Memory's Edge: Part One Read online

  Lynn and Maria laughed all the harder.

  “Don’t get so upset, Gretch,” Lynn said through her giggling. “We’re not making fun. We know you want to help him too, but you have to admit it’s more than that.”

  “That man is going to be a real handsome heartbreaker when he finally heals up,” Maria added. “Don’t tell my husband I said that, though.”

  “How can you tell what he’s going to look like,” Gretchen asked. “He’s still more swollen bruises than anything else.”

  Maria drew a finger across her cheekbone. “He has excellent bone structure. Just like me.” She put on her best self-absorbed modeling face to prove it. Lynn rolled her eyes and shook her head, but Gretchen laughed a little.

  “We’re glad you’re taking him in,” Lynn said more seriously. “He’s going to need a lot of help for the next couple of months and I couldn’t think of anyone better to take care of him than you. We’ll be there to help if you need us. We know you have to be at school all day, so if he needs help we can swing by on our days off if he has any trouble on his own.”

  Maria nodded at the offer.

  They didn’t think Gretchen was insane. That was a good sign, wasn't it? They were a couple of romantic, sentimental women like Gretchen, though. Would John feel the same way? She knew Carl wouldn’t. Would John rather go it alone? There was no way to guess what his response would be. At the risk of him being scared away, Gretchen said goodbye to Lynn and Maria and walked down the hall, her nerves drawing closer to their breaking point at the thought of seeing John again.

  Did he really have good bone structure? She shook her head at the errant thought and powered on. Carl thought helping John was dangerous. Lynn and Maria thought it hopelessly romantic. Gretchen wasn’t looking for adventure or romance. At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

  Chapter Ten

  Give In

  John didn’t remember falling asleep. His eyes stayed peacefully shut as he wondered how he could still be tired. He had been asleep for days already. John felt like he should have had enough energy to run from the one coast to the other. Energy was elusive. Instead, he felt drained. Emotional storms were sucking away all his strength. One minute he was basking in Gretchen’s warmth, and then next he was ready to tear into a sweet old grandmother because she didn’t know how to fix him. Guilt spiked between those two frequently, as did confusion, frustration, self-pity, and every other unpleasant emotion a human was capable of feeling.

  The worst was loneliness. John opened his eyes, looking for Gretchen, only to find himself alone. Gretchen was gone.

  His eyes rolled all the way open to find her chair empty. He lost all control over his reaction. Tightness in his chest made it hard to breathe and the tremor that ran through his uninjured hand wouldn’t go away. He searched the room for her, listening to see if she was outside the door, but heard and saw only emptiness. Panic ran through him. His mind kept telling him how ridiculous he was being, but what did his mind know? It was broken.

  He didn’t care that he barely knew this woman. She was all he had. The threat of losing that one small piece of his life gave him an anxiety attack. He was on the verge of hyperventilating when Gretchen slipped into the room. She stopped dead as soon as she saw him. Concern burned in her eyes as she rushed forward.

  “John, are you okay? Do you need me to get a nurse?” she asked.

  Unable to answer her, John grabbed her hand and held it to his chest. Closing his eyes in shame, he concentrated on her touch. Her weight settling on the side of the bed calmed him even more, but it was her fingers caressing his cheek and her whispered words of comfort that finally reached deep enough to steady him.

  John felt like a child for his reaction, but he didn’t care.

  It hurt to move his injured hand. It hurt to press it against Gretchen’s shoulders and pull her to him. But the pain faded as she laid her cheek against his. The cold of tears pressing between their skin surprised John, and he thought Gretchen was crying for him until her free hand reached up to brush away the tears on his bare cheek.

  He held her even tighter then.

  As the minutes slipped by, Gretchen stayed in his arms, letting him borrow from her strength. She didn’t tell him everything would be okay, or that he didn’t need to worry—she seemed too pragmatic for that—but she was there when he needed her, and that made him believe in all of those things she didn’t say.

  Live a normal life. Dr. Sanchez talked about it. That honestly seemed out of the question, but just living? John might be able to do that. As long as he had Gretchen to keep him from falling apart. He could do it with her help.

  “Thank you,” John said as he finally relinquished his grip on her.

  Smiling softly, she pressed her hand against his cheek. “Whatever you need,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere, John.”

  He didn’t know if he would really ever understand why she was doing this for him, but John would never forget it. Taking her hand, he pulled it away from his cheek and brought it up to his lips. The kiss barely touched her fingers, but something about the act felt right to John, like he had done it before. The faint blush in Gretchen’s cheeks drove away that passing thought.

  He wanted to kiss her again and see her silky skin flare up, but he wasn't sure what had caused the blush. Did he embarrass her, or was it something else? John told himself he hadn’t meant the kiss to mean anything more than his thanks, but if that had been true, why couldn’t let go of her hand? Why hadn’t he looked away from her stormy grey eyes?

  Rebelling against thoughts like that, John looked away and relaxed his hold on Gretchen’s hand, letting her pull it free from his grasp. She didn’t take it far. Dropping her hand down to his shoulder, she left it there as she reached into the book bag John hadn’t noticed she’d brought with her.

  “I'm sorry I wasn’t able to stay last night,” she said.

  Did she know he’d been freaking out about her not being there?

  “Lynn kicked me out to get some rest and I needed to get a few things ready.” Gretchen shook her head. “Next time, I’ll be sure to tell you I’m going before I take off.”

  John groaned silently. She did know. Did she think him pathetic? He was already so lacking, he hated to make her think even less of him. Watching as she took a notebook out of her bag, John saw no criticism in her expression. She knew, but it didn’t make her think less of him. He had no hope of ever repaying Gretchen.

  “So, I know Dr. Sanchez said there’s no way to treat amnesia, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t at least try,” Gretchen said. Handing him a notebook and pen, she watched him excitedly. John didn’t understand.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked.

  “Writing therapy.”

  “What?”

  “You just write in it. Write whatever you want. Write about how you feel about things, anything you might remember, or new things you figure out, or what you want to do when you get out of here,” Gretchen said. “It’s something one of my professors had us do in college. I really enjoyed it, and I think it might help you.”

  John thought it was an interesting idea.

  “Thank you, Gretchen.”

  She just shrugged as silence fell between them. Still sitting on the edge of the bed, she held her hands in her lap. Her middle finger kept rubbing the fingers of her other hand. It was the hand John had kissed. Was that why it held her attention? he wondered. Was she remembering his touch, or trying to rub it off? Maybe she was nervous.

  Why am I still obsessing about it? Shaking his head, John forced those thoughts away again. Looking more serious than he had ever seen her before, John wondered what she was thinking about. She said she wasn’t going anywhere, but something was bothering her.

  “Lynn let me know the hospital will be releasing you tomorrow afternoon,” Gretchen said. “Dr. Sanchez had some good ideas about trying to find out who you are and where you came from, but there’s still the issue of wh
at you’re going to do when you leave here.”

  That was what was bothering her. John had been avoiding thinking about that very topic. He didn’t want to think about it at all, but he knew there was no escaping it.

  “Have you thought very much about what you want to do?” Gretchen asked. Her hands weren't just idly rubbing now, they were pressing tightly against each other.

  “Not really,” John said. “I’ve been trying not to think about it at all, actually.”

  Nodding, Gretchen stayed thoughtful. She obviously had something to say. John wasn't sure what it was, but he hoped for a solution he could live with. Actually, even a solution he couldn’t live with was better than what he had. Nothing.

  “John,” Gretchen hesitated, “this may be crazy for me to even offer, but I feel like I have to say it anyway. Please don’t think I'm nuts when I tell you what I’m thinking.”

  What could she possibly plan to suggest? He doubted it was anything terrible, but she acted as though she were planning to drop him off at a serial killer’s house because he was offering free room and board. “Gretchen, whatever it is, I won’t think it’s crazy. I could use some suggestions at this point. Go ahead and tell me.”

  “Okay, um, well, I don’t have any roommates, but I do have an extra bedroom,” she said. Her face was absolutely scarlet by this point. “I know you don’t really know me, but I thought that might be okay since you don’t really know anybody. With your injuries, you probably won’t be able to find a job for a while, so you won’t be able to pay for your own place. And I’m not asking you for any money. You’d be free to stay for as long or as little as you want, and I wouldn’t expect anything from you at all. I just want to make sure you’re going to be all right. I feel responsible for you. I can’t leave you to fend for yourself.”

  John’s mouth fell open halfway through her spiel. He couldn’t make himself close it. The way everything spilled out of her in a mass of embarrassed rambling was a surprise in itself, but the offer was incredible.

  “Are you serious?” John asked.

  Her eyes widened for a second, and then her trembling voice said, “Yes.”

  “Wow,” he said, “that wasn’t what I was expecting.”

  “What did you think I was going to say?” Gretchen asked, confusion and curiosity in her eyes.

  John choked on his own words. He was not about to tell her his original idea. “I don’t know, but I wasn't expecting you to offer to let me live at your house. Doesn’t that scare you?”

  Gretchen frowned. “Does it scare you?”

  “Living with you? No,” he said, “not at all.”

  “Then why would it scare me?” she asked. Her indignant tone mirrored her expression.

  “Because I could be anybody. I could be a criminal or a drunk or an abusive maniac, for all we know. You might be putting yourself at risk, Gretchen.” Didn’t that terrify her?

  Folding her arms across her chest, her jaw set firmly in an annoyed grimace, Gretchen launched into her answer. “For your information, I know you’re not a criminal, unless you’re an extremely good one, because the police ran your fingerprints the second day you were here and they came back with nothing. As far as being a drunk, we’ll both just stay away from alcohol for a while, to be safe. And if you turn out to be abusive, the first sign of it I’ll just scream for my six-foot-four, oilfield worker neighbor and best friend, Carl, who has a huge crush on me, for help. I’m positive he’ll be there right away.” She took a breath and stared John down. “So aside from you turning out to be an alien or a vampire, I think we’re pretty well covered.”

  How did she fit so many words into a single breath? John wondered. And she was dead serious about her offer. He honestly didn’t know what to say. Gretchen had already done so much for him. It felt too risky to accept. Neither of them knew who he was, what he was capable of. John was afraid to say yes, but he desperately wanted to.

  The idea of being near her all the time, he needed and wanted that. It was more than the fact that she was the only person he knew. When she wasn't glaring at him, her soft smiles and gentle, caring nature drew him to her. Every time he touched her he felt himself pulled in her direction even more. She was beautiful and amazing, and she made John want to give in.

  So he did.

  What choice did he really have?

  “Okay…but only if you’re sure.”

  She tried to keep her stern expression, but it slipped into a nervous smile she tried to bolster with enthusiasm. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure,” she said.

  She did look sure. John wanted to be sure, but the inkling of doubt that her offer would only lead to hurt stuck fast to the back of his mind.

  Chapter Eleven

  Writing Therapy

  The rest of the afternoon passed amid soft food for lunch, memory exercises Dr. Sanchez recommended, and visits from various hospital staff. Gretchen bore all of it with John, laughing at his responses to the flashcards he was supposed to practice with and taking notes when the woman from Patient Services came up to offer advice. When Gretchen went down to get dinner from the cafeteria, she even left John with instructions to spend the time writing in the notebook.

  John didn’t think he had anything to write in it, but he pulled it out to please her and stared at the blank page as she walked away. The empty lines reminded him too much of his empty past. If Gretchen wanted him to try, John would do it. Holding the pen poised above the paper, he focused on her instructions. “Write about whatever you want.” It sounded simple, but it wasn't. He stared at the page for several minutes before finally putting something down.

  I had mashed potatoes for lunch today. They were pretty good. I had Jell-O too. It was lime flavored. I now know that I do NOT like lime flavored Jell-O.

  Well, that was something. Eating different things at least helped him figure out what foods he did and didn’t like. Those were two things he knew about himself now. Maybe Gretchen’s writing therapy idea was worth doing.

  Gretchen offered to let me stay at her house.

  John stared at that sentence. Filling his entire notebook with his thoughts on just that one sentence would have been easy. He found he couldn’t force the swarm of conflicting emotions out of his mind and onto the paper no matter how hard he tried. There was too much, and most of it he was afraid to admit, even though it would only be to a blank piece of paper.

  Gretchen’s happy footsteps saved him. Slapping the notebook closed, John dropped it onto the side table and watched her sweep into the room carrying two bags of food.

  “Did you try the notebook?” she asked. John nodded. “Good. I think you’ll like it the more you do it. Do you mind if I ask you what you wrote about?”

  Gretchen unloaded the bags, letting the aromas spill out. “I wrote about the Jell-O I had with my lunch.” Would she think that was juvenile? John watched her expression.

  “What did you say about the Jell-O?” she asked, no hint of amusement at all.

  “That I didn’t like it,” John said. “I did like the potatoes, though.”

  Now Gretchen smiled, but not to tease. “See, you’re making progress already. I’ll be sure not to buy any lime Jell-O.” She set a Styrofoam bowl on the tray in front of him and removed the lid. “Here’s something new for you to try. It’s bacon and potato soup.”

  “It smells great,” he said. It tasted even better. The variety of textures and tastes were surprising. The fruits and muffins had been very good, but somewhat ordinary tasting. The plain potatoes at lunch were bland and he had already covered the Jell-O being disgusting. John downed the soup hungrily and sopped up the last of it with a roll.

  Gretchen cleared the dinner mess away and sat down to face him. “So, we’ll have tomorrow evening to get you settled in at my place when I get off work, but unfortunately I have to go to work the next day. Are you going to be okay by yourself? I could try to get a substitute Tuesday if you need me to stay home, or maybe have my friend Desi come ov
er during her free periods to check on you while I’m gone. Lynn and Maria are both working, or they would come by.”

  John knew she was thinking about his earlier panic attack over being alone. He wasn't sure it wouldn’t happen again, but he also refused to let her put her life on hold for him.

  “I’ll be fine, Gretchen. Please don’t worry about me. I’ve already imposed on you enough,” John said.

  She laughed at that. “Actually, sitting at the hospital all week made me focus on the stacks of papers I needed to grade instead of watching TV or reading.”

  “What do you do for a living?” John asked.

  “I teach science to a bunch of high schoolers who seem bound and determined to drive me crazy.” The smile seemed to go against her words. “I’m just kidding, they aren’t that bad. Most of them are pretty good kids. I just wish they actually cared about what I’m teaching them.”

  “I’m sure some of them do,” he said.

  Gretchen shrugged. “There probably are some, but it does get disappointing when you try to share something you love with someone and they just aren’t interested. I love studying science, physics especially, but my students just groan when I try to get them interested in how the world around them works.”

  “I wonder what I used to do,” John said. “Did I love doing it like you love teaching science?”

  “If you were any good at whatever it was, you probably did love it,” she said. “I don’t think you can really be successful at something unless you put your whole heart into it.”

  “I wish I knew that passion. When I think about what my life must have been like, I can’t help of think of everything I’ve lost. It feels…incomplete,” John said.

  Looking thoughtful, Gretchen folded her legs beneath her and sat cross-legged on the chair. “Most of that is still a part of you, John. The people and places might be different now, but you can find everything else right here. You’ll find passion for something again, and things that interest you and make you happy. And things that don’t make you happy, like the Jell-O,” she said with a smile. “But you’ll find all of that again, by opening yourself up to the world, or by remembering what you had in the first place.”