Memory Reload

by Rosemary Heim

  Underneath the block of film he found a small black beanbag. He held it up and raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “It comes in handy as a cushion when I need to prop the camera against an uneven surface,” she answered without hesitating.

  He nodded, then pulled out the next items. Two disposable cameras. Again, he looked at her.

  A smile lifted the corners of her full lips. “They’re great for scouting. You’d be amazed at how good some of the shots are. There should be a notebook in there, too.”

  “Here it is.” He pulled the small spiral-bound pad out from between two of the cushioned dividers and flipped through the pages before setting it aside. “No flash attachment or motor drive?”

  “Not necessary and too noisy, in that order.”

  He nodded, his gaze steady on hers.

  A frown creased her forehead. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I think we can safely say we know one thing about you.”

  “What? What do you know?”

  Her answers had been automatic, not rehearsed. The difference was subtle but discernible if you knew what to listen for. And Ryan knew. “You’re a professional photographer.”

  She rubbed her temples. “A lot of people carry camera bags. That doesn’t make them photographers.”

  “True, but this is high-end equipment. Pretty pricey. Except for the disposables, it’s not exactly standard vacation supplies. I’ve only met one other person who carries this kind of stuff with her and she’s a pro.”

  “Maybe I’m just rich and waste a lot of money on a hobby.” She picked up one of the cameras and fiddled with the settings.

  Ryan shook his head. “Maybe so, but I don’t really think that’s it. You hold that camera with…authority. When I found you on the beach, you were completely absorbed with what you were shooting. You knew what you were doing, exactly how long it’d take you. Then, of course, there’s your answers.”

  “My answers.”

  “Uh-huh. They come instinctively. You know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh.” Her lips shaped the word more than said it. “Then why can’t I tell you my name? Shouldn’t that be instinctive?”

  “Well now, ya got me there. Can’t claim to know much about amnesia, but if you’re running from some kind of danger…” He lifted his shoulders. “Guess your name might be one of the things your mind would want to keep hidden. First thing we do is see if we can get you in to see a doctor.”

  “Is that really necessary? There’s nothing wrong with me, physically. What can a doctor do?”

  “Won’t know ’til we ask. Is there any reason you don’t want to see a doctor?” He watched as she thought for a moment. Finally she shook her head.

  “I’ll give Jamie a call when it’s a more civilized hour and see if he can recommend someone.” He turned back to the camera bag. “These dividers look movable. Mind if I pull them out?”

  “Go ahead. They’re only Velcroed in place.”

  He pulled each cushioned section out, checked them for hidden contents, then laid them on the table. The bottom cushion didn’t budge when he tugged on it. Stitching held it tight at all four corners, making for a solid bottom. When the bag stood empty, he surveyed the items covering the tabletop then turned to her. “Does anything strike you as not being right?”

  “You mean other than the gun?” She shook her head, all the while massaging her temple with one hand. Her other hand cradled the camera to her chest.

  Ryan tilted the bag, trying to get a better view of the interior. The dark fabric soaked up light like a sponge. The overhead light didn’t help much in the way of illumination. He opened the drawer beneath the phone and pulled out a flashlight.

  The intense beam of light played over the interior of the bag. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. None of the seams showed evidence of having been opened and re-sewn. Light bounced off something in the bottom. He tilted the bag more with a little shake.

  The bottom cushion wasn’t so solid after all. A dull silver bead chain fell into view, the short length slithering out from beneath that cushion. He tugged it free and probed beneath the cushion for any other hidden treasures. All he encountered was the nylon-covered base.

  He settled into his chair and held his last find up to the light. Two items dangled from the chain looped over his finger, jingling softly in the still kitchen.

  A rectangular matte silver medallion, about one inch in length, gleamed in the dull kitchen light. The tag wasn’t new but hadn’t come standard issue with the bag, either. From the weight, it could be real silver.

  The second item held even more interest. Three gold bands intertwined to form a single ring.

  His thumb brushed the lettering engraved across the surface of the medallion. He flipped it over. More engraving. Something in his chest shifted, tightened as he made out the words.

  “What is it?” Her question pulled his attention from the tag.

  “Do the letters AJD mean anything?”

  She squinted, as if trying to focus on a distant image, then sighed. “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “They’re etched into this tag. They don’t trigger anything for you?” He watched her, waiting for some sign, a flicker in her eyes, a tightening around her mouth, something that would reveal the truth of her coming answer.

  “No.” She sank against the chair’s ladder-back. “Is there anything else?”

  He nodded. His thumb rubbed the engraving again. He imagined he could feel the rest of the phrase, the words, each individual letter burning against his skin. His eyes narrowed and he waited for her reaction. “Together, always.”

  The blood drained from her face, leaving her pale beneath her slight tan. The kitchen’s fluorescent light heightened the effect, making her look even more ashen, sickly.

  It was the first automatic response from her with any real emotional strength. The first crack in the defensive wall her mind seemed to have built. If he pushed her a little more, maybe he could widen the crack, and they would discover what she didn’t want to remember.

  The idea of using her pain left a sour taste in his mouth. His need to protect her battled their need to discover what lay hidden in her mind. He hated himself for it, but he had to take advantage of her reaction before her defense mechanism kicked in again. “There’s more on the flip side. ‘Remember’ and some numbers. They could be a date. ‘Three slash fifteen.’”

  Her eyelids fluttered shut and she seemed to struggle to breathe for a moment. She set the camera back on the table with great precision. He didn’t try to stop her when she stood. She wrapped her arms around her waist, holding herself tight.

  Why did her reaction feel like a knife stabbing his chest? How had this woman managed to get so far under his skin?

  She crossed the kitchen to stand by the wall of windows overlooking the beach. He followed her, coming to a stop beside her.

  He wanted to comfort her, to put his arms around her and hold her close. All he would allow himself was to brush her hair back over her shoulder so he could see her face. He dangled the chain in front of her.

  After a moment, she took it from him. Her fingers worried the clasp open, slipped the ring off the chain and onto her left ring finger. The trio of gold bands rolled over her knuckle and settled into place, neatly covering the lighter colored skin banding her finger. A perfect match.

  She refastened the clasp and examined the silver medallion. A soft ting-ting-ting punctuated the silence. Ryan watched as she repeatedly rolled the triple bands over her knuckle, around her finger and back into place. All of her attention was focused on the medallion. Playing with the ring was an unconscious action, one born of an old habit.

  “What does it mean?” His words sounded harsh in his own ears and he couldn’t say for sure if he was asking about the medallion or the ring. Either way, his hands itched to reach out to her. Instead, he jammed his fists onto his hips.

  “It’s…he…no, they…” She struggl
ed to find the words, her chin trembling with the effort. “I don’t remember.”

  She impaled him with a haunted look before squeezing her eyes shut and turning away from him.

  The pain in her eyes undid Ryan. Anger he could stand. Tears he could deal with. But this silent agony was too familiar, reminded him too much of another woman a lifetime ago. He’d been helpless then, just a little boy, powerless to ease a suffering he couldn’t begin to comprehend. Not until it was too late and he never had a chance for atonement.

  Maybe this was his chance. Years too late, it wouldn’t erase the old memory. Nothing could do that. Nor would he want to lose that image. It was too much a part of him, too ingrained in his psyche. He wouldn’t be who he was, where he was, what he was without it.

  But maybe here, now, with this woman, he could do what he hadn’t been able to do when he was six.

  He drew her into his arms, resting his chin on her head. A soft tremor shook her body as she dragged in a breath.

  “Why can’t I remember?” Her warm breath washed over his arm in a soft moan. “It’s so close. But it’s all jumbled together….”

  “It’ll be okay. Shhh.” He rubbed her back and shoulders, crooning in soothing tones. “We’ll sort it all out. Don’t worry, sugar. If there’s someone out there, he’s probably looking for you. We’ll…” He stopped short of promising they would find him. Don’t make a promise you might not be able to keep, boyo.

  She pushed away from him and paced across the room. For a moment, he thought she might bolt out the door, but she turned and continued walking the perimeter of the kitchen.

  “Why can’t I remember?” Her voice trembled between tears and frustration. “It doesn’t appear that I hit my head. There’s no reason I shouldn’t remember. I should know who I am.” She spun to look at him. “I should know who gave me these things and why I feel nothing but empty when I think of him.”

  Ryan’s stomach rolled into a giant knot. Whoever the guy was, the connection to her was strong. He couldn’t keep his gaze from that blasted ring she still played with. Could this shadow be anyone other than her husband?

  Damn, first woman to get my interest—

  Whoa. Where’d that come from? Just because he was on R and R didn’t make this any different from one of his undercover assignments. No personal involvement. She was a woman in need of help. That’s all it was. That’s all it could be.

  He crossed the room to her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he looked into the pale gray depths of her eyes. “We will solve this. I promise you that.” He slid one hand down to her elbow and tugged. “Come’n sit down. Let’s look through everything. Maybe something will jog loose.”

  She followed him back to the table like a tired puppy. He settled her in her chair and watched as her head sank into her hands. “Do you have a headache? Do you want some aspirin?”

  “Yes. No.” She glanced at him and he saw a glimmer of a weak smile. “Yes, I have a headache. No, I don’t want any aspirin. The lemonade will do.”

  He refilled their glasses and sat next to her again. “Why don’t you look through the notebook, see if you recognize anything.”

  The kitchen clock ticked the next few minutes off while she leafed through the small spiral-bound notebook, studying each page. He busied himself with the film canisters. They held nothing but film, a mix of color and black-and-white, most of it used, judging by the lack of any film leaders.

  She flipped the last page of the notebook, closed it and pushed it aside. Slumping back in her chair, she combed her hair away from her face. “Nothing other than exposure settings and a few locations.”

  “Well, don’t fret on it. We can check out the locations later, see if that shakes anything loose. We’ll get this film developed, too. Maybe whatever you shot will tell us something. Come on, AJ.” A shiver danced across his insides. Right or wrong, he’d just given her a name. “Let’s get you tidied up some. Sleeping on the beach probably left you a mite gritty.”

  He stood and held a hand out to her. “The guest bedroom is right down the hall.”

  She glanced from his eyes to his hand and back again. “Why did you call me that?” she whispered.

  “It…kinda slipped out.” His hand dropped to his side. “‘Hey’ is too general and Jane Doe is too…well, it just doesn’t seem to fit you. Those engraved letters look like a monogram and it seems pretty likely it’s yours. AJ’s the closest we’ve come to finding a name….” He tugged at his earlobe. “I’m sorry. If it bothers you, we can come up with something else until we find out your real name.”

  “It startled me is all. I rather like how it sounded just now.” A soft blush darkened her cheeks. “Somehow, not being able to remember doesn’t seem quite so hopeless, as long as I have an identity of some sort.”

  “Then AJ it is, until we find out otherwise.” He pulled her to her feet and led her down the hallway. “You know, this could be the opportunity of a lifetime.”

  She looked at him, disbelief clear in her expression.

  “No, really. Think about it.” He pulled a towel from the hall linen closet and handed it to her, along with a facecloth, a new toothbrush and an array of small bottles of toiletries from various hotels. “Not everyone gets to start over with a clean slate. You’re free to decide who you are, what you want to be.”

  “Well, I suppose you could look at it that way. I just wish the slate wasn’t quite so clean. All I have is this sense of urgency, of something I need to do. But I have no idea what.” Her eyes widened and she clutched his arm. “Omigod. What if I have a child? Or children. What if they’re somewhere waiting for me? What if they’re in danger because I’ve abandoned them?”

  A chill raced through him. Her words hit him harder than she’d ever realize. The picture of a small child with AJ’s eyes and thick black hair popped into his head. The little boy stared back at him with sadness and accusation. He shook his head, banishing the image. That particular shadow belonged to him, not AJ. At least, he hoped that was the case.

  He covered her hand with his. “Take it easy, sugar. We’ve got enough on our plates without borrowing more trouble. While you’re in there—” he nodded toward the bathroom “—why don’t you see if there’s any, um, evidence that you’ve had a child.”

  She frowned, confused.

  “Like stretch marks or, well, um, I don’t really know.” His words trickled to an awkward halt. A dull heat crept up his neck. When had he ever turned red-faced in front of a woman?

  Understanding dawned and a blush darkened her face as well. She clutched the pile in her arms to her chest and backed into the bathroom. The door closed between them without either of them saying another word.

  Ryan thumped his head on the doorframe. Dumb, dumb, dumb. He cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh, leave some clean clothes for you on the bed. In the guest room.”

  A muffled “thanks” came from behind the door.

  He didn’t tarry over finding clothes for her. Grabbing the first clean items that came to hand, he dropped them on the bed in the guest room and beat a hasty escape back to the kitchen.

  AJ’s equipment still occupied the tabletop. He surveyed everything and shook his head. “Women and cameras,” he muttered. “Bound to bring nothin’ but trouble.”

  Only, he had the distinct feeling this woman didn’t need a camera to bring him trouble. Just being near her had him thinking all kinds of crazy thoughts. What was it about her that had him wanting to be the knight in shining armor? That was the last role he wanted to be cast in.

  Everything worked much better when he kept behind the scenes and did his thing. In and out like a shadow, then on to the next assignment. Alone. No entanglements. Responsible for no one but himself.

  Not that it had been like that in Montana. That was the first and last time he ever wanted to go so deep undercover.

  He leaned against the kitchen counter and washed away the memories with a gulp of lemonade. The past could stay in the then and gone. H
e needed to concentrate on the here and now.

  AJ’s equipment was as good a place to start as any. The fact that she’d left the room without the bag could be considered something of a breakthrough. Maybe she’d decided to trust him.

  Or maybe she’d clung to it as the only connection to her identity. Now, with a name, at least she had another piece of the puzzle.

  Or maybe she thought whatever might be hidden there was safe.

  He picked up the camera bag. While considerably lighter than when it had been packed, it still seemed heavy for a nylon bag this size. He sat down with the bag in his lap.

  Maybe one of Jamie’s focusing exercises would help. Taking a couple deep breaths, Ryan cleared his mind of conscious expectations and blocked out his surroundings. The only sounds he kept tuned to were those of AJ’s movements in the bathroom. He closed his eyes and let his fingers drift over the surfaces of the bag, not seeking with expectations of finding anything in particular. Just feeling for whatever existed.

  When nothing presented itself, he turned the bag over and repeated the process. The base seemed to be a solid piece set into the bottom of the bag. Four small pads punctuated each corner. He fiddled with each one, humming with surprised satisfaction when they loosened.

  Down the hall, everything was quiet. His eyes snapped open. He held his breath, waiting. When the shower turned on, he blew out a sigh of relief. Let’s hope she likes long showers.

  The pads unscrewed easily. The solid base lifted off revealing a false bottom. There was only about an inch of space, but it was ample room for the small black book he found.

  He lifted the thin volume from its hiding place and set it on the table. Using the very tips of his fingers, he opened the black vinyl cover. Letters and numbers filled the first page. He flipped through several more pages. Something had been written on all of them.