August Unknown

by Pamela Fryer

Chapter Five

  The minute August stepped through the front door of Geoffrey’s lavish beach home, she knew she was unaccustomed to this level of luxury.

  The immense house sat alone on a narrow street on the beach side of the coastal highway, at least a half mile from any neighbors. It was built into the rough cliff face, staggered right down to the sand. The outside was painted a very pale blue that almost blended into the hazy sky. With a driveway that sloped downward, only part of the roof was visible from the street. A wood fence painted ocean blue, and expertly placed juniper, pine, and ice plant further aided its chameleon-like presence within its environment.

  Several steps down from an elevated foyer, the spreading living room boasted an entire wall of windows looking out over the ocean. Plush leather couches and elegant accent pieces contrasted with the white pile carpet. Enormous abstract paintings in muted colors reached high into the vaulted ceiling on each side of the elegant room, complimenting the spreading view of the dunes and sea.

  The sky had turned overcast before they’d left the hospital, and now a blanket of gray hung over the ocean, swallowing the line where sea met sky.

  “You have a beautiful home.” August felt out of place, a little like Cinderella at the ball.

  “It’s my dad’s,” Geoffrey told her as he closed the door behind her. “The whole family uses it as a getaway. We all meet here for birthdays and holidays.”

  Geoffrey had a large, happy family who enjoyed celebrating together. Why did that seem foreign as well?

  She followed him down the connecting hall to the right and into the massive, galley-style kitchen that opened to a formal dining room perched above the immense living room. The entire house was masterfully designed on staggering levels, worthy of a House Beautiful magazine spread.

  A wrap-around deck appeared to stretch the entire ocean side of the house, the lower half of its railing covered with Plexiglas to ward off the cold Pacific winds.

  August walked through the dining room to look out the windows. About two miles away, a gleaming white lighthouse tower stood on a jutting point.

  “That’s Yaquina Head, Oregon’s tallest lighthouse. Does it look familiar to you?”

  She shook her head. Nothing did. No part of the town they’d driven through, the lonely ocean road that had taken them to the house, or even the section of highway where their accident had occurred.

  August slid into a bar stool at the kitchen’s massive island as Geoffrey crossed the room and punched a button on the answering machine. His father left the first message, telling him he would be staying in Portland longer than planned. Then a second message about a banquet for the Northern Sierra Foundation benefit.

  “It looks like it’s just you, me, and Jocelyn until next Tuesday.”

  August felt a guilty rush of relief. She wouldn’t be required to meet any more of Geoffrey’s family until she’d had a few days to settle. “Thank you for everything. I don’t know what I’d do if it weren’t for you.”

  “You wouldn’t have a broken arm.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  He stood across from her at the island. “Has something come to you?”

  “No, but I’ve been thinking about what might have happened. If someone was attacking me, trying to hit me over the head, maybe I threw my arm up in defense.”

  “Probably not. Dr. Carlson said it was a good thing I got you to the hospital right away before the bones started knitting in the wrong position. Besides, I heard an awful thump when the car hit you.” He grimaced. “I’ll never forget it.”

  She sighed and turned to stare out into the milky gray afternoon. The ocean seemed to be calling her, reaching for her. She felt precariously perched above it in this cliff-constructed home. “I wish I could remember something. Anything. It’s so frustrating not knowing a thing about myself.”

  “It’ll come to you. In the meantime, relax and enjoy a few days off. When you get your memory back, your life will be more hectic than you can imagine.” He gave her that warm, comforting smile she already treasured so much. “And if you are a bank robber, this place is most definitely better than jail.”

  He laughed, but August barely managed a smile.

  Geoffrey cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry. That was funny.” She wondered what lucky stars had aligned her with this sweet man who went so far out of his way to take care of her.

  I don’t deserve this. As quickly as she had the thought, she wondered why such a thing would enter her head. I couldn’t really be a criminal, could I?

  “Come on, I’ll give you a tour of the house and show you your room.”

  The rest of the tri-level home was as impressive as the main level. The next floor down had another deck running the ocean side of the house, also with Plexiglas sheltering the lower half of the railing. As they moved through the halls, Geoffrey pointed out each room and told her who occupied it.

  “This is Jocelyn’s room,” he said, stopping at an adorable room decorated like a 1950s soda shop in red, black, and white. “Leah and Jocelyn moved in when Leah and her husband separated. They live here year-round and Jocelyn attends the elementary school in Newport.”

  “It’s a wonderful room for a child.”

  He checked his watch. “The carpool should be dropping her off soon. She’ll be thrilled to see you. She took an instant liking to you.”

  “I like her, too.” August stared into the room any child would love, but few were lucky enough to have.

  Jocelyn had her own television set with an attached set of joysticks. A large fish tank boasted an exotic arrangement of salt-water fish. She even had her own personal computer. One entire wall was a floor-to-ceiling bookcase crammed with dolls and stuffed animals.

  “Jocelyn was a preemie. She almost died at birth, and had us worried again when she was two and caught pneumonia. I guess as a result, we spoil her.”

  When she glanced at him, Geoffrey smiled. “I could read your mind.”

  She smiled back, instantly comforted by the kindness in his eyes. His was a face she could spend a lot of time gazing at. “Could you look a little further in there and tell me what I can’t read?”

  The more she saw of the luxurious house, the more August was sure she didn’t live like this. She gawked at the expensive décor and fashionable design. It was so perfect it almost didn’t seem lived in, more like a showplace than a home.

  “This is the den,” he said as they continued down the hall. “It’s my office away from the office, so if you ever can’t find me, chances are I’ll be here.”

  Inside, the walls were covered with rich burgundy wallpaper. Bookcases filled with leather-bound books stretched across two sides. A sleek, impossibly thin laptop computer sat on a mahogany desk. Covering one wall, eight-by-ten photographs displayed luxury buildings. Like the rest of the house, floor-to-ceiling windows on the ocean side brought the surrounding nature into the room.

  “Are you one of those people who bring your work home with you?” she asked him.

  “My grandfather founded Palisades Hotels. I’m the vice president of operations at our West Coast headquarters in Portland.” He shrugged. “It’s all title, really. I can do the work from anywhere, and they don’t miss me much when I’m gone.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.” She moved inside and looked out the windows at the lighthouse on the point again. She didn’t recognize it, but somehow knew she should.

  “I have a loft in Portland, but with Leah and Richard separated, I spend more time here so I can help with Jocelyn,” he told her. “I don’t miss the daily grind. It’s not as satisfying as I thought it would be when I was in school. But, you know, family legacy and all that.”

  She turned around. “University of Portland?”

  He glanced away. “UC Berkeley, California.” He said it as though it tasted sour in his mouth. “I have some work to do, but afterward you can try some more memory tests on the keyboard like you did with the pen and
paper at the hospital. See if anything comes to you.”

  “I’m not even sure I know how to use a computer,” she said, eyeing the laptop. “But I’ll try anything.”

  “Your room is down the hall.” Geoffrey stepped out of the doorway and waited for her to follow.

  She started after him but stopped. “Do you have a blank notebook I could use? Maybe I should keep a diary of my intuitions.” She didn’t feel comfortable telling him the first thing she would write was how she was certain she didn’t live in this kind of opulence.

  Geoffrey retrieved a spiral-bound notebook and a pen from the office. He led her to the end of the hall to a pretty room decorated with blond pine furniture, and bed coverings matching the flowery wallpaper. Soft peach hues reminded her of summer, even though the gray sky outside threatened with another storm.

  “It’s lovely.” She stood in the doorway, gingerly cradling the heavy cast with her good hand, almost afraid to venture in. Her arm had begun to throb again, and with it, her head.

  “Better than the shelter, I’ll bet.” He moved to the window and fully opened the blinds. The cedar deck at this level met the sand dunes without a railing. It wound out of sight to the right. A fluffy juniper in a massive pot stood on the left side of the window, partially obstructing her view of the ocean. Beside that, ice plant covered the sandy hill that slanted toward the beach.

  “The lower master-suite is on the far side on this level, but no one is there so you’ve got the deck all to yourself. You’re welcome to use the hot tub if you like.”

  “Where’s your room?”

  He turned back and faced her. Opaque light filled the bedroom with a gentle glow. “Top floor, opposite side.”

  It sounded as though he wanted to assure her she had all the privacy she could possibly want, and that he’d stay far away from her. She wanted to tell him she appreciated it, but was afraid it would sound like she was hoping that was the case.

  Already this arrangement felt like a bad idea.

  He crossed the room to stand before her, silhouetted by the gray light filtering through the window. August studied his features in the dim light. His brown eyes were gentle, with a touch of sadness at their edges. She suspected this man wasn’t only shy around women, but had a past as deep and mysterious as her own.

  “Is your arm starting to hurt again?”

  She nodded. “But not so badly I want another of those pills. They make me feel groggy.”

  She glanced past him to the ocean. A spike of fear raced to her heart at the sight of it. Somehow, she understood she shouldn’t be dulling her senses. That unidentifiable threat hovering at the edge of her memory was always there, always just out of reach. August suspected whatever dark, dreadful thing was following her, it was closer than she knew.

  She glanced into Geoffrey’s eyes and relief replaced the spike of fear. She placed her hand on his arm. A tingle of brilliant awareness raced through her fingers.

  “I’m more grateful than you know. This is difficult for me, but you’re making it easier.”

  His gaze slipped away, and then met hers again. “I’m glad I could help. I need to do this for you. I owe it.”

  His broad shoulders blocked out the light as he stood over her, taller than she’d first thought. Looking up at him, she saw it again: something haunted lingering in his eyes.

  “Why do you feel indebted?”

  Geoffrey moved past her and headed for the door.

  “We’re all indebted for something.”

  * * *

  August spent a few hours flipping through magazines in the living room. Some of the ads started to look familiar, but she suspected she’d merely convinced herself of that rather than really feeling it. She gave up when her head started throbbing and her stomach started grumbling in synch.

  She found Geoffrey in his office, clacking away at the keyboard.

  “How do you feel about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?” she asked from the doorway.

  “They’re one of my favorite things.” He looked up from behind the monitor. “Sorry. I disappeared, didn’t I?”

  She managed a smile. “Don’t apologize. The last thing I want to do is disrupt your life.”

  He looked at his watch. “I have a conference call with the Portland office in five minutes. It shouldn’t last long. I’ll be up soon. Make yourself at home.”

  She headed upstairs and poured herself a cup of water, but went onto the deck to wait for Geoffrey. She didn’t feel comfortable rifling through the kitchen without him.

  August sat at a patio table and stared out at the lighthouse in the distance. A biting wind blew over the deck railing, but the crisp, salty air helped clear her mind.

  “Yaquina Head,” Geoffrey had called it. The name didn’t sound familiar, but something about it nagged at her. She watched the surge of light at its peak sparking against the sooty clouds, instinctively counting. Four seconds on. Four seconds off. Four seconds on. Twenty seconds off. The light’s signature, she realized. Different from all others on the coast.

  She made a fist with her right hand. How do I know that?

  A clicking sound behind her gave her a start. A strange man leaned against the patio doorjamb, lighting a cigarette.

  She shot to her feet, knocking over her chair.

  Chapter Six

  “Who are you?” August staggered backward. Fear choked off her breath and sent large black spots swirling in her vision.

  She rapped the fiberglass elbow against the wooden railing and bit back a gasp as pain shot through her arm. Delicately she cradled her cast in her other hand.

  “Seeing as you’re sitting on my deck, in my house, drinking out of my father’s favorite coffee mug, I should be asking you that question.”

  He took a long drag on the cigarette and slowly pulled it away from his lips, looking her up and down like a hungry dog eyeing a piece of meat.

  “So who are you?” he pressed.

  “I’m a friend of Geoffrey’s.”

  “No kidding.” He burst out a sarcastic chirp of laughter. “You look more like a friend of David’s, or a friend of Justin’s, but not a friend of Geoffrey’s.”

  Something about the look in his eyes made her skin crawl. They were cold, yet guarded, and almost resentful.

  “Does Geoffrey’s friend have a name?”

  “You still haven’t told me yours.”

  “Touché.” A sardonic smile touched his lips, but it didn’t erase the antipathy from his face. “I’m Derek, Geoffrey’s brother.”

  He was unkempt, but she knew it was in an intentional way, with too-long hair and a growth of stubble shadowing his jaw that he likely thought made him sexy. His baggy jeans sat low on his hips, and a scarred leather jacket hung off his shoulders. He leaned back against the doorframe in a James Dean slouch.

  “Geoffrey didn’t tell me he had a brother named Derek.”

  “No, he wouldn’t.” He sniffed indignantly and turned his gaze out to the sea as he took another draw from his cigarette. “I’m the prodigal son returned.”

  Nervous fear fluttered in her stomach. She wondered if she would have found him handsome before she lost her memory. His clothes were only made to look worn, and she somehow knew they were expensive. But despite the gritty fashion model look, there was something dark and unpleasant lying beneath the surface that she couldn’t put her finger on.

  “So what happened to your arm, friend of Geoffrey’s?”

  “I broke it.”

  “No kidding. Must have hurt like hell. Did they give you any painkillers for it?”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” At the far right, Geoffrey’s heavy footsteps marched up the wooden steps from a lower section of the deck. August felt a rush of relief, but still couldn’t make herself relax. Derek’s sudden appearance had sent her nerves jumping, reminding her how vulnerable she was. If her attacker found her again, she wouldn’t realize it until it was too late.

  My attacker. I was attacked.
Admitting it to herself brought on a rush of nausea.

  “Didn’t know I needed your permission, bro.”

  “Since when would my permission mean anything to you?”

  Derek took a drag on his cigarette and raked August with his gaze. The simple look told her the man was disrespectful to women. “I can see how you’d be upset.”

  Geoffrey moved close and rested his arm on the railing behind her. “Just surprised. I figured this was the last place you’d want to come back to.”

  “Yeah, well, I called Dad and he’s cool with it, so ease up. I just want to chill out for a while. Why don’t you do the same?” He repositioned his cigarette butt between two fingers, ready to flick it.

  “Don’t,” Geoffrey warned. “Unless you want to hike down and hunt for it.”

  Derek made an exaggerated face and strode forward to put it out in the ashtray on the table. He then turned and headed back to the house. “Geoffrey.” He flipped his hand in a mock salute. “Geoffrey’s friend.”

  “August,” she volunteered. “Nice to meet you, Derek.”

  Derek slid open the glass door leading to the kitchen and dining area. “Geoffrey, your friend August is a liar. But she’s a babe, so I won’t hold it against her.”

  “Be nice,” Geoffrey growled, “if you’re going to stay here.”

  He stopped. “Yeah, we all need to chill. No prob’, G. I thought you were in Portland or I wouldn’t have come. But I’m here now, so let’s deal with it.”

  Deal with what? August wondered. There was definitely bad blood between them.

  Jocelyn bounded through the dining area and through the opened patio door. “Derek!” She flung herself into his arms.

  “Hey, munchkin.” He picked her up and heaved her into the air, earning a squeal of delight, before he caught her weight and settled her back on her feet.

  “I’m not a munchkin. I’m a pixie. I can do magic.”

  “Show me some?”

  “Later.” She looked over and saw August. “Hi, August. Are you gonna stay with us?”

  August forced herself to smile. “Maybe for a few days.”