by Edie Claire
Jamie sat up. She took her good hand and slapped herself on the cheek.
What was she thinking? That she could come and live at the house and sleep with Eric and Teagan would move over the garage? Of course! Then they could all be one big, happy family!
She slapped her other cheek, too.
Then she stood up, crossed to the window, and lifted the shade at its edge. She had to put Eric out of her mind.
Her eyes passed over the wooden frame of Teagan’s house, silhouetted against the winter sky. A bright moon reflected off the snow on the roof; a thin curl of smoke rose from the chimney. All the lights in the house were out except the back porch light.
Jamie’s lips curved into a smile. She wasn’t completely removed from this paragon of warm domesticity. The porch light had been left on for her. In case she needed anything. All she had to do was knock, and Teagan would be there.
Someone did care.
A second light began to dance in Jamie’s vision, and her gaze moved upward. This light was much dimmer, not as steady. It was shining through the window at the far right corner of the house, outlining a valance through closed blinds. The light was orange-red rather than white, fainter than the moon, and flickering.
Candlelight.
A lump swelled in Jamie’s throat. Her jaws tightened.
The light was coming from Teagan’s bedroom. The room she shared with Eric.
He’s making love to her.
Jamie dropped the shade and turned around.
To her.
She walked back to the foot of her empty double bed and fell forward onto its mattress. She closed her eyes and dropped her face into her pillow.
You’ll always be alone.
No tears came.
She didn’t have the energy.
***
Late, late, late!!!
When the sun shone again, it did so with a vengeance. Jamie awoke to find herself already at the window, rolling up the shade with a snap. The winter sun was shining full force on a smooth new blanket of snow, creating a glare so bright she winced. She couldn’t remember waking up and crossing the room—all she knew was that light meant morning and morning meant she was supposed to be somewhere. This much light was unusual. She had to be horribly, desperately late.
Her pulse pounded in her temples. Why hadn’t her alarm gone off? She would get fired. She whirled from the window and began to pull off the loose flannel top and sleep pants she was wearing. She couldn’t imagine what had possessed her to buy such a frumpy outfit—she loathed pajamas.
She was late, late, late…
A wave of unexpected relief washed over her.
No, she wasn’t late. She worked evenings now. She was the boss. She fired other people when they came in late. Remember?
She slipped the pajamas the rest of the way off and let out a breath. Of course. She must have been dreaming. Things were different now. Things were—
Her pulse raced anew. None of the sweatshirts laid out on the dresser were hers. Neither was the stretchy one-size-fits-all sports bra. She wasn’t in her apartment. Where was she? What the hell was going on?
Her brain clicked into gear with the same gratified, yet embarrassed feeling one has when being the last one to get a punch line. Mere seconds had passed between her awakening from a sound sleep and her realization that she was at Teagan’s place. But to Jamie, the confusion had been interminable. Not only had her mind been straddling three places, but she hadn’t landed where she wanted to settle.
She wanted to be home.
The images flew before her eyes, fast and furious. She had an apartment. It had her stuff in it. It wasn’t much, but it was hers. She had a job too, a real job. People liked her. People respected her. People counted on her.
So why wasn’t she there?
It was a restaurant with white tablecloths. China plates. Candles. A hardwood floor. The kitchen was huge—her office was tiny. Her office. Hers and… somebody’s.
She bit her lip, hard. She tried to remember more of the business, to see its storefront, to read its menu. But the more she attempted to focus on the place, the time, the more hazy her awareness of it became. Had she been remembering something real—or was it all just another dream?
She blew out a frustrated breath, then dropped the pajamas in a heap and headed for the shower.
Within minutes jets of hot water were massaging her back, enveloping her in a comforting curtain of steam; and as her wits sharpened, she began to feel suddenly, newly alive. Her arm still ached, and the portion of her scalp that had been stapled was still tender. But there was a lightness to her mood that was unfamiliar. She had gained something overnight. Something important.
She did have a home, and a job. She hadn’t been making them up. She couldn’t have, not when the memories seemed so much a part of her. Although critical elements of her past still retreated from her conscious mind, she believed now that all the information she needed was still within her, whole and complete. Extracting it was only a matter of time.
She finished her shower in a rush, pulled on the better-than-nothing bra and the last of the non-white sweat suits, and dried her hair. She didn’t bother with makeup. The sight of her yellow eyes in the mirror bothered her, and she made a mental note to acquire more blue contacts ASAP. But right now her appearance didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting home.
She wrapped herself up in Teagan’s coat and headed out the door to the stair landing. The steps were covered with snow, but she crunched down them anyway, holding tight to the rail with her good hand. As anxious as she was, she had no desire for any more broken bones. She cut a new path to the back door, entered the screen porch, and brushed the snow off her shoes and pant legs and onto the worn outdoor carpet. She knocked on the house door, but left little time for anyone to appear before retrieving Teagan’s key from under the ceramic squirrel and opening the door herself.
She could barely see. The house seemed dark after the glare of the snow, and she found her way to the kitchen as much by feel as by sight. Everything was quiet. The rooms were empty. She laid Teagan’s coat over the back of a dining room chair, moved into the kitchen, and sank down onto a stool.
I want to go home now.
She drummed her hands impatiently on the counter, wondering if Teagan had heard her come in. It was 9:30 AM. She could not wait forever. She would simply have to wake Teagan up. Perhaps with a little innocent, unavoidable noise?
She put the teakettle on to boil and returned to her stool.
Each quiet moment that passed found her attempting, anew, to reason out where home might be. But she could see only parts of it. Flashes of furniture, flashes of things that were hers. Images of the restaurant where she worked were just as elusive—a table here, a spreadsheet there. She suspected she could piece it all together fairly quickly if, as at the university, she had a concrete visual or two to spark her gray matter. She should be out on the streets right now—looking, searching. Doing nothing was torture.
“Morning.”
Jamie jumped as the gruff voice reached her ears. Teagan appeared at the doorway wearing a navy fleece robe and hot-pink slippers, trudged around Jamie at the counter, and shuffled into the kitchen. Her puffy eyes didn’t meet those of her guest. Her hair hadn’t seen a brush since nightfall.
“Good morning,” Jamie answered pleasantly, trying not to sound as eager as she felt. She hated being dependent, asking favors of other people. If only she could borrow a car...
“You’re up early,” Teagan commented.
Jamie felt a sharp twinge of concern. Her friend’s voice was devoid of its usual cheer. It was devoid of any sort of cheer. Perhaps Teagan had insomnia.
Or perhaps Eric had stabbed Jamie in the back again.
The tea kettle began to whistle. Teagan dove toward the offending noise immediately, slapping the kettle onto a cool burner before the sound could escalate.
Jamie drew in a breath. Either Teagan was trying to avoid disturbi
ng her husband, or the sound had taken her, as it had just taken Jamie, back to yesterday afternoon.
Teagan’s back was turned. She opened various cabinets and drawers, then slammed them shut again.
Dammit, Jamie thought. She does know.
Why did Eric have to be such a ridiculously straight arrow? The kiss had meant nothing, surely anyone who knew Jamie should realize that! She had been upset; she had sought comfort from the nearest man around. Eric had been a poor choice under the circumstances, but he shouldn’t have taken it personally, and neither should Teagan.
Jamie released a sigh. She was not unaware of her insincerity. A neon sign flashing the word “liar” played prominently in her mind’s eye even as she rationalized. How much of an “accident” the kiss had been was debatable—even in her own mind. She had no defense. All she knew was that she could not lose Teagan again. Not over a man; not over anything.
“I don’t want to impose,” Jamie began meekly. “But I was wondering if I could ask a favor. I’d like to do some driving around again today. I remember some things about my apartment and the place I used to work, and I think I would know them if I saw them.”
Teagan stopped rooting about in the cabinets and turned sharply. “So you want me to drive by every apartment and business in the Pittsburgh area?”
Jamie swallowed. She wasn’t afraid of many people, and she had never been afraid of any woman lacking a weapon. But despite the strained equanimity of Teagan’s tone, the look in her eyes struck a chord that ran deep. It was the same look the twelve-year-old Teagan had sported when she had caught Jamie’s foster brother, Ty, trying to peel the shell off an injured box turtle. Ty was two years older than either of them and built like a train, but Teagan had nearly scratched his eyes out before the Renicks could intervene. Ty had avoided Teagan the rest of the summer, even as he was repeatedly disciplined for bullying every other kid on the lake. Jamie had considered herself lucky to be on Teagan’s side.
If only she could be there now.
“I know it sounds silly,” Jamie said carefully. “That’s why I don’t want to waste your time with it. I thought that maybe, if you could lend me your car, I could manage by myself.”
“You don’t have a driver’s license.”
“I’ve driven without one before.”
“Not my car, you haven’t!” Teagan snapped.
Jamie lowered her chin. She could think of no good rebuttal. But she couldn’t just sit around all day. She had to do something.
She looked back up at Teagan, who was now pouring herself a bowl of cereal.
Cocoa Puffs.
An unexpected warmth flooded Jamie’s veins. Young Teagan had adored Cocoa Puffs. She had eaten them for breakfast every morning. Whenever Jamie had slept over, the two of them had welcomed the next morning with “Cocoa Puffs Supreme”—the addition of excessive amounts of chocolate syrup to the already brown milk in their bowls. Two sleep-deprived girls on a chocolate high, giggling themselves into gear. Teagan’s grandparents were pushovers; they let Teagan eat anything she wanted. Jamie had wished that she could stay with them every night. She had hoped they would adopt her.
She stiffened suddenly, pulling herself up straight on the stool. There was moistness behind her eyes again, but she refused to give into it. Since when had she ever been sentimental? Of course Teagan’s family wouldn’t want to adopt her. They already had one fatherless girl to worry about, didn’t they? Reliving that particular disappointment now made no more sense than lamenting a long-lost Barbie doll. Jamie was an adult, and she didn’t need anyone to adopt her.
But she did want a friend. “What?” she asked lightly, teasing. “No chocolate syrup?”
Teagan’s hand stopped moving in midair. She stood frozen a second, her back still to Jamie, before she whirled around.
The gaze that locked on Jamie’s was piercing. Teagan’s muscles were tight as a drum, her expression hard. But within the depths of her eyes, Jamie could see two things quite clearly. A heart that was hurting, and a temper that was about to erupt.
Jamie sat silently, waiting, for several uncomfortable seconds. Then she decided to uncork the bottle.
“Go ahead, Teag,” she suggested. “Say it.”
Teagan released a breath like fire. “You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve!” she hissed. “Eric told me the two of you were involved before. He told me everything. And I didn’t like it, but I dealt with it. Why? Because I’m a nice person, that’s why. Because I wanted to help you, and I didn’t figure it was anyone’s fault. It was just a coincidence, after all. Right?”
Teagan’s volume escalated. “But you couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you? Never mind that I invited you into my house. Never mind that I overlooked the past and tried to help you anyway. You couldn’t just appreciate that and be even a tiny bit sensitive to my feelings. Oh, no. Not Jamie! It’s always, only, about what you want, about what you need! No matter how awkward you made things for Eric—no matter how much you knew it would irritate me!”
Teagan’s voice had become a shout. Her eyes blazed. The knuckles that clenched her spoon were white.
Jamie remained silent.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Teagan railed, gesticulating with the now-threatening spoon. “Do you have some kind of death wish? If you remember the stupid Cocoa Puffs, you should remember who you’re dealing with!”
Jamie took in the enraged woman before her, her fleece robe open to reveal pink and blue flannel pajamas decorated with coffee cups, her dark-blond hair mussed, a drop of brownish milk trickling from the spoon down her raised wrist. The image took Jamie back.
I am Zanzibar! Queen of the Jungle People. You have landed on sacred ground and defiled our coconuts. Back in the water with you—you will swim with the snakes!
A queer feeling erupted in Jamie’s middle. Before she knew what was happening, a gush of air rushed up her throat and out her nose. She let out an indelicate snort, followed by a chuckle.
“What the hell is so funny?!” Teagan raged.
Jamie’s eyes began to water. She dabbed at them with a finger, narrowly avoiding another clop on the jaw from her cast. Her mouth was smiling behind her hand, and her voice, though strangled sounding, was uncharacteristically warm.
“God, I’ve missed you.”
Teagan’s eyes widened. She stood, her spoon still in the air, staring at Jamie as if she’d gone mad. Then she lowered her arm and jabbed the utensil outward. Her voice remained grim, but Jamie could see a twitch of amusement playing on her taut lips. “You think I won’t impale you with this?”
Jamie took another chance and grinned. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you would.”
Teagan breathed out heavily. “You make one more move on my husband, and so help me—”
“I won’t,” Jamie said firmly. She caught Teagan’s eyes with her own and held them, pleading. “I won’t. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Teag. And I don’t want to cause trouble for Eric, either. I’ve been feeling a little lost lately; I admit that. I’ve been out of my mind in more ways than one. But that’s going to change, now that I’m remembering who I am.”
Teagan looked back at Jamie without comment, her expression still guarded. She set down the spoon. “I don’t trust you,” she proclaimed.
Jamie pursed her lips, then nodded. “I know.”
“And I hate the fact that you turned out so damned sexy.”
Jamie smiled. “Yeah, I know that, too.”
Teagan looked away, and her voice turned hard again. “I’m not putting up with any more crap from you, Jamie. I don’t care what the circumstances are. From now on, if you so much as look at Eric sideways—”
“A waste of my valuable time,” Jamie agreed. “He’s in love with you.”
“Damned straight,” Teagan huffed.
Both fell silent.
Jamie’s heart continued to pound. It felt good to laugh, to smile—to defuse at least some of the tension. But she meant was she was saying, and s
he needed for Teagan to believe it. She needed Teagan, period. “Teag,” she said soberly. “I am sorry. Really.”
Teagan’s eyes continued looking ahead. Her tone remained surly.
“You’d better be.”
Chapter Twenty
“All right, here’s the plan,” Teagan began some time later, when she and Jamie at last buckled themselves into her car. Jamie looked so anxious she was practically bouncing; Teagan had deliberately been taking her time. “Eric and I went over what you’ve remembered about your restaurant, and it sounds like an upscale one. Odds are it’s either downtown or in Shadyside, but it could be on the South Side, or even out in the suburbs, and we can’t look everywhere. So you’re going to have to narrow it down. Any memories of the outside of the building? Of how you got there, maybe? What the neighborhood was like?”
Teagan was aware that she was using her detached, professional tone. She was also aware that making specific reference to the conversation she’d had with Eric, which Jamie had not been a party to because Teagan had banished her from the main house immediately after breakfast, was an intentional jab of the “he’s mine and don’t you forget it” variety.
She didn’t care.
“I told you all I can remember so far,” Jamie insisted, her voice subdued. “I wish I could do better, but specifically thinking about a question never helps. I need to see something. Otherwise, it just comes back randomly. Sorry.”
Teagan blew out a breath. She was low on gas, and she had no desire to waste more driving circles around the county. But she also wanted Jamie the hell out of her garage.
“So tell me about the inside again,” she said shortly. “What do you remember?”
Jamie closed her eyes and smiled. “There were round tables, with white linen tablecloths and fine china plates. The chairs were dark wood, very elegant. The waiter’s outfits looked like tuxes. They were all men, though... that irked me. Most of them were older than me. I had a problem with—”
Her voice broke off.