The Forsaken Call

by Jamie Murray

  "Come on," she said supportively, holding her hand out for him to take. "Just follow me."

  He looked down at her hand and contemplated asking her if he could wait back at her home, but her eyes were so concerned that he didn't want to worry her. So he took her hand and took the first step into the street. Somehow, once he was in the midst of it all with his hand in Meg's, it didn't seem as disorienting.

  "Anything?" Meg asked him as they pushed their way through the middle of the crowd.

  "Not yet," he answered, peering over his shoulder.

  "I have to stop here," she said, pointing at the doorway on her left. "It should be quieter inside."

  He nodded and went with her into the store. It smelled much nicer than outside because the small building was filled with fresh fruit that had clearly been put out onto the shelves that morning. Meg went right up to the front table where there was a woman looking through a pamphlet.

  "Good morning, Ruth," Meg greeted her.

  "Meg!" the woman exclaimed as she put down her papers. "I was surprised when I didn't see you yesterday."

  "I had a guest," Meg said, gesturing towards Jameson who seemed more interested in the fruit than in Ruth. "This is…" Meg paused a moment and then smiled before adding, "Jameson."

  At the sound of his name, or at least what he was being called, Jameson looked up and finally went up to the table. "Hi," he said, nodding his head.

  "Jameson, this is Ruth," Meg introduced her. "I've known her since I was a little girl."

  "Oh, how nice," said Ruth to Meg after looking Jameson up and down. "Is he an old friend?"

  "Well, kind of," Meg said, wondering if it was a good idea to disclose exactly how she had come across Jameson. "We met on the Market Field."

  Jameson and Meg exchanged glances with amused expressions, and Ruth observed the interaction. Before she could say anything, Jameson asked, "Do you grow all this yourself?"

  "The fruit?" Ruth clarified and Jameson nodded. "Yes, of course. I have a garden in the back."

  "A garden?" Jameson repeated thoughtfully.

  "Do you have a garden, Jameson?" Meg asked eagerly.

  "Uh…" Jameson said. "Maybe."

  "Maybe?" Ruth said confusedly, curious to know how someone could not be sure if he had a garden or not.

  "Could I look at it, do you think?" Jameson said.

  "Certainly," said Ruth as she pointed to the door in the back. "Just go through there. It will take you right outside."

  "Go ahead, Jameson," said Meg. "And take your time."

  "Thank you," Jameson said as he wandered to the door, and then pointed at it to be sure. Ruth nodded and told him to go ahead, so he pushed it open and disappeared into the yard.

  Meg leaned out as she watched him go, and then looked back at Ruth who still had a confused expression on her face.

  "How do you know him again?" she asked.

  "It's a little complicated," Meg admitted. "He's staying at my house for a few days until he… figures out some things."

  "Is he setting up a store in the market?" she tried.

  "No…not exactly," Meg said.

  Then Ruth grinned. "Meg, you're not telling me the whole truth," she said. "Is he really just your friend?"

  "What's that supposed to mean?" Meg laughed. "What makes you think I'm not telling the truth?"

  "A handsome boy appears out of nowhere and you're walking around with him in the open, holding hands no doubt. After all, you're at the age when you need to think about marriage, and seems fine."

  "Ruth, please," Meg said. "Getting married! I only met him a few days ago."

  "Oh?" said Ruth. "So he's not an old friend, then."

  Meg put a hand over her mouth and giggled a bit. "I mean…" she said.

  "You've already said it," Ruth pointed out.

  Meg put her hand down and nodded, admitting defeat. "Fine, I'll tell you," Meg said. "But only because I'm desperately trying to help him and perhaps you might know something. I sort of… in a way…found him."

  "Found him?" Ruth said. "Where? On Market Field?"

  "Yes," Meg said. "He was…passed out, nearly. He didn't have anything except a peculiar necklace. Also… well, it's strange to say, but he doesn't know who he is. He has no memory…he can't remember a single thing about his life. I'm beside myself. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do for him."

  Ruth's face fell. "You found the boy on the Market Field and you just scooped him up and took him home?" she said.

  "I—well, he didn't look well at all. He needed help."

  "Have you ever thought that maybe he's one of the Forces?" she questioned.

  Meg immediately gave an exasperated sigh. "Please," she said.

  "No, have you thought about it?" Ruth said. "Perhaps this is all an act to fool you."

  "What for?" Meg said. "If he was part of the Forces then he could easily walk into Market City without this whole act. Spending all these days fooling me would just be a waste of time. Besides, just a minute ago you were saying how fine he is, and now because he has no memory, you're accusing him of being some kind of beast!"

  Ruth backed off a bit. "I'm just concerned about you, Meg," she said passively. "You're very trusting. You don't know who this man is and you've welcomed him into your life."

  "He isn't anyone evil," Meg said firmly. "He doesn't like large crowds… or loud noises. He's peaceful and clean and he even makes the bed in the morning. I may not know about his past, but I know he is a kind person." Ruth waited for her to continue. Meg hesitated a moment, and then went on with, "I've seen him. You haven't seen him sleep."

  "You've seen him sleep?" Ruth said, looking surprised. "What I mean is… you've watched him sleep?"

  "Well, he was resting for a long while," Meg said, taking a few steps back from the table. "I was worried about him."

  Ruth suddenly began to smile. "Meg," she said. "He is not really part of your life, but you would like him to be, wouldn't you?"

  "What do you mean?" Meg said as she could feel her cheeks turning red. "I just want to help him find out who he is."

  "You have to be careful," Ruth said. "If he really is what you said—a poor man who has somehow lost his memory—then you have to consider what will happen when he gets it back. If you fall for him and it turns out he has a family somewhere, a wife even, then he'll break your heart. Perhaps he will always be a part of your life out of gratitude, but that's certainly not the way you would want him."

  "Oh, stop, Ruth," said Meg. "It's not like that at all."

  "I just don't want you to get hurt and regret giving him all the kindness you already have."

  "I don't see him like that." Meg waved her hand at the thought. "If he has a family somewhere…or a wife… then I'll just be happy for him. I mean, just look at him! For him not to have a wife already would just be… strange. Wouldn't it?"

  "I can't say one way or the other," said Ruth. "But still, I'm warning you. If he leaves you or, worse, he turns out to be the Forces with cruel intentions, then either way you will be hurt."

  "I…" Meg trailed off as she looked toward the door Jameson had exited through. She wandered to it and pulled it open just a little bit so she could see him; he was handling at an orange hanging from a tree, peering at the branches, as if trying to trace back how the orange was connected to the trunk. She closed the door and looked back at Ruth. "He can't hurt me," she said. "He won't hurt me."

  Ruth nodded her head. "I'm glad."

  Meg went back over to the counter and picked her basket up. She searched around the store in silence, trying to find the best fruit, but she found her mind wandering back and forth between the things Ruth had said. She never even considered the possibility that he could have been making it all up or that he could be a Forces. From the very beginning she knew there was a chance he had another family somewhere else, and the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. He was handsome and very strong looking, not to mention neat and kind. She had found him near Market
City, but perhaps he lived in one of the towns surrounding the city. That would possibly explain his aversion to the crowds and loud noises. He found nothing about Market City familiar, so maybe she was going about it all wrong.

  Still, there was a suddenly piece of her that wanted him to stay. There was the nagging thought that maybe that piece had always been there, but she had only just now realized it.

  As she was at the counter and Ruth was calculating how much she owed, the door opened and Jameson came back inside. "Done already?" he asked innocently.

  "Yes," Meg answered distantly.

  Jameson looked at Ruth and smiled. "That's a very nice garden you have," he remarked.

  "Thank you, Jameson," Ruth replied.

  Jameson waited a moment and thought maybe something was amiss in the room. He got the feeling there was something strange going on, but he wasn't going to bring it up out of worry that he was wrong.

  "Thank you, Ruth," Meg said as she put all the fruit into the basket and lifted it off the counter.

  "Let me," Jameson said, taking the basket from her. Meg nodded and relinquished it, looking briefly at Ruth as she left the store with Jameson tagging along behind her. As soon as they reached the street, Jameson made a move for her hand again, and as soon as Meg felt his fingers graze her palm, she pulled away and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. Jameson pulled his hand back, almost embarrassed, and did not comment on the interaction as Meg crossed her arms uncomfortably and made her way to her next destination.

  "I think we're just about done," Meg told Jameson as she approached the final stand. "We can head back after this."

  Jameson placed the basket on the ground and leaned over her shoulder as she pulled her hanging purse in front of her. She glanced inside for just an instant before a short boy suddenly tore his way through the crowd and snatched the purse right off her shoulder.

  Meg was about to cry out at the boy, but Jameson reached out and grabbed him by the collar while he was still within arm's length. Within a few seconds, Jameson had taken the purse back and pinned the boy on the ground, with his knee firmly in the boy's back, and holding both of his hands behind him.

  The crowd of people around him stopped walking and turned to observe what had happened. Jameson took a few deep breaths and looked up at everyone staring at him, and then hesitantly got off the boy who immediately sprung to his feet and ran off. Eyes were still on him as he turned to Meg and handed her the small purse back. Meg tucked it under her arm and then quietly said, "Let's leave."

  4. You Know How To Fight

  Chapter 4

  People were still quietly watching as Meg picked up the baskets and Jameson followed after her. Both of him hastily headed back towards the shop and away from the commotion where the people hadn't seen what had occurred.

  "What was that?" Meg asked as she looked back but no one was following them.

  "I don't know," Jameson answered. "My body acted on its own."

  "You had that boy pinned before I even realized he had taken my purse."

  "I don't know what to tell you," Jameson said. "I—was it wrong?"

  "No," Meg said. "What you did was right."

  "Why was everyone staring?"

  "It was just…surprising. That sort of thing never happens. If your purse gets taken, there's no getting it back with the crowds, and that's why everyone was curious to see it happen another way for once. Trust me, they were glad you had done what you did."

  "It didn't feel that way," Jameson admitted.

  They reached the shop and Meg opened up the door. Jameson helped her carry everything they had bought to the table and carefully began taking everything out of the basket.

  "Even though you didn't get your memory back, we did learn a few things about you today," Meg said after a few minutes of silence.

  "Like what?" Jameson asked.

  "You don't like big crowds," Meg said. "So you're probably not from Market City."

  "Maybe," Jameson agreed.

  "And the garden sparked something, didn't it?"

  "That's right," Jameson nodded.

  "And when we went into that spice shop, you recognized a few of them," Meg reminded him. "So maybe you're an herbalist."

  "Really?" Jameson questioned with a slight laugh. "That seems strange."

  "Why is that?" Meg asked.

  Jameson shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "It doesn't seem right."

  "It's just a guess," Meg said. She thought for a moment. "Of course. What about that interaction you had with the thief?"

  "What about it?"

  "That tells us something about you. You know how to fight."

  "Or maybe I just get robbed a lot."

  "Or that," Meg laughed. "But you completely disabled him in a second. I think you know how to fight."

  She put down everything she was holding and raced herself to an open spot in her store. After she rearranged some raw cloth, she urged him to follow her, and he cautiously joined her in the center of the empty space.

  "Do something," she said, backing away from him.

  "Like what?" he asked.

  "I don't know," Meg said. "Punch or kick or something."

  Jameson looked at his hands and formed them into a fist. He threw a punch out in front of him, and then smiled awkwardly. "I think anyone could do this," he admitted.

  Meg frowned and shifted her weight. "Wait here," she said.

  He waited for her as she went to the table and picked up a piece of fruit. As he watched her and wondered what she was going to do, she suddenly threw it right at him. Without thinking, he raised his hand and caught it right in his palm.

  "There, you see?" Meg exclaimed.

  "Anyone could do that too!" Jameson insisted as he lightly tossed it back to her.

  She caught it with both hands and placed it back on the table. "You're just being difficult now," she said.

  "Am I?"

  "I'm really trying!" Meg said. "If we're going to figure out who you are, you have to explore every possibility!"

  "All right, all right," Jameson said.

  "You might have been a soldier from Ailyth," Meg pondered to herself.

  "I don't even know what Ailyth is," Jameson said.

  Meg looked back at him and then shook her head. "It's the city in the north that was destroyed ten years ago."

  "I don't think I was old enough to be a soldier ten years ago."

  "Why, how old are you?"

  "I don't know," Jameson said. "Not that old, I don't think."

  "I guess not," Meg said. "Maybe you're self taught then."

  "Self taught in what?" Jameson asked.

  "I don't know," said Meg. "I'm not going to test you! I don't want to get beaten up."

  "I wouldn't beat you up."

  "I know," said Meg. "But if your body acts on its own like it did with the thief, then I'm not going to try anything around you."

  "Meg, you are the kindest person I have ever met."

  Jameson didn't even know why he had said it, but Meg seemed even more surprised. "Where did that come from?" she asked.

  "Me," Jameson answered, pointing to himself.

  "I know that," said Meg. "But it was very random." She turned away for a moment, and then spun back around. "And you can't even remember anyone else you've ever met!"

  "But I'm sure you're the kindest," Jameson decided. "I'm glad you're the one who found me."

  "I'm glad to have found you too," Meg said. "Well, that sounds strange."

  "While I was in the garden today," Jameson started. "I thought about that. You have given me so much already, and I know you're going to stay with me until I remember absolutely everything. And, Meg, I know you're going to want to be a part of my life even after I remember absolutely everything."

  "Of course," Meg said. "I wouldn't want you to just walk out of my life forever."

  "And I don't want to ever do that," said Jameson. "I want you to stay a big part of my life. So, no matter what happens, I want to k
now you until I'm an old man. And, when I can, I want to pay you back for everything you've done for me."

  "I know you will someday."

  "I will," said Jameson. "I promise."