by Gina Wilkins
He rested for a while, then took a hot shower. Dressed in clean clothes, he wandered into the kitchen and put a cup of water in the microwave to heat for instant coffee. While the water heated, he studied his reflection in the small, decorative mirror mounted on the wall beside the back door. The scrapes and bruises were fading, giving him a better idea of what he usually looked like. Blond hair, blue eyes, regular features—nothing out of the ordinary, in his opinion. Nothing to give him a clue as to who he was or where he came from.
Because he was finding it increasingly uncomfortable to try to retrieve memories that were beginning to seem permanently lost to him, he turned his thoughts to Serena as he carried his coffee to the table. Through the kitchen window, he could see the rose garden and the swing where he and Serena had shared such a pleasant midnight interlude Monday evening. Well, pleasant except for one jarring discovery.
He still wasn’t quite sure why it had bothered him so badly to find out that Serena was a lawyer. Even now, his reaction to the word was immediate and negative. He didn’t understand why—it was obviously connected to those lost memories. Trying to solve the puzzle only made his head ache, so he concentrated instead on remembering the way Serena’s hand had felt in his when he’d helped her out of the swing. The way her pretty oval face had looked in the moonlight, her eyes glistening, her lips moist and parted. He’d wanted to kiss her so badly he’d ached—and that pain had had nothing to do with his injuries.
He wondered what her reaction would have been had she known what he was thinking. Or had she somehow known? Was that why she’d been avoiding him ever since?
She thought of him as a stranger—which, of course, he was. Even to himself. What could an attractive young attorney from a respectable small town see in a battered, penniless drifter—if that’s what he was? And even if she was interested, he was hardly in a position to pursue anything more than a casual friendship. For all he knew, he had a wife and a houseful of kids somewhere—though he found that very difficult to believe. He just didn’t feel married, somehow.
Even he was aware how lame that sounded, he thought with a disgusted shake of his head.
Since thinking of Serena was becoming as uncomfortable as trying to remember his past, he pushed the thoughts aside and carried his empty cup to the sink. The remaining hours of the day stretched ahead of him, empty and uninteresting. Restlessness tugged at him, drawing him toward the door. Maybe if he got out, walked around town for a while, he might accidentally stumble onto a clue about his past. Some trigger that would bring the memories flooding back—a sight, a sound, a smell, anything. If nothing else, at least he’d be getting outside.
It was only a mile or so from the house to downtown Edstown. Sam could easily walk to the diner, though Marjorie had insisted he ride with her. Keeping his pace leisurely, he spent the afternoon exploring, passing through the quiet residential section in which the Schaffer home was located, past a tidy trailer park and into the downtown area with its old stone buildings and dusty glass storefronts. He nodded to a few townspeople he’d seen in the diner. The sidewalks weren’t exactly crowded, but they weren’t empty, either.
Marjorie had explained that after years of deterioration, the downtown area had experienced a resurgence recently. Along with the banks and offices that had been there for decades, new businesses had opened in long-vacant buildings—a couple of antique stores, a coffee shop and bakery, a florist and a children’s clothing store. Charming, in a vintage Americana way, but there was nothing remotely familiar about any of it to him.
Studying the fluttering blue-and-white awning over the children’s store, he strained for any clue about where he might have come from. He glanced at the summer sky over the one-and two-story buildings and mentally filled it with towering skyscrapers. He was remembering a large city, obviously. But where? Was the flash of memory merely a place he’d visited, or was it home for him?
His head began to pound, as it always did when he tried to force the memories. It had become a matter of self-defense to mentally flinch away from the effort and concentrate only on the present. He did so, even though there were only two weeks remaining until his self-imposed deadline for admitting the truth.
An oddly shaped stone building at the end of the block housed an old-fashioned candy store called Sweets ’n’ Treats. Sam had noticed it before, but had yet to see enough customers there to indicate that business was thriving. He knew that many small businesses closed within the first couple of years of operation—one of those useless trivia facts he’d retained when his more vital memories had been wiped clean—and this store looked as though it might be in trouble.
He almost turned around before he spotted the young boy pressed against the glass at the very end of the store. The kid was scrawny, probably no more than ten or eleven and dressed in faded hand-me-down clothes. Sandy hair in need of a trim tumbled over his forehead and ears, and his sneakers looked ready for the trash bin. Sam could almost see the boy’s mouth watering as he gazed at the colorfully displayed candies inside the store. Without thinking, he said, “Looks good, doesn’t it?”
Obviously startled, the boy whipped his head around. The ugly bruise that covered the left side of his face made Sam frown even as he remembered that he really shouldn’t talk to kids he didn’t know. As innocuous as the overture had been, he didn’t need Chief Meadows pegging him as a potential pervert in addition to whatever else he already suspected.
After a moment during which the boy seemed to debate the wisdom of talking to a stranger, he finally nodded and said, “It all looks good.”
Sam glanced at the window display. “I used to like those long red licorice whips when I was a kid.” The statement felt oddly right. So much so that it was probably true.
“I like those, too,” the boy agreed. “But my favorites are those big coiled lollipops. They last forever.”
Eying the lollipop that was nearly as big as the boy’s head, Sam chuckled. “It would definitely take a while to finish one of those.”
He was tempted to offer to buy the boy one of the treats—Marjorie had insisted on giving him a small advance against his salary so he’d have some cash—but he couldn’t figure out how to make the offer without destroying every lesson the kid should have been taught about accepting gifts from strangers. He hated the necessity of teaching those lessons, but he knew they were justified.
The boy sighed and stepped away from the window. “I gotta go. My, uh, stepdad is waiting for me at the muffler shop.”
The muffler shop was one street over. Sam had spotted it during his walk. That explained what the kid was doing alone on the streets of downtown. “Nice talking to you.”
“Yeah. See ya, mister.” The kid started to walk away, then turned again. “What’s your name?”
“I’ve been answering to Sam.”
Nodding gravely, the boy seemed to find nothing particularly odd about Sam’s choice of words. “My name’s Zach.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Bye, Sam.”
“Bye, Zach.”
Sam watched as Zach rushed off. Something about the kid had tugged at Sam’s memory. What made him suspect the boy was unhappy, that he wasn’t returning to a loving, supportive home? What caused him to worry that the bruise on that freckled face hadn’t been caused by a boyhood tumble but by an angry hand? Why could he almost feel that careless swipe of hand against his own face?
“Hey, Sam. What’s up?”
The lazy drawl made him turn. With a sense of inevitability, he said, “Chief Meadows.”
“You’re looking better than the last time I saw you.”
“Thanks—I think.”
“Doing some sightseeing?”
“A bit. Nice town you’ve got here.”
Dan seemed to take the comment as a personal compliment. “Thanks.”
“Did you happen to notice the boy I was just talking to?”
“I noticed.”
Of course he had. Sam doubted t
hat very much in this town escaped the police chief’s attention. “He said his name is Zach. Do you know him?”
“I recognized him. I don’t know every kid in town, of course, but I’ve seen that one a couple of times.”
“Professionally?”
“Why do you ask?”
“His face was bruised. Maybe he just fell off his bike, but it looked a little suspicious.”
Dan frowned and looked in the direction in which the boy had disappeared. “I’ll try to find an excuse to check on him later.”
“So there is a problem?” Sam thought of the general air of dejectedness he’d detected in the boy’s posture.
“Let’s just say that not every adult in Edstown is a model citizen.”
“He seemed like a nice kid.”
“I’ll check up on him,” Dan promised again, and Sam got the message that he needn’t pursue the matter any further. “How are things going at the diner?”
“Busy. Marjorie’s got a thriving business there.”
“Yeah. The Rainbow Café’s the place to go for lunch. Good breakfast crowd, too.”
“Tell me about it. I can’t keep the coffee cups filled fast enough.”
Dan scratched his chin. “I’ve got to admit, I never would have pegged you as a busboy.”
Refusing to take offense, Sam only shrugged. “I’m also a waiter. And a dishwasher when necessary.”
“You’re content with that?”
“For now. At least until I’m out of debt and back to full speed.” Which included the return of his memory, of course, he added silently.
“Just so you know, I haven’t given up on catching the guys who mugged you. I’m still pursuing every lead, no matter how slim, but it looks like your attackers have left the area.”
Flooded with guilt as he thought of the time Dan had wasted chasing this particular wild goose, Sam cleared his throat. When he’d impulsively concocted that tale, he’d been too groggy from medication and trauma, and dazed by the realization that his memory was gone, to give much thought to repercussions. It had been incredibly stupid on his part, as so many of his actions had been since Serena found him.
“About those guys, Chief,” he began, only to be interrupted by a woman’s husky voice.
“Dan! Here you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
For the first time, Sam saw the police chief look flustered—but only for a moment. Whatever the expression had meant, Dan masked it immediately. “Hey, Lindsey. What’s the big emergency this time?”
The petite redhead studied both men with curious bright green eyes, then focused on Sam. “You must be Serena’s stranger.”
He had to smile at her wording. “I’m Sam Wallace.”
“Lindsey Gray.” She held out her hand. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, but Serena wouldn’t let me.”
“Probably afraid you’d worry him back into the hospital with your nosy questions,” Dan muttered.
Lindsey shot him a look, but spoke again to Sam. “I’m a reporter for the Evening Star. I’d like to talk to you about what happened—the mugging, I mean. The story I ran about you was awfully sketchy, and I’d like more details. We don’t see that sort of crime around here very often and I—”
“I’d rather not.”
She blinked in response to Sam’s firm interjection. “I understand there are some questions you’d probably rather not answer, but—”
“I’d rather not be interviewed. Period.”
“But—”
“I really have nothing more to tell you,” he explained. “I remember very few details about the attack, and everything else is part of an ongoing police investigation. That leaves only my personal life to talk about, and I doubt you’d find that interesting enough for an article.”
“Oh, but I—”
“It was very nice meeting you, Ms. Gray. Come into the Rainbow Café sometime and I’ll buy you a cup of coffee. Chief, it was a pleasure to see you, as always. Oh, and don’t forget to check on that matter I mentioned to you, will you?”
“Are you sure I can’t give you a lift home?” Dan looked eager to have an excuse to escape the determined reporter.
Lindsey protested, “But, Dan, I want to talk to you.”
Rather enjoying the cocky police chief’s predicament, Sam grinned. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m enjoying the exercise. And besides, I wouldn’t want to take you away from Ms. Gray’s questions.”
Dan gave him a rather comical look that promised he would get even for this somehow.
“If you change your mind about talking to me,” Lindsey began to say to Sam.
“I won’t,” he assured her. “Not for an interview, anyway. But I meant what I said about that cup of coffee.”
He heard her sigh gustily behind him when he turned to walk away. And then she complained to Dan, “That man never let me finish a sentence.”
“I wish he’d teach me that trick,” Sam heard Dan grumble. “What is it you want now, Lindsey?”
Sam didn’t linger long enough to hear her reply. He had decided to stop by the library, maybe do a little research on amnesia. It was long past time he took an active part in finding out just what was wrong with him and what he should be doing about it—besides lying to everyone he met.
Chapter Seven
It was Walter who led Serena to Sam again Saturday afternoon. She’d let the dog out to take care of nature, and he’d headed straight for the fence at the back of the property. Before she could stop him, he’d wriggled underneath by way of a hole he’d discovered when Serena hadn’t been watching. He was gone before she could yell his name.
“Son of a…” Finishing the curse beneath her breath, she drew a deep breath and let herself out the back gate, prepared for a chase. “I should let him get lost, see how he likes eating out of garbage cans and dodging pickup trucks. If I ever catch him, I swear I’m going to give him away. Why should I have to be responsible for a dog I never wanted? Walter, get your scrawny butt back in the yard before I—”
“You think his butt is scrawny?” Sam stepped out of the trees beside the road, carrying the squirming dog in his arms. “He certainly feels chunky enough.”
Her hand on her pounding heart, Serena glared at him. “Where did you come from?”
“I walked down to the lake. Walter, here, met me coming back.”
“You walked all the way to the lake?”
“All the way? Serena, it’s only a couple of miles.”
He didn’t even looked winded, she noted. His bruises had faded, and the assorted cuts and scrapes that had marred his face were almost healed. She’d thought him good-looking before—he was almost breathtakingly so now. Who was this golden-haired, blue-eyed Adonis wearing discount store clothes, holding a squirming mutt and giving her a smile that had her heart tripping all over itself? “I’m, uh, glad you’ve recovered so finely—er, so well.”
“Lots of rest, fresh air and plenty of your mother’s good cooking. Better than any treatment I received in the hospital.”
Walter wiggled and tried to lick Sam’s face. Sam chuckled. “We’d better get this guy back to the house. I’ll see if I can repair the fence to keep him from making another dash for freedom.”
She nodded and turned toward the row of fences that marked the back of her neighborhood. There were five houses on her street, all with large yards. The house in which she’d spent most of her life was at the end of the street. She could see the second story over the top of the wooden fence her father had built. The window on the right marked her bedroom, still filled with the mahogany furniture she’d picked out for her seventeenth birthday. Except for the years she’d spent away at college and law school and the apartment she’d maintained for a while afterward, she’d lived her whole life in that house.
How dull must that seem to a man who drifted from one place to another as the mood struck him, never staying anywhere long enough to put down roots?
Not that she envied Sam’s lifestyle, s
he assured herself hastily. She still thought Kara was nuts to have left everything familiar to embark on a crazy quest with a man she hardly knew. Serena was perfectly content with her own life just the way it was. Except for Kara’s dog, of course, she added with a dark look at the goofy mutt.
“Funny about this town,” Sam mused as they went through the back gate into the big yard that was almost filled with the garage, the guest house and Marjorie’s rose gardens. “Within a five-mile radius, you’ve got woods, neighborhoods ranging from tiny tract houses to upscale homes to trailer parks, a lake and a business section. It’s like a microcosm of a society—like one of those toy play sets.”
“Haven’t you ever spent any time in small towns? They’re all pretty much like that.”
A funny expression crossed his face. “I guess I haven’t.”
“You guess? You don’t know?”
Seeing that Serena had the gate secured, Sam set Walter on the ground. The dog bounced around their feet for a minute, then headed straight for the hole where he’d gotten through the fence before. Sam caught him, then pushed him into Serena’s arms. “You’d better put him in the house while I fix the fence or he’ll be out again.”
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“I don’t mind helping out.” He shrugged. “It gives me something useful to do. Actually, I’ve already offered to do some yard work and maintenance around the place, but your mother insisted I wait until I’ve been out of the hospital for a week before starting. That week is up tomorrow.”
Again, he surprised her with his determination to pull his own weight. Not even Dan could accuse him of taking advantage of anyone so far. Sam worked to repay every favor that had been done for him. Marjorie claimed he was one of the best employees she’d hired in a long time. Thinking of his uncallused, neatly manicured hands, she wondered again what kind of work he usually did to support himself. She still found it hard to believe he’d spent much time at manual labor.