by Nina Bruhns
She'd yet to say anything to him since arriving; instead, she downed the pills and walked slowly to the farthest bed and sat on the edge.
“Your suitcase is there, if you want to shower and change.” He nodded to a large black bag.
Her things were inside it. What would she find? What kind of things did she have? She scooted over and unzipped the bag, looking inside. There were three pairs of shoes: two sets of heels and one pair of running shoes. Sweat pants sat on the top. She grabbed them with her good arm along with a white t-shirt, then went to the bathroom.
Closing the door, her head spun as she leaned against the cold door. She was having a difficult time keeping her eyes open as she showered and dressed. She refrained from using her bad arm as much as she could. Dark bruises ran up her wrist to her elbow. She'd forgotten to grab a comb and as she walked out of the bathroom, she tried to finger combed her hair.
“Here,” he handed her a large purple comb. “I thought you might need this.” He smiled at her as she sat on the edge of her bed combing her hair. He had the television on to the news. The sound was low enough that it didn't bother her head. “I ordered us some food.” He nodded towards a cart. “I'll just go take a shower.” He disappeared into the bathroom.
She was too tired to walk over to the cart and see what he'd ordered. Instead, she pulled the covers from her bed and crawled under the cool sheets.
* * *
Carter walked out of the bathroom and saw Eve fast asleep. He pulled the blanket up over her shoulder. She was still so pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. The bruise had traveled down her forehead to her cheek. She even had a slight black eye. She still wore the dark sling for her arm and had it tucked close to her body.
Gently, he brushed a strand of her wet hair away from her forehead and looked at her stitches. She'd taken off the bandages. He knew they needed replacing, but didn't think it would hurt to keep them off for one night. The cut was looking better. No signs of infection, which Laura had warned him about.
He walked over to the cart and frowned when he saw that she hadn't touched her food. She'd only taken three bites of her burger at lunch before she'd fallen asleep again. He'd been warned that her appetite might not return for a few days.
She was already on the thinner side of his liking, and he didn't think she could stand to lose any more weight. He'd just have to force her to eat a big breakfast tomorrow.
He sat on the edge of his bed and watched her for a while. He’d thought about a lot of things during the long drive while she'd slept. He had a list of things he knew needed to be done to his grandparents’ place and a list of people he needed to contact so he could cancel his meetings for the next month. There was so much he'd have to do when they made it to Rockport, including trying to track down her mother.
He leaned his head back and listened to the news while watching her sleep in the bed beside him.
The next morning, they stopped at a little diner and he ordered her a large breakfast full of her favorite foods.
She sat across from him, almost in a zombie state. She said very little and usually only nodded when he asked her questions. Again, she only nibbled on her food and when he mentioned that she could only take her medicine on a full stomach, she ate her toast and drank her orange juice.
“It will have to do for now, but you'll need to eat more for lunch.” She nodded and looked away. She'd found a pair of large sunglasses in her bag that covered most of the bruising. Her hair had been pulled back with the exception of a few strands that helped hide the scar and coloring of her forehead.
When they drove away from the diner, she rested her head against the window and was fast asleep within minutes. She woke shortly before lunch and ate a little more than she had for breakfast. After they were on the road again, she swallowed her pain pills and tried to stretch out next him in the seat. He'd pulled out one of his sweatshirts for her to roll up and use as a pillow against the window. She snuggled with it like it was the most comfortable thing she'd ever had.
He didn't know how she could sleep that long, but then remembered that the nurse had told him the pain pills would make her groggy. He'd see if she felt like she could cut back to only one pill next time.
When the countryside started looking familiar to him, he felt excitement rushing through him. He'd be glad to get out of the car and be home. They drove through Rockport just after dusk, the small town had never looked better.
He noticed a few changes to Main Street. There were a few new shops and a few that had closed down. He'd called ahead to his neighbor, Mr. Johnson, and had him stock the place with food and firewood. The old man had been a dear friend to his grandparents and had been keeping an eye on the place since their deaths.
Carter sent him a check each year to cover any expenses and a little something extra for his trouble. The old man always sent the check back to him with a kind note saying he didn't need anything and he was just helping out a neighbor.
As he drove up with Eve still asleep next to him, the headlights cut the fog and he saw the huge gray place for the first time in almost four years. His grandfather had built this place for his family when Carter’s mother had been just a child. The white trim and bright red door were in need of some fresh paint.
From what he could see, the trees and bushes surrounding the place were still neatly trimmed, no doubt thanks to Mr. Johnson. The snow hadn't let up and when he thought of the cold in the house, he shivered. Parking the car by the front porch, he left it running and rushed in to turn on the heat and start a fire to warm the place.
When he entered the house, he was happily surprised to feel heat hit his face. There on the banister was a note from Mr. Johnson.
“Thought you might get in sometime tonight. I turned the heat on and left a pile of firewood inside for you. The pantry is stocked. Your luggage from New York arrived earlier. Eve's bags are in your grandparents’ room. Yours are down the hall. I'll stop by tomorrow and check in on you both. --L. Johnson.”
They just don't make neighbors like that in New York, Carter thought, and he shook his head as he set the note back down. When he walked back out to the front porch, he could see Eve awake in the car, looking out of the window and staring at the house. Did she remember this place? Would being here jog any memories?
He looked at her through the glass and couldn't see any recognition in her eyes. Instead, she looked tired and cold.
Rushing to the car, he helped her out. “Go ahead inside, I'll grab the bags.”
She took a few steps and stood under the large overhang on the front porch and turned to wait for him as he grabbed the two bags from the trunk. When he stopped in front of her, he realized she'd put on his sweatshirt and had her good hand tucked into the large pockets, while the one in the sling was tucked somewhere under the large sweatshirt. The thing hung down halfway to her knees and looked very sexy on her with just her black leggings and boots underneath.
“This is your grandparents’ place?” She looked at him and he thought for a second that he could see the old spark in her eyes.
He nodded, not wanting to say anything and break the spell. He wanted to step closer to her, gather her up and never let her go, but instead he walked past her into the warmth of the house.
“Mr. Johnson stopped by earlier and turned on the furnace for us. Sandi and Mitch sent that luggage we talked about. I know you don't like people going through your things, but I didn’t think the three pairs of shoes you had packed would keep you satisfied for too long.” He turned towards her with a grin on his face. He was awarded with a smile from her.
“Was I that vain?” She stood just inside the door, looking around.
He laughed and set the bags down. “If I say yes, will you hit me?” He couldn't help teasing her; after all, he was home. She was here, healthy and alive, and they were together. He felt energy rushing through his veins. Somehow, the old place always did that to him. Especially when she was here with him.
&n
bsp; “You're looking more refreshed.” He walked over and flipped on a few lights. He saw her shiver. “I can start a fire down here if you want.”
“No, it's okay.” She turned and looked in towards the living room.
“Are you hungry?” He felt a wave of awkwardness hit him and for a split second and felt like a teenager on his first date again.
“No.” She walked into the entryway and stopped in front of table that held a silver frame with an old photo in it.
“Is this your family?” She picked the frame up and looked at it.
He walked over beside her and looked at the picture, frowning. There in bold colors were Mitch, Carter, and Eve sitting on the summer beach a few yards from where they stood. Their childish smiles made it very obvious that they'd just spent the day water skiing and playing in the surf. He didn't remember the exact day or what they had done after, just that it had been another wonderful day with his best friends. No doubt, they were getting ready to have a large bonfire on the beach and cook hot dogs and marshmallows over the flame while listening to his grandfather's spooky stories as his grandmother pretended to be scared. He frowned even more and thought of what he had truly lost in the back alley in Chicago. “Yes, that's my family.”
Secret Identity: Chapter Five
It took her a while to get settled in. Eve, she kept telling herself to think of herself as Eve. Even though the name was strange, she played it over and over in her head. Looking around the house, she wondered what she was doing here, in Rockport, Maine, with Carter, a complete stranger. She thought about it, and actually, everyone was a complete stranger to her, now. From all that she'd overheard in the hospital, Carter was her business partner, along with Mitchell. Apparently, the three of them had been best friends since childhood.
She sat on an overly large couch that was more comfortable than it looked, as Carter busied himself with cleaning the house. They'd arrived two days ago, but she had spent most of it asleep or lying in the large bed with the biggest headaches in the history of humans. When he came down with an armful of linens, he smiled at her.
“Sorry, it's been a while since I've been here. Mitch and Sandi stayed here last year, but I just haven't had time to visit and clean up the place.” He dumped the items on the floor and walked over to sit beside her. “Are you doing okay? You sure did sleep awhile.”
“Yes, the pain has been cut in half.” She still felt pressure on her head, but didn't want to spend any more time upstairs in the large room, alone.
“Do you need another pain pill?” He started to get up.
“No.” She reached out and stopped him from moving. “I'm fine. Really.”
“Okay.” He frowned a little. “If you feel like you need one, just let me know.”
She nodded and looked down at the photo album he'd given her. There were hundreds of pictures of the three of them, Mitch, Carter, and herself. Younger images, older ones. It seemed they were always together. She felt a little better knowing there was proof behind what Mitchell and Carter had told the hospital. They had been best friends since grade school.
“Where are my parents?” In all the pictures she'd seen, none had shown anyone whom she thought could be her mother or father. There had been an older couple, but underneath the picture it had said, “Mary and Steven Edwards.” She knew they must be Carter’s grandparents.
“Well,” he said and played with a strand of her hair. She flinched a little, and he pulled his hand away, looking down at his fingers with a slight frown. “Well, your parents live just outside of New York. I've been told your dad is out of the country at the moment.” He stood up and picked up the pile of dirty linen. “I'll just go throw these in the washer. Why don't you head up and rest a while. I'll make us some soup then you can take another pain pill.” He turned to leave, then looked back at her. “I'll keep trying to get a hold of your folks, don't worry.” He walked out, down a long hallway.
After he was gone, she slowly stood up. She still felt waves of dizziness hit her, but it was getting better. Taking the picture book with her, she made her way to the twisted staircase that sat in the middle of the house. She stood at the bottom and looked all the way up the three floors to a large chandelier that hung over the opening. By the time she got to the top of the stairs, she was a little breathless. She walked down a long hallway. Here there were framed pictures of some of the better shots she'd seen in the photo album. Her face, the one that she’d seen for the first time just three days ago, smiled back at her in most of the images, almost always next to Mitchell or Carter.
She opened the door to the master suite and looked in. She hadn't really noticed it before; her head had hurt too much. Now as she looked around she noticed that the room was large with a very big four-poster bed that sat off to one side. A huge television sat on a stand across from the bed. She set the photo book down next to it and walked into an adjoining room, which was a newly remodeled bathroom. When she walked in, she smiled at the huge bathtub. She'd taken a quick shower at the hotel on their drive to Maine, but hadn't bothered to shower since. She was looking forward to taking a long, hot bath.
When she looked across the room at the mirror, she was still shocked to see her reflection. It was hard to explain; it was like looking at a stranger who followed your every movement. The first time she'd seen herself, she’d felt a sense of relief. Not that she was vain—at least she didn't think she was—but she'd been happy that she was pretty. Very pretty.
Her dark hair had been matted with dried blood. It had been caked on her forehead as well. It had taken her almost fifteen minutes to slowly clean it off her sensitive skin. She'd actually left most of it in her hair, since trying to clean it had given her a larger headache and her vision had grayed at times. The last thing she wanted to do was faint in the shower and have someone come in and find her like that.
Walking closer to the mirror, she assessed herself now. The new white bandage was over her cut, which had apparently received half a dozen stitches. Her left arm was still in a sling and when she tried to move it, she found out why it was better to keep it on and still.
There were still a lot of questions she had about her relationships with everyone, especially her relationship with Carter, but she didn't quite know how to ask. She hadn't wanted to ask Sandi or Mitchell, so she had decided to wait and feel it out.
Walking back over to the tub, she started filling it with hot water. When she leaned over to plug it, she saw that there were jets in the tub. She was going to really enjoy this. She hit the button to turn on the jets and they made a crazy sound and a little water sputtered out. Quickly, she turned it off again. She knew that once the tub was full, the jets would help soothe tall he aches she had.
She moved over to the bathroom door and closed it, hitting the lock button. She might not know what her relationship with Carter was, but she didn't think a private bath would cause any problems.
Slowly, she removed her clothes and her bandages. She left the small white butterfly bandages over her stitches, but removed everything else. She'd been too foggy to really get a good look at her body when she'd dressed. Her eyesight had recovered a little more now and she stood in front of the mirror assessing herself. She started to slowly turn and was shocked to find a small tattoo which started at her lower right rib and went down to her upper hip. She couldn’t tell what it said, and at first she thought it was in a different language. But then she realized it was the mirror image and calculated in her mind, reversing the words until finally she realized it said, “To thine own self be true” in small fancy cursive letters. She laughed.
“If only I could.” She finished her assessment of her body and walked over to sink into the warm water. She hit the button for the jets and felt the sore muscles in her back start to relax. The doctors and nurses had told her to try and not push herself to remember, that it would come eventually.
But she just couldn't shut down her mind. At this point she had images, but none of them flashed in her head as
memories. The only steady thing so far was the sound of Carter's voice. When she heard him speak, she felt something. She wasn't sure what it was, but the first word that popped into her head was safety.
She leaned back in the tub and when her hair floated around her, she reached up and tried to scrub the rest of the dried blood from her hair. She noticed a small patch near her injury that had been cut really close to her scalp. It was small enough that she figured she could easily part her hair on the other side for a while until it grew back.
She sat up a little and grabbed the shampoo, using it to get the rest of the blood. Finally, minutes later, she felt she had sufficiently removed all of the caked-on blood from her skin and scalp. Her head hurt a little from the tugging and pulling she'd done to get it all. Resting back, she rinsed her hair and relaxed with the jets.
Her mind kept flashing back to the hospital room. What secret did Carter have that he didn't want his friends to know. She'd heard the story of how she'd been injured, at least the part when Carter had found her in a dark alley, bloody and unconscious.
How had she gotten there? Where had he been? Did he have something to do with how she'd been injured? As soon as that thought crossed her mind, she shook her head no. There was no way Carter would ever hurt her. She may not have her memory back, but she knew, just knew in her heart that that much was true. So many other questions raced through her mind.
Half an hour later, when she opened the bathroom door, she screamed and started to fall backwards.
* * *
While Carter stood outside the bathroom door waiting for Eve to get out of the bath, he thought that if he was ever going to pick up the habit of biting his nails, he would have done so then. Instead, he had paced back and forth, listening at the door. Did she know how dangerous it was for her to be taking a bath? What if she slipped and hit her head? What if she started to feel light-headed, something he'd noticed she'd done several times in the last two days, even though she never mentioned it.