“Well he is here in Wales, and I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until he starts remembering. To be totally honest, Ben, he doesn’t impress me as a potential threat to anyone, not me, not the girls, and certainly not national security. I’d like to give him his name at least, and see what memories it jogs.”
“Hmm,” Ben replied, “not so sure we want to do that just yet, I’d like to look into this a bit more for a day or two. Are you certain he doesn’t know who he is? I know you have a pretty good head for the business ... and a good feel for people, but Elizabeth, are you so certain that you’ll bet your and Franny’s life on it? You don’t think it’s possible he’s playing you?”
“Ben, I know you’re cautious, and I probably would be too in your position, but I’m confident he’s the real deal. The doctors are convinced, and so am I.”
“Well, although I can’t see any connection to the girl’s current whereabouts and him, once he puts the past together, he’s just another loose end flapping around. Let’s hold off for now; I’ll give you a call tomorrow and will probably have some more information about the girls by then. Since he’s over there and has been there for some time, I’m sure he has nothing to do with them, but I’d like to be sure, okay?”
“That’s fine, I trust your judgment ... which is why I waited for your advice, but as soon as we can, I would like to give him something.”
“I understand. I’ll talk to you early tomorrow morning. Is there anything else you can tell me about him?”
“No, I only know what the Royal Arms gave the police. He talked to Roger Gillian about searching for me, that’s why we know that much, but nothing more. And Ben, please call at any hour about the girls, won’t you?”
“Of course, you know I will.” As soon as Ben hung up the phone, he asked Nichole to find Agent Jensen. He wasn’t completely comfortable with Matt at the cottage with Elizabeth and Franny and wanted to have a man headed in that direction if a buzzer should go off in his head.
Elizabeth stopped at the market and spent the next half hour trying to calm her nagging thoughts before returning to the cottage. Franny’s intuition was keen, she would see through her attempt at nonchalance. “Better get my head around this quick,” she muttered. As she battled the coincidences which closed in around her, she picked up the makings for dinner.
All the way back to the cottage, Elizabeth fretted about her daughters and what would possibly keep them from reporting in on schedule. Ben didn’t have to say he was worried; she could detect it in his voice. And it wasn’t her imagination that he became more concerned after she mentioned Matt.
Chapter Sixteen
Franny cooed, and Franny fretted. She patted his back and brought him tea. She couldn’t keep her hands off of him. Matt tried hard not to laugh, she only wanted to take care of him he knew, but it was so amusing watching her. Every step she took bounced her long gray curls out from under the little lace cap she wore. She could have been a stand-in for Aunt Pitty Pat right out of Gone with the Wind, he thought. Looking every minute of her ninety years, her face had the texture of dried, cracked mud. With a frame bent over with a dowager’s hump, she was forced to look sideways even to see where she was going.
“Please, Franny, I do not need anything,” Matt kept telling her. “You do not need to wait on me; I can help myself.” But his entreaties were useless. She was there to serve and serve she would, whether he liked it or not.
“Mrs. Champion asked me to look upon ye, and ye would have me do otherwise?” she asked him petulantly.
“No,” sighed Matt, resigned.
“Ever since my Laury has been gone, I have been too idle, ye needs to get yeself better, and I can help ye.”
“Laury? Is she your daughter? Where is she?”
“Na, she was not ma babe, but truer than me own child could be, she was to me. She is buried in the churchyard, but her soul is with her love.”
Having absolutely no idea who or what she was talking about, Matt murmured his condolences and made a mental note to ask Elizabeth about her when Franny was out of earshot.
The cottage was warm and dry on the drizzly afternoon, and altogether quite comforting. Matt’s head was finally clearing of a horrendous headache that had kept him company since they left the rehab center. Agreeing to stay with Elizabeth felt weird to him, but then his entire life for the past month or so felt entirely weird. Little nagging things would go through his head, and he wondered if they were bits of his life he was trying to remember or just brain clutter. He remembered nothing of his past, even his name was still a mystery, and it was difficult not to worry there was a family somewhere who may be frantic about him. Being in this place, in Wales, didn’t feel right, of that he was certain. He had no idea whether he was there on vacation or business. Either way, he wondered if there wasn’t someone looking for him. Surely someone must miss him. The idea no one might ever track him down or even try to, disturbed him deeply.
That was a long and troubling thought that plagued him at night when the others were asleep. During the day he managed to put it out of his mind, but how was it a man of his years had no one who cared about where he was? Was he such a bad person? Was he a loner who spent his life on the road, traveling to odd places like Wales, or maybe that wasn’t so odd after all? Maybe he was a frequent visitor. But if that was true, why didn’t anyone know him? The questions didn’t help his headaches, nor did the nightmares. Strange places and feelings haunted his sleep. Without any way of knowing for sure, he grimly hoped the places weren’t real.
The doctors warned him as his memory came back to him, things would seem strange and not to worry too much. But could the troubling scenarios he saw in his dreams be his real world? The feelings the dreams invoked; such intense fear, pain, danger, even remorse. Upon waking in the mornings, it took nearly an hour to clear his head of the night’s damage. It wouldn’t be so bad if he just knew they were dreams and not his forgotten reality. But the remnants of the night’s images floated through his waking hours like driving in and out of a light fog. There one minute, gone the next. Daylight hours faded the clarity of the details, but the feelings they instilled continued to haunt him.
One recurring dream, in particular, left him fearful of closing his eyes. In this dream he was running through a huge airport, he saw people all around him drop to the ground in deliberate slow motion. Their faces contorted in pain and disbelief, they writhed and flopped like fish on the ground when hauled out of the water, until they were still. Holding their baggage and belongings, clutched in frozen fingers, he realized the fish-people wanted his help, but he could do nothing but watch as their eyes pleaded with his. He struggled during the day to find hidden meanings in his painful images but found none.
Perhaps if he shared them with the doctors and Elizabeth, it would help, but he always decided against that course. He was already treated with kid gloves, and the doctors seemed to be looking for signs of dementia or hallucinations. He didn’t want to end up in a padded room somewhere in the Land of Oz. No, he knew he must keep his strange reverie to himself and hope either the dreams stopped, or they would work themselves out to a solution.
ELIZABETH RETURNED to the cottage and carried in the fresh vegetables she purchased at the market. She was grateful Franny was half asleep in the big faded chair in the parlor, she wouldn’t have to try so hard to hide her concern about the conversation with Ben. Tomorrow they would talk, and she would hear how the girls were found safe and sound, with some logical explanation for their absence. In the meantime, she checked on Matt, covered Franny with an old handmade quilt, and busied herself in the kitchen making soup.
“Can I help you?” Matt asked, limping his way into the kitchen and leaning his weight against the heavy wooden planking of the door. “I think I know something about cooking,” he added. His leg hurt if he put a lot of pressure on it even though the bone had mostly healed successfully. “I can sit and cut up the vegetables,” he offered.
“That woul
d be nice,” Elizabeth smiled and handed him a small knife and a pile of washed carrots, “thanks, I could use the company.”
“Did you have a good trip to town?” Matt asked, trying to make conversation.
“Umm, yes,” was the casual reply, but her mind wandered regretfully back to the call to Ben. “I may have to go out again tomorrow too; I hope you can fend off Franny without me.”
“I’m sorry if I’m a problem for you here,” Matt remarked, unsure why he suddenly felt uncomfortable. Although Elizabeth reassured him on several occasions he was welcome; he still felt he was imposing on her good nature.
“Listen, you should not feel that way at all, honestly. I am happy you’re here. It’s always a little too quiet out here on the bluffs. This old house has been sad for so long; it needs visitors.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” he said, quickly peeking around the corner in the direction of Franny’s slumping form, “who is Laury and how did she die? Franny mentioned her, and I felt bad ... I didn’t know what to say.”
“Lauren was my sister-in-law,” Elizabeth answered watching him for a reaction. “She lived in this cottage most of her life. It was to be her home with her husband, but he died in a storm on the seas before they could be married.”
“Has she been gone for a long time?”
“No, as a matter of fact, she passed only last year, in October to be exact.” Nothing, she noted, neither on his face or demeanor; there was no look of recognition, and no twitch of insight lit up his eyes. If he was acting, she decided, he was good at it. She was convinced he remembered nothing about his search for her.
“I’m sorry to hear that, I thought she was Franny’s daughter or something.”
“No, they weren’t related, but Franny was a neighbor of Lauren and Karl’s parents, and having no family of her own, she adopted them and then Lauren in turn when they were gone. She has been a part of the family for over seventy years.”
“You said Lauren was your sister-in-law. Karl is your husband? Is he away on business, does he live in Wales too?” Elizabeth chose her words carefully, and took the opportunity to haul out a large kettle, fill it with water and light the fire under it before she answered.
“My husband was born here in Wales, but he died many years ago. He was the editor of a newspaper in the States. We never lived here together. This was Lauren’s home. I’m not a permanent resident here either, although the cottage now belongs to me, and I visit often, but it will never be my home.”
“I’m sorry,” Matt felt bad for bringing up the topic, “I just assumed ...”
“I know. It’s alright. I’ve lost a few people along the way, and it is painful, but my husband and I had a wonderful life together, and even though I miss him terribly, I don’t look back in sadness.” Before he could ask the next question she was sure was coming, she offered him the answer, “we have two daughters, they live in the States as well,” still watching him for a sign that never came. She wanted to go further, tell him a little about the twins and her concerns, but she would heed Ben’s cautious warnings and wait for his response.
During all of her visits in the hospital and the rehab center, their conversations concerned his care and his memory; Matt focused so much of his attention on himself he never bothered to ask about the people around him. For this, he felt ashamed, especially since Elizabeth had been so good to him.
“Elizabeth,” he stammered, feeling remorse for his lack of manners toward this caring woman, “I have been so immersed in my misery, I’ve taken you and your kindness for granted. I apologize for my self-serving introspection for all these weeks. I must have better manners, and you have my promise, somehow, someday, I will repay you for everything you have done for me. I can’t stay here forever, but I need your help to go home. I would like to ask you for another favor. Because the police have not discovered anything about me in this country, I would like to find someone to contact in the U.S. I’m sure I’m American, and it’s where I feel I belong, but I don’t know exactly where to start. There must be a missing person national hotline somewhere. Maybe I can become the face on a milk carton and get some answers,” Matt rambled on.
“When you finally find all the answers to your questions, we can worry about repayment,” she smiled, “but in the meantime, please relax, I have enjoyed our friendship all these weeks. Your concern for your health and missing memory is understandable. Please do not think badly of yourself. The doctors have told you, and I believe it as well, your memory will return, and you’ll find your way home. I may have someone in the States to help, and I promise to see what information I can find for you.”
“That would be so great,” he flushed; childlike anticipation lit up his face. “This is a horrible existence,” he blurted out and then thought better of his comment when he saw the look she shot him.
“Hey, horrible, is it?” she replied, brandishing a wooden spoon in his direction, “You haven’t even tried my cooking yet.” His embarrassment made Elizabeth laugh but seeing his discomfort, she added gently, “I’m sorry for teasing you, I know what you mean.”
The way her eyes crinkled up at the corners when she laughed burned through him in a painful stab. What was it she just said that cut him in two? Silently he filed it away for future review. His headache threatened to start up again and to protect himself from the pain he deliberately changed the subject and joined in her fun.
“Okay, bring on the turnips already, the carrots are done. This place sure has a slow cook, and I’m getting hungry.”
Later, alone in his small room, he would examine more closely the cause of the pain his damaged brain wanted him to remember.
Chapter Seventeen
Blind in the dark, Kate felt her way along the edge of her surroundings. She was up against a flat wall, rough, like jagged concrete. Her reach was limited to an arm’s length; it hurt too much to move her body. She was dazed, and waking from the stupor was painful. She wanted to close her eyes and go back to sleep. The air was so hot it took great effort to breathe. Where the hell am I? It hurt to think. Where’s Lilly? The image of her sister lying on the ground snapped her to full consciousness. “Lilly,” she yelled, and her voice bounced off the dusty walls.
“Here,” came the terse reply, “I’m right here. Are you okay?” Lilly felt the dried blood on her head and shuddered.
Her pain forgotten; Kate reached over the ground in the direction of the voice. “Kate, what the hell happened?”
“I don’t know, but are you okay?”
“Yeah. Pretty woozy. Got a good wallop on the head, but nothing else hurts.”
“Same here.”
“Give me your hand,” Kate said, trying to feel for Lilly in the dark, running her hands along the walls and swiping through thick filaments of spider webs. A shudder went through her when she felt something move across her hand. As the girl’s fingers touched, they realized they were in a fairly small space.
“Can you see anything at all?” Lilly asked. “I can’t make out a thing.”
“Nope, the little crack of light over your head is the only light there is. If we can stand, maybe that is a door behind you.” Both girls crawled onto all fours in an attempt to stand but screamed out at nearly the same time as their injured heads hit the low ceiling.
“Omigod, that hurt,” Kate swore. “No wonder it’s hard to breathe in such a small space.”
“I’m not sure, but I don’t think we want to be here much longer,” Lilly answered her, gingerly massaging the top of her head. “The air is pretty bad, and if we stay too long, we’ll both pass out again.”
“Try the wall behind you,” Kate offered. “See if there is any give to it. The faint line above your head is an opening.”
Lilly dug her feet into the floor and pushed her back against the wall with all her strength. “That’s not going to work,” she wheezed, “no movement at all.” The slow dawning of their predicament hit both of them about the same time.
“Unless I’m mist
aken ... and God knows I hope I am, we are in a vault in the cemetery.” In spite of the heat radiating through the walls from the outside, Kate felt goosebumps go down her spine.
“Uh yeah, I had the same thought,” Lilly added. “Now what?”
“Okay, let’s not freak out yet, do you have anything on you, your phone, a lighter, a candy bar?” Kate asked her sister.
“Gee, since when, do I smoke, and I thought you were in charge of bringing lunch,” her sister replied, trying to match Kate’s wit.
“Yeah, well, if I’d known we were going to be boxed up together, I would have asked you what you thought we might need in case an escape was called for.” Kate shot back. Even though they had a serious problem, the twins knew panic could be held at bay with humor and neither wanted to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation.
“Okay, check your pockets,” Lilly ordered. “I had my phone on me, but I can’t feel it now.”
“Nope, mine’s gone too,” Kate replied. “I have no idea how long we’ve been here; it was getting dark before we were attacked. Judging by the sliver of light, it must be early morning. Ben knew we were searching for Eddy; he won’t let it go too long without sending out the Marines on our trail.”
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