Sweet Jane: An Amnesia Story of Being Lost, and Then Found

by Abby Knox

  The man smirks, but not in an unkind way.

  “Sample?” His voice is deep and opens up a fissure of curiosity in some unexplained layer of ice down deep in my body.

  I nod. “I am definitely craving caffeine. I’m not sure you make anything I like here.”

  He hands me one of the small cups.

  “Here, try this one first.” He holds it up to my nose. “Smell first and decide if you want a taste.”

  I inhale and the steam caresses my face. The scent is deep, rich and with a hint of berries. “What kind is that?”

  “Blue mountain peaberry from Jamaica. Harvested by hand. Grown in the shade.”

  My gaze snaps to his as I take a sip, and he’s still talking about coffee beans like they are a holy thing. But is he talking about coffee beans or is he talking about me now?

  We are both now indifferent to the fact that the line of customers is moving along without me in it.

  “I like it,” I say after I taste the espresso. And I do. It’s elevating, but not bitter. I recover a childhood memory of a chocolate-covered cherry. No context, just a taste memory.

  “Awesome, try this one,” he says, handing me the other cup.

  This time when he holds the cup out, I clasp his hand inside mine and bring the cup to my nose. Our eyes stay on each other while I inhale and then sip. His hand is hot and big and hard. His forearms are so strong and lovely. I glance down at the tattoos. I see an old-fashioned compass, the constellation of Orion.

  This cup tastes earthier, nuttier. Dark and rich. Life affirming.

  “I didn’t expect to appreciate something without sugar.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. See, the problem is…”

  Suddenly a feel a hard lump in my throat.

  He must see the worry on my face because he asks me what’s wrong.

  “I…I don’t know where I am or how I got here. I don’t know why I’m wearing this. I think I’m lost and I don’t know who to call.”

  And then, the beautiful man makes things happens in about five seconds.

  He is at my side, his arm around me, swiftly walking me into the back, past the kitchen and into a small, brightly decorated break room. He opens up a locker and unzips a gym bag. “Here, you can put on my hoodie and shorts. I promise they’re not sweaty, I was planning on hitting the gym after lunch.”

  He waits for me to pull the hoodie and shorts on over my nightie.

  I expect the Spanish Inquisition next. And I would not blame him.

  But no, he just invites me to sit at the break table. He brings me a cup of water and sits down next to me, so close our legs are touching. His hand is on the back of my chair, protecting me. From what, I don’t know.

  He waits for me to talk.

  “Tell me your name,” I say.

  “Shep.”

  I smile. “I’m Jane. I think. You have a dog’s name, by the way.”

  He smiles and it makes me feel calm. I can tell he is one of those people who are good in a crisis.

  “Jane? You don’t know if that’s your name? Have you been in an accident? Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

  I shrug. “I’m not sure.”

  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  I think again. “I remember music. Champagne. Cheering. Lots of cheering. And then the next thing I know, I’m sitting on a park bench outside of your shop. That’s it.”

  “What year is it, Jane?”

  “Judging by the tattoos, I’m going to say post 2010.”

  “It’s 2018.”

  He crosses his arms over his chest.

  I can see his jaw clenching like he’s trying to decide what to do with me, but something else is nagging at him.

  Finally he pulls a set of car keys out of his pocket. “Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  I protest. “I’m fine. Nothing hurts. I’m not bleeding.”

  He shakes his head. “You might have been bumped on the head, I’m taking you.”

  My voice shakes. “I don’t want them to find me.”

  He rears back. “Who? Is someone following you?”

  He looks angry and it makes me not want to answer. I want to cry because I know what I’m telling him sounds made up. “I don’t know, it’s just a feeling I have.”

  Shep looks at me hard. “I really ought to call the police and see if anyone has reported you missing.”

  I smile back at him. “Do you really want to do that?”

  The look on his face tells me he’s acknowledging that we’re both feeling the same thing between us.

  He grits out, “No. I don’t want to.”

  I shrug. “So…don’t.”

  Shep pinches the bridge of his nose as if trying to gather his thoughts. “But I am going to take you to the hospital. You’ve been through something and we need to find out if you’re injured.”

  I bite my lip and look down at his hand that is now resting on top of mine, covering me like armor.

  Chapter Four

  Shep

  Did this lost, sweet, incredibly stunning female just tell me she’s denying treatment? And that she’s cool with me not calling the police?

  Yes. Yes she did.

  Except that’s not how head injuries work. She doesn't have to give her consent to be treated if she’s in a mentally altered state.

  On the way to the hospital, I consider calling Pops. But he’s out on the river all day; I can’t bother him.

  I ask myself, what if she lost her memory from trauma, and the person who might be looking for her is the one who caused the trauma? And what then? Then I’ve just handed her over to someone who wants to hurt her?

  Not going to happen.

  And then something incredible rips me out of my thoughts. “Sweet Jane,” one of my favorite songs of all time, comes on the radio.

  I turn the volume up. “Hey. This song’s about you,” I say.

  I glance over at her and she’s staring at the radio in shock. “Someone wrote a song about me?”

  My eyes have to work hard to focus on the road in front of me; it hurts to look at the face I want to kiss but shouldn’t. This song is not helping me focus; it’s a cover that’s slow as molasses and sensual as whispers in the dark.

  “If they didn’t, they should have,” I say.

  “Wow. That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me. I think,” she replies.

  I take a deep breath and clear my throat.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to have you checked out to make sure you’re not having a brain bleed or something serious. And then we’ll deal with whatever it is that made you forget your own name. OK?”

  “That’s a lot to remember,” she replies.

  “I’m sorry, was I going too fast?”

  “Just kidding. Amnesia joke,” she says.

  She reaches over and squeezes my hand. I glance over as I’m driving, and she winks at me.

  The sinful thoughts that pop into my brain when she does this…holy shit.

  This is wrong. On the surface, she seems fine, but she’s not in her right mind.

  It’s wrong to think of flooring the gas pedal, steering the car to my house, carrying her caveman-style to my bed. Wedging my body between her legs until that little grin turns into a shocked, breathless moan.

  My cock and my head are so diametrically opposed right now, I’m not sure which way is up anymore.

  Chapter Five

  Jane

  His cotton V-neck tee-shirt looks expensive and soft. I want to touch it. Explore the hard contrast of his muscular chest against the softness of the fabric.

  His torso narrows to a tight waist, where he wears belted linen trousers.

  Everything about him looks sharp but not pampered.

  As he drives the stick shift, his beautiful, tattooed forearm ripples. Before I can stop myself, I touch it. I run my fingers across the defined sinews, admiri
ng him like a Michelangelo sculpture. I hear him let out a slow breath, like he’s trying to control his temper. Or his impulse.

  Impulse to do what, I wonder.

  I study his face. His features are fine: a strong chin, high cheekbones, and deep-set eyes.

  Shepherd looks nothing like what I would expect a city coffee bar owner to look like.

  Most of the men I see around the city we’re driving through have beards and are dressed intentionally shabby. Great Depression chic.

  Shepherd is clean shaven, tailored, put together but masculine.

  His skin looks soft and kissable, but he’s no babyface.

  “Is it wrong I feel like kissing you right now?” I ask him.

  He clears his throat and I can see him swallowing.

  “You keep touching my arm like that, it’s going to happen whether it’s wrong or not.”

  Chapter Six

  Shepherd

  We arrive at the emergency room none too soon and it saves us both from doing something totally unethical.

  But would I really take advantage of a compromised female? Physically? Emotionally? No.

  I know I’m not going to take her into my bed just yet, but I can still watch over her. That’s good enough for now.

  We check in at the ER, and it’s hopping with other patients waiting to be seen.

  While filling out her paperwork, she looks up at me and tries to put on a brave face.

  “You don’t have to stay here with me. You can go back to your job. I’ll be safe here.”

  I look around. I see a dude in the corner holding a dirty rag to stem the blood coming from a broken nose. Some people sound like they might cough up a lung at any moment. A whole bunch of people look fine but also pissed that they haven’t been seen yet. No way I’m leaving my Jane here.

  I brush her hair away from her worried face. “Sweet Jane, I’m staying with you through everything. Now let’s fill this out as best we can.”

  The desk nurse is giving her a hard time for not knowing a last name or a social security number.

  I interject. “She’s experienced some kind of trauma and has lost her memory. I’ll cover whatever medical costs she incurs.”

  The desk nurse is already moving on to admit some other patient who looks like he may be about to give birth to kidney stones.

  I put my hand on the small of Jane’s back and lead her to a seat in the waiting area to tackle the paperwork.

  She mutters as she writes: “Name: unknown. Address: unknown. Primary physician: none.”

  I take the pen from her hand and scrawl in “Dr. Levi Frost.”

  “Who’s that?” she asks.

  “My pops. Don’t argue.”

  I have Jane sit tight while I hand the clipboard and paperwork back to the desk nurse. She glances over it and puts it in a stack of others, presumably in order of urgency. I see where she places us, and it’s going to be a long day.

  I should just call Pops or one of his former associates right now, but I don’t want to draw more attention to Jane than she wants.

  I return to Jane and sit next to her. The look on her face is on edge, but I can feel her relax a little when I slide one protective arm around her.

  She’s staring off into the distance and chewing on her lip, like she’s trying hard to remember something.

  I take a minute to check my phone. I have one text from Tamira. “Hey boss. All good here, still busy and lined up out the door. Let me know if you want me to call in the second-round draft pick applicants for backup.”

  We text back and forth as we strategize. I feel bad that I’m absent during the grand opening. But what I’m doing here, watching over my Jane, is way more important. Something in me has changed.

  I glance over at Jane and she’s looking at my phone.

  She catches me catching her, and she blushes. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to creep. Is Tamira, that manager, your girlfriend?”

  I lean in to give her my answer.

  Chapter Seven

  Jane

  At first, I think he’s going to kiss me.

  He speaks, and his deep, resonating voice is doing things to my body that I don’t believe any kiss has managed to do before.

  “Jane, if I had a girlfriend, then this thing we have between us would be cheating, because I feel like our spirits have known each other for a century.”

  I close my eyes and drift away with the sensations he’s created inside me. My head is tingling at his vibrations. The feeling cascades down my spine. My animal arousal is waking up, like it recognizes him. As if he’s the one this body and soul have been waiting for.

  I open my eyes. “Are you going to kiss me?”

  He rumbles out. “Not in an emergency room, but hell yes. When I get you out of here, and as soon as I’m sure you’re OK, I’m going to kiss you so hard you might even remember your real name.”

  I feel myself gasp. My nipples harden. My inner folds contract with arousal.

  “I’m OK, I told you. Just kiss me.” I insist.

  He emits a deep, soft growl. Eventually, he leans back, away from me, but keeps his arm around me.

  “Let’s talk about something else,” he says.

  I nod my head yes, grasping for a new subject to discuss.

  “So your grandfather is a doctor?”

  He smiles when I refer to the Pops he mentioned. It’s a genuine, wide smile and I’m grateful he has a family he feels connected to.

  “My dad. I call him Pops because, well, that’s just who he is. A neurologist. Single dad. All around badass.”

  “I like anybody who can make you smile like that just thinking about them.”

  “Assuming we ever get you the hell out of this place, you’ll meet him tonight.”

  “I will?”

  Shep nods solemnly. “I’m not letting you out of my sight, and I have a ride-or-die dinner every Friday night with the man, so, yes. You’ll meet him tonight.”

  I look down at the gym clothes I’m wearing. “I’m hardly dressed for that.”

  Shep’s hand cups my shoulder and gives it a comforting squeeze. “He’ll love you the second he meets you. Just like anyone else would, I imagine.”

  I laugh. “You are quite the smooth talker,” I say. If we weren’t sitting in a germ-ridden emergency room, I would be straddling his lap and pressing my breasts against that Cortex logo stretched across his sculpted chest.

  I have got to get us talking and not flirting, so I ask him more about Pops.

  What he tells me makes me all the more crazy about him.

  “He was an up-and-coming doctor when he decided he wanted to raise a child. He plucked me out of foster care as an infant.

  “Nobody wanted to adopt me as a baby because I was a very scary case, due to seizures. He was a young divorced man at the time, who’d had a streak of bad luck in relationships due to his demanding career, but, wanting a family, he decided to do it on his own.

  “He always told me I was an easy choice, because my issues didn’t scare him. He wanted a child with brown skin to grow up with a parent who understood what it meant to grow up black in this community. Not that he had a problem with mixed-race adoption, he was just on a personal mission and I was the perfect fit.”

  I look down into my lap. I can’t help but feel a void. There’s no similar story for me.

  “I wish I could remember someone caring that fervently for me,” I say.

  “Maybe someone does,” Shep says. “I find it pretty damn hard to believe that nobody is looking for you.”

  I hold up my left hand. “No ring.”

  Shep and I exchange a look that tells me he’s already taken inventory of my lack of wedding band.

  He weaves the fingers of his free hand in between mine. It feels like we mustn’t get away from each other.

  My gaze goes past Shep’s face and lands on something familiar. Someone familiar.

  An older man is gesturing at the desk nurse, holding up a hand in the air like he�
��s describing someone of a certain height.

  A memory stabs me at the sight of this man. Fire erupts in my throat.

  It’s a fight-or-flight moment. I stand up and get ready to flee.

  Shep still has a hold on my hand and he’s not letting go.

  “Jane, what is it?” he’s asking, but his voice sounds like my ears are underwater.

  Just as a look of recollection crosses the face of the desk nurse, another person steps into view.

  A tall, rangy, handsome older black man is blocking my view of the desk. He’s holding his hand out to shake mine, saying, “Well, hello there! You must be my son’s new lady friend. I’m Levi, nice to meet you.”

  My mouth falls open and the only noise that can come out is “Huh?”

  Shep is on his feet. “Pops! What are you doing here?”

  The older gentleman doesn’t answer but casually instructs us to follow him through a set of double doors.

  Shep whispers in my ear as we obey Levi’s marching orders. “What happened to you back there? What did you see?”

  I shush him and tell him to keep walking. We walk for a while, through a maze of hallways, up two separate elevators and past about a hundred doctors, nurses and techs who greet our leader with surprise and respect. This must be what it’s like to stroll through the West Wing with a former president.

  It feels like magic, like anything is bound to happen if the man simply wills it.

  Once Levi has me safely tucked away inside a very high-tech-looking exam room, I look up at Shep, who’s still looking at me, concern creasing his beautiful face.

  “That man, at the desk in the lobby? That was my uncle, and he was looking for me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Shep

  Pops is a whirlwind of activity while he’s handing my ass to me. Nobody ever accused the old man of not being able to multi-task.

  “Boy, why didn’t you call me right away? You know damn well if she’s had a head injury that minutes could be critical. I didn’t go to medical school and fight my way to the top to have my own son not pull strings.”