“I know.” Gwen sighed. “There’s got to be a way for him to remember you. Especially in this town.”
“You’d think so.”
Gwen set her empty cup on the ground, then crossed her arms. “What about that shop in town that sells potions and things? Spellbound? You know, Lucas swears by their full moon cream.”
Lucas Cartwright was her aunt’s gentleman friend and a fellow wolf shifter.
“Aunt Gwen! I don’t think you should be telling me Lucas’s business. I also don’t want to know how you know he uses that.” For a werewolf, full moon cream was almost the equivalent of a certain little blue pill in unisex form. It enabled a shifter to shift at will, if they couldn’t otherwise. No lunar help required.
Gwen laughed. “We’re both consenting adults, and we like to go for off-cycle runs occasionally.”
Ginny gave her aunt a hard stare. “Are you seeing Lucas? I know you’re friends with him, but are you…more than that?”
“I thought you didn’t want to know about personal business.”
“Aunt Gwen.”
The sly smile on her aunt’s face was answer enough. “He’s a lovely man. He’d make a wonderful stepuncle for you.”
Ginny slipped her hand into her aunt’s. “I’m happy for you. I really am.”
“Thank you. I’m happy for you, too. But I’d like to be happier. Go to Spellbound and ask if they have something that might help you. It can’t hurt.”
“No, I don’t suppose it can. I should have asked when I was there last night.”
Aunt Gwen kissed her cheek. “Go on, now. You’ve spent enough time with this old woman.”
Ginny shook her head. “Never.” It was especially hard to leave on one of her aunt’s good days.
“Lucas is coming over in a little bit. We’re going to the spa for a couple’s massage.”
Ginny stood and held her hands up. “Okay, going. You two have fun. Love you.”
“Love you, too, honey. Next time, you bring that young man with you, you hear?”
Chapter Twenty
From Emerald Manor, Ginny went straight to Black Horse Bakery. Spellbound could wait until she was on her way home.
Nasha was at the counter and just finishing up with a customer. Ginny smiled as she got six blackberry pies and one chocolate cake in three separate shopping bags. She loaded the bags into her Jeep and drove to Miller’s Lake, turning onto the dirt road that would take her to the old boardwalk and fishing pier. As usual, the area was deserted.
Good. Just like the day Easy had moved to town.
Bags with the pies in hand, she walked out to the very end of the pier, slipped her shoes off, and sat, letting her legs dangle and her toes almost touch the water. “Seymour, you around, buddy?”
Nothing. She scanned the surface of the lake. Please don’t let him have forgotten me, too. Today was on an upswing. She wanted to keep it that way.
Then the water rippled.
She grinned and gave the nearest shopping bag a little rustle. “I have pie.”
His head rose out of the water as he swam toward her. He made his little throat noises of happiness.
All was well.
“I’ve missed you, too. And a lot has happened since I was here last. Long story. Short version is a lot good, but some bad.”
Seymour honked at her.
“You want the whole story?”
He nodded.
“Okay, but I’m still giving you the condensed version, because I don’t want to bore you silly, and I know you’re waiting for pie. I met a guy who could remember me, a wolf like me, and we were kind of falling for each other, but then he had an accident, and now he doesn’t remember me anymore.”
Seymour made a sad sound.
“Thanks. I was pretty miserable, but I’m trying to focus on what might still be possible, you know? Think positive and all that. My plan is to meet him all over again and see if we can make some memories that stick. Plus, my aunt said a shop in town might have a potion or something that could help. I have my doubts. It’s not like I haven’t asked around before. Anyway, I’m kind of hoping that as he heals from his accident that his memories will return. If not…I don’t know.”
He tipped his head like he was listening, then stuck his face into the water and blew air through his snout, making bubbles.
“No, I can’t swim today. I have to take a cake to my wolf friend. It’s all part of meeting him again. But hey, don’t you want pie?” She took the first pie out of the bag, got it positioned for flipping, and waited.
Tongue out, he grinned.
“That’s what I thought. Ready?”
He swam closer and opened his mouth.
She launched the pie. He caught it with a snap of his jaws, swallowing it down in a couple of big chomps.
“That’s not quite what I had in mind when I said you needed to chew more, but I suppose it’s an improvement.” She laughed. This was exactly what she needed. A great visit with her aunt, then a little fresh air and some time with Seymour, her two constant reminders that she could be remembered. Well, her aunt didn’t really count as a constant, but today, she did.
Ginny fed him the rest of the pies, then bundled up the trash. She stood on the end of the pier and smiled at her friend. “I’ll see you again soon, okay? I promise that next time I come, I’ll swim. Deal?”
He trilled his answer, then bobbed his head as a fly buzzed around him. It landed on his ear. But only for a second. A little crack of electricity broke the stillness. The fly fell off.
She shook her head. “We really could have used you in the Dark Acres.” She wiggled her fingers at him. “Bye, Seymour.”
With a burble, he slipped back under the surface as she walked away. The water held only the faintest ripple by the time she got back in her Jeep. The whole interior of the vehicle smelled like chocolate cake, even with the top off.
She smiled. “Time to go meet Easy. Again.”
* * *
Easy woke to the sound of a car door shutting. He’d fallen asleep in his recliner watching ESPN. He blinked a few times, then checked the nearest clock. Huh. He’d been out for a few hours. And he’d been dreaming. About…a very attractive woman in a pink bikini? That was nice. But random.
Or was it?
He rolled his head back and forth. The pain wasn’t as bad as it had been earlier, but he’d taken more aspirin before nodding off. His journal was tucked between his leg and the arm of the chair.
Welts still covered him, but he’d slathered on the salve from the jar on his nightstand, and it seemed to be helping. At least they weren’t itchy anymore. And they didn’t look quite as red.
All in all, he was doing a little better. Thanks to…someone. But who?
No one came to mind. Then he saw a sticky note on the arm of the chair. It just said journal.
He pulled his journal out. There was another sticky note on the front of it.
Ginny. Read today’s entry.
He couldn’t remember who that was, what she looked like, or how he knew her, but he figured the journal entry would help.
He turned to the day’s entry.
Ginny is your neighbor and your friend, and until you were stung by the lightning bugs, you were falling in love with her. Even planning on proposing in a couple months. She’s that great. She’s also an incredible kisser, a kind and generous person, and a beautiful woman with a killer body. And a wolf like you. She knows about your curse. Get to know her again. Do not forget her. You will. She’s cursed to be forgotten. But try not to anyway. And write down everything you do with her while you can remember it. You owe her a lot. Read the last week of entries. Or just ask her to explain.
Wow. He read the entry again, hoping it would help him recall what she looked like. It didn’t. He scanned last week’s entries, getting a bigger picture of what she’d done for him and how he felt about her.
His stomach growled. He sighed and closed the journal. He should get something to eat, but
he had no idea what there was in the house. He’d probably have to order something.
His doorbell rang. Had he already ordered something? That would be too convenient. He got up, thankful he’d put on lounge pants and a T-shirt, and shuffled slowly to the door. Moving exacerbated the remaining pain.
He winced but made it to the door before whoever it was rang again. He opened it. “Hi.”
“Hi there.” The woman smiled. She had a shopping bag from the bakery in one hand, the faint aroma of chocolate unmistakable. And she was the sexiest, cutest thing he’d seen in a long time. “I’m Ginny French. I’m your—”
“Neighbor,” he finished. “Wow. You’re Ginny? This is great.”
She gasped. “Do you remember me?”
“No. Well, sort of, but not exactly.” He moved back, opening the door wider. “Come in, I want to show you something.”
She held up the bakery bag. “I brought you a chocolate cake.”
“Perfect timing, I’m starving.”
She laughed as she came in. “This might not be the most nutritious thing to eat while you’re recovering. Hey, how are you feeling? How’s the pain? The welts look a little better. Are you using that salve I picked up?”
“You got me that? Thanks. Yeah, I’m using it. I think it’s helping. The welts seem a little better.” He held his arms out. “The pain is manageable, but that might be because I’m eating aspirin like candy.” He took a good look at her, trying to imprint her face on his memory. “You really are beautiful.”
She smiled, then blushed a little. “That’s very sweet of you, thank you.”
“I know you have a curse that makes you impossible to remember. And I know you know about my curse.”
“All true. And excellent that you know that.” She canted her head. “But how do you know that?”
“Because I wrote it down in my journal and left myself a note to read it.”
“That was a great idea. I take it you got the note I left for you by your laptop?”
“I did.” He was afraid to stop looking at her. “Am I going to keep forgetting you?”
“I don’t know.” The question had brought sadness into her eyes. “I hope not, but more than likely…yes.”
“I need to take your picture. I need to take a picture of us together. A couple of them. In fact, I should print some out and put them around the house.”
“That’s a really good idea, too.” She dug into her purse. “I went by the shop where I got your salve, and they sold me this.” She pulled out a small brown glass pot. “It’s cerebellex powder. You’re supposed to mix it with water and drink it while concentrating on the thing you want to remember.”
He shrugged, which made him wince. “Anything’s worth a shot.”
“That’s what I figured. My aunt suggested it.”
“You have an aunt here in town?”
“I do. I’ve told you about her, but I’m guessing the memory of her is attached to the memory of me. Aunt Gwen lives at Emerald Manor, the retirement place here in town. They have an assisted-living wing. She had a stroke not long after I graduated from college, and since then she’s had memory issues. Not exactly dementia, not exactly senility…just good days and bad days. You’d think that would have prepared me for this curse.” She smiled sadly. “It didn’t. But today was a good day, and she remembered me. She’s the only person who can since you…you know.”
“Right. But with any luck, I’ll be able to remember you again.” He rubbed his hands together. He needed to put all of this into his journal. The more details he had, the harder she’d be to forget. He hoped. “What do you say we have some of that cake and talk some more about the week I don’t remember? Maybe take a few pictures together? You have the advantage on me here, since you remember everything.”
She smiled. “But I’ll be happy to tell you about it.”
“Good. I want to hear it in your words.” He thought that might somehow make the experiences more real for him. Maybe even help bring some of the memories back.
They went into the kitchen together. He got plates and silverware out while she unboxed the cake.
“You know,” she said, “I organized your kitchen for you.”
He paused and thought back to his journal, then nodded. “You did the whole house.”
“That’s right. Do you remember that?”
“I remember an entry from my journal.” He shook his head. “You already know what I do for a living, but I journal every day. When I saw your note on my desk, I knew I had to write about what happened to me in my journal. But when I opened it up, I found your name all over the last week of entries. All the things we did together. All the fun we had. How you helped me. Man, you really helped me.”
He stared at the counter, the pages of his journal flashing through his mind. “Including during the incident at the pub.”
“I did what any friend would do.” She sniffed. “I can’t believe you wrote about me in your journal.”
He nodded, lifting his head.
There were tears in her eyes.
“Sorry,” she said. “It’s been a very emotional half day for me. Or fourteen hours. However long it’s been since we walked into the enchanted forest. I can’t believe you wrote about me.”
“I did. I’m going to keep doing it, too. With more details. I hope that it might help.”
She smiled. “So you didn’t have a lot of details in those first pages?”
He wasn’t sure what she was hinting at, but he had a feeling. “I had enough.”
Her cheeks went slightly pink.
He grinned. “Enough to know what a good kisser you are.”
She laughed and shook her head, causing tendrils of silky brown hair to fall around her face. “Yeah, well…you’re not so bad yourself.”
“Glad it’s mutual. I’d hate to find out it was one-sided.” He sliced the cake into large pieces.
“Did you write about our little fight?”
He looked up. “We had a fight?”
“After the pub incident.”
“Oh. That.” He added a slab of cake to each plate. “Yes, I wrote about it. And how I bought you flowers and chocolates.”
“The best flowers and chocolates I’ve ever gotten.” She snorted. “Also the only flowers and chocolates I’ve gotten, but they’re amazing.”
“I tried to tell you what was best for you.” What a fool he’d been.
She nodded. “You did. But you apologized. I was equally to blame, which is why I also said I was sorry. I only bring it up because going forward, when things get hard—and they will, I’m sure of it—I don’t want us to go through that again.”
“Things are already hard, aren’t they?” He slid a plate toward her. “They have to be. For you anyway. You have memories of us that I don’t. Sure, I have my journal entries, but right now that’s like reading a story about someone else.”
“Are you trying to tell me you don’t want to try to recapture all that?”
“No, not at all. Just asking for your patience, I guess.” He pulled his phone out. He needed photos of them. Lots of photos.
She nodded. “I can do that. I’ve done it for the last ten years with pretty much everyone around me. But this time is different. This time, I really care about the outcome.”
He held his phone up to take a picture of them together and smiled. “Good. Me, too. Now, smile. This is going to be my home screen. Me and Ginny French. World’s best neighbor. Maybe also the world’s hottest neighbor.”
She laughed, and he snapped the picture. If there was anything he could do to remember her, he was going to do it.
He took a few more pics, then put his phone on the counter. “Now, about that cerebellex powder…”
Chapter Twenty-one
As they each downed a glass of the powder mixed into water (which tasted like a very bitter lemonade), Ginny was struck by Easy’s request for her to be patient with him.
Was that really what he wanted? Or was t
hat his way of starting some kind of slow let-down process, preparing her for the day when he’d tell her it wasn’t working out?
Maybe she was being paranoid, but maybe she wasn’t. If she put herself in his shoes, she understood how strange it would be to be with someone who had completely different memories of your life than you had. Memories that also included emotions you no longer had.
Weird, awkward, and uncomfortable would all apply here.
Worse, he might feel like he was being forced into something. A relationship, a friendship, whatever it was, and he just didn’t know how to tell her he wanted out. He was a nice guy, and the nicest thing was to let her down gently. To ease her into the it’s not you, it’s me speech.
This was the reality that she lived with constantly.
But never in the history of her curse had anyone had notes to look back on. Easy did. And he might have written something in his journal that had made him decide this second chance wasn’t for him.
What that thing might be, she didn’t know. And she wasn’t about to steal his journal to read it for herself.
But the questions were there in her mind now. And would be until she no longer had a reason to wonder.
It took the shine off things, for sure. But she tried to remind herself that she could also be wrong. Very wrong. This might all be some overthinking on her part born out of too many years without much deep human interaction.
And he was clearly going to some effort to remember her. She had to focus on that.
So she smiled and bantered and kept up a good front while they ate their cake and quickly realized the cerebellex powder didn’t seem to have any immediate effect. She filled him in on all the little details he hadn’t written down, doing her best to focus on the fun, positive stuff and keep things light.
But all the while, a part of her brain was obsessing over how difficult it was going to be having a relationship under these circumstances. Every time he forgot her, he’d lose his feelings for her. Which would be awkward for him. But devastating for her. Was she up for this emotionally? What if he decided it was too much work? She couldn’t let it go, try as she might.
The Forgettable Miss French (Shadowvale Book 3) Page 15