Speaking of blushing, I saw Jarret blush for the first time in my life. Have you ever seen him blush? I didn’t think he was capable of it, like he’s too cool to blush or doesn’t have any “blush” chromosomes. But he does.
Here’s how it happened. Remember I told you how he came home drunk? Well, he’s been asking me for several days and in several ways to tell him what happened that night/morning. When he realized I did not intend to tell, he began hanging out in whatever room I was cleaning. He pretended he had something to do, watch TV, read a book, drink a Coke, but all he really did was stare at me. I think he was trying to read my mind. But I guess that didn’t work for him, because a few days later, he started asking specific questions. I gave vague answers or no answers. It was like a guessing game that I couldn’t avoid playing unless your father or Mr. Digby saved me by coming into the room.
Then Jarret changed tactics. He stopped asking about that night and started talking about other things, trying to befriend me, I suppose. He told me his plans for the day, what he wanted to do with his life, or about some incident from his past. Then he asked me questions about things I’ve done or what I’d like to do, as if he cared. It broke up the monotony of my chores, so I didn’t mind. Maybe he was lonely or bored.
“Or maybe he liked you then,” I whispered. Had I known of his interest in me?
I finally gave in and told him what happened that night. We were having dinner at that new Thai restaurant. Don’t worry, it wasn’t a date. It’s just that Jarret finally caved to your father’s demand to either get a job or go on assignments with him, which he really didn’t want to do. So when Jarret came home with the good news that he landed a job at the furniture store, he invited me to go celebrate with him. I asked why he didn’t go out with his friends. He said they’d want to drink. I asked why he didn’t celebrate with his girlfriend. He said he didn’t have one. Can that be true? Have you ever known Jarret to be without a girlfriend? But he seemed so proud about landing a job the first day he set out to look for one, that I agreed to go.
At the restaurant, we talked and talked. It was strange. He was like a regular person. He was even fun. So, when he asked me again what happened that night, I told him. I knew it would embarrass him, but his reaction still surprised me. His gaze flitted around the restaurant. He squirmed in his chair, turning every shade of red. It was great! I know, you’re dying to know what happened that night, but you’ll have to ask him.
Gotta run,
Caitlyn
“Wow,” I whispered, stunned again, a strange tingly sensation washing through me. I did seem to like Jarret. I barely spoke two words to him now, and rarely a nice word. But that summer, we’d enjoyed talking to each other. Seemed like we talked about everything.
The last part of the email struck me most. I’d always loved seeing a guy blush. Especially if I liked the guy. What could’ve happened that night that had embarrassed him so much?
Sucking in a deep breath, I readied myself for more and clicked on the next email, this one from Roland.
Caitlyn,
I can’t believe you went out with Jarret. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that. He’s going to think you like him. He’s going to ask you out again. You’d better be ready for that. He’s very insistent with girls.
Roland
I found myself smiling. Roland was so sweet. Cute. Worried.
The next email said nothing about Jarret. It was all about Nanny, the garden I had been working on with Mr. Digby, the horses—which I had learned to groom—and how I couldn’t wait for summer to end so I could return to school.
I sipped my iced tea. The weight room had grown warm in the afternoon sun. And the lawn mower blared outside the window. I didn’t mind the smell of cut grass, but the noise... I got up to close the window.
Reaching for the window frame, my gaze snapped to Jarret, who had taken his shirt off. My gaze lingered on his bare back, his curly ponytail, and his muscles shining with sweat as he pushed the mower diagonally away from the house. At the end of the lawn, he shoved the handle down and pivoted the mower around.
My stomach leaped.
He wore sunglasses, the kind with a mirror finish, not the black finish of the ones in my memory. But the sight of them made me queasy.
I shoved the window closed, yanked the blinds, and returned to the computer. Catching my breath and focusing on the monitor, I expected to find another email I’d written to Roland, since he’d written the last one, but I didn’t.
Caitlyn,
Hi. Ling-si’s summer classes are getting tough for her. Mine too. I guess they have too much information to give in such a short time. We’ve been trying to pretend it’s not summer and just study. But that’s hard to do. It wouldn’t be so hard for me, but she loves watching movies, taking walks, and shopping.
I’ll keep this email short, but I have a question: Is Jarret still working at the furniture place? He won’t answer or return my calls. Is he still living there? You didn’t mention him in your last email and you haven’t emailed in a while. Is something wrong? Email soon or I’m calling you.
Roland
I sighed, enthralled with his kindness. Roland was so sweet, so concerned about me and his brother.
Dearest Worried Roland,
Did I detect a threat at the end of your email? How unlike you. No, Jarret is not working at the furniture place. He was fired. And we aren’t really talking, so I don’t have much to say about him. I don’t know what he’s doing.
Worry not. All is well, your friend, Caitlyn
Caitlyn,
Unless you give me more to go on, I’m calling and you’d better answer the phone. Why was Jarret fired? Why aren’t you talking to him? Why shouldn’t I worry?
Roland
Roland,
Fine. Here it is: Jarret was fired for punching a customer. Oh, I don’t blame him. The man asked for it. That’s not what I’m mad about.
Need more specifics? Okay. Jarret was doing well at the furniture place, getting there on time, making good sales, etc. But a woman kept bothering him. He complained about her a few times, back when we were speaking. The woman came up every day to talk and watch him work. It sometimes interfered with his sales, but he didn’t know how to make her leave without being rude. Well, her husband came up one day and accused Jarret of having an affair with his wife. The man started off shouting and ended up swinging. Jarret said he did all he could to avoid the punches and calm the man down, until the man’s fist made contact with his chin. Then he lost control and slugged him back. He only threw one punch, and it wasn’t his fault, but of course he was fired.
Your father didn’t see things the way I did, but then Jarret doesn’t explain himself well when he’s under fire. They went around and around arguing, until Jarret finally blew out of here. He came back late, or rather early the next morning, drunk, I think. That’s what made me mad. He told me he doesn’t drink anymore, that he wasn’t ever a drinker, that he only intentionally got drunk once and that was at a monastery. Like I’d believe that. Why can’t he handle the setbacks of life without getting drunk?
It shouldn’t really matter to me. It’s not like I’m his girlfriend. But I thought we were friends, sort of. And I don’t like my friends doing stupid, self-destructive things.
There. Now you have it.
Caitlyn
“Hmph.” I sipped my iced tea and shuffled to the window. I could not imagine falling in love with or marrying a man who drank. Had I really taken Jarret’s side in that incident? I would not put it past him to flirt with another man’s wife.
Lifting a slat in the blind, I peeked outside. Shirtless Jarret pushed the mower away from the house. Maybe I wasn’t being fair. Maybe I was judging him again, based on his past mistakes.
Roland,
Guess what? You’ll never believe who’s here! Okay, maybe you know. Your father said he told you already. Nanny and I have been getting ready for days. Yes, I’m talking about the Salazars and, in particu
lar, Selena!
Wait, wait, wait! Eyes wide, I straightened in the chair. Hadn’t Jarret said I’d kissed him before the Salazars’ visit? I’d been preparing for the visit when I dropped the salsa and applesauce. He said we hadn’t been speaking to each other.
I re-read the previous email. Okay. So I was mad at him because he went out and got drunk... again. Yes. If I liked him then, that would make me mad. But I must’ve forgiven him by the time he came to help clean up the mess. Hmm. So I’d kissed him before this email. I liked Jarret at this point, but I hadn’t even hinted about it to Roland.
I see why you liked her. She is so much fun! We do everything together. Oh, and Jarret hangs out with us too. Selena helps with my chores, so I can get done quicker and run around with her. The three of us work in the kitchen, dust, vacuum, do laundry... Jarret even cleaned a bathroom! We ride the horses every day. The first time we all went out, I was nervous, so I rode with Jarret. But that made me more nervous, if you know what I mean.
Oh! What did I mean? The image of Jarret’s sweaty bare back came unbidden to my mind and heat slid up my neck. I’d gone horseback riding with Jarret. Sharing a horse? Had I sat in front, his arms around me, or had I sat behind, holding onto him for dear life?
I’m getting good at riding all by myself. I remember everything you tried to teach me about riding. We also go out to eat every other day, went to the movies once, rent movies to watch at home, play pool, take walks, etc. We even went to Peter’s house the day he came home for a visit. I don’t think he liked seeing Jarret with us. They bantered back and forth all night.
Gotta run, Selena and Jarret are waiting for me.
Caitlyn
I leaned back in the chair and gulped the rest of my iced tea. I giggled, picturing Peter and Jarret arguing all night. Then I read on.
Roland,
Selena’s gone. I miss her. I wish she could’ve stayed for the rest of the summer. And Jarret’s mad at me now. I guess he liked how things have been lately, the three of us doing everything together. But I think he’s interested in being more than friends, and I don’t want to lead him on. Maybe I’m wrong and he only likes me as a friend.
Since I won’t go out with him, I think he’s trying to make me jealous. I don’t know if he was out drinking. He said he wasn’t. But he stayed out all night and came home in the morning. Then he accused me of thinking he was with a girl. Why should I care?
Your lonely friend, Caitlyn
Ugh. I leaned my head back and stared at the ceiling, a strange sinking feeling inside my tummy. With a girl? Jarret and girls. Girls over to the house. Girls on the phone. Pictures of girls. I sighed. He probably had been with a girl. Why had I kissed him in the first place? It must’ve been a spontaneous action and I’d regretted it. But then... Oh, how had I ever wanted to marry him?
Caitlyn,
I can’t believe you like Jarret. He’s not your type. He’s too fast. And he can be an emotional train wreck.
Don’t ever let him see this email. Delete at once. Anyway, is he going to get another job? I’m calling you. Answer the phone.
Roland
“An emotional train wreck? Too fast?” I mumbled to myself, glancing over my shoulder in the direction of the window, now covered with blinds. I should’ve taken Roland’s advice. I opened the next email in the vain hope that I’d read how I’d come to my senses. Of course, if I had, I wouldn’t be in this situation.
Roland,
I’m sorry I didn’t answer the phone yesterday. I was in the garden with Mr. Digby. We have so many peppers, tomatoes, and squash that we’re taking loads of them to the church.
I can’t believe you think I like Jarret. I told you I don’t. Get it out of your mind. Besides, he’s leaving soon. He spoke to me this morning, just to let me know. He said he was going to hang out at an opal mine in Brazil. I said, that sounds fun. He said, no, it doesn’t. Anyway, he’s leaving in a couple of days. So you don’t have to worry.
Caitlyn
An opal mine? I studied my engagement ring, a fiery opal of red, orange, and pink set between two diamonds. Did he find the opal himself? We seemed to spend so much time angry at each other, how had we ever fallen in love?
CHAPTER 29
THE FRONT DOOR opened, disturbing the silence. Then voices traveled to me in the warm weight room. Two voices? I then realized I hadn’t heard the lawn mower in a while. I closed the file with the emails and shut the computer down. The screen went black as Jarret—wearing a shirt—stuck his sweaty head into the room.
“Hey, Mike’s here. I’m gonna take a shower.”
I leaned forward, about to get up, when Mike tromped into the room. “Hello there, young lady.” He smiled down at me, his pale eyes glowing with creepiness.
“Are you my babysitter?” The thought scraped my peaceful mood, like sandpaper on porcelain. I stood, grabbed my empty glass, and brushed past him.
He followed me to the kitchen. “Why no, I thought I’d stop by and see how y’all were getting along.”
As I brought the pitcher of iced tea to the island counter, something caught my eye. In the middle of the dinner table sat a round glass vase overflowing with perfectly arranged lilacs, their scent filling the kitchen.
My chest tingled. When had Jarret done that? How sweet.
“I am a bit thirsty,” Mike said.
I snapped my attention to the iced tea, refilled my glass, and pulled another from the cupboard for him. “If you’re here to check on me, where’s your little black doctor bag?”
He smiled and nodded toward the living room. “Right there on the coffee table. Might you be so inclined as to allow a check-up?”
“Mm, I might.” I dragged myself to the living room and settled myself in the leather chair. The sun had warmed it, and it felt good against my back.
Seeming a bit distracted, he set his glass on the coffee table and unzipped his black bag. “How’ve you been?”
I shrugged. What had Jarret told Mike anyway? How good of friends were they? Did they talk every day? Did Mike know about Roland’s visit? Did he know Jarret and I didn’t get along?
“Any headaches, blurred vision, hearing difficulties...” He pulled out a stethoscope and headed my way.
With a sigh, I sat up so he could check my heart. “I feel fine. No problems except for a little nausea. But I’m sure it’s from the baby.”
“Most likely.” He slid the stethoscope down my back. “Breathe in for me.”
I obeyed.
Mike let the stethoscope dangle against his chest and grabbed my wrist, holding it gently while he looked at his watch.
“Did Jarret tell you his brother came from South Dakota to visit us?” I said, to get a feel for how much Jarret had told him.
“His brother?” He glanced up from his watch.
“Yes, Roland.”
Mike dropped my wrist and went to the bag. “Would that be his twin brother? He does have a twin, doesn’t he? I seem to remember him saying—”
“Not that brother. His younger brother.”
“Mm.” Mike returned with a thermometer and a little black case. “So, his brother came out to...”
“Well, help me, of course, help me to get my memories back. Roland and I were always close, best friends even. I guess he thought he could help.”
“And have you remembered anything?” He stuffed the thermometer into my mouth, so I gave a shrug for my answer. He smiled. “You can answer that question shortly. And I don’t have my fetal Doppler t’day, but I’ll be sure to bring it next time.”
He glanced at the bedroom door. It hung half open and the sound of the shower traveled through it. “I need to talk to you right quick before Jarret comes out.” His pale eyes locked onto mine. “I do believe Jarret’s job is on the line. Maybe you can talk some sense into him. He’s told the boss he’s not coming to work until you’re all better. I don’t think he understands: you might not get your memory back.”
I might not get my memory back!
What about the two brief memories I experienced? The thermometer slipped. I tried to keep it in place with my tongue. I had to get my memory back. I needed to understand our marriage and to understand Jarret. I had a baby coming in six months. If Jarret was a louse, I’d have to move back home. How would my mother feel about helping raise the baby?
Keeping my mouth closed, I tried to say, “Is it time yet?” while I pointed to the thermometer, but it came out like “hmm hm hmm hm.”
“Almost time,” he said. “You need to get Jarret to work Monday. I don’t understand why he feels it imperative to remain home with you, do you?”
I rolled my eyes. Yeah, he doesn’t trust me.
He finally took the thermometer.
“Mike, if I’ve had a few memories, is that a good sign? Do you think I might get more? Maybe all of it? I need to know if—”
“What memories?” He gave me a strangely intense look. “You’ve gained memories? Recent? Past?” The shower shut off and we both glanced at the half-open bedroom door.
“Well, one memory was more of a déjà vu experience, I suppose.”
“Tell me.” Mike sat on the end of the coffee table and leaned toward me.
“The other day, I was out on the deck and I dropped the pickle relish. As I looked at it, I remembered having dropped jars of salsa and applesauce. I remembered clearly the way I felt when it happened, but I didn’t remember the specific incident or what happened before or after. But as Jarret came over to clean up the relish, I remembered him being there and helping me clean it up before. I also remember how I felt emotionally.”
He gave the hint of a smile. Or was it a grimace? “The other memories?” He glanced over his shoulder at the bedroom door, then he leaned even closer. “You said you had a few.”
Discomfort wormed its way into my mind. His eagerness to know made me reluctant to speak. Jarret hadn’t told him about Roland or about how we didn’t get along, so maybe they weren’t that close after all. Maybe he’d only been called on as a doctor. I gave a casual smile. “So, is it a good sign? For me to remember?”
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