August Unknown

by Pamela Fryer

  His guilt tripled. Before he could find the terms to argue that a seven-year-old would understand, Jocelyn turned back to the woman and took a sideways step to the head of the bed.

  “My name is Jocelyn Tanner.” She stepped onto the lower bar of the guard rail and pulled herself up so she could see better. “I live with Uncle Geoffrey and Grandpa Duke because my mommy and daddy are getting a divorce. Last night we had a really big storm and Uncle Geoffrey and me were going to get my Gran Millie. She lives at the wharf on top of the Mirthful Mermaid. We thought she would be safer if she came home with us because our house is on a hill and the wharf shops always get flooded in really bad storms. We didn’t mean to hit you.”

  Geoffrey wanted to pull her away, but Jocelyn had captured the woman’s attention, and stopped her tears.

  She gave a hesitant nod. “I know you didn’t mean to do it on purpose.”

  “Twelve years ago a real bad storm came and washed a bunch of people out to sea. That was before I was born, but my grandpa says it was real bad.”

  The woman’s gaze drifted away, as if Jocelyn had jogged something in her memory.

  “I’m seven,” Jocelyn continued. “But I’m small for my age ’cause I was born too soon and I got sick a lot when I was a baby.”

  “Well you sure grew up...” the woman sniffled, “to be very pretty.”

  “No I didn’t!” Jocelyn shrieked adamantly. A hint of a smile trembled on the woman’s lips.

  The nurse returned with a paper cup containing two pills. She handed them to the woman and poured her another cup of water.

  “Thank you,” she said in a thin voice.

  All Geoffrey could do was stand there, staring like an idiot. His oldest brother Justin would have something witty to say, making everyone in the room chuckle. All David would have to do was flash one of his charming smiles to make the tension dissipate. Geoffrey was usually the one to cause that tension, and today was no different. Actually, this was the worst it had ever been, but still classically Geoffrey.

  Running a woman down with his car would certainly be the coup de grace to his social life.

  She swallowed the pills and turned back to Jocelyn. “How do you manage to grow all that hair?”

  “I hate my hair,” Jocelyn returned shrilly. “I wish it was soft like yours.” She reached out and touched a lock of the girl’s platinum hair where it fanned over her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” Geoffrey said. “Come on, Jocelyn.” He pried her off the bed frame and stood her on the floor.

  “Don’t go, please,” the woman said, stopping him. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  He felt as if someone had opened a faucet and let warm water trickle over him. Geoffrey shifted from one foot to the other, searching for something to say to end the aching silence. He wasn’t witty or charming, and knew he should probably keep his mouth shut.

  But common sense had never been his strong point, either.

  “I’m Geoffrey Barthlow. Geoffrey with a G.” G, for Geek. “I meant what I said. I intend to pay for your hospital bills, and whatever else you need.”

  “Thank you.” She blinked slowly and her eyelids drooped.

  “Is there anything I can get you?” He moved closer, setting a hand on the railing. This much closer to her, he realized an entirely new level of beauty. She had the perfect features of a movie star. As her gaze drifted to something across the room, he studied her flawless complexion and the unique flecks of gray in her pale blue irises. All at once, he felt like an intruder. He stepped back again.

  “A toothbrush would be nice.” Already the painkillers had softened her voice.

  “Let’s continue on this paperwork before you drift off again.” Nurse Barnes took her clipboard and sat in the guest chair. “For now we’ll call you Jane Doe.”

  The woman’s eyes flashed open. “No, please. I don’t like that.”

  Nurse Barnes pursed her lips and leaned back in the chair. “What would you have us call you, then?”

  “We could call her August,” Jocelyn suggested. Everyone looked at her, and her cheeks turned pink. “What? I have a friend named April and a friend named June. August is a name, too, you know.”

  “But it’s not her name, honey,” Geoffrey said. Jocelyn was acting like she needed a nap. She’d probably slept as fitfully as he had last night.

  “How do you know?” she argued. “She was born in August. It might be her name.”

  Another silence reigned. Even the woman’s attention was caught.

  “Your birthstone,” Jocelyn explained. She touched a fingertip to the patina stone in the delicate gold ring the woman wore on her right hand. “Peridot is my birthstone, too.”

  “August.” She yawned. “I like that better than Jane Doe.”

  “August it is, then,” Nurse Barnes said. “August Unknown.”

  * * *

  Geoffrey returned to the hospital that afternoon with a new toothbrush, a plush velvet robe, and a cheerful floral arrangement of yellow daisies.

  August was awake and staring across the room at the window. Afternoon light flooded through, bright and warm. She turned and saw him as he entered. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she tucked away a damp tissue.

  “Hi,” he said stupidly.

  He suspected he was imagining it, but her smile seemed genuine when she saw the flowers. “Hi. Geoffrey, right? With a G.”

  He groaned silently and heat rushed into his face.

  But her smile only grew. “Are those for me?”

  “Actually, they’re for her.” He gestured to the sleeping woman in the next bed. “I thought she’d like them.”

  August actually laughed. “I’m sure she’ll love them.” She tried to hide her bashful smile. It made her absolutely enchanting.

  “Do you think she’ll like this? I know how those hospital gowns are drafty in back.”

  He opened the gift box and held up the royal blue robe. When she saw it, her face filled with amazement. “So generous. I think her husband will get jealous.”

  Husband. The word hit him like a punch in the gut. What about your husband, August?

  Since leaving this morning with Jocelyn, mysterious August Unknown had filled his every thought.

  He’d gone out to talk to his brother-in-law at the sheriff’s office, and then to visit his grandmother at the Mirthful Mermaid.

  He’d hoped Gran Millie would say just the right thing to ease his conscience, but he should have known she’d be angry instead. She wasn’t a child who couldn’t take care of herself in a little storm, and if he’d stayed at home where he should have been, this wouldn’t have happened. By the time he’d left, his guilt was burning hot and bright.

  He’d driven home through Newport, intending to get some work done in his home office for a while, but had only made it as far as Le’gante Boutique for the robe before turning around to come back. He’d thought about the flowers on the way, and stopped at Everlasting, the exclusive florist who’d done his sister’s wedding. He didn’t want to show up with hospital gift-shop flowers.

  Now he felt ridiculous. How could he be such a fool? He glanced to the door, wondering if an angry husband would come bursting through, eyes blazing, clawed hands reaching for Geoffrey’s throat.

  “Actually, I did get you something.” He set the toothbrush on the food tray jutting over the bed.

  “You know just what a girl wants.” Her expression grew somber. “This is all very nice, but you really shouldn’t go to so much trouble.”

  He moved closer and placed his hand on the dull beige railing. “You’ve been crying again.”

  She glanced away. Those summer-sky blue eyes paled as they caught the sunlight flooding the room. They held such sadness he felt himself shriveling up inside.

  “I’m frustrated,” she said. “Frustrated that I can’t remember a thing. Frustrated that I can’t use my left arm. Frustrated that I have to lie here in this bed, not knowing what happened to me, or why.” August made a fist
with her right hand and hit it against the mattress. She winced in pain and closed her eyes.

  “Do you want me to get the doctor to give you something?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t like what they gave me. It makes me feel dopey.”

  “I can talk to him about something different—”

  “No. The pain makes me feel more alive.” She sighed and relaxed the scowl in her brow. “I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time dealing with the fact I can’t remember my own name.”

  He nodded and glanced down, fighting for something to say to help ease her grief. He couldn’t think of a single thing. There was nothing that could lessen what he’d done.

  “What’s this you’re writing?”

  She turned the paper toward him. “They sent a psychologist up to see me. She suggested I write letters and numbers to see if they go anywhere, like a phone number or zip code.”

  “The police can run a sequence of numbers to see if they match a street address,” he told her. “The sheriff is my brother-in-law. I’ll ask him to give your case special attention.”

  He looked up to find her watching him. “Do these look like anything you use here?” she asked.

  Geoffrey didn’t have the heart to crush the hopeful look in her eyes. Newport’s zip codes started with a nine, and most of the area codes started with a five. The woman in the next bed moaned in her sleep, sparing him.

  “I spoke to Dr. Carlson about moving you to a private room,” he told her. “I’ll take care of the costs.”

  “It’s not necessary. They’re letting me go in two days. They’d let me go tomorrow if I could remember where I live.”

  “I thought you’d be more comfortable in a private room.” In his heart he knew it was irrational—she was only being polite—but he felt as though he’d just been rejected.

  “I need to stay with people,” she explained. “Mrs. Thornton and I were talking after you left this morning, and I remembered little things. Nothing I could put my finger on, but crumbs were there.”

  She gave that pitiable smile he’d seen too many times before. The I just like you as a friend look.

  The guilt that had been growing in him felt like steadily rising water. Now it felt like it was about to go over his head. “I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through. I want to do whatever I can to help you. This is all my fault—”

  “Stop saying that.” She placed her hand over his where he held the rail. He looked down to see her slender fingers curling around the knuckles of his hand. When he looked up and met her eyes, she drew it away. A cold spot was left where she’d touched him.

  Her eyes clouded over with something dark. “I’m not so sure it’s true. What was I doing there in the first place?”

  He didn’t know what to say to that.

  “You said it happened near vacant fisheries,” she pressed. “What was I doing out on a dark road in the middle of nowhere, after ten o’clock at night, in a storm?”

  “Are you saying you think there might have been foul play involved?”

  She closed her eyes and pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know what I’m saying. But I have a strange feeling I can’t get past.” She leveled a determined gaze on him. “Why hasn’t anyone reported me missing?”

  “I may have the answer to that.” Officer Gaffney stood in the doorway holding a folder. Geoffrey knew his brother-in-law well enough to recognize the solemn look on his face as bad news.

  * * *

  The sight of a uniformed officer made August’s heart kick against her ribs. Geoffrey seemed to recognize the man. He stepped around the bed and offered a handshake to Geoffrey.

  “Heard you had a bit of an accident last night. What in damnation were you doing out in a storm like that?”

  “I was after Gran. Jocelyn wanted her to come home with us.”

  “I think Leah’s better off not knowing Jocelyn was in the car with you,” the officer warned.

  Geoffrey held up both hands. “She won’t hear it from me.”

  “You must be Geoffrey’s brother-in-law.” August hoped the sheriff was here as a friend to Geoffrey and not on some grim, official business.

  “This is Mike Gaffney, Sheriff’s Department Investigator. Mike is married to my sister, Paige.”

  The officer gently shook her good hand. “Dr. Carlson tells me you took a nasty bump on the head and can’t remember much.”

  August nodded, fighting a sudden stinging of tears. She took a deep breath.

  “Don’t you worry. I’ve seen it before and it always passes. I’m sure it’ll all come back.” He craned his neck to look at the paper on the meal tray. “I see Dr. Lohman gave you a homework assignment.”

  “She’s been writing numbers in case something comes out naturally, like a phone number or address,” Geoffrey told him.

  “May I?” Officer Mike picked up the paper. “These don’t look like local prefixes or area codes, but I’ll run them through my database.” He folded it up and placed it in his pocket. “Is there anything at all you can tell me, even something simple, like a hobby that interests you, or a favorite food?”

  August’s frustration came barreling back. “Favorite food? How in the world is that going to help?”

  Officer Mike twitched his bushy mustache. “You might be surprised.”

  “Sure,” she snapped. “I like the white clam chowder better than the red.”

  The men glanced at each other.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I know you’re just trying to help.” She sighed. “Actually, I like them both.”

  Geoffrey smiled and August couldn’t help but smile too. There was something comfortable about his face that made her feel safe. Though he was a virtual stranger, she was glad he was here with her during the officer’s questioning. All day, a dark and frightening presence had been lingering in the shadows of her mind, and in a strange way she couldn’t quite identify, the officer’s appearance made it worse.

  Good God, I wasn’t a criminal, was I? She shuddered before she could stop herself. The nagging ache in her arm spiked.

  “I’ve been trying to picture a house, but I can’t see anything,” she told them. “I have to have lived somewhere, didn’t I? I feel like I’m reaching through a dark doorway for something to grab onto, but there’s nothing there.”

  A long moment of silence hung in the air. Dr. Lohman had explained there was no cure for amnesia. No one knew how to help her. She was desperately alone.

  Officer Gaffney laid a manila folder on the tray. “Last night a sailboat sank off the coast, near Astoria.”

  As though someone had opened a furnace, a blast of heat struck August. Behind the two men, the room drifted away.

  “Three people up on deck trying to keep her afloat were washed overboard. There was one survivor, an older woman who didn’t know how to use the radio. The Coast Guard found the boat adrift, partially submerged this morning.”

  “And the three people?” She hardly found the strength to ask.

  “The bodies of two men were found this morning. A woman matching your description is still missing.”

  The room began to spin. August’s stomach churned.

  Officer Gaffney flipped open the folder and sorted through until he found an eight-by-ten photo of a young woman with shoulder-length blond hair. “According to the grandmother, this photo is quite old.”

  “That isn’t August,” Geoffrey said.

  She breathed out her fear in a whoosh, relieved and at the same time strangely disappointed.

  “August?” Officer Gaffney passed a quizzical glance from one to the other.

  “I didn’t like the name Jane Doe. I was born in August—at least we think so. Jocelyn figured it out.” She held up her right hand. “My birthstone ring is a peridot.”

  “Well, Miss August, I can’t say this is bad news. It’s never pleasant to notify someone they’ve lost a relative.”

  “I’m glad it isn’t me, too.”
She chewed her lower lip, trying to force back tears. Though the two dead men weren’t related to her, the tragic news still made her ill.

  “There is something I remember,” she volunteered hesitantly. “Though I don’t know how it will help you.”

  They both looked at her with expectant expressions. She let her gaze drift over the photo of the missing woman. “This morning when I looked at myself in the mirror, I wasn’t surprised to see what I looked like. I recognized myself.”

  “That’s a good sign,” Officer Gaffney told her. “You’ll probably recognize other people and things you know, too. It’s just a matter of time, and getting you up and out of this bed.”

  “When you’re released, I’ll be happy to take you wherever you want to go.” Geoffrey smiled sheepishly. “If you trust my driving.”

  “That might not be necessary,” Officer Gaffney told them. “I’m going to take a thumbprint and run it through the Department of Motor Vehicles. There’s a good chance we’ll know your real name before you’ll need to.”

  Worry sat like a lead ball in her stomach, but August allowed him to take her print. She didn’t know why, but the thought of discovering her identity before she remembered what happened to her sent needles of ice prickling up her spine.

  Chapter Four

  August toyed with her food—a strange concoction that was supposed to be stew—until it was so congealed the mystery chunks no longer slid easily across the plastic dish.

  She couldn’t get over the uneasiness that had started her insides quivering when the sheriff said he was going to run her thumbprint through the DMV database. In the back of her mind, fear lingered. Was she a criminal on the run? A frightened wife fleeing an abusive husband? She looked down at the faint tan line on her wedding finger.

  “Not hungry?”

  She looked up to find Geoffrey in the doorway. She hardly knew him, but already the sight of him gave her a thrill. His comfortable smile and timid charm almost seemed to ease her aches and pains.

  He was handsome in a unique way. The things she liked about him weren’t the typical things she suspected women observed in attractive men. He had a nice physique and the toned body of a man who exercised, but she admired the kindness in his smile that reached all the way to his eyes, and the graceful lines of his strong hands. He possessed the same thick blond curls Jocelyn did, and probably found them just as unruly. His brows and the clipped beard he kept trimmed into neat lines were darker brown which, contrasting with his blond hair, gave him a sun-bleached, surfer look. His eyes were a rich, cocoa brown that made her want to smile when he gazed at her warmly. The mint green polo shirt and faded denim jeans he wore today added to the casual flair of a man who was confident of his looks.