“Like a match game. Got it.” Summer hoped her smile was idiot-savantish.
Marcia glanced at the slim watch on her left wrist. “I’ll be back to check on you in thirty minutes. If it’s too challenging, that is, too hard, you come find me before then. I can probably come up with something to match your intellect.”
Summer pulled a face once Marcia left trailing perfume behind her like a crop duster trailing pesticide. Playing the idiot was surprisingly fun. Very different from the times she’d felt like an idiot. Thankfully those times were becoming more of a memory than a frustration. Dr. Veraat said she had to move past that time and that the only way to do that was to stay in the present.
Of course that was easy for Dr. Veraat to say. She hadn’t woken up three years ago dumb as a rock. Summer grabbed a stack of folders, pleased to find they were mostly sorted. She spent the next thirty minutes reducing the stacks, finding the repetitive motions soothing. The numbers helped keep her in the present. Keep her thoughts focused.
“How’s it going?”
Summer gave a start and dropped the stack of folders she was holding. Putting a hand to her galloping heart, she studied the attractive brunette who’d managed to catch her unawares. Nothing like Marcia, she had an athletic build that was tastefully covered in a gray suit, and though there was a look of concern on her face, it wasn’t overlaying a sneer.
“Sorry I startled you. I’m Liz Fears.”
“Summer Baxby.” She shook the proffered hand. “Not your fault. I was caught up in the world of numbers.” She stooped to pick up the files. “I’ll never get this stuff back in the right place.”
“Let me give you a hand. Some of those are bound to belong to me.” Liz looked at the top folder. “Yup, this one is mine.” Within minutes, she had all the pieces of correspondence back in their respective folders.
“Thanks. You saved my life.”
“If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem, right? Oh, wait, I was part of the problem.” Liz gave an infectious laugh.
“I still appreciate it.” Her smile disappeared as she heard the rapidly approaching footsteps.
Marcia burst into the room. “What is going…Oh. I didn’t realize you were in here, Liz. I hope Summer’s not keeping you from your work.”
“Not at all. I just dropped by to welcome a new employee. I’m surprised you didn’t take the time to introduce her around.”
“Well… It’s just…” Marcia raised her chin. “I know everyone is busy this time of month. I didn’t see the need to disturb you.” She folded her hands over her chest and glared at Summer. “I have work to do myself. I thought it was enough that I have to take time to check up on her.”
Summer chewed on her lip and recited the multiplication table while wishing herself away from the sharp animosity filling the room. What had she stepped into?
“Fine.” Liz’s smile was anything but friendly. “I’ll take care of introducing her around. I can spare the few minutes it’ll take to do it.”
“I don’t need you doing my job,” Marcia said heatedly.
“So you do realize it’s part of your job? Imagine that.” Liz turned her attention to Summer. “Since Marcia has graciously agreed to introduce you around, I’d like to be the first to invite you to lunch. Is twelve thirty okay?”
Summer shot a quick glance to Marcia before nodding.
“Good. My office is the second on the left. See you then.” Liz brushed past Marcia.
“I hope going to lunch is okay?” Summer said.
“What do I care?” Marcia flipped her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder. “What have you done so far?”
Summer thought she caught a flicker of surprise on Marcia’s face when she saw how much work had been accomplished. A closer inspection showed she’d been wrong. Marcia had the “I’m so much better than you” sneer firmly in place.
“You seem to have caught on. Which is good. I have more important work to do than babysit you. Keep at it and report to me at the end of the day.” Marcia was gone in a click of heels and another cloud of perfume.
Any more compliments like that, Summer thought, opening a file cabinet, and I’ll get a big head.
Chapter Two
“I feel I should tell you straight out that Kevin informed us about your coma and memory loss,” Liz said, reaching for the large glass of iced tea. She was seated in a booth opposite Summer at a bustling Mexican restaurant a block from their office. “My dad was in a coma for only three weeks and it took him months to get close to what he used to be.” She tucked her curly hair behind her ears and leaned forward. “And why am I telling you this, you wonder? I want you to know you don’t have to worry about doing something strange around me. I’ll shut up now and look at the menu.”
“It’s okay.” Summer looked around the noisy restaurant filled with office workers. The décor was Americanized Mexican with an abundance of cactus plants and the smell of sizzling fajitas. “I take that back. It’s more than okay to have someone who understands a little of what I’m going through.” She flipped open the paper menu. “It’s nice, so thanks.”
Liz nodded. “As far as the menu goes, everything here is great. And fattening. I try not to eat here more than twice a month. No self-control.” She plucked a warm tortilla chip from the basket and dipped it in salsa.
“You don’t look it.” Liz wasn’t thin by any standards, but she was toned and shapely.
“Only because I exercise like a demon and watch my intake for the most part. Hey, any chance you play sports?”
“Me? I do okay on a treadmill, but that’s hardly a sport. My little brother tells me I’ve always been more the artistic type.”
“Too bad. My soccer team needs a couple of players who actually show up for most of the games.” Liz closed her menu as their waitress breezed up to their table.
“Hey, y’all ready to order now?” She whipped a pad out of her apron.
They both ordered. Chicken quesadillas for Summer and a taco combo for Liz.
“How long have you worked at Tathum?” Summer asked once the waitress had scurried off to place their order.
“Going on eight years. Started right after college. It was my first real job, but I did internships, so I can say it’s a great place to work. For the most part, anyway. I probably should keep my big mouth shut, but what the hell. Don’t let Marcia get to you. She’s had it rough, so we cut her some slack. Only some, though.”
“Can’t say I blame her for being upset about having to deal with me. I come with my own set of problems.”
“Doesn’t everybody? All I’m saying is sometimes you have to plant your foot. And yes, sometimes it’s up her butt. Remember you’re doing work that she doesn’t want to do. Hence the big piles. She should be more grateful.”
“I can handle her. It’s kind of fun to play up to her image of me.” She toyed with a chip. “Can I…ask about your dad?”
“Sure.”
“How long ago did it happen?”
“Five years in May. He was reporting in the Middle East when a bomb exploded, hitting his head with shrapnel. At first they thought his brain might be scrambled. It’s a good thing his skull is hard.” She blinked rapidly and exhaled. “He had some relearning to do. Things he’d been able to do since he was a kid. But he’s adjusted better than me and my mom.”
“Must have been tough on you two. I mean, seeing him struggle to do the simple things.” Summer had only seen her mom’s guard slip once, but that was enough to make her realize the strain her mother had been under. Enough to make her save her own frustrations for when she was alone.
“It was. For a while it was like I was the parent and he was the child. He was always second-guessing himself.”
“I can totally relate to that. I was out for eleven and a half months, in case you’re wondering. It was something of a miracle that I woke up. Then two years in rehab and therapy to relearn everything I needed to know to live on my own.” She leane
d back to let the waitress place a plate in front of her. Her eyes widened at the amount of food. “This looks great,” she told the waitress and declined a refill of her Coke. “Smells good too.”
“Tastes even better. I know they have all those fancy tacos these days, but give me an old-fashioned one every time.” The taco shell crunched as Liz took a bite. “If you can’t eat all that, there’s a fridge in the break room.”
“There’s a break room?”
Liz rolled her eyes. “I’ll give you a real tour when we get back.”
Summer hastily swallowed. “You don’t have to.”
“I know. Coma sympathy thing.”
She grinned. Maybe she could function on the outside. “I don’t mind taking advantage of that.”
* * *
By five o’clock, Summer was more than ready to be gone. The dent she’d made in piles had her riding on a huge sense of accomplishment and the majority of her co-workers were friendly, but she needed a break from Marcia’s sharp tongue and disapproving manner. She stopped by Marcia’s desk on her way out and was pleased to find it empty.
“Problem?”
Startled she turned to see Gar, lightweight jacket settled over his arm and a messenger bag in his hand. “I…I wanted to, uh, let Marcia know I’m leaving for the day. But she’s, uh, gone already.”
“Contrary to what you may have heard, you’re not required to check out. Nobody’s watching the clock for when you get in or leave. Especially me.”
“Okay. Good to know. Uh, see you tomorrow then.”
“I’ll walk out with you. You can tell me about your first day since I was unable to check in earlier.”
“My stuff is in the file room.”
“I can wait.”
Taking him at his word, she hurried back to grab her bag. She was on twelve times twelve when she returned. To her relief, Liz was waiting with Gar. She wouldn’t have to wrack her brains for how to make spending the day filing sound like something more.
“What a colorful bag,” Liz commented. “The daisies scream spring.”
“It’s for my bike.” She turned it around so Liz could see the hooks on the other side.
“You biked here?” Gar asked.
She could tell she’d gone up in his estimation. She wondered if she’d go back down if he knew she couldn’t drive or, rather, couldn’t bear to be behind the steering wheel. She shrugged. “Only takes ten minutes to get here. And that’s from start to finish.”
“Then you must live downtown,” Liz said, opening the door to the suite.
“Fifth near Langford.”
“Nice location,” Gar remarked. “Plenty of bars in walking distance.”
“I like it so far. Like you said, it’s close to everything I need.”
“Not enough green space for me.” Liz handed her briefcase to Gar and slipped on her coat.
“Central Park is only thirty minutes. That’s green.”
“We should go riding one weekend. I’ll show you plenty of green. Couple of weeks and the weather will be perfect. Not too cold, not too warm.”
“Count me in,” Gar said.
“Fine. But you don’t get to lead.” Liz turned to Summer as they waited for an elevator to arrive. “Last time he had us peddling all over the place looking for some restaurant that used to be a barn. I was ready to eat just about anything by the time we found it.”
“Hey, now. Don’t listen to her, Summer. That was one time out of what? Fifteen, twenty?”
Summer hoped the surprise didn’t show on her face. Liz and Gar were obviously more than co-workers and didn’t seem to care who knew it.
“That one time wiped out all the others,” Liz claimed and jostled her way onto a full elevator. “Come on, there’s room,” she told Summer.
“I…I’ll get the next one,” she replied, remembering the morning’s ordeal. The mere possibility of getting stuck on a crowded elevator to be bombarded by memories was too much. When the next two elevators proved to be equally crowded, she headed for the door to the stairs. Going down is not so bad, she told herself, then almost changed her mind when the door opened with a loud squeak. “Needs oil, that’s all.” But before closing the door, she checked the inside handle to make sure it wasn’t going to lock behind her. Getting stuck twice in one day was not on her schedule. And given the vast number of people leaving, she could be stranded until the morning.
The lobby was bustling as workers poured out of the elevators, seemingly in a rush to leave. Tomorrow she’d hang around upstairs, wait for the rush to die down.
“Summer? Summer Rain Baxby, is that you?”
She faltered. Nobody here should know her full name. She turned—and a memory surfaced with the force of a whale breaking water. Freshman year. Fierce crush. Waiting in the dorm lobby hoping for a glimpse, a chance to make conversation. Kylie? No, that wasn’t quite right.
“It is you. Remember me? Keile Griffen from Bradford House.”
“Of course. Key, not kai. I would have recognized you anywhere. You look the same.” Better, even, she admitted to herself. Keile was wearing a red sweater that contrasted nicely with her light brown skin. Her dark brown hair, cut short, framed an attractive face set off by expressive brown eyes and full lips. “It’s good to see you again.” Great to be able to recognize someone from before, actually!
Keile smiled. “You, too. You work here? I know I haven’t seen you around before.”
“Started today. Tathum, Inc., eighth floor.”
“Cool. I gotta get home to kid duty, but I’d love to have lunch someday. Catch up.” She set down her backpack and pulled out her wallet. “Here’s my card. Give me a call if you’re up for it.”
“Tomorrow? Are you…Would tomorrow be okay?” Summer knew she sounded desperate and didn’t care. Before her was a piece of her past. A piece her mother couldn’t give her.
Keile checked her phone. “Sure. Lobby at one?”
“I’ll be here.” Early. She’d be here early. “Tomorrow,” she said softly and hugged herself as she watched Keile stride confidently away—much as she had during freshman year.
* * *
Summer’s phone beeped as she unlocked the door to her condo. For a second she was transmitted back to the hospital when a beep meant her heart was still beating. Out of habit more than worry she put her hand to her chest. By the time she realized the beep was from her phone, it had stopped—as was usually the case.
Despite her argument to the contrary, her mother had insisted on giving her a cell phone. And had insisted she carry it everywhere she went. Recognizing the fear behind her mother’s request, Summer had eventually given in and promised to keep it charged and turned on. Now she just had to learn to associate the beep with the phone. Then maybe she could answer it before her mother’s imagination had her fifth daughter lying in a ditch.
She wheeled her bike inside, and when the phone rang again, she answered by the third beep.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Mom. I told you—it takes me two calls to figure out it’s ringing and remember how to answer.”
“You’ve had it for fifteen days, Summer. I’m beginning to think this is your way of rebelling. And when I think about that some more, I’m sure that’s a good thing.”
“You’re making too much of tech incompetence.” She locked the door and crossed through the foyer to drop onto the plush living room sofa.
“When was the last time you ate?”
“Lunch,” she shot back, knowing her mother expected her to be unable to answer quickly. “Chicken quesadillas from Matador.”
“Maybe working is good for you. Just maybe.”
Her mother had been against her seeking employment. Against her leaving the childhood home that had sheltered her for almost two years while she went through rehab. “I had a memory today. An actual memory.”
“Oh, baby…” Her mother’s sympathetic words were followed by a loud sigh. “I hope it was a pleasant one.”
“Oh, baby,” she said again and broke off, her voice tremulous. “Tell me.”
“Freshman year after we moved me into the dorm. You and Dad had left and I didn’t feel like sitting in my room alone. I was in the lounge and she walked in, all shy, unsure. Keile Griffen was her name. Thanks to her I now remember part of the first semester. How she made my heart beat faster without trying. We’re having lunch tomorrow. Hopefully more will come. Memory, that is.”
“That name sounds familiar. Was she the serious one who was all about studying? The one you talked about all the time?”
“That’s her. I let her think she was the reason I passed algebra. Oh my God. Another memory. Dr. Veraat was right. It just takes one to get started. Keile and I would meet at that little grill place in the student union. I bought her food in exchange for tutoring. And as hard as I tried I could never talk her into doing anything that wasn’t school related.” Summer rubbed a hand over her mouth. She wasn’t a blank slate anymore. “Oh my God.”
“What a nice memory, honey. But I wonder if you shouldn’t see Dr. Veraat. Memories, even good ones, can upset your sense of order. I’ll come by tomorrow and we’ll see if she can squeeze you in.”
“No. This is good. I need this. You know I do. And I can’t continue to run to Dr. Veraat for every little thing. The whole point of me moving out and getting a job was to help me learn to function on my own. To be semi-independent. Let me try to deal with this on my own first. I promise to call if it gets to be too much.”
“Okay,” her mother said after a prolonged silence. “I’m not trying to run your life, honey. I want…I worry about you.”
“I know. I really do. But remember Dr. Veraat thinks I’m ready to take some lumps and I can only do that by expanding my comfort zone. I get that you’ve had to let me go once and that this time it’s probably harder.”
“Last time I had eighteen years of lead-up time.”
“Oh, Mom, I love you.” Summer couldn’t begin to understand the magnitude of the agony her mother had lived through the past three years, but if she was going to get better, she had to start making her own decisions. Had to start doing things for herself—hence the condo, the job, the not running to her parents for every little thing. They needed this as much as she did. Probably more.
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