The Passenger

by Jacqueline Druga

  “If you saw my text why didn’t you call me back? You should see him. Oh, Cate, you should see him,” Grant gushed. “He’s gained twenty pounds. Maybe not that much, but he gained weight. His face is round, his hair is short. He has color and Cate … he’s smiling. He is smiling big time. I couldn’t believe it.”

  Cate didn’t reply.

  “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

  “I’m in shock. I mean it’s been two and a half weeks. Why didn’t he call us? Was he in trouble? Rehab?”

  “He was in that accident.”

  “Still, why didn’t he contact us? Does he have any idea how worried we were?’

  “Cate, what is wrong?”

  “Does he!” Cate yelled.

  “Cate, he has amnesia.”

  “Really.”

  “What?”

  “Really. And you believe that?” Cate asked.

  Grant was thrown through a loop, stunned by her reaction. “Yes. He had a head injury.”

  “Grant, come on. Amnesia?’

  “The doctors …”

  “There is no way to prove or disprove amnesia,” Cate said. “You know this. And you also know our son. He hid out, he played this card.”

  “No. You’re wrong. He doesn’t know. He really doesn’t. He is in this small town and he’s changed. Why would you even doubt this?”

  “Because I know our son.”

  “I do, too.”

  “No,” Cate argued. “You don’t. Not like I do.”

  “He’s not that good of an actor.”

  Cate laughed. “You know he is. How many times did he play us? How many times did he break our hearts, my heart for his benefit? This is another one of his games. He’s playing whoever he is with and in another week, he is going to walk away from there with everything he can grab.”

  “Cate, if you would see him, you would know. Come out here. Get in the car …”

  “No.”

  “Cate.”

  “No,” Cate said. “My heart has been crushed into a million pieces Grant. I have watched him destroy his life and everyone around him. I have grieved for the son he used to be. I have feared for him, prayed for him, enabled him. Now suddenly he is well and healthy in some small town? Wait. He has amnesia. He did it to us again.”

  “No, Cate, you’re wrong. This is me talking,” Grant said. “What I am witnessing is nothing short of a miracle.”

  “Grant, it’s nothing short of a con.”

  “How ... dare you.”

  “What?” Cate asked shocked.

  “How dare you? We have been married for thirty-five years. Been together for forty. In all that time, every single day, every year you have been trying to get me to have faith. To see there is a higher power out there working for our greater good. Finally, after all this time, I witness it. I believe. And what do you do? In so many words, you tell me I’m a fool.”

  “Grant, that’s not what I’m doing,” Cate defended.

  “Yes, Cate, it is. And do you know what? I don’t care, because I am still going to believe. I would love for you to be here, to see this. If not. That’s fine. I’m going nowhere. I will be here in this town, with our son, loving and seeing firsthand what a higher power can truly do to change lives.”

  And with that, not wanting to lose the joy he was feeling over finding Jonas, Grant ended his call with Cate.

  TWENTY-ONE

  A simple trip to the bath, kitchen and bed store followed by an early dinner. That was the plan Jessie had with her mother. She had spoken to her twice on the phone, several text messages, and not once did she tell her Jonas was found.

  It angered Jessie … a lot, but she was cautious about saying anything because she had never seen her mother behave quite like she was at that moment.

  Her mother often would be a seesaw of emotions when it came to Jonas, and no doubt he was causing it again. Jessie didn’t understand the bitter, angry mood Cate portrayed. After weeks of worrying, hitting brick walls, he was found, and not only was he alive, he was well. Yet, Cate seemed mad about it.

  The last time Jonas disappeared he had gone on a binge and the only reason they found him was because Jonas was calling out for his mother in some sort of drug and alcohol induced episode.

  A hot mess, barely able to stand, and Cate wasn’t mad, she was relieved. Why was her mother acting differently now? Was she in some sort of denial?

  Jessie watched her mother hang up and extend it back to her. She knew her father had hung up abruptly. That was evident by the lack of a goodbye and the slight shocked expression on her mother’s face.

  Her parents were in a fight mode, which was par for course when a difference of opinion rose up over Jonas.

  “What’s going on with you?” Jessie asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mom, you didn’t tell me about Jonas.”

  “I know.”

  “Why?”

  “Because a part of me didn’t believe it,” Cate said.

  “You didn’t believe he was fine or found?”

  “Yes, because to me there was no way he was found alive and fine. They just don’t go together, not with your brother. Let’s go check out bedding.” Cate turned and started walking.

  “Mom. Seriously?”

  “Jess, I don’t want to talk about this with you. Weren’t you the one like Jan Brady always saying, Jonas, Jonas, Jonas?”

  “That’s not right or fair. Actually, that’s mean,” Jessie said.

  “You hated when I talked about him.”

  “Because you talked about him constantly. We couldn’t have a conversation without bringing him. Telling me what he did or didn’t do, how bad or good. Have I talked to him?”

  “That’s why I am not talking about him now.”

  “It’s a little different.”

  “No, Jess, it isn’t,” Cate argued. “Talking about Jonas is talking about Jonas, it doesn’t matter what the pretext is. You have to be tired of hearing about him.”

  “You don’t get it. It’s not because I felt slighted or jealous. It’s not because I don’t love my brother. I do. It’s because I love you and the obsession and worry wasn’t good for you.”

  “I get that. Worry is done. Jonas is fine.”

  Jessie shook her head when her mother lifted a pillow nonchalantly and looked at the washing instructions. “Jonas isn’t exactly fine. He was in a car accident. He has amnesia.”

  Cate scoffed in the form of a soft laugh.

  “You don’t believe he has amnesia?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “But Dad said.”

  “Your father doesn’t know Jonas like I do. He’s playing these people.”

  “How can you make that call without even seeing him?” Jessie answered.

  “Because I know my son. I know how he uses people to get what he wants. He messed up somewhere and found a perfect place to hide out. I can’t run there, Jessie, I can’t go and look in his eyes, hear that manipulative talking. I can’t.”

  “Mom, this isn’t about you.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Cate said. “When dealing with an addict, at some point as a mother, it has to be about me.” She turned. “I’m headed to pots and pans.”

  Then without missing a beat, as if nothing was different or hadn’t changed, her mother went to window shop housewares.

  Jessie knew her brother probably better than her mother thought and like her mom, she just couldn’t accept the amnesia. She couldn’t dismiss it either. Jessie would know the truth the moment she looked into Jonas’ eyes. For her own sake and her mother’s, that was what she had to do.

  ◆◆◆

  Marge knew what she was doing, she didn’t worry. Her goal was to expose Chip or rather, Jonas, to his father in hopes to stir the memories. She spoke to everyone ahead of time. Don’t ask any questions that would force Grant to lie.

  She invited Grant to have dinner with them before rehearsal, along with Pastor Rick, Haley a
nd Chip. Even though she knew his real name, he’d always be Chip to her.

  Pastor Rick was excited about it, especially when he learned what Marge’s plan was. He grabbed an extra rotisserie chicken from Costco.

  Marge whipped up some of her sausage, potato stuffing, made a vegetable and grabbed a cake from the market.

  Wednesday dinner wasn’t usually a big deal.

  It was this night.

  She hoped maybe some part of Chip would remember his father, but Marge didn’t see a spark at all.

  “I’m really excited to hear you play,” Jonas said at the dinner table. “We didn’t talk much, have you been playing long?”

  “All my life. I sing some. I’m good on harmonies,” Grant replied.

  “Awesome, I picked out some cool music. The others already have the charts, but we’ll listen before practice. This is my first service as music leader,” Jonas told him.

  “Not worship leader?” Grant asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Chip here,” Pastor Rick said. “Is new in town as well. Is your family with you?”

  “No.” Grant shook his head. “My wife is home.”

  “Any children? Grandchildren?” Marge asked.

  “I have two kids. A daughter and son. My daughter is married, my son is not. No grandkids yet.” Grant smiled. “I’m hoping.”

  Jonas asked. “What brought you to Williams Peak?”

  There it was, Marge thought, the question she didn’t want asked. One that could force Grant to not be honest. But he had that covered.

  “I was searching, you know,” Grant replied. “I’m a teacher, I needed a break, decided to just hit the road. You get older, there are things you want to do or see. I stopped here. It’s great little town. You’re new, Chip, what brought you to Williams Peak?”

  “A bad night,” Jonas said. “I was in an accident. Maw-Maw and Joe found me on the road. I don’t know what happened, how it happened or even how I got to the road.”

  Joe interjected. “I think you do.” He shifted his eyes to Grant. “When Chip was in the accident there was a man in the car with him.”

  “What happened to him?” Grant asked.

  “No one knows,” Joe replied. “He wasn’t there. No sign of him. A lot of us feel it was a higher power at work that night.”

  Haley added. “Whatever the case, it brought him here, to us,” she said. “And I believe this is where he is supposed to be.”

  Marge watched Grant for a reaction. It was fulfilling and moving to see his expression, such peace on his face. Different than hours earlier when she met him.

  She understood. She wished her own son would have transformed in this way. That wasn’t in the plan. At least now, she felt in some small way, she had helped Chip, and hoped and prayed with everything in her, unlike her son, Chip would keep going forward.

  ◆◆◆

  Grant had been in that position before. Looking at his son and seeing a stranger. Listening to him talk and unable to believe it was him speaking. A change of face, body, hair and clothes. He had been there before in Jonas’ darkest days. Watching his son whittle away to nothing, barely any meat on his bones, his skin color deathly gray, an unkept man who didn’t notice how he looked or even cared, with an attitude so poor and shocking Grant couldn’t find any good.

  Now here he was the polar opposite.

  He couldn’t believe he was looking at the same man who argued with him in the driveway nearly three weeks earlier. Even in Jonas’ younger days, when he was naïve and untouched by the dark world of addiction, he couldn’t recall seeing him look so healthy or with weight.

  It was as if someone fed him a constant flow of high caloric food steadily for weeks. Then again, it had only been half a day and already Grant had seen Jonas twice with a milkshake in his hand.

  There was actually a milkshake shop in town. Haley said Jonas had been on a milkshake kick for a week, never repeating the same flavor twice and vowing to get through them all.

  Whatever it was that was inspiring him to do so, Grant was grateful and loved it.

  Grant also loved rehearsal. He watched Jonas play and sing. He always loved listening to him play, but when Jonas went into a strange rock and screaming style of music it was difficult for Grant.

  The entire rehearsal Grant was swept up, amazed at Jonas.

  He wished he could record or bottle up the joy he felt and save it for a day when he needed it. Grant didn’t want the night to end.

  But it did.

  “Okay is everyone good with that last song?” Jonas asked. “We’ll do a reprise at the end after service. It’s a good one, hard, but I think everyone will feel it. Are we good?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Mr. Truett, that song is new to all of us,” Jonas said. “I’m good with rehearsing Friday evening if you want.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Grant replied. Even though he wasn’t familiar with the song before that night either, he was comfortable playing it. He just wanted to hang out with Jonas again.

  Any excuse would do.

  He helped Jonas pack up, he really didn’t have anything else to do before he went back to the hotel.

  “Can I ask you something?” Grant said as he and Jonas left the church.

  “Sure.”

  “How do you feel about not remembering who you are? Is it frustrating?”

  “It was at first, now I feel like I’ll know soon,” Jonas replied. “I mean I get these things I call memory feelings.”

  “What are they?’

  “It’s a feeling like I know something, I just don’t remember why. Like cookie baking and playing music. I also get memory feelings when something isn’t right, like when they thought my name was Harold.”

  “Harold? Grant laughed. “You don’t look like a Harold.”

  “I don’t think I look like a Chip.”

  “Actually, you kind of do.”

  “Maw-Maw gave me that name.”

  “She’s a good woman.”

  “The best,” Jonas said. “So is Joe. He’s a good guy with sound advice. It was driving me crazy about the passenger in the car. For the first few days I was feeling so guilty because I thought the guy died. I still think he is the key to what happened.”

  “Maybe not a key to what happened that night, but more so what is happening now?” Grant asked.

  “Sounds like something Joe would say.”

  “Do you think it was Jesus in the car with you that night?”

  “Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don't. I think the not believing side of me is understanding because who are we to assume we are worthy of Him being there,” Jonas said. “Bottom line is, I survived when I shouldn’t have. I feel a happiness I don’t recognize, happiness which my memory feelings say are new. I believe one way or another He was there.”

  “I believe that too.” Grant stopped at his truck. “Well, goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Grant got in the truck and slowly turned around so he could keep watching Jonas. His son walked to the house next door to the church and sat right on the porch with Pastor Rick.

  A slight twinge of jealousy hit him, but it quickly passed.

  Grant wanted to be the one on that porch, talking and spending time with Jonas. He wanted to absorb every moment with son, take it all in, just in case when Jonas remembered who he was, he would leave behind who he had become.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The aroma was amazing in Baker’s Market, it always was. In the mornings it was baked goods, and in the afternoon it was the lunch specials. Russ loved the smell in there. It made him hungrier, but on this day, he had other plans for lunch.

  Even with big chain stores a short drive away, the people of Williams Peak loved Baker’s. They always had everything and rarely ran out of stock.

  In fact, the one year there was a toilet paper shortage, and it seemed the whole country went bonkers over stocking up toilet paper.

  When it all went down, it just s
o happened to be the week Marge and Joe had closed down for a few days for a funeral. Not only did they have toilet paper, Marge was the tissue police.

  She rationed it out and kept it off the shelves in the back. She broke down packs and sold rolls separately and if you didn’t have identification you were from Williams Peak, she said they were out.

  They never ran out.

  “Look at you,” Marge greeted him at the lunch counter. “Didn’t recognize you out of uniform.”

  “I’m always out of uniform when I’m not working.”

  “You look spiffy,” Marge told him. “Are you taking the wife out?”

  “No. I have errands to run. That’s why I’m here. It’s hot out today, hotter than I’d like for June. I wanted to get one of the tea coolers you do. Large please, lemon lime.”

  “Sure thing. We have Fiesta Turkey Wraps today.”

  “No, I’m good, I …” Russ’ eyes caught the display. Two for a dollar cookies in a tiny bag. “Chip’s chips?” Russ asked.

  “Oh, yeah, he was in here bright and early baking. He made other stuff, but those are melt in your mouth, the best cookies you have ever eaten. He’s in the back. Did you want to see him?”

  “No. No. I’m good. Just impressed. Cookies, huh?”

  “Since you’re the law.” She handed him one. “On me. Let me get that drink.”

  “Is this a onetime thing?” Russ asked, opening the bag.

  Marge worked on the beverage with her back to him, occasionally glancing over her shoulder, and speaking louder as the blender ran. “Pastor Rick only has it in his budget to have him work three days a week. And most of that is room and board. He’s only getting a few bucks there.”

  Russ took a bite of the cookie. The moment he tasted it his mouth lit up with delight. “This is amazing.”

  “Isn’t it? Quite a gift,” Marge said. “So, he’ll be here a couple days a week baking. He had to learn the bread, but he picked it up right away.”

  “Well, tell him I think these are fantastic.”

  “I will. I hope we can get him on more.” Marge returned with the drink. “It’s on me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Keep an eye out for folks hiring in town, please. He likes the Pastor, but he wants to be able to get his own place. I was thinking of the Sanderson’s building, they have those cute places there.”