Look into My Eyes

by Glenda Sanders

  Giggles and titters followed, and Tim found himself the center of attention amid a flurry of comments about the Big Bad Wolf. What in the world were they talking about?

  Finally, Holly snapped to attention to rescue him by distracting the children. “All right, guys. Settle down. Who remembers where Cicely Goose is and who she’s talking to?”

  They called out answers, and she resumed the story. “And what do you think Cecily Goose said when the poodle told her she was in France?”

  Mimicking her English accent, the children answered in unison, “Oh, my! I daresay I’ve taken a wrong turn!”

  Eventually, Cicely Goose found her way to London to have tea and biscuits with her city cousin, and the children applauded. But scarcely had the applause began to fade, when the precocious little boy who’d first spied Tim asked, “Will you read about the Three Little Pigs and the Big Bad Wolf again?”

  The suggestion was met with much enthusiasm by everyone except Holly, who said, “We have another story to read this week.”

  “Please?”

  Once again, Tim found himself the center of their attention as the boy was joined by a chorus of supporters, all of them talking about the Big Bad Wolf.

  “Sounds like an encore performance is in order,” Sarah said, walking up beside him.

  “Encore?” Tim asked.

  “You were quite a hit two weeks ago. They’re not used to men at Story Hour.”

  Holly appeared acutely uncomfortable as she told the children, “I don’t think Mr. Sotherland feels up to acting today.”

  The youngsters turned to him en masse, their eyes large with entreaty.

  “Go for it!” Sarah said under her breath.

  “Why not?” Tim said. Maybe he could make some strides toward renewing his acquaintanceship with Holly.

  Holly looked anything but thrilled at his sudden capitulation, but before she could protest, Sarah jumped in and volunteered, “I’ll get the book and the props.”

  Tim couldn’t believe the props she brought back. He wouldn’t have been so quick to agree to participate in the reading if he’d known he’d wind up wearing a headband with huge fake-fur ears. And as if the ears weren’t bad enough, there was a tail. Long and fluffy, it dangled from a belt to well below his knees. He’d never felt as ridiculous in his life, although he supposed he’d have felt even more ridiculous if he’d been forced into wearing the ears, snout and springy pig’s tail that Holly donned. No wonder she hadn’t looked happy about the turn of events.

  Sarah thrust an open book in his hand. “Here.”

  Holly began reading from a copy of the same book. What was expected of him became obvious when she reached a point in the narrative where the wolf spoke and she stopped abruptly and looked at him.

  Feeling foolish, he read woodenly, “‘Open the door and let me in!’” A brief passage of narrative led to his next line, “‘I swear by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin—’”

  The instant “chinny-chin-chin” rolled off his tongue, the children squealed with delight, and as the story progressed, Tim found himself playing to their enthusiasm, growing more and more boisterous with his lines.

  Conversely, Holly seemed to grow more subdued, her voice becoming shriller and tighter as she read. And though she avoided looking at him, on those rare instances where their gazes connected, he saw the conflicting emotions in the depths of her eyes. And from the tension in her body, he got a clear impression that she was on the brink of running away from him as fast as she could, leaving the library, the children and the story behind.

  Her attitude perplexed him. No fairy tale could disturb her so much. So it had to be him. His presence. But why? A hazy memory of her standing in his hospital room played through his mind. He’d thought she was with the cop because the man had his arm around her. But now he recalled thinking that she seemed upset about something. Scalisi had said she and the cop were just friends. If the cop had been comforting her—

  The sound of someone clearing her throat shook him out of deep thought. “And the Big Bad Wolf said,” she said pointedly, obviously not for the first time.

  “‘Open the door and let me in!’” he read, as anxious now as she clearly was to get to the end of the story—and to the bottom of what bothered Holly Bennett so much about being within ten feet of him.

  After taking a leap into a cauldron of boiling water and howling appropriately, he took his bows as the audience, partly at Holly’s urging, clapped their appreciation for his participation. Then, ears and tail in hand, he waited on the sidelines while Holly reminded the children that there was a Story Hour every Thursday afternoon. He noticed that she told most of the children goodbye individually as each left with a parent or sibling who’d come to collect them.

  A tug on his arm drew his attention to the little boy who’d first noticed him. He’d been so involved in watching Holly that he hadn’t seen the child approach.

  “I’m sorry you got cooked in boiling water again,” the boy said.

  Tim grinned. The kid was about the age of his sister’s son, to whom Tim had exclusive rights as favorite uncle. Winking, he tousled the boy’s hair. “Maybe next time they’ll let me be one of the pigs.”

  When the only children remaining in the area were sifting through picture books, Holly looked at Tim and squared her shoulders. He wanted to ask her right then why she seemed to dread any encounter with him so much, but that discussion was going to have to wait until they were in a less public setting.

  “Thank you for being a good sport,” she said. “I know the kids put you on the spot. They didn’t realize—” Her eyes met his only briefly before she reached up to take off the pig’s ears and snout, using the action to turn her head.

  “How could they?” Tim asked. And why can’t you face me?

  He waited for her to speak next.

  “How’s your head?” she asked finally.

  “The stitches itch.”

  She took a breath and exhaled wearily. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I thought I’d take a look around.”

  “You still don’t—” She sounded too anxious, too interested to be a casual acquaintance.

  “No,” he said. “Not a thing. I thought maybe something would look familiar, but...” He finished with a shrug.

  “Well, at least you remember—” she hesitated, drew in a breath, as if fortifying herself “—everything else now.”

  “Yes. The only thing is, I don’t even remember forgetting.”

  “Well, thanks again for being a good sport.” She was dismissing him.

  But Tim wasn’t ready to be dismissed. “I came to—is there somewhere we could talk? Someplace a little less...a little more...private?”

  “You could go into the break room,” Sarah said. She must have been hovering, eavesdropping.

  “I’m kind of busy,” Holly said. She was a lousy liar. “Things are always chaotic after Story Hour.”

  “I’ll stay in the area,” Sarah volunteered. She stayed any further argument by flapping her hands at Holly, shooing her away. “Go on. The front desk has been slow. They’ll never miss me.”

  Holly’s reluctance was obvious, but she relented with a small shrug of her shoulders and led the way. The break room was furnished with a six-foot-long folding table, a few chairs and a kitchenette with a small refrigerator and sink. An eclectic assortment of mugs surrounded a coffeemaker on the diminutive work cabinet.

  “Would you like coffee?” Holly offered. “Or a soft drink?”

  “Thanks, anyway. I just want to talk.”

  “Talk?” she asked hoarsely, and Tim thought that he’d never seen a woman more uncomfortable. She hadn’t actually looked at him since they’d entered the room.

  “First, I wanted to thank you.”

  “Thank me?”

  She was so taut, he thought that if he touched her she’d leap sky high. “For the gift basket.”

  “That was from everybody.”

  “
Sarah said you put it together. It was a thoughtful thing to do.”

  “We were all concerned.”

  They may as well be reading a script of polite phrases, he decided. “German wine is my favorite,” he said, determined to stray from the clichés.

  “I looked for a label with mit pradikat.”

  “A fellow connoisseur.”

  “Not really. I just...knew you liked it.”

  How? The question was there, on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t ask it. It would be too abrupt. “Scalisi said I was at your house when I fell.”

  She nodded, but didn’t elaborate. She was hugging herself, as though awaiting life-and-death news.

  “He said we were friends.”

  The head bobbed again. A long silence ensued. Finally, Tim said, “What was I doing at your house, Holly?”

  “Apartment,” she said. “I live in an apartment.”

  “The question stands. What was I doing there?”

  “We were—” The words came out painfully slow. “Watching a movie on television.”

  “We were more than friends, weren’t we?”

  “Yes,” she said, scarcely above a whisper.

  “Were we...intimate?”

  At first, he wasn’t sure she was going to answer. She stood eerily still, avoiding his gaze, until a sigh shuddered through her. Finally, for the first time since they’d entered the room, she looked at him. He read the answer to his question in her eyes before the word yes hissed from her throat.

  “I don’t know what to say to you,” he told her.

  “You don’t have to say anything. When we were together, I knew that everything was...crazy.”

  In his entire life, he’d never seen anyone more vulnerable.

  “There are no etiquette books to cover this situation,” he said. He ached to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, but he dared not, unless she reached out for him.

  She didn’t. Nor did she speak.

  Unable to resist touching her, Tim cradled her face in his hands, noting the softness of her skin beneath his fingers. She stared up at him as if transfixed by his gaze, her eyes filled with sadness. “I’m sorry, Holly. I wouldn’t—”

  Covering his left hand with hers, she guided it from her face. “You have nothing to apologize for. I knew—” She turned her head away. “At least now you have your life back—your name, your family, your career.”

  Taking her hint, Tim allowed his right hand to drop to his side. “Something tells me I’m going to spend the rest of my life regretting not being able to remember being with you.”

  Tension weighted the ensuing silence until, finally, Holly asked, “So—are you going home soon?”

  “I’m going to go ahead with the European tour first.”

  “That’s...nice.”

  “I’ve always wanted to go and take in the architecture. The timing’s right, now.” He hesitated, then decided to take a chance. “The travel agency is working on rescheduling everything. It’s probably going to take another week. Would you—could we—go out for dinner or something?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  There was finality in her voice, so he didn’t pursue the issue. Tim’s mind teemed with questions, but he found himself at a loss for words. Suddenly, he felt profound sadness, as though he’d lost something very dear. “Well—”

  “I should get back to work,” she said.

  He nodded. “I’ll walk you back.”

  “No!” she said quickly. “You go on. I...have some things I need to get out of the storage room.”

  Tim nodded. He didn’t want to leave, but it seemed his only alternative.

  “Mr. Sotherland?” Her voice stopped him just as he reached the door.

  Tim stopped and turned to her expectantly.

  “You have a scar on your chest,” she said. “Do you mind if I ask how you got it?”

  Tim chuckled. “Not at all. I had a nasty encounter with a tree limb while white-water rafting.”

  “It looks serious.”

  “It was—or could have been. All things considered, I was pretty lucky. A fraction of an inch in either direction and I’d have been meeting my Maker that day.”

  “Do you remember when the accident happened? The date?”

  “I ought to. I filled out enough insurance papers.” He told her the date.

  She paled. “That would have been...just over a year ago.”

  “I suppose it would,” he said. “It doesn’t seem that long.” He shrugged. “Time flies when you’re having fun, huh?”

  She tried to smile as she acknowledged his attempt at humor with a nod.

  12

  “AFRACTION OF AN INCH in either direction, and he’d have been dead,” Holly said. “Josh, do you remember the doctor talking about the bullet that hit Craig? He said if it had just been a fraction of an inch over in either direction, Craig would be alive.”

  Josh stopped pacing the floor long enough to run his hands through his hair. “It’s just another screwy coincidence.”

  “How many coincidences do you have to have before they’re not coincidences anymore?” Holly asked. “He was born the same day as Craig, and he almost died the day Craig died.”

  “The bullet was a fraction of an inch in the wrong direction and Craig died. The branch was a fraction of an inch in the right direction, and Timothy Sotherland survived. Timothy Sotherland was lucky. Craig wasn’t.” He sat down next to Holly and lifted her hands in his. “You know how Craig felt about the danger cops are in. If your number’s up, it’s up. If it’s not, it’s not. His number was up. Sotherland’s number wasn’t. If Craig was here, he’d tell you the same thing. You know he would.”

  Holly exhaled a sigh that left her shoulders drooping. Then she looked at Josh’s face and tried to smile. “I think I just needed to hear you tell me that. I’m trying to look for some kind of reason where there isn’t any.”

  Dropping her hands, Josh leaned back, slumping against the back of the couch. “I never thought it would work out this way.”

  “Join the club.”

  “For what it’s worth, I was really hoping things would work out for you and the Amnesia Kid.”

  “You were? Mr. Jaded Suspicious Cop himself?”

  “Someone had to look at things objectively, Holly. I was concerned about you. I was afraid he was conning you, and I didn’t want to see you hurt.”

  Holly laughed bitterly. “The good news is, he wasn’t conning me. The bad news is, once he got his memory back, he didn’t even remember my name.” A tear trailed down her cheek as she looked at Josh and asked, “How could he just...forget me?” She wiped the tear away with her palm and sniffed. “Damn! I thought I was all cried out.”

  “I may be a jaded old cop, but the shoulder’s still absorbent,” Josh said, holding out his arms in invitation.

  Holly shook her head and sniffed determinedly. “No. I refuse to fall apart.” She forced a smile. “But do me a favor, okay? Next time I decide to fall in love, remind me to find a nice, safe accountant from Orlando.”

  “What’s wrong with a promising hotshot architect from Ohio?”

  “The one who looked straight at me from his hospital bed and had no idea who I was?”

  “Why don’t you cut the guy a little slack, Holly? He can’t help it if he has amnesia. Why don’t you talk to him, tell him how things were?”

  “I just can’t do it that way,” Holly said. “Not after—”

  “You’re just going to let him walk out of your life without even telling him how things were between the two of you?”

  “He figured it out,” she said, and then scowled. “Enough to know he’d been in my bed, anyway. He offered to take me to dinner. I think he was hoping for a quickie for the road.”

  “Are you sure that’s what he wanted?”

  She shrugged desolately. “He was suave about it, but it was on his mind.”

  “Holly! Of course it was on his mind. The chemistry between the two o
f you was explosive. Do you know what it would do to a man to look at a pretty woman and know he’d been with her?”

  “I believed in him!” she said. “Even when it wasn’t logical, I believed in him, because he said that he would know if he loved someone, even if he didn’t remember names or faces. He said he’d feel it inside.”

  Her eyes searched Josh’s face for understanding. “He said he loved me. If he loved me so much, why doesn’t he feel it, the way he was so sure he’d feel if he’d had a wife?”

  “He may yet.”

  “All he had to do was hear his name and he remembered his past. He looked me straight in the face and nothing clicked. Nothing.”

  “It was months before he heard his name and regained his memory, Holly. And then he had another bump on the head. Who’s to say he won’t remember you and everything about you a few weeks from now?”

  “He’ll probably have a lover in every country in Europe by then.”

  “The guy has that much stamina?”

  “If that’s supposed to be wit, I’m not in the mood.”

  Josh shrugged. After a contemplative pause, he said, “You know what’s really ironic? When I saw that missing persons report come in and found out that he was straight as an arrow, I did a lot of thinking about your saying I was jaded and suspicious.”

  “I was probably a little hard on you,” Holly said.

  “Probably?” he asked sarcastically.

  “You surprised me. I was so caught up in Craig’s situation that I wasn’t expecting suspicion.”

  “You said I’d been a cop too long, and that this was Cocoa, Florida, not New York or Chicago.”

  Holly winced. “I was a bit harsh, wasn’t I?”

  “Actually, I probably ought to thank you.”

  “For being tacky?”

  “For giving me something to think about. You were right. I have become jaded. And I am frustrated on a small-town force. I’ve been...I don’t know...at loose ends ever since Craig was killed. I’ve been asking myself what it’s all about. Your comments made me do a little soul-searching, and I’ve come to realize that I’ll never be happy being a cop in Cocoa.”