“I’m just glad you’re all right,” he added, standing up and reaching out his hand. “You really scared me.”
He hoisted me up and we walked home. I was glad I was all right, too.
What Doc said about reactions being normal, helped. But what comforted me most was my own rationale. I figured that my conversations with Professor weren’t much different from communication within dreams in general. Everyone has dreams where they talk to people, and, of course it’s really them talking to themselves. Yet no one considers that weird; it’s completely normal. So, how was my experience any different? Why was talking to someone in my dreams such a big deal? The only difference was that my brain didn’t peg it as a dream. But Doc said that part was all fixed, and I trusted it was.
The intriguing part was trying to remember the conversations Professor and I had, and my own advice to myself. I tried to remember specifics, with little success. Mainly what I remembered was the strength and assurance Professor had given. He’d told me…no, I’d told myself to trust my heart. And I obviously wanted the chance to fight for Nick since I made sure to convince myself that some honest competition wasn’t a bad thing. And even though I knew it was a rough situation, somewhere deep inside I needed to see it through.
I guess I was mostly pleased with the advice that I believed in myself; that in the end, I would do the right thing. And I still believed I would.
Problem was, I didn’t know what was right.
*******
The next day consisted of a visit with Bob. It was a challenge explaining to him what had happened to me. Not because the story was complicated; I was hit by a car, fell into a coma, and then pulled out if it. The complicated part was revisiting how it used to be when I lived and worked at his apartment building.
As I spoke with Bob about the time I got locked inside the office, and the time the power went out in the building and I tried to reboot the master switch but accidently turned off the back-up generator instead, and then the time I successfully rewired all the telephone and cable lines in the office, I couldn’t help but think of Nick. Nick was the one who busted through the stuck door to rescue me. He was the one who fixed the generator. And when he came to the office that night to check my cable line work, he was so proud of me. As I recalled, he didn’t wait for us to get to my apartment to show just how proud—but Bob didn’t have to know about that part.
My stomach did a little flip of delight as I thought about Nick putting the moves on me. Nick was so good to me during our relationship back then. He was always there, always loyal, all mine. To fully grasp how amazing our relationship, it took a three-year separation and another girl; a life-shattering mistake on my part. To appreciate and cherish loved ones now, not when they’re gone, was another life’s lesson.
When I left, Bob said I was welcome back any time, as an employee or a friend. “It’s hard to find help like you,” he’d said.
“Thanks, Bob. That means a lot.”
Chapter 10
“New shirt?” I asked, not familiar with the light blue long sleeve that showed the definition of his lean body in a most pleasing manner.
“No. Had it for a while.”
“Oh.” Duh. Nice start to a night of erasing all those years apart.
When Nick called, he asked about my visit with Doc and then said he wanted to go out. He’d pick me up at seven on Thursday night, and that’s the most of what I knew of this evening’s plans.
Being a passenger in the black monster wasn’t anything like I thought it would be. Paige’s territory quickly and easily became mine as I familiarized myself with the comfortable bucket seats and up-to-date console.
Nick’s sidelong glance came only after I’d rolled both front windows down from the middle of the dash, tuned the radio to a good song, checked out the seat warmers, and then finally settled in. Aside from the touch-screen radio controls, my favorite feature of the truck was, without question, the heated seats.
Nope, there was something even better than the heated seats: the faint sound of Nick’s voice as he sporadically hummed to a song. As I recalled, he never realized he was doing it; it was an automatic response to his busy thoughts. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long since I couldn’t rein my curiosity.
“What are you thinking about?” I wondered aloud.
He stopped humming and considered for a moment. “How does the seat warmer feel?”
“Best invention since the mattress!” I said enthusiastically.
I was smiling, happy to see his grin, grateful the night had just begun, thrilled to be with him again, intensely aware of him.
Because the windows were half way down, we heard the sirens as soon as they started. From the side mirror I saw red lights swirling behind us.
“Were you speeding?” He never sped.
Although he lifted his hand from the wheel and glanced toward the odometer, I had a feeling he knew he hadn’t been speeding. He’d already started slowing when he responded, “No.”
From the side mirror, I watched the officer park behind us and get out of the cop car. He walked to Nick’s side with a slow, casual strut that struck me as odd and somewhat careless for a policeman. What if we were packing or something like that? This wasn’t some Podunk town like Nevada City, after all.
Nick rolled the window down the rest of the way while looking out the front.
“How are you, Nick?” the officer replied in a way that asked more than his one question.
Surprised, I glanced over the same time Nick did, taking in a uniformed officer in his mid to late thirties, blonde, nice-featured save a small curve at the bridge of his nose, and wearing a staid expression.
Though Nick’s face was turned away, I knew something wasn’t right when he didn’t answer.
The cop went on, “Do you have your driver’s license and registration handy?”
Nick chuckled. “Handy?” The tone mocked the officer, which made me even more uncomfortable. Nick went on, “Why don’t you tell me why I’m talking to you right now instead of driving.” It wasn’t intoned in a rude or disrespectful way, but it wasn’t light or jokey either.
“Where are you off to?” the cop pressed.
“That’s not your business, is it?”
Oh, great. Our first date and he’s going to spend the evening behind bars.
“Poor manners, that’s not like you.” The cop glanced past Nick and looked toward me, reaching out his hand. “Hi.”
Because there was nothing I could do but try to smooth the situation, I reached back to shake his. “Hi, I’m Heather, Nick’s friend.”
“And I’m Maxfield, Paige’s brother.”
My hand stiffened in his.
“Nice to finally meet you, Heather.”
Keeping the proper tension but starting to feel the heat of my palm, I finished the handshake and let go.
He focused back on Nick. “I stopped you because you were swerving. Have you had anything to drink tonight?”
I was pretty sure he knew Nick didn’t drink, so he was obviously being a prick, and clearly because of me.
I could imagine the look Nick was giving him: calm, with a hint of unbridled violence. “Not tonight,” Nick finally said.
“No? No drinking? Partying? What about little Miss Nevada City over there?”
“Careful, Mac.” The warning in Nick’s voice held a promise; I could tell Paige’s brother sensed it too.
“I’ll let you off with a warning.” But Nick was already starting the truck.
“I’m not finished—” We drove off like that, leaving him standing there.
The truck remained quiet for a while.
“That was interesting,” I said, capitalizing on dead air, working to refuel the weakened energy in the truck.
“He’s an interesting kid,” Nick confirmed.
“It’s only fair that he doesn’t like me,” I began to say, thinking that taking ownership would lessen the burden Nick must’ve felt. “It’s nobody’s fault.
You can’t fault him for wanting to stick up for his sister. He’s just trying to be a good brother, even if he was being a prick. If I had a brother, I’d want him to stick up for me like that. It’s what brothers are supposed to do. They’re supposed to be protective. Especially when they come across the enemy. He has every right to hate me. I’m the evil, other girl, and for all the reasons he has to think I’m—”
I stopped, aghast with a sudden suck of breath as water splashed on my face and shirt, prickling my eyeballs and drenching my arm.
“Sorry about that,” I barely registered him say as my brain sought to place blame for the water that came through the open window and was now dripping down my face.
He’d driven too close to sprinklers.
To Nick’s amusement, I was still panting from the shock of it. To my shock, he was amused.
“You did that on purpose,” I realized, yelling, suddenly deciding to yank on the side of his shirt to wipe my face.
I looked over his shoulder to see an expressionless face, and it took all my willpower not to break out in laughter. Only Nick could find sprinklers in the middle of November.
“Rude!” I pressed my face to his shoulder to wipe more wet on him.
“Should I have told you to shut-up instead?”
I mumbled through a restrained chuckle, “At least then I wouldn’t need a towel.”
When I dried off, the conversation continued, him asking questions about my family and me answering as honestly as possible, enjoying opening up about a not so enjoyable past. I talked fondly of my stepbrother Max (briefly mulling over the coincidence that Paige’s brother was also a “Max”), telling Nick that I’d have to reconnect with him and his mother somehow, online or by sending a letter. I wondered if he still played the trumpet. After all the passed time, I was worried about not recognizing him.
I told Nick the short version of my mom’s sickness, and then an even shorter version of Bill’s lovely life, the same guy he’d talked to all those years ago after I’d disappeared. I also mentioned my real father, whose last name was mine and who apparently lived somewhere in St. Louis.
Nick listened quietly, sharing his feelings through the subtlest changes in expression.
Soon we were headed up a steep, rocky canyon. Mercifully, Nick rolled the windows up this time, shielding us from the mucky terrain and mud puddles. The road grew so rugged that when I pulled the visor down to get a fuzzy out of my eye, my forehead hit the visor.
“Is this where I start to hold on?” I laughed.
“Not yet; around the corner. But I don’t suggest you start putting make-up on right now.”
Is that what Paige did in his visor mirror? I was nothing like her. “For your information, I have something in my eye, thanks to,” I cleared my throat. “you!” And then I gave him a mock smile.
That got a small rise from him. “Hold on,” he instructed as we turned a sharp corner. I gripped the handle in front of me.
“Here we go!” I hollered as the engine roared. It was a mistake to turn my face to the road. Jagged boulders stared me down, spiking up the steepest, rockiest hill I’d ever seen.
“We’re not really going up that—” My voice cut out, too wobbly from the bumps to finish. Nick responded with a wicked smile. While looking sideways; my head hit the dash with the unexpected rock that lodged under his side of the vehicle, almost rolling us over. I laughed heartily, my neck jarring up and back.
Holy earthquake, I was bouncing everywhere. And holding to the handle in front only pulled me from the safety of my seat.
I squealed in delight, yelling at the top of my lungs, “I’m going to die!”
The truck slowed, taking the next bump at a pace that didn’t jerk me off my seat.
Nick’s hand was holding to a big strap above his window that read “grab handle”. Together our heads turned to my window, where no such strap existed. “When I bought this,” he explained, “I didn’t expect to have company.”
“Is this why your jeep is always muddy?” We gradually turned another corner, this time treading over a rock on my side, tipping me into him. “Because you try to kill yourself every morning?” My hands latched to his shoulder, steadying me.
“Faithfully,” he said as he started to laugh. “You look like you’re about to pee your pants.”
“That happened a few minutes ago.”
What a rush, I thought as we arrived at our destination in safety and went to climb out. No wonder he bought a jeep; it was the perfect adventure. Scarier than any outdoor activity I’d ever done, but not scary at all with him there.
He sat atop the hood of the truck and I stood, lightly leaning against the protruding bumper.
“I like to come up here to think,” Nick said. “This is the first time I’ve taken anybody up here with me.”
“Really?” Meaning, You wanted to take me? I don’t know what to say. And then “The view’s amazing.” Meaning, You’re amazing, to have a place like this all to yourself, and then to share it with me.
“What was it like being in a coma?” The question took me by surprise.
“I guess it was like being asleep,” I said after considering his question. “I dreamt a lot. And the dreams were weird because they were my memories coming back to the surface. I guess my brain was rebelling against the amnesia, trying to remember my life.”
“It doesn’t surprise me that you were rebellious even while you slept.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that would surprise anyone who knows me,” I commented sheepishly. His eyes met mine and he grinned.
“I think the hardest part is not remembering what I was like before. I keep wondering if my personality has changed. Or if what I remember about myself is accurate.”
My whole thought process skewed when I looked over and saw his masculine body relaxed peacefully against the black monster, arms hugging over his face as if shading his sleeping eyes from the sun. Strange, as I stared at him, all of my problems suddenly lost their weight. And all my sweet imaginations and sublime daydreams melted away at the solid reality of him next to me, listening to me. At that moment I wanted to give him whatever he wanted.
“When I saw you for the first time,” he said with a muffled voice, “you were standing by the door to History class. I’ll never forget that day; after all the time that’s passed, the picture is still in my head. You were biting your bottom lip, like you weren’t too sure if you wanted to come in or not. I figured you were a new freshmen from a small town with the typical cold feet, and I almost looked away.
“But something about the energy in your expression kept my attention. It was like you were cheering yourself on, like you’d been waiting for that moment your whole life, and every part of your body was telling you it was time to jump. And then I remember watching you step into class. You got this big smile on your face. I’d never seen someone’s face light up the way yours did, and for no good reason. I remember at that moment wanting nothing more than to take that cute little stranger in my arms and protect her from all her fears.”
When he finished, he lifted one hand to rub over his forehead, but his eyes remained closed.
“I remember that day too,” I said. “I don’t remember everything, but I remember you. Doc says that some of the feelings I remember might be a little different than how I felt in real life, because in my dreams I was reliving the memories. But when I first saw you in my dreams, the sparks were flying like crazy.”
His arms lifted and our eyes met. “And how is that any different from how it really was?”
I bit back a smile, loving the way he teased.
“You know what’s weird? My grandma—well, she’s not really my grandma, she was the manager at the library where I worked in high school, but I always considered her family—anyway, she paid all my medical expenses when I was in my coma. But I just found out that she died a year before I woke up. I have no idea who paid a year’s worth of my medical bills.”
“You should ask Doctor Ad
ams. He would know.”
“That’s a good idea. I think I will. You know what else? When I think about the coma, one of the things I hate most is feeling so helpless. Not being able to do things for myself, like how my nurse had to rub my arms and legs every day, and not paying my own medical bills. I don’t think there’s anything worse than having to rely on other people.”
“Everyone has to rely on others to a certain extent. Life would suck if we didn’t need each other sometimes.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I paused for a breather. “Sorry I’m talking so much.”
“I like listening to you talk.”
“I think I’m nervous.”
That’s when he pulled up from the truck to stand, leaning his backside against the bumper. “Why? It’s me.”
“Because it’s you.”
“Come here,” he said, tugging the end of my shirt lightly and then guiding me by my waist into the crook of his legs. My hands held his sides, reminiscent of the past. He was solid as a rock—that was something that hadn’t changed. I was holding him in an intimate spot, and yet nothing near the way his hands slowly began brushing through my hair. They didn’t stop there, they moved to my face. His fingers caressed my cheek, and then ran along my jaw line in a little lazy wave. Then his knuckle went to my lips.
I tried to repress a smile, but it surfaced.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing’s funny. I just feel like smiling.”
His lips curled into a small grin. Taking my shoulders, he faced me away from him so that I overlooked the valley.
“Tell me what you see,” he petitioned.
“What?” I laughed. “What do you mean? You can see the same thing I do.”
With his hands still on my shoulders, I was slowly guided back and my body leaned into his lap. “Pretend like I’m blind and describe to me what you see.”
“Why?”
He tickled my cheek with a piece of my hair. “It’s a game,” he responded.
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