The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound Book 1)

by Jamie Beck

  Ryan opened the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, and popped the tab even though he wasn’t thirsty. He was antsy, thanks to everything that had simmered beneath the surface of his interactions today.

  “Go shower, honey,” his mom instructed Emmy. “And please take all those towels into the laundry room on your way out of the kitchen.”

  Emmy’s head dropped back and her shoulders slumped before she slid off the stool. “Work, work, work, Memaw. It’s all we do.”

  Ryan spat some of the beer from his mouth when he laughed at the same time his mother replied with, “You’re practically Cinderella.”

  Good God, they were both priceless.

  Emmy dragged the bag of towels to the laundry room before she went upstairs. As soon as she was out of earshot, his mom turned to him. “How’d it go with the little girl . . . Lisa?”

  “Pretty good, although they played in the cabin more than they enjoyed the open water.”

  “That’s not surprising.” His mom waved her hand. “Everything down there is miniature, like them. Did they get along?”

  “Yup.” He probably ought to shower, too, he thought. Maybe that would wash away the itchy restlessness clinging to him like dried sea spray.

  Before he made a getaway, his mom asked, “How’d Steffi handle the girls?”

  “Like a champ. She remembered everything about sailing, too.” He smiled without thinking, realizing his mistake when his mom seized upon it.

  “So you enjoyed the day together? You two always got along so well.” She dug back into the picnic basket in search of the leftover chicken. Without meeting his gaze, she mused aloud, “Now that you’re both single and back home, who knows . . .”

  Just as he suspected.

  “You set this up from the start, didn’t you?” He waved his beer bottle toward the back porch. “There are other contractors, but you picked her on purpose. Admit it.”

  He couldn’t even pretend to be mad at this point. If anything, he should probably thank her. He would one day, just not at the moment.

  “What’s that thing you advise your clients to do . . . take the Fifth?” She cocked a brow above a sly smile.

  He shook his head. “You know what can happen when you play with fire, don’t you, Mom?”

  “There’s no warmth in life without a little fire, honey.” She surprised him by gathering him into a hug and giving him a squeeze, something she hadn’t done in quite a while. Hell, he hadn’t been hugged by anyone but Emmy in months. It felt good. It felt like home.

  “I’d better get my own place soon; otherwise, you’ll train Emmy to meddle, too,” he teased before easing away.

  “You should buy the Weber cottage when Stefanie’s done renovating it.”

  “We’ll see.” That would require money, which meant he had to deal with Val. That thought soured the taste of his beer. “See you in a bit.”

  When he reached the top of the stairwell, he overheard Emmy talking on the cell phone Val had sent her this past week. He crept closer to her room, stopping just outside her door to listen—partly to spite Val and partly because Emmy’s moods were so affected by conversations with her mom that he wanted to be prepared.

  “We played house in the little cabin. It was so cool, Mommy. There was a bed and sort of a kitchen and a little potty that Dad called the head.” She laughed. “Isn’t that funny?”

  Val probably didn’t find it funny. In fact, she probably remembered some of the stories about the boat that he’d told her in the earliest days, when he’d been drowning his broken heart in cheap beer. Back when Val had found the opening she’d needed and crawled inside, wrapping herself around him. He’d taken everything she wanted to give to heal his wounds, and for a while that had worked out for both of them.

  Emmy’s voice snapped him from that thought.

  “Yes, Miss Steffi came. She knows how to sail. She worked the jib and Daddy was steering with the . . . the tiller. Anyway, we parked by a little island. Then Miss Steffi jumped in the water and yelled, ‘Fish bait!’ She was funny, but she was freezing in there, so Dad made her come back on the boat and wrapped her in a towel.”

  Ryan brought his hands to his forehead. That overshare wouldn’t make negotiating a settlement any easier. Then he heard Emmy’s tone turn less pleasant. “No, Mommy. They’re special friends, that’s all. We can still be a family again.”

  Ryan held his breath. The plea in Emmy’s voice pierced his heart. He’d failed her. Failed at the most important job and relationship of his life. Even if or when he found love again, Emmy’s life would never be whole. Everything would be split: birthdays, holidays, vacations. And she’d always carry this wound around from Val’s choice to give Ryan full custody.

  He had to make sure he never let her down again.

  “Okay, I’ll find him,” Emmy murmured.

  Ryan heard his daughter’s feet hit the ground, so he pretended to be walking down the hallway. She came out of her room and nearly knocked into him.

  “Mommy wants to talk to you.” She was looking at him funny now. He suspected she was thinking about her mom’s insinuations about Steffi. He didn’t need his daughter quizzing him before he even understood all his feelings.

  Ryan held out his palm. “Go see if Memaw needs help in the kitchen.” Once Emmy disappeared down the stairs, he pressed the phone to his chest for a second and prayed for patience. “Hey, Val. What’s up?”

  “Sounds like you had quite the triumphant day with our daughter and your girlfriend.”

  “Steffi’s not my girlfriend. But yes, we had a great day. Why does that make you angry?” He knew why. Val was a jealous woman on many levels. After Emmy’s weekend with John went to shit, the last thing his wife wanted was to hear about her daughter having a wonderful time with him and Steffi. Had he not just heard Emmy’s deepest wish, he might revel in the small victory. But a hollow victory was nothing to celebrate, not to mention that he couldn’t afford to twist the knife if he wanted a quick settlement. “I assume you asked to speak with me for a reason. Did you want to set up another visit?”

  “I don’t know my schedule.”

  He bit back a pointed remark about her priorities. “Is this about the settlement? I’d really love to resolve things so we can both move on.”

  “I bet you would. Now that Steffi’s around, you probably can’t wait to get out of your mom’s house so you have some privacy.”

  He sat on all his righteous indignation. “What I want is to do what’s best for Emmy, and getting her settled sooner than later is best. It’s not good for her to be in limbo. She’s been refusing to make friends because she doesn’t know where we’ll land.”

  At least Val took a minute to think about that. “I didn’t know she was struggling this much. You have to keep me informed about these things, and how she’s doing at school. I want to come to parent-teacher conferences, too.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Val sighed. “I’m not trying to drag things out, but what do you expect me to live on?”

  “What do you really need? It looks like John’s taking care of you in spectacular fashion.”

  “We’re not married. If things don’t work out, I’ll be screwed. I’m looking for a job now.”

  “Really?” If she had actual doubts that things would work out with John, why the hell did she blow up the family and leave her daughter? “I thought you didn’t want custody because John wanted to travel. How will you keep a job if you’re off seeing the world?”

  “I’m applying for virtual assistant jobs with flexible hours so I can do them from anywhere as long as I have a computer. I’m good at admin.” Her defensive tone evoked a little pity. She’d put a career on hold while raising Emmy, which left her fewer options now.

  “Sounds like a good middle ground.” He hoped she took that the right way. “If I don’t demand child support, would you forgo alimony? We could split all the other assets right down the middle.”

  “You don’t think I deserv
e any alimony?” Her pained voice clawed at him with unexpected effectiveness, especially when it dropped to a near whisper. “It’s like nothing I did for you and our family had any value.”

  “Of course it had value. But if I’m willing to give up any help with Emmy’s financial support, can’t you bend, too?”

  “You never loved me.” The disheartened statement smacked him in the face like a wooden plank.

  He didn’t understand how or why the conversation had jumped there. Untangling from a ten-year-long relationship was much more complicated—and heartrending—than he’d anticipated. “That’s not true, and it’s kind of irrelevant now, isn’t it?”

  “Not to me, Ryan.” Her voice dropped again. “Not to me.”

  He could picture her now, forehead in her hand, staring blankly in that way she did when she felt misunderstood or unloved. With some shame, he had to admit that the fact he knew that pose so well said something unflattering about him.

  Ryan closed his eyes. Alimony wasn’t a measure of the love that did or didn’t exist in a marriage, but apparently it was to Val. “If you insist on alimony, then can you give me a bigger share of the equity from our house?”

  “What’s the number?” John must’ve called her from another room because she then rushed Ryan off the phone. “I’ve got to run. Shoot me an email. But don’t insult me, Ryan.”

  She hung up without waiting for him to say goodbye.

  He went into Emmy’s room and set the phone on her dresser. He couldn’t keep drifting through life, letting events dictate outcomes. He had to take control of things and make some choices. Smart choices.

  Tonight, after his daughter went to bed, he’d focus on the math he’d been hoping to avoid for the past two months so he could hammer out a deal with Val. He’d also do a little research to see if head trauma could cause epilepsy. Steffi hadn’t zoned out today, but he hadn’t forgotten Claire’s remarks, either.

  He’d let his wife down, but he could still be there for Emmy. And maybe even for Steffi.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I’m confused.” Benny reached across the table for the ketchup. He flipped the lid and drew a red circle on his burger. Behind him, yet another bug met the neon zapper. “Is this good news or bad news?”

  The sun was setting earlier now, so her dad excused himself to go inside to turn on the backyard floodlights.

  “It’s exactly what I expected.” Steffi ripped open a bag of kettle chips and poured two fistfuls onto her plate. “Nothing has really changed since my last concussion. There aren’t any growths—like tumors—to worry about, although there is a tiny bit of brain shrinkage. He said that isn’t shocking, given my history of concussions and the relative severity of the last one. I could be part of a ‘significant minority’ of folks who experience ongoing postconcussion trouble with paying attention or depression or a bunch of stuff.”

  “But what about the zone-outs?” Benny grabbed a handful of chips and cracked his beer open. “I’ve never seen one, but Claire seems concerned.”

  Steffi’s dad opened the slider and returned to the deck wearing a fraying gray cardigan. It made him look old. She didn’t like to think of him as frail, but she supposed he’d sailed through middle age sometime ago, unlike her mom.

  He took a seat in front of the plate Steffi had fixed him. “Looks good.”

  Her dad’s lack of concern about her head injuries gave her a chance to deflect the conversation. She pointed at Benny. “Thank the grill master.”

  Benny took a seated bow, then pressed her again. “Steffi . . . what else did the doctor say?”

  Her father smothered his burger in barbecue sauce and added some bacon on top for good measure. If he cared about the doctor’s opinions, he didn’t show it. He’d grown skeptical of doctors ever since her mom’s cancer treatments failed.

  “He didn’t think my description fit with grand mal seizures, but diagnosing that is tough unless I have one in front of him, because I can’t really explain what’s happening to me when they occur. I lose track of time, but I’m not convulsing or anything. He said it could be psychological, from the ‘trauma.’” She speared a pickle, resenting being seen as some fragile flower who couldn’t deal with being mugged. “He spouted off a bunch of stuff, dissociative amnesia, PTSD, yada yada.”

  Benny set down his burger and affected a playful snicker. “You need a shrink?”

  The Lockwood family did not believe in shrinks. They also didn’t believe in UFOs, the NRA, or public displays of affection.

  “No!” She glanced at her dad to gauge his reaction. “He was just throwing out every possible explanation, that’s all. That’s what doctors do when they don’t have a real answer.”

  “Yep,” her dad added.

  Benny shrugged. “Well, you did experience something traumatic. Maybe you haven’t processed it.”

  “Who are you, and what did you do with my brother? And since when did you buy into psychobabble . . . or think that I’m such a wuss that I haven’t gotten over what happened?”

  “Don’t get all worked up.” Benny licked some ketchup off his finger. “It was just a thought.”

  “A stupid thought.” She shooed a bee away. “I’m sure it’s just the shrinkage. Maybe it will get better with time, or maybe it will just be the way I am from now on. I don’t get headaches, and these lapses are annoying but not harmful.”

  “What if you’re driving when one happens?” her dad asked.

  She hadn’t considered that possibility. “It hasn’t.”

  Her dad nodded, brows low in thought. She could only assume that her answer satisfied whatever concern he might have for her problem.

  It occurred to her, not for the first time, that her own outlook on life might be different if her mom were still living. That woman had made a big deal about everything. Maybe a little too big, too often. She’d ironed every stitch of clothing in the house, including Steffi’s jeans. Those creases in the legs of her Mudds had been embarrassing at the time, but now Steffi smiled at the memory.

  It had also taken her mom two days to decorate their Christmas tree because every strand of tinsel had to be perfectly placed. Her dad, on the other hand, hadn’t bought a live tree since his wife died.

  And whenever her mom had entertained, she’d prepared multiple dishes and side dishes to ensure that everyone had their favorite food. Most important, her mom had never shied away from a deep dive into a hard conversation or hugs . . . and probably wouldn’t have run from shrinks, either.

  “One last question. Is there a pattern?” Benny asked, pulling Steffi out of her reverie. It took her a second to remember where the conversation had left off.

  “Not that I can tell. They’re sudden and brief. No headaches or puking—sorry, Dad—or drooling or anything else.” She shrugged and took another bite of her burger. Missing her mom didn’t help her situation, and neither did her brother’s interrogation.

  “Sudden?” Benny wiped his mouth, having quickly inhaled his meal. “Like they get triggered by something?”

  “Nah.” She frowned, shaking her head. “It’s completely random. Weird places, times of day, sometimes when I’m alone and sometimes while with others.”

  Benny narrowed his eyes. “There’s nothing in common—no sound or scent or anything—that sets it off?”

  “Not that I can tell.”

  “And you don’t remember anything when you snap out of it?” Benny’s scowl deepened.

  She shook her head. “It evaporates. Like when you come out of a dream, and it fades before you can make any sense of it.”

  “A good dream or a bad one?” Benny leaned forward, eyes focused on hers.

  “I don’t know,” Steffi snapped, appetite gone. She did know that those episodes made her uneasy. Often they’d made her sweaty and slightly queasy, to boot. “I told you, I don’t remember.”

  “Maybe you should see a shrink.” Benny looked at their dad. “What do you think?”

  “Steffi’
s got a good head on her shoulders.” Her dad covered her hand, even though his metaphor suggested he hadn’t been paying much attention to the conversation. “If she thinks she’s fine, she’s fine. If it gets worse, then she’ll go back to the doctor.”

  Benny rolled his eyes. Their dad had never forced his opinions on people. That trait—like most—had its pros and cons, but Steffi knew his ambivalence drove Benny crazy at work. She appreciated her dad’s faith in her decision-making, but every once in a while, she wouldn’t mind him dispensing some advice. Her mom and then Molly had given loads of it back in the day.

  “At least say something to Matt. He’s a doctor. He might have some insight here,” Benny said.

  “No way. I don’t need him to be all over me. I went to my neurologist. He isn’t jumping up and down with worry, so I won’t, either.” She stared at her brother. “Promise me you won’t go behind my back.”

  “Fine.” Benny pushed his empty beer away.

  “Now, I hate to cut our family time short, but Claire’s waiting for me. We have to finish working up a proposal tonight. I’ll run with you tomorrow, Benny. Can’t make it tonight.”

  “Just as well. I think I might’ve pulled a groin muscle last night.” He rubbed the inside of his thigh. “I should rest for a night.”

  “Or lay off hooking up with Melanie Westwood for a while,” Steffi mumbled, while tossing a crumpled napkin at his head.

  “Ha ha.” He threw it back at her.

  Their dad didn’t react to the banter. Sometimes she wondered if he even listened during these dinner conversations. She gathered her dirty dishes. “See you guys later!”

  On the way to the kitchen, she passed her favorite photograph of her mom—the one at Candlewood Lake, where they’d rented a house for the Fourth of July weekend one year. Her mom was sitting on an Adirondack chair at sunset, reading a book, with a glass of wine on the chair’s arm. Whoever took the photo must’ve said something that tickled her, then snapped the photo precisely at the best moment to capture the beauty of her mother’s laughter. Shining eyes. Pretty teeth. Dimples.

  Time was funny, the way it could slip around like quicksilver, especially when it came to grief. In the immediate aftermath of a death, the ache of loss consumes the body until you doubt you’ll ever find a reason to smile again. The intensity of that yawning emptiness fades with time but can still sneak up on you in the moments when you want to hear the person’s voice or advice. Nowadays, Steffi no longer yearned for her mom’s touch or smile on a daily basis. But today, after lying in that noisy MRI tube, facing her own mortality, she’d thought about her a lot. Her mom would push her, like Benny.