Toronto Collection Volume 2 (Toronto Series #6-9)

by Heather Wardell

  I'd had a good friend. Now I didn't. I didn't remember any part of it. "But you said ECT made me forget what happened around the time of the treatments. How did I lose all those other memories?"

  He shakes his head. "When the police called earlier today to say they'd found you I called your primary doctor. He says permanent long-term damage is rare, but it is possible. He suspects you'll get the memories back but he honestly can't say why they're gone."

  Fifteen years of my life wiped away by an electric shock. I might never get them back.

  I'm too stunned and horrified at the prospect to think of anything to say, but Jake says, "Do you know why she was so depressed?"

  Ryan glances at him, then back at me. "You took your parents' deaths really hard, but I didn't know how hard for a long time. You hid it well. By the time I found out how deeply depressed you were, the drugs your doctor prescribed didn't do much and he eventually said ECT would help."

  But my parents died years ago. Why had it just come to a head? I feel sure Ryan is withholding information, but I almost don't care because I'm overwhelmed by what he has told me. Shock therapy. Unconscious. Waking up with no memories. I remember all too well how I felt that first morning with Jake. I must have felt like that after every treatment. Poor Donna.

  "You said I had a rough time with the fifth treatment," I say, wanting to know more but also scared. "What happened?"

  Ryan sighs. "Here's how you explained it after the fourth. You said it was like your mind was a house, and someone was going in there during the night and moving things around and leaving it a mess. You felt like you were tripping over your own memories and thoughts, like they weren't where they belonged. After the fifth, I reminded you of that and you said that time was more like the house had been ripped apart in a tornado. You're too organized to be able to tolerate that. You like things in a row."

  Part of me is aching for my other self, but I can't stop myself saying, "Like my tattoo."

  Ryan's eyes widen and Claire, who I will never call Mom, says in shock, "She has a tattoo? Why did you let that happen?"

  "It's just a few ducks on her thigh," Jake says. "Big deal."

  His words don't calm Claire and they also enrage Ryan. "How do you know? Checking her out naked?"

  "I told him," I say before Jake can give whatever reply he's considering behind that angry expression he's wearing. "I asked him if he knew about it because I didn't!" He did see me naked that first morning, but I don't think this is the best time to share that information.

  Ryan calms down, but Claire says, "Why on earth did you let her get a tattoo?"

  "Mother, I didn't let her. I paid for it." He holds up a hand to silence the outraged response she's trying to make. "It was a joke, between us. That's all. A private joke."

  But he doesn't seem amused by it. I want to know why I got tattooed as a joke, and why ducks, but I add it to the growing list of things I'll ask my husband later.

  My husband. I'll also have to ask him how we got married. Did he get down on one knee to propose? Did I cry? Who were my bridesmaids? Did I even have any? Do I have any friends? Other than the one who moved away who I can't remember. Do I have a job? Am I any good at it? Hobbies? Favorite movies? A car? Did I ever learn how to drive?

  All the things I don't know hit me at once. I thought I'd get answers when I found out who I was, but all I've got is even more questions.

  I can't take it.

  I push back my chair and flee.

  Chapter Eleven

  Even as I bolt, I wonder who'll come after me. I didn't deliberately take off to test Ryan and Jake's loyalty to me, but it might turn out to be interesting. I can already tell Claire would only follow me in the hopes she'd see me get hit by a bus.

  I slow to a walk almost at once, knowing I can't run away from all this even though I want to, and in a few moments Jake catches up to me. A flash of disappointment hits me, but I suspect I'd have been equally disappointed if Ryan had chased me and Jake hadn't.

  "Kate, come on. You have to deal with them."

  "I know. But I hate her," I say. "And I don't know him at all."

  "Well, I have to agree about her," he says, giving me a half-smile. "She's the poster girl of bitchy in-laws. But he doesn't seem that bad."

  "But I don't know him."

  My voice comes out as a wail, and he puts his arms around me. I burrow into his chest as he says, "I know. I can't imagine how this feels to you. But I really think we should go back there and find out a little more. Okay?"

  "No," I mumble, but I know he's right. "Fine, let's go."

  He leads me back with his arm wrapped around my shoulder but releases me when we meet my husband, looking sad and worried, at the Starbucks door.

  "I'm sorry, Donna, I was pushing you too hard. You don't need to know everything right now."

  I frown. He doesn't get it at all. "I do need to know. That's the whole problem. I know less now than I did before you showed up."

  "I'll tell you anything you want to know," Ryan says, but somehow I can sense that he's already deciding what he'll keep from me. Maybe he's never been honest with Donna either. Is that why she ran?

  He starts back inside but I catch his arm. "Wait. Do I really call your mother Mom?"

  He gives me a half-smile. "You don't call her anything. Once or twice you've written 'Mom' on a gift tag or something, but mostly you just avoid the issue."

  I try to smile back but I don't like this. Donna's hiding instead of dealing with her problems. That's not a good way to live. I need to fix it for her, for me.

  We head back inside, to the table where Claire sits alone looking unimpressed. When we reach her, she puts on a fake smile and says, "Come sit down beside Mom, Donna. I'll take care of you."

  With a hacksaw, if the coldness in her eyes means anything. I return to my original seat across from her and say, "I'm going to call you Claire, if you don't mind. I'm an adult, and so are you, so we don't need the Mom thing. Okay?"

  Ryan drops into his chair like his knees have given out, and Claire says, "Well, if that's what you want, dear. I just thought it would be nice for you." She sniffles like she's struggling not to cry. I don't buy it for a second. "But of course, if you'd rather not..."

  I give her a smile even more fake than hers. "Thanks so much for understanding. I appreciate it." Turning to the still stunned Ryan, I say, "Okay. So I left because I didn't want any more treatments. What happens now? I'm not at all sure I want to try again."

  He takes a deep breath, clearly pulling himself together, then nods slowly as he lets it out. "I'd feel better if you didn't try, to be honest. They warned us about short-term memory problems, and we agreed at the time that you no longer being depressed would be worth those, but this goes far beyond that."

  "Fifteen years beyond," I agree.

  "At this point, the doctor seems to think we try therapy and some anti-depressant drugs you haven't tried before, in the hopes that the ECT will have taken care of enough of the depression that those treatments will fix the rest."

  "Is that likely?" Jake puts in.

  "He thinks so. He's also got a therapist all set up for her in Ottawa, so we'll go back on Sunday after she wraps things up here then on Monday she can--"

  "Wait, what?"

  Ryan turns to me, eyebrows raised, and his confusion and surprise annoy me. "When did I say I was going back to Ottawa with you?"

  Claire gives her disgusted sniff again, but Ryan and I ignore her. He says, "I guess I assumed you would."

  I have the feeling Ryan may have assumed a lot of things about Donna and what she would and wouldn't do. He's not going to get away with that with me.

  "I'm not comfortable with that, Ryan. For me, we just met today. I don't even know how long we've been married--"

  "Six years," he puts in.

  "Okay, but that's not the point. I need to get to know you before I can go to Ottawa."

  "He works, Donna," Claire says before Ryan can speak. "He can't b
e here with you."

  "But I can be on the weekends," Ryan says. "And I will, if that's better for you." He digs in a pocket and pulls out a small green leather pouch. "Your credit cards are in here, along with your drivers' license and health card. I guess you shouldn't drive given the situation but at least now you have ID. We'll get you a short-term apartment so you have a place to live and I'll visit you every weekend."

  "She can live with me," Jake says firmly, but even as he and Ryan glare at each other I have to say, "I think Ryan's right. I should have my own place." Staying with Jake won't exactly make it easier to get to know my husband.

  "On Ryan's money," I hear Claire mutter.

  Before I can respond Ryan says, "Mother. First of all, I don't care how much money it costs to make Donna happy. Second, and you know this, it's more than half her money anyhow."

  Claire mumbles something I can't hear and fiddles with her tea cup, and I ignore her and say to Ryan, "Why do I have money?"

  "You run a public relations firm in Ottawa, with branches in Toronto and Montreal," Ryan tells me. "Most of your clients are movie stars and singers and models, and you've got a three-year waiting list for new clients."

  I glance at Jake and he smiles at me then says to Ryan, "We thought she was a CEO. She helped my friend with a business plan and was amazing at it."

  Ryan nods. "She's got a real head for numbers. If the PR thing hadn't worked out I know at least three business owners who'd hire her without a second thought." He looks at me and says with perfect sincerity, "You're the smartest person I know, Donna. Always have been."

  My throat tightens. There's something in the way he says it, like he's apologizing for some insult I can't remember, that touches me.

  Jake doesn't seem to appreciate the comment as much as I do and he turns it around on Ryan. "She must be smarter than you, anyhow. How come you couldn't track her to Toronto? Especially if she has an office here. Wasn't it obvious she'd come here?"

  Ryan gives Jake a cold look. "As I said, we didn't think she had any personal ties to Toronto. There's an office here, yes, but they're hardly her friends."

  "Plus she faked that ticket."

  I turn to Claire, surprised, and Ryan sighs. "Thank you, Mom. Yes, that's true." He says to me, "You forged a plane ticket to Vancouver where your college roommate lives, half-printed like it had gotten stuck in the printer, and left it in the recycling box. It looked real. Once I got the police involved they had to get the airline to cough up the passenger list, and then we knew you hadn't really gone to Vancouver but had no idea where to look for you next." He sighs. "You love watching CSI, and before the depression got too bad you often joked about setting up the perfect crime. I think you took everything you learned from the show to plan your escape. You didn't want us to know where to look."

  I think he's right, and it makes me feel cold and small. I worked hard to get away from him. But he seems so nice.

  "You even used a fake name with me," Jake says softly.

  I nod and tell Ryan how I met Jake, although I leave out the 'making out with strange men at the bar' and 'naked in Jake's bed' parts of the story, ending with, "That first morning, Kate didn't feel right, but I guess having been hit in the head confused me enough that I took it as my real name since I was calling myself that."

  Claire says, "Why did she go by Kate, do you suppose, Ryan?"

  I look at him and realize he's gone pale. He clears his throat and says, "No idea."

  I'm not buying that, but he distracts me by pushing over the green leather pouch. "Oh, and your phone's in there too."

  I unzip the pouch and my face breaks into a grin as I pull out an iPhone, newer and fancier than Jake's.

  Jake laughs and tells Ryan, "She's been desperate for one of these."

  He smiles, although he still seems uncomfortable. My choice of name seems to be affecting him, but maybe he's just thinking about how carefully I planned my escape. "I'm not surprised. She never went anywhere without it."

  I power it up and flick through the screens to see what I've got installed. Almost nothing. Mostly the basic applications plus a game called 'Bubbly Words'.

  Ryan glances over my shoulder. "You never played that, but you said you couldn't be bothered to remove it."

  I tap the game's icon and it produces a list of tons of saved games I can choose from. I show it to Ryan. "Looks like I did play it."

  The poor guy looks like he might cry. "You said you didn't bother with it."

  Nobody speaks. It's so obvious Ryan didn't really know his wife that not even Claire feels the need to point it out.

  Eventually Jake clears his throat. "Kate-- Donna, I mean, is welcome to stay with me tonight if she wants. It's late and finding an apartment now won't be easy. She can stay as long as she wants, of course, but if you're still around tomorrow, Ryan, you two can find a place then."

  I realize I could just as easily stay in a hotel tonight. Jake's trying to keep me with him one more night. But Ryan says, "Your place is familiar to her so that's probably good. And then we'll go apartment hunting tomorrow. Thanks, Jake. Thank you for taking care of my wife."

  He emphasizes the last two words and Jake hears it, as he's meant to. "My pleasure," he says, keeping his voice so neutral that it somehow suggests he's hiding something. Which he is. Me half-naked in his arms begging him to keep going.

  The knowledge that something happened between me and Jake flashes through Ryan like an electric shock flashed through me at my treatments. I see it go, burning him as it moves, and I can't let him suffer. "Jake's been a great friend," I say. "I'll stay there tonight and pack up my stuff and then meet you tomorrow morning. How about right here at nine?"

  Ryan nods. "Mother sleeps in, but I'll be here."

  Claire looks like she'd be willing to get up early this once but I'm thrilled at the idea of not seeing her.

  Jake says, "Is there anyone she should call tonight? Her best friends or whatever, so they know she's okay?"

  Ryan takes a sip of what must be ice-cold coffee by now.

  Oh, dear. "No?"

  He shakes his head slowly. "You have lots of work associates, of course. Other CEOs and so on. But you didn't see them socially, and they'll just assume you were busy with work. And you have people you work with for the charity, but--"

  "What charity?"

  It seems harder than it should be for him to answer. "Teen abstinence."

  "A worthy cause," I say, wondering why he's so bothered.

  "Definitely." He clears his throat. "But honestly, you don't have any really close friends. You just prefer to keep to yourself."

  Jake and I exchange surprised glances and he says, "But you got to be friends with my friends so quickly, especially Hannah. Weird."

  "Things are different in Ottawa. She has tons of work keeping her busy."

  Jake seems about to point out that even busy people can have friends, and while he's right I don't think it needs to be said. "Well, that's okay. Working is good, I guess. So I'll see you tomorrow at nine?"

  Ryan nods. "My cell number's in your phone if you need anything."

  We all stand up, and Ryan and I look at each other awkwardly. Should we hug? Kiss? Shake hands?

  In the end, he gives my shoulder a squeeze. "Take care, Donna. I'll see you tomorrow."

  I want to say, "Kate, not Donna," but of course I can't. I am Donna.

  Even though I have no idea who she is.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jake and I barely speak as we return to his apartment. The whole trip home, I can still feel Ryan's eyes burning into my back, like I did as I walked away from him with Jake beside me, and it doesn't make me feel like chatting.

  Jake seems just as preoccupied, but once we're inside, safely in the only home I remember as an adult, he turns to me and says, "How are you?"

  I make a sound that's like a laugh with all its humor amputated. "I don't know."

  "Yeah. I can imagine." He looks at me a moment then tentatively opens
his arms to me.

  I probably shouldn't, but I step forward and wrap my arms around him as he cuddles me close.

  His hand slides over my hair, but it's a sweet gesture not a sexy one. Even my limited experience makes that clear, and if it hadn't his next words would have done the job. "I don't think I'm going to get to be your first remembered time."

  On one level it's weird that he's pointing it out, but I get it too. He doesn't want me to wonder what he's thinking.

  "I guess not," I say, then realize something.

  I don't have to go back to Ryan.

  Yes, we're married. Before I left he told me he'd brought our wedding album to Toronto at the cop's suggestion and would show it to me tomorrow. I both want and don't want to see it. I'll be so disappointed if it doesn't bring my memories back.

  But marriages end up all the time, for far worse reasons than 'I don't remember anything about you'. Everyone's assuming I'll troop obediently off to Ottawa eventually but I have the power to say no to that.

  But I'm not ready to say no, not until I know more about Ryan and about my other self. I'll learn about him tomorrow; tonight is about Donna.

  Jake smoothes my hair again and says, "So, what do you want to do tonight?"

  "Play with my phone, of course."

  We both laugh and he releases me, but I'm not joking. "I need to know why Donna left and who she is. I bet some of that's in the phone, and in the pouch Ryan gave me."

  "Could be. Well, do you want help or should I sculpt while you check it all out?"

  I look up at him and my throat tightens. "Jake, you've been so amazing to me. I can't thank you enough."

  He gives me a sad smile. "You have thanked me. By helping Hannah, and by encouraging me to do more with my sculptures, and also you've said thank you about a thousand times since Hannah called you on it. So I think we're good."

  Our eyes lock, and I know he wants to kiss me. I want him to.

  But we both pull away at once.

  He shakes his head. "Go sit on the couch where I can't reach you. You're too cute for your own good, Donna."