The Way You Make Me Feel

by Francine Craft

  She thought a moment. “I’m as together as I’ll ever be. Let’s stop now. Then we’ll go and move me.”

  “Anxious to leave me?” he teased.

  “I won’t be leaving you. You’re coming with me. And that makes me really happy.”

  He spread a hand on her thigh. “Anything that makes you happy makes me happy.”

  The prosecutor was in and greeted them cordially. Damien stayed with her.

  “I’m checking on your memory,” the prosecutor told her. “I won’t be putting you on the stand if it’s going to be hazardous to your health. And if you can’t remember much, it won’t be very useful. How is it coming?”

  She glanced around at the big, well-furnished office, then at Damien as she collected her thoughts. “Surprisingly well. I’m remembering far more than any of us had expected me to in this short span of time.”

  “That’s great. If I put you on, we’ll see that jurors have a chance to know how amnesia works. Victims remember many things perfectly, but not others.”

  “I’d say that in a little while I’ll have everything under control, except…”

  The prosecutor waited a minute or so before he prompted her. “Except?”

  She sighed. “There’s a crucial block of time I can’t remember, a vivid scene that fades. It comes in, then fades.”

  The prosecutor looked extremely interested. “Can you describe it more fully?”

  Stevie described the people she couldn’t plainly see and the big orange-red ball that dwindled even as she watched. “Of course Bretta was wearing an orange-red jogging suit when they found her.” A twinge of pain hit her chest.

  The prosecutor nodded. He thought a long moment before he said, “It seems to me you must have seen something important—and dangerous. Are you getting professional help?”

  “Yes, with Dr. Winslow.”

  “Good man. I’ve heard he’s a miracle worker. If anyone can help you, he can. When we’ve talked before your memory loss, you told me the things you remember and I’ve got records. Your information is really good. Do you think you still remember some of it?”

  “Yes, because I’ve thought about it. I remember so much of my life with Jake, but not all of it.” Her breath began to come a little faster. “I’m sure I remember a lot, but probably not all of the tax-evasion info.”

  “Give yourself time. October isn’t here yet. Now, since you do remember so much, I’m still going to consider using you, but you’ll be a flawed witness. I’ll talk to you often. I’d be grateful if you’ll give me a weekly report on your progress. It’s May now. We’ve got five months, and at the rate you say you’re going, I’m betting even the orange-red ball scene will come clear to you.”

  Stevie promised him weekly reports and drew in a deep breath.

  “You’re going to be one of my most important witnesses if things work well for us. Miss Evans was once Jake’s administrative aide. Was she aware of what went on with him?”

  “Yes, we talked about it. She quit some time back and told me she couldn’t stand what was going on with Murder in Your Face.”

  The prosecutor winced. “Terrible name for a record company.”

  “Jake pushes the envelope about as far as it can go. He claims it appeals to the audience he’s trying to reach. Will that be all, Mr. Mason?”

  The prosecutor smiled. “For right now. Thank you so much, and I’ll be praying for your complete recovery.”

  Stevie felt a shiver of fear then. Her complete recovery meant seeing a scene that could mean her death.

  By early afternoon, Stevie and Damien were ensconced in Stevie’s house with her housekeeper, Mrs. Patton, delighted to be back on the job again. Mrs. Patton was a buxom, middle-aged woman with lovely butterscotch-colored skin. She had four strapping grown sons and no daughters, and in the short time she’d worked for Stevie they’d become close.

  Now Mrs. Patton served Damien and Stevie a midafternoon snack of grilled-cheese sandwiches, black olives, a garden salad, oven-fried sweet potato strips and fresh strawberries. “You feeling okay?” she anxiously asked Stevie.

  “I am, but thanks for checking. How’re you? I’m so glad you could come back on such short notice.”

  “No problem. You told me I’d be coming back and that was fine with me. I’m going to make sure you’re all right.”

  “I know you will.”

  Mrs. Patton had quickly dusted and arranged fresh flowers from the garden. Stevie felt a heavy sense of foreboding as she and Damien watched General Hospital. She didn’t often watch soap operas, but this was her favorite. She thought about the threat written on the sheet of paper. Jake? Keith? Fear was her worst enemy now. It clouded her mind. Was that what someone intended to happen? And nothing frightened her more than the fear of having Damien and losing him. Or of never fully knowing the depths of his love. She wasn’t the type of woman he’d always chosen.

  She was marrying a man because they both wanted a child or children. Her maternal hunger went to the depths of her soul and she fervently prayed it would work out.

  Later, Stevie and Damien went for a walk in the woods behind her house. They stopped by a grove of muscadine and wild plum trees. The plums were turning yellow and red and would soon be ready for making into jams and jellies. But it was the muscadine grapes on vines on various trees that made the delicious wine Stevie made and favored.

  “Have you ever tasted muscadine wine?” she asked Damien.

  “As a child. It’s one of my mother’s favorites. I remember liking it. But strawberry wine’s my favorite.”

  “More than the big-time wines?”

  “Yeah.”

  Being there reminded her of her childhood and she knew then that one of the reasons she’d bought the place was because of these trees. Damien climbed the tree and got her a number of bunches of muscadine grapes which she put into a bucket she’d brought.

  “I might as well start tempting you with my good wine.”

  “You’ve got some in the cellar, you told me.”

  “I’ll open a bottle of the older stuff when we go back in.”

  “I’m feeling heady already.”

  A cloud cover had come over and it had gotten darker. Suddenly Stevie shivered and felt cold. Damien saw the look that passed over her face.

  “What’s wrong, babe?”

  She hugged herself. “I don’t know. But, yes, I do know. I saw the edge of that vision again. The orange-red ball. Just the edge. Why d’you think it comes to me now?”

  Damien shook his head. “No telling. We’re in the woods. You came out of the woods that night, but it was a long way from here. Something about this place reminds you of that woods.”

  “Yes, of course. I should have thought of that. Let’s go back. I’m really spooked.”

  Damien put his arms around her, held her close for a moment, then they started back, with him carrying the bucket of muscadine grapes. As they walked along, she walked too close to a tree and stumbled over its outgrowing roots. A spasm of fear shot through her. Had she stumbled that night? Hadn’t she? Had she fallen? Or had someone knocked her down and left her there? There was no denying the half-buried stone or the lump on her head. She could have cried with despair that she would never remember—and with fear that she would.

  At home she felt much better. Damien insisted that she sit down and he massaged her feet as they sat on the sofa. An anxious Mrs. Patton came in.

  “Now what’s going on with you? You look a mite peaked.”

  Stevie shook her head. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, if there’s anything I can do…”

  “You’re sweet,” Stevie told her, “but I really am okay.”

  Mrs. Patton eyed Damien massaging Stevie’s feet and heartily approved of him. She thought he was just what her girl needed. Her husband had died the year before and she missed the feel of his big body lying next to hers so much that sometimes she cried. She was so fortunate, she thought, to have someone l
ike Stevie to work for. It was so much fun, it wasn’t work at all.

  “Well, we’ve got lamb chops for dinner and some of your plum preserves and a whole lot of other good stuff,” Mrs. Patton said.

  “Ummm,” Damien teased Stevie. “Plum preserves. Doesn’t that mean sugar?”

  “It does not,” she saucily replied. “I make it like the Germans do and I use Splenda and a double helping of the jelling substance. You can’t tell the difference.”

  “This I’ve got to taste.”

  Damien’s cell phone rang. He answered and talked briefly. Turning to her, a broad smile lit his face. “Well, love, we’re off to Diamond Point Sunday.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “We’ll be married there. The honeymoon can wait. I’ve learned to hold back. I want to protect you as well as satisfy you.”

  He sounded so earnest and so sweet that tears misted Stevie’s eyes. “Do you know how much I want you?” she whispered. “It’s a fever in my blood.”

  He caught her close. “That makes two of us. We’ll get there and we’ll have it all. You just concentrate on remembering.”

  “What if I never do remember the crucial thing?”

  “Then we’ll just have to live with that. Listen, honey, I want to place a conference call to my family.”

  “We have time before dinner.”

  “I’ll set it up.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. I’m going to be your wife and helpmate. I can certainly set up a call for you.”

  He kissed the tips of her fingers. “I’m going to drive you crazy with kissing you every chance I get. And it isn’t fair to you or me. I just can’t help myself.” Grinning, he began to hum that old country hit, “I Want to Kiss You All Over.” And Stevie blushed all over.

  She got busy setting up the call from his address book. When it was done, there was only one family member left—his twin, Dosha. They would call her last because the time difference was such that she and her husband, Christian, wouldn’t be home until later. Damien’s mother, Rispa’s voice came on the line first. “Damien, what a lovely surprise. I’ve been thinking and dreaming about you. I dreamed you got married the other night.”

  Damien laughed. “Mom, I want you to meet someone. Her name is Stevana Simms. She’s a famous country singer and everyone calls her Stevie.”

  “Oh yes, Stevie Simms. Honey, you know how crazy we are about country music and she’s one of the best. We have her CDs. Hello, Stevie.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Steele.”

  “And say hello to Mel, that’s me,” Damien’s father cut in. “How are you, Stevie? Any friend of Damien’s is a friend of ours.”

  Damien introduced her to his two brothers, Marty, the oldest, a famous artist, and his wife, Caitlin, and to Adam, a D.C. police lieutenant, whose wife, Raven, was on assignment for the TV station where she was an investigative reporter.

  “You certainly sound wonderful, Stevie,” Marty said. “Whatever did Damien do to deserve a friend like you?”

  Stevie chuckled then. “I’m afraid the shoe is on the other foot. Do I deserve him?”

  “Okay,” Damien said, “I got you all together to tell you that Stevie and I are getting married day after tomorrow on Diamond Point.”

  “Oh, Damien, love,” Rispa cried. “We wanted to give you a big wedding. All the trimmings. But of course that’s up to Stevie.”

  Stevie thought of her own deceased mother and what she would have wanted. “This is my second marriage,” she said quietly. “I had a huge first wedding. Now I need something quieter. I can understand how you feel and I’m sorry.”

  “Darling, you do what you have to do. I’m just so happy he’s getting married, I’m crying,” Rispa assured her.

  Congratulations tumbled over congratulations. Marty said, “You rascal. You waited all this time and you got somebody worth waiting for. I’m so happy for you. I know how I’ve teased you all this time. Maybe it drove you to do something about your single state.”

  “Boy, I feel married already,” Damien told them. “You’re gonna love Stevie and she’ll love you.”

  “We already love her, son,” Mel said. “Just the fact that she’ll be your wife makes us love her.”

  Adam’s deep voice cut in, “Hey, I haven’t said anything except to offer my congratulations. Just listening like the cop I am. Bro, you’ve always had my blessings. Have you talked with your twin?”

  “Not yet. They’ll be home by the time this call is finished.”

  “Damien and Stevie,” a dulcet voice said, “this is Caitlin. You say you’re getting married on Diamond Point. You will send lots of pictures? Marty and I were there last year. Next year we’re taking our twins.”

  Stevie laughed. “I’ve heard about your wonderful twins. Damien never tires of talking about when they were in their terrible twos. I’ve seen their photos and they’re darling.”

  “Yeah,” Marty cut in. “Get started. None of us is getting any younger.”

  For a moment, Stevie drew shallow breaths. What would they say if they knew that Damien cared about her deeply, but was so shattered he couldn’t love her? What if they knew this was a marriage not of convenience, because they enjoyed being with each other and fed each other’s hunger, but that although they were good for each other, they weren’t in love? At least, he wasn’t. Her feelings for him were so deep she didn’t see how it could not be love. Somehow, she didn’t think the Steele family would understand. They seemed like a family of passionate lovers whose love ran to their bone marrow.

  They talked then of Nubian Gold and Stevie’s songs and singing. Proudly, Damien told them about the new song Stevie was writing that he was helping her with, and they were delighted.

  “Now you will be home when you get back,” Rispa said.

  “Yeah,” Damien replied. “I’ve got just one more little ax to grind after the wedding and we’ll be there.”

  “We’re putting our heads together and we’re coming up with something really good,” Mel told them. “Already my mind’s working overtime. Boy, I love you both, and now all my kids’re going to have the kind of life Rispa and I have. I couldn’t wish a better life for anyone. We can’t wait to meet you, Stevie.”

  After they had hung up, Stevie turned to Damien. “They sound wonderful. I can see where you come from. Now on to Dosha and Christian.”

  A surprised Dosha cried, then both Dosha and Christian congratulated Damien and Stevie.

  “Another celebrity in the family,” Dosha said. “We’ve got Marty and now Stevie. You sound so good, Stevie. I’ve enjoyed your CDs. We were raised on country music and gospel.”

  “Oh Lord,” Stevie said.

  She wondered what Damien’s family would think about her present predicament? Would any of the Steele daughters have married a man like Jake? She didn’t think so. She’d been young, foolish, lonely and he’d simply swept her off her feet.

  The way Honi had told Damien the island prime minister had swept her off her feet.

  Chapter 11

  “Hey, you two are full of surprises! Congratulations!”

  Jessi, Nick, Rip and Mia were at the door and Jessi held a tall package wrapped in red foil. Nick and Jessi hugged Stevie and Damien. Mia clung to Stevie’s legs, then Damien’s, and Rip was every inch the fourteen-year-old man.

  Mia stood wide-eyed and Stevie bent to her. “Love, you’re silent today. What’s with you?”

  Mia shook her head, keeping her counsel. Then she suddenly smiled and her face lit up. “I love you,” she told Stevie who picked her up and hugged her tightly.

  “And I love you.”

  Rip extended his hand to Stevie. “I’m happy for you two,” he said. Stevie grabbed him and hugged him again.

  “You couldn’t say it better when you’re twenty-five,” she told him. “How about a bite to eat? Mrs. Patton’s in the kitchen preparing all kinds of delectable things.”

  Jessi shook her head. “We ate early so we could get over here. He’s having a good spell, so we le
ft the club with Ron. We can only stay a little while, but we had to come. Oh Lord, this is the most wonderful news I’ve heard for some time.” She nodded at Stevie. “We’ll have to have some girl talk.” She thrust the package at Stevie and grinned. “We brought you some of our choice bubbly. It’s so old it probably came over on the Mayflower.” Damien and Stevie were all smiles.

  “I’ll go open it,” Damien said, and went out with the champagne.

  “You’ve got it,” Stevie said, laughing. “In fact, we’ll leave Nick with Damien and the kids and take our champagne upstairs since you don’t have much time.”

  The women stayed until Damien came back with a tray holding the champagne and glasses. They stood as Damien poured the flutes, with a little in a flute for Rip. Mia looked up at them, eager for attention.

  “Hey, I didn’t forget you,” Damien told her. “You got great Evian water.”

  Nick picked Mia up and handed her a small glass and her chubby fingers closed around it. He cleared his throat as he picked up his champagne flute.

  “My toast is that you live long in the world of happiness you now enjoy! Have a great marriage!”

  The men and kids stayed in the family room while Stevie and Jessi climbed the stairs to Stevie’s bedroom. Once there, Stevie grew serious. “We’ll talk about us getting married, yes, but I want to open Bretta’s little case and look at her jewelry. I started to do it this afternoon, but it just felt so lonely. After you called I thought I’d wait until you got here.”

  Jessi only nodded. Stevie went to the closet and got the case, put it on the bed and opened it. The light from some of the jewels sparkled as Stevie took the pieces from their chamois covers and leather boxes.

  “The sapphire bracelet you gave her for her last birthday,” Jessi said, naming some of the jewels. “The diamond studs she bought herself just as a feel-good present.” Jessi sighed. “I put her engagement and wedding rings in the bank vault, but I knew you’d want to see them. I thought I’d let you decide. All this is yours and when you get around to looking in the vault, any other pieces you’d like to have.”