualities.

August made her way quietly through the dark house to warm a
glass of milk in the microwave. It was only two thirty a.m.; she still had a
good chance for a few solid hours of sleep.

She poured her milk, heated it for forty seconds and removed
it from the microwave.

“I can’t sleep either. Damn ocean keeps me awake all night.”

She jumped, sloshing milk onto the counter.

“I wish you would stop sneaking up on me,” she snapped at
Derek. He sat in the living room in the darkness, a silhouette against the
moonlit night. He raised a glass bottle and took a swig. A shiver of fear
skittered over her spine. The clear liquid inside glistened, illuminated by the
fat moon behind him.

“I didn’t shneak anywhere. Been sitting here the whole time.”

“Geoffrey isn’t going to like you drinking.” She cringed
inwardly, certain that was the wrong thing to say.

“Why donchoo run and tell him.”

“I’m sure it will be obvious in the morning.”

He laughed and leaned forward, squeaking across the plush
leather couch. The finger he pointed at her swayed. “You’re trying to remain
neushral. That’s commenbdible. But we’re past fik-shing.”

“Why?”

Because of Christina
. She longed to know more, while at
the same time, was terrified of what it would reveal.

Derek laughed again, but this time it was a pained, pathetic
sound. He glanced sideways, staring into a dark corner of the room.

“Imagine this, Derek. Imagine you wake up one day and your
family is gone. You’d look back on today and wished you
had
fixed it.”

“He hates me. Can’t be fixed.”

“He doesn’t hate you.” Again, she was sorry she’d spoken too
soon. She had no idea if that were true or not.

“You like him. Don’t you?” His drunken gaze found her in the
darkness. She couldn’t exactly see his eyes as much as she could feel them on
her.

“I do.” A spike of longing pierced her heart as she said it.
“Very much.”

“You’re good,” he said. She wasn’t quite sure what he meant
until he said, “Good enough for him. A good person. Better than Christina. She
didn’t deserve him.”

“That’s enough, Derek.” Geoffrey’s gruff voice cut through the
darkness. He crossed the living room below the kitchen and snatched the bottle
from his startled brother. Once in the kitchen, he poured the remains of the
bottle into the sink and then faced her. “You probably shouldn’t wander around
the house late at night, as my brother obviously can’t be trusted.”

“I’m sorry I woke you,” August said. “Just let me wipe up this
milk.”

Geoffrey flipped on the light switch, flooding the kitchen
with too-bright light.

“Don’t worry, bro,” Derek slurred from the living room. “I
don’t think Auguss likes bad boys.”

“She doesn’t like drunk boys, either,” August added for
herself. A touch of a smile found Geoffrey’s lips. It vanished as he turned
around to face his brother.

“You aren’t supposed to be drinking, Derek. That’s why you’re
here, to clean up your act. Do I have to dump all the booze?”

“Drugs.” Derek bobbed his head to enunciate his point. “I’m
here to clean off drugs. A little drink helps take the edge off. Can’t go cold,
man. Not possible.”

Geoffrey turned back to her and spoke in a soft voice. “Where
are the painkillers Dr. Carlson gave you?”

“Put well away. Tomorrow, they go down the toilet.”

Geoffrey rinsed out a sponge and wiped up the milk. He picked
up her mug and swabbed the dribble of milk off the side before turning back to
his brother. “You—go to bed.”

“Can’t sleep.”

“I don’t care! Go, before you do something stupid like fall
off the balcony again.”

“Aw man, I was twelve years old.”

“And you were a whole lot smarter then than you are now. Move
it, before my patience runs all the way out.” Geoffrey pointed. Derek rose
unsteadily to his feet and shuffled away.

Geoffrey waited a long minute before turning back to her.

“I’m sorry,” August said again. “I couldn’t sleep and I thought
some warm milk would help. I didn’t mean to wake you. I know you have a
conference call in the morning.”

“Don’t apologize. I wish this house was safe for you to move
around in without worrying about him.”

“He doesn’t bother me.”

“What if Jocelyn got up and found him like that? She’s only
seven years old. She shouldn’t have to see that. He could really upset her and
she might never forget it.”

“I know.” She nodded and smiled. “Don’t ask me how I know
that, but I know you’re right.” Darting memories flitted around in her head.
She hated to watch anyone pour a drink. Someone in her past was an alcoholic.

If only I could remember!

Geoffrey pushed both hands through his hair. “I’ve had it with
him.”

It must be the late hour and that she was punchy, because
August couldn’t stop herself from saying what she knew she shouldn’t.

“Is it because he was drinking, or because he was talking
about Christina?”

Geoffrey sighed and leaned back against the kitchen counter.
“He knows how to push my buttons, no matter what he’s saying or doing.”

August sipped her milk, waiting for him to continue.

“Somehow he always seems to find a way to bring her up, even
though he knows it’s a sore subject for me.”

She wanted to reach out and touch him, to say she knew that,
to be the person he could talk to about it.

Irrational disappointment clawed at her edges. Without her
memory, he was all she knew, but he had an entire life separate from her. She
was only a brief detour for him.

Though her feelings for him had grown steadily with each day
that passed, August wished Christina were still alive. She wished she could
take Geoffrey’s pain away and give him back the life she knew he deserved, even
if it was one without her in it.

“He’s my brother, and you were right when you said I don’t
hate him.” His brow furrowed and his eyes were red-rimmed with sadness. “But a
part of me wishes I never had to see him again, because I can’t see his face
without also seeing hers.”

Chapter Nine

August didn’t tell Geoffrey about her newly recovered memories
of the night of the accident. She still wasn’t certain she was on a boat that
night; she only had her gut feeling. Regardless, she wasn’t ready to share that
with him, or even put it into words. With the reclaimed memory came a deeper
level of fear she couldn’t explain. So when he turned the SUV onto a narrow
road toward the marina just before reaching town, she bristled.

“Um, Geoffrey—”

He glanced sideways and grinned. “Trust me.”

She settled into the deep leather seat, her heart pounding
painfully against her ribs.

With her suspicion she had been on a boat came an almost
certain understanding someone had pushed her overboard, intending for her to
die under the brutality of the stormy sea. Would he think her crazy if she said
so?

She should trust him enough to tell him so, but a part of her
was afraid. Why couldn’t she shake the strange embarrassment that came with
every shadowy memory?

Because someone I trusted did this to me, and I feel the fool
for it.

Oblivious of her discomfort, Geoffrey glanced over, still
grinning like a mischievous little boy eager to spring a surprise.

“Still trust me?” He angled the car around the back side of
the marina and up a winding road. This was the hill blocking the ocean from the
highway on the outskirts of town.

“I think so.” She swallowed to cover her quaking voice.

“You don’t sound very convincing. I’m hurt.” His tone was
teasing, but August couldn’t be convinced to smile.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Of course I trust you.”

He pulled the car into a bank of parking spaces under a giant
oak. This was a recreational park of some kind. Judging by a walking path
leading up a small hill, it was a vista point.

Geoffrey reached into the back seat and removed an igloo bag.
“Come on. I have something to show you.”

They walked up the hill in silence. August breathed in the dry
salt grass and fresh ocean breeze, determined to grasp whatever peaceful
minutes she could. At the top of the rise, she discovered they were indeed on
the hill high above the marina, looking out over a magnificent view of the
ocean. Far to the left, the Mirthful Mermaid dominated the row of shops across
from the marina, its turquoise blue mermaid logo identifiable in the gleaming
sea-silvered wood even at this distance.

“I thought it might be easier to take a long-distance look.”

The tension trickled out of her in cooling relief so intense
she was nearly brought to tears. They sat on a wooden bench and Geoffrey opened
the cooler bag between them. In it were two turkey sandwiches, two bags of potato
chips, two cans of ginger ale, and a pair of binoculars.