August Unknown

by Pamela Fryer

  “Is it because he was drinking, or because he was talking about Christina?”

  Geoffrey sighed and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “He knows how to push my buttons, no matter what he’s saying or doing.”

  August sipped her milk, waiting for him to continue.

  “Somehow he always seems to find a way to bring her up, even though he knows it’s a sore subject for me.”

  She wanted to reach out and touch him, to say she knew that, to be the person he could talk to about it.

  Irrational disappointment clawed at her edges. Without her memory, he was all she knew, but he had an entire life separate from her. She was only a brief detour for him.

  Though her feelings for him had grown steadily with each day that passed, August wished Christina were still alive. She wished she could take Geoffrey’s pain away and give him back the life she knew he deserved, even if it was one without her in it.

  “He’s my brother, and you were right when you said I don’t hate him.” His brow furrowed and his eyes were red-rimmed with sadness. “But a part of me wishes I never had to see him again, because I can’t see his face without also seeing hers.”

  Chapter Nine

  August didn’t tell Geoffrey about her newly recovered memories of the night of the accident. She still wasn’t certain she was on a boat that night; she only had her gut feeling. Regardless, she wasn’t ready to share that with him, or even put it into words. With the reclaimed memory came a deeper level of fear she couldn’t explain. So when he turned the SUV onto a narrow road toward the marina just before reaching town, she bristled.

  “Um, Geoffrey—”

  He glanced sideways and grinned. “Trust me.”

  She settled into the deep leather seat, her heart pounding painfully against her ribs.

  With her suspicion she had been on a boat came an almost certain understanding someone had pushed her overboard, intending for her to die under the brutality of the stormy sea. Would he think her crazy if she said so?

  She should trust him enough to tell him so, but a part of her was afraid. Why couldn’t she shake the strange embarrassment that came with every shadowy memory?

  Because someone I trusted did this to me, and I feel the fool for it.

  Oblivious of her discomfort, Geoffrey glanced over, still grinning like a mischievous little boy eager to spring a surprise.

  “Still trust me?” He angled the car around the back side of the marina and up a winding road. This was the hill blocking the ocean from the highway on the outskirts of town.

  “I think so.” She swallowed to cover her quaking voice.

  “You don’t sound very convincing. I’m hurt.” His tone was teasing, but August couldn’t be convinced to smile.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “Of course I trust you.”

  He pulled the car into a bank of parking spaces under a giant oak. This was a recreational park of some kind. Judging by a walking path leading up a small hill, it was a vista point.

  Geoffrey reached into the back seat and removed an igloo bag. “Come on. I have something to show you.”

  They walked up the hill in silence. August breathed in the dry salt grass and fresh ocean breeze, determined to grasp whatever peaceful minutes she could. At the top of the rise, she discovered they were indeed on the hill high above the marina, looking out over a magnificent view of the ocean. Far to the left, the Mirthful Mermaid dominated the row of shops across from the marina, its turquoise blue mermaid logo identifiable in the gleaming sea-silvered wood even at this distance.

  “I thought it might be easier to take a long-distance look.”

  The tension trickled out of her in cooling relief so intense she was nearly brought to tears. They sat on a wooden bench and Geoffrey opened the cooler bag between them. In it were two turkey sandwiches, two bags of potato chips, two cans of ginger ale, and a pair of binoculars.

  Her heart swelled with something that couldn’t entirely be called gratitude, and the sensations in her stomach turned warm and ticklish. Whatever it was, admiration wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what she was feeling, deep down in the centermost part of her.

  Or was the intensity of her emotions playing tricks on her mind? Was the natural progression of their friendship being mistaken for something more than it truly was?

  She didn’t think so. Geoffrey was a special man with a one-in-a-million heart. Love wouldn’t be a long leap at all.

  The idea both thrilled August, and terrified her. Until she knew about her past and the people in it, she had nothing to offer him.

  He handed her the binoculars. “Tell me what you see.”

  August peered through. The marina bustled with people this Saturday morning, crowded with boat owners enjoying the unusually mild September day.

  “Boats, people. Water.”

  “What kind of boats?”

  “Well, there’s a catamaran,” she said, looking at a gigantic behemoth called Issaquah. “But everyone knows what a catamaran is.”

  Her nerves jumped. He was testing her. Why was she so afraid to confess her suspicions to Geoffrey? Because he would set his brother-in-law to investigating her more deeply, and they might actually find her past.

  Before I’m ready to find it myself.

  And that led to another question: why? Because I’m not ready to go further with Geoffrey, or because I’m not ready to face a would-be killer?

  Both were terrifying prospects.

  August set down the binoculars. She could trust him—he wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want him to do. But the sooner they found her past, the sooner her time with him would end.

  The sooner the dangerous thing following her would catch up with her.

  “Thank you for doing this. You’re so good to me. I don’t think I’ve ever been treated so nicely by anyone.”

  He stared back with those fathomless brown eyes she wanted to fall into. “It’s my pleasure. You’ve helped me take my mind off...”

  When he didn’t continue, she asked, “Christina?”

  He merely nodded and gazed out at the sea.

  “Do I look like her?”

  Geoffrey chuckled. “Not at all. She had Italian features. Dark brown eyes, olive skin, jet-black hair.”

  August realized she’d seen her portrait. “She’s in the photo on the piano, with Jocelyn. She was beautiful.”

  He nodded. “She died last October, in a car accident.”

  Not even a year past. August reached across the igloo bag and placed her hand over the back of his. “I’m sorry.”

  She wanted to ask how it involved Derek, but knew she shouldn’t expect him to reveal any more than he was comfortable telling her. The sadness in his eyes was now a thousand times brighter, and she regretted bringing it up.

  She picked up the binoculars and scanned the marina again. Nothing jogged her memory. If she had been on a boat that night, it didn’t mean she was a sailor. She could have been a passenger. She might have even been taken out by her attacker as a captive, her first time ever stepping aboard a boat.

  “Does anything look familiar to you?” Geoffrey’s voice was heavy, as though he’d swallowed down the sadness she’d seen rising in him moments ago. “The names of any of the boats? That ketch there?”

  Her long-distance gaze flew to the twenty-five-foot double-masted vessel named Ketch-ekan. Did she know it was a ketch because of its play-on-words name, or because of its lines and rigging?

  “You tell me. Which one is the ketch?”

  “That’s not fair,” he said in a lighter voice. “I’m a sailor. One of those boats is mine.”

  She put the binoculars down. “I should have known that about you. You’ve got that ‘Polo by Ralph Lauren’ look about you.”

  He groaned. “Don’t say that. Derek is the family model, not me.”

  “Derek looks more like the drummer of a grunge rock band. You’re much more attractive.”

  “Me? Nah.” He actually blushed. Au
gust found it charming.

  “Yeah, you. Definitely.” She peered through the binoculars. “Which one is yours?”

  “Guess.”

  “My arm is getting tired.”

  “It’s good exercise.”

  “You’re merciless.”

  There were a few bigger vessels that would require several hands to sail, but August wagered his family would own one of the smaller, beautifully restored sloops that one or two people could take on a casual afternoon outing.

  “Justin’s Pride? Isn’t your older brother’s name Justin?”

  “Yep, but wrong. Purely coincidence.”

  “Honeysuckle Rose?”

  “Nope.”

  “Right. You don’t seem like a Honeysuckle Rose kind of guy. But I’ll bet you like the Beatles?”

  “Love ’em.”

  “Penny Lane.” She glanced at him and found him smiling back.

  “What made you think so?”

  She peered down again. “Its gleaming wooden deck. You seem like the type of person who would invest the care and time in something so beautiful.”

  Geoffrey said something, but she didn’t hear. A black Labrador had trotted through her line of vision, making her breath catch. She scanned in front, and then behind the dog to find its owner. Before she could get a good look at the woman trailing behind the dog, she’d moved so that August could only see the back of her head and a mass of curly red hair.

  She gripped the binoculars harder, following the woman. There was nothing out of the ordinary about her. She was of average build, wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt with a sweatshirt tied around her waist. She glanced sideways, giving August a fleeting glimpse of her profile, half hidden by dark sunglasses.

  “August, what’s wrong?”

  Remembrance danced at the edge of her subconscious. Roger...Rodney...Rocky. She knew a red-haired woman with a black Labrador named Rocky. Dread sank into the pit of her stomach. A sickening feeling accompanied the memory, but the reason, and the woman’s face, remained a mystery.

  She watched the woman stroll down the dock until the muscles in her arm burned from holding the heavy binoculars.

  “Jesus, August, you’re white as a sheet. What did you see down there?” He moved closer and reached for the binoculars. “Let me help you hold these.”

  “Never mind, she’s gone.” August dropped them in her lap.

  “Who’s gone?”

  “The woman. I saw a woman with a dog.”

  “Someone you remember?”

  “I don’t know. I think so.” Her stomach churned. Whoever the woman with Rocky was, a bad association accompanied her. But why? She could be someone August had a terrible falling-out with, but that didn’t mean murder.

  “Do you have a key to the marina?”

  “I have a code. The gates to the ramps are electronic.”

  August took a deep breath. “I want to go down there. I need to see that woman.”

  Or, more precisely, I need her to see me.

  Chapter Ten

  Geoffrey punched his code into the electronic keypad to the section of the marina where the dog and its owner were last seen, and the gate’s lock released with a shrill buzzing sound. After guiding August through, he circled her shoulders with his arm. The reassuring gesture relieved her fear. She pressed close as they walked side-by-side down the narrow ramp to the main section.

  August had hoped she would find some familiarity when they entered the marina, but no technical names or jargon entered her mind as she glanced about at the rigging, lines, and sailing gear on the various boats.

  “There it is,” Geoffrey said, pointing. She caught a glimpse of the black dog loping down one of the long center piers, playfully chasing gulls into the sky.

  The dog bolted from a slip and turned in the opposite direction. Would the woman at the end of the dock be the final key in unlocking her past? August realized that in a matter of minutes, she might be on the road back to her old life, no longer in need of Geoffrey’s sanctuary.

  No, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d become important to her, even before her attraction had budded and blossomed. Even if she found an entire town full of family and friends somewhere else, Geoffrey would always remain fixed in her heart.

  The red-haired woman stepped out from a slipway, lifting her arms toward the black Lab. “What ’ya got there, Poncho?” she said in doggie sweet-talk. The dog dropped a twisted piece of driftwood at her feet.

  All at once August’s fear and morbid hope disappeared. She had never seen this woman before.

  As they’d approached the dock, she had been waiting for the sight of the woman’s face to fill in the gaps between the whispers of familiarity brushing at her memory like the tendrils of a peacock feather. She’d been certain that if this was the red-haired woman from her past, all it would take was a first glimpse of her face.

  But now that August saw this stranger, it seemed even those fog-like vapors were gone. Had she imagined the whole thing?

  The woman straightened up and smiled when she saw them. “Hi, Geoffrey. Haven’t seen you out here in a while. Penny’s looking nice.”

  “Rachel, hi.” He glanced questioningly at August.

  She shook her head.

  “Er, Rachel, this is August.”

  “Hey there, August. What happened to your arm?”

  “I fell,” she answered simply. “I broke it in two places.”

  “Ouch. That must have been some fall.” Rachel grabbed the dog by the collar when he lunged forward to introduce himself a little too enthusiastically. “Poncho, no! Sorry, he thinks people like to be trampled with muddy paws.”

  When the dog calmed, Rachel let him loose. Geoffrey knelt down and rubbed Poncho’s head. “I don’t remember you having a dog.”

  “I adopted him in March from the Humane Society. He’s a handful, but the most loyal man in my life.” She laughed at her own joke. “How have you been? I don’t think I’ve seen you since the New Year’s Eve yacht club celebration.”

  “We’ve been good. I’m staying at the summer house to help out with Jocelyn.” He stood, and Poncho trotted back to Rachel. “I was going to give August a tour of Penny Lane when she saw you and mentioned you looked familiar.”

  “But I had only seen your hair, and your dog. I have a friend with a black Lab, but she doesn’t live around here. I don’t know why I would have thought you were her.”

  She was rambling. Did her story sound as hokey to Rachel as it did to her?

  “Oh, where are you from?”

  “Um.” August swallowed. “Up north. Near Seattle.”

  The girl smiled warmly. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, August. Are you two going to enter the Thanksgiving Regatta?”

  Geoffrey stood up and took August under his arm. “That depends on whether or not we can get Penny Lane fitted out in time.”

  “I heard Derek is back in town. Tell him don’t be a stranger.”

  As they started away, August felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.

  “She dated Derek for a while,” Geoffrey explained. “She’s a little wild and crazy, but still a better influence than any of the other girls he’d dated.”

  “The bits and pieces were stronger before I saw her face. Once I realized she wasn’t the person I thought I’d remembered, all traces were wiped away.”

  “But you do know a red-haired woman with a black Labrador?”

  She nodded as he held open the gate. “I think so.”

  Penny Lane was two docks over in one of the first slips. The gleaming deck August spied through the binoculars was even more impressive up close. A narrow wire running through stainless steel bars served as her railing. Geoffrey unhooked the section at the portable steps and held August’s good hand as she carefully stepped onto the deck.

  “Does anything look familiar?”

  She wished she could say yes. Somehow she felt it all should be, but the knowledge was just out of her reach.


  “Yes and no. I know things are there, and it makes me angry that I can’t remember them.” Aggravation welled inside her like a building tornado that wouldn’t blow itself out.

  “Don’t try too hard. Here, have a seat and relax.” He guided her to the rear of the vessel and onto a plush padded seat spanning the breadth of the deck.

  “You take it easy while I polish up the...this um...”

  “Compass. Nice try, Geoffrey, but even ten-year-old Girl Scouts know what a compass is.” She smiled. He was so devilishly charming. “You’re sweet.”

  “Actually, I’m rotten.”

  “I’ll never believe that.”

  “It’s true.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “Explain.”

  “Come with me to the banquet. There. Now you know the truth about me. I’m selfish.”

  “You aren’t even close.” She laughed, but Geoffrey’s expression remained somber.

  “This wouldn’t be a date; I know you aren’t my date.” He sighed and glanced at the channel leading out of the harbor. “Forget I asked. It’s a bad idea. A public event is probably the last thing you should do.”

  “You’re right, it probably is.” Her expression softened. “But you’ve done so much for me. It’s the least I can do in return.”

  “That’s not a good reason to say yes.” He shook his head. Sunlight glinted on the gold strands in his hair. “I don’t want you to go because you feel you owe me.”

  “I want to go because I want to see my favorite person in Newport pick up an award I’m sure he deserves. How’s that for a reason?”

  “Well, I guess that would be a pretty good one.” He grinned. “You want to think about it while I lean against this...thing here...”

  “The wheel?”

  “Is that getting old?”

  She nodded and laughed. “It feels good to actually get one. Try another.”

  “This is the...” He touched a rope secured to a cleat.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Main sheet. Don’t worry, that’s a tough one. Here’s an easier one.” He pointed to a polished silver fixture.

  “That’s a cleat.” August rose, her gaze caught by a small door set flush in a fiberglass compartment in the low cabin roof. She crossed the deck and flipped it open. Inside was a flare gun with a safety pin securing it like a fire extinguisher might have, and a small plastic case of extra flares.