by Sosie Frost
“You okay?” He dipped his fries in sweet and sour sauce. Always. “Finals?”
“Kicked my ass, but I studied enough. Not worried about them.”
“Did you get my study package?”
I smirked. “Coffee, chocolate, and slippers. We spend too much time together.”
“Just trying to help.”
“You did.”
He reached for my hand. Stopped before he got too close. “How is she?”
I sighed. “The doctors said it was her heart.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing’s gonna change Granna. You try to tell that lady what she can and can’t eat. She’ll whoop your ass from here to the nearest grocery store, then she’ll beat you with the meatloaf mix and Pepsi all the way to the register. But I’m going to talk to her.” The food turned to cement in my stomach. I pushed it away. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose her.”
“You’ll have me.” His voice lowered. “I’m looking out for you.”
“Please. I enable your junk food addiction.”
“Careful, or I won’t bring you a burrito tomorrow.”
“My lips are zipped.”
The memory was one of the first and only to stick in my mind. No faces. No names.
But I felt him.
I felt how much we meant to each other.
“Want to know the truth?” I asked.
“Do you?”
“I have a connection to someone. I don’t know who he is. I can’t see him in my mind. But it’s like…a shadow over my past.”
“Someone you fear?”
I shook my head. “Nothing like that. Shadow isn’t the right word. More like…security blanket. Someone has been there for me. He watched over me. Cared about me. And…”
“Loved you?”
“I sure as hell loved him.”
“And this is the person you want to find?” she asked.
My stomach turned. I busied myself with the baby, ensuring she was tucked in and comfy.
“I don’t think I had many people in my life,” I said. “He’s the only one who will be looking for me.”
“Are you sure?”
“I hope that I’m wrong.”
Doctor Clark lowered her pencil. “Excellent work, Evie. This man must have meant a great deal to you. I think we’ve made some good progress, but our time is up.”
Already? But the memories hadn’t untangled yet. I was even more knotted than before.
“I want you to start journaling,” Doctor Clark said. “Write down the feelings and thoughts you have. Try to organize those emotions.”
I made a face. “And then what?”
“And then we might see more progress.”
“Might?”
“This is only our second session, Evie.”
“And how many more sessions can we keep failing?”
The pad and paper dropped. “Are we failing?” Doctor Clark’s voice changed, less sympathetic and more sassy. “One of us is working hard here. I’ll let you guess who.”
“I’m trying.”
“Want my truth? In my professional opinion, you don’t want to talk about what you’re feeling.”
I straightened Clue’s onesie. She shifted away. Couldn’t get very far, but I took the hint. Let sleeping babies lie.
“My feelings don’t matter,” I said. “Not when I could get my memories back at any moment.”
“And if you don’t?”
“I will.”
“You hope. But what happens if they’re gone?” Doctor Clark armed and loaded the bomb. “Then what? Does that make all your current hopes and dreams and fears worthless?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You meant it. You’re so focused on regaining those memories that you aren’t considering what they mean to you. Maybe your head is healed. Maybe everything will snap back in place tomorrow morning.” Doctor Clark paused. “Or maybe the cause of this amnesia isn’t the bump on your head.”
“It was an ice cream truck to the head.”
“And your own hesitance is the cherry on top.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Evie, maybe you’re still suffering from the amnesia because you don’t want to remember.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” She read from the notes she had taken. “You’re not used to living a life of luxury—a nice apartment in a good part of town. You believe there’s only one person who might be looking for you. You’ve never felt so safe before.” She stared at me. “You have a reason to forget the past. You don’t want the answers.”
“And maybe I’m just sleep deprived and focusing on the baby?”
Doctor Clark didn’t seem convinced. “We might never know unless you start journaling. Chronicle your thoughts, feelings, and memories into something cohesive.”
I doubted a macaroni and glitter collage would help in this particular situation. I stayed quiet, but Doctor Clark wasn’t deterred.
“Go home. Rest up. We’ve had a successful session.”
Ever the optimist. If nothing else, Doctor Clark helped me understand that I was a more pragmatic person.
“I’ll see you Monday.” She reminded me. “Think about what I said.”
I’d think about it. I would doubt the benefits too, but who was I to ignore any advice at this point?
I saddled Clue in the stroller and tucked her in tight with the blanket. It’d been an hour and a half since her last feeding, and I could practically feel her tummy rumbling. Fortunately, the doctors at the hospital set me up with a psychologist within walking distance of the apartment.
Another kindness I hadn’t expected.
One I wasn’t used to receiving.
The doorman opened the lobby door for me. He was a goddamned miracle now that my life turned into one hardcore stroller derby. While the hand-me-down carriage had a sticky left wheel, it still worked in a Mad Max style, take-no-prisoner approach to baby transportation. I took the turns on three wheels, but I was in the apartment.
And I rounded the corner just as the golden doors of the elevator were squeezing shut.
“Wait, wait, wait!”
I wasn’t the only one squealing. The stroller’s wheel locked and ground out a perfect melody—the So What If You Have To Pee You Haven’t Slept In Forever Now Your Baby Is Crying Sonata. Movement number two, if Clue’s grunt was any indication.
“Damn.” I bumped my forehead against the elevator. “I mean, darn. Don’t repeat that, Clue.”
She didn’t respond. I peeked over the stroller to catch one hell of a scowl.
She licked and pursed her lips.
Uh-oh. I knew that sign. After two weeks together, I finally uncovered the great mystery that was when to give the boob. Unfortunately, it was always half-past the time she first demanded it.
“Okay, we’re almost home. Just give me one second…”
I knelt to fix the stroller’s wheel. Groaned.
Not good.
Most of me still rocked the post-partum party. I hissed and gently stood. Sure, my head was fine, but the other parts? I had new definitions of the word sting.
The elevator opened again. I attempted to push the stroller inside.
No go.
The busted wheel rolled but only into the gap between the elevator and its doors. I jiggled the stroller. Nothing. I tried to lift it. Nada.
Visions of the doors slamming shut and making mince-meat out of the kid weren’t helping.
“Clue, you wanna get out and push?” I asked.
She, in fact, did not. The delay was intolerable to her. She began to cry.
“Okay, baby. I’m not a pizza joint, but I can get you milk in thirty minutes or less.”
I kicked at the wheel. That only imbedded it more. The elevator doors attempted to close. I threw myself against them, Indiana Jones and the giant boulder style. My frenzied cry echoed over the lobby.
“No!”
Completely
unnecessary.
Also thoroughly embarrassing.
The doors motion detected an object in the path and bounced back open.
Enough was enough. As soon as I got back, I was ripping the wheels off this damn thing. It could sit on cement blocks for all I cared. No more bumped toes. No more innocent old ladies accidentally run down on the sidewalk. No more traffic jams when the stroller stopped rolling in the middle of the street.
My plight had attracted an audience.
Neighbors to be precise.
“Need some help?” Rory pushed her own baby carriage—one fully operational and not jerked at a forty-five-degree angle stuck in the elevator components. “Jude…can you?”
I forced a smile and plucked the child from the stroller as Rory’s husband—a ridiculously handsome man who’d spent most of his life on a professional football field—gripped the wheel and tugged. He tucked his long hair behind his ears and gave a nod.
“All good.”
Hardly. The stroller had the mobility of a rusted shopping cart, but I jerked it inside the elevator and made room for the perfect couple.
“Baby’s day out?” Rory asked.
Clue gave one warning screech that cried havoc. The next one would set loose the dogs of war.
“Doctor’s appointment,” I said. “Doctor Clark.”
“Oh, she’s very good.” Rory elbowed her husband. “Jude, this is my patient…”
He already extended his hand. I fumbled with the baby, but he let me off with a polite nod instead.
“I’m sorry.” Jude ruffled his hand through his hair. “I should remember your name.”
“So should I.”
Rory snuck at peek at Clue. “This is Evie…and this is her baby. I think we’re still calling her Clue.” She gave the kid a pat to her back and asked the question in a playful voice. “And how is Momma doing, Clue?”
I shrugged. “Slip her a twenty and she might talk. Otherwise she’s playing hardball about who I am and where we came from.”
“It’ll come. Are you feeling okay?”
“Well, I wish the ice cream truck would try for round two. I could use a pint of shaved ice.”
“Still?”
Jude politely attended his baby, ducking out of the conversation to play with his daughter.
“I’m managing,” I said.
“Are you using the witch hazel?”
That was a new one. I frowned. “The what?”
“The witch hazel pads. They’re a miracle treatment.”
“Witch hazel?”
“I’m surprised none of the nurses mentioned it to you.”
I squirmed.
No. Freaking. Wonder.
“Oh my God…” I pinched my eyes shut. “I thought they said basil.”
Rory covered her mouth. “Oh, no.”
That explained it. I wasn’t just uncomfortable—I was three tomatoes and a slice of buffalo mozzarella away from goddamned caprese salad.
The doors opened to my floor. Jude gave my stroller a firm kick, spinning the wheel to its rightful position. “I will add the…hazel to my shopping list tomorrow.”
Rory did her best to hide her smile. “I’m sure it will help.”
“If not, there’s a whole spice aisle I can try.” The amnesia could re-flare at any time. I wished I could have forgotten the margarita pizza in my pants. “Thanks, doc.”
“Anytime, Evie.”
New plan.
Was it possible to feed a baby while in a bathtub?
We were going to find out!
If I couldn’t get eight hours of uninterrupted sleep, I could dip a toe—and a bunch of other places—into a bubble bath to ease some of my aches, if not my humiliation.
I managed to unlock the door with the baby in my arms, and I launched the stroller inside. It crashed into the wall, but at least it was moving now. I stumbled, dropped the purse and diaper bag, and immediately shed my clothes and pitched them into the laundry.
No wonder I’d smelled like an Italian Bistro all day.
“Clue…me and you have a date with Mr. Bubbles.”
And the baby was ecstatic. Or pooping. Sometimes it was hard to tell with her. She settled in her crib as I made a mad dash to fill the tub.
I didn’t make it.
The knocking rattled through the apartment.
Great. No way was I tossing on my basil-infused bloomers now. I tucked myself into a robe, tightened the belt, and grabbed the baby.
Yep. She needed a diaper change. And her lunch. And a nap.
Big plans for someone so tiny.
The knocking displeased a suddenly cranky Clue. She wailed a throaty tantrum as I opened the door.
Shepard gave a sheepish shrug. “I didn’t upset her, did I?”
I couldn’t tighten my robe, so I used the baby as a human shield. Not that she did much to cover the heaving heavyweights doing their damnedest to burst from the material.
“She wasn’t napping,” I said.
“Missed my chance to use the SWAT battering ram then.”
“Please don’t. I’m doing my best to avoid a police raid.”
“What a coincidence. Me too.”
I patted Clue, but bouncing her only clipped her cries and made her warble. Now she was hungry and annoyed. Her wails shrilled. The familiar tingle budded in my chest.
Uh-oh.
This wasn’t the impression I wanted to make with the officer in charge of my case…someone who also happened to be one of the most attractive men I’d ever seen.
That I remembered at least.
I shifted Clue and attempted to think of anything except the crying baby desperate to be fed.
Too little too late.
How was I supposed to warn Shepard that the sprinklers kicked on and he was precariously close to the hose?
He didn’t notice. “How are you feeling?”
Like any more small-talk would flood the apartment in a dairy deluge. The robe sopped up most of the geyser, but I couldn’t depend on the terrycloth to hold back the levee.
This wasn’t good. Supply and demand was not in my favor yet.
“Actually…” I twisted a bit. “I’m in the middle a pesto emergency here.”
“You’re making pasta?”
I actually laughed. “Oh God. No one wants that type of dinner.” I shook my head. “Did you find out anything about my case? Did someone come looking for me?”
“No.”
Damn it. “Okay then. Thanks for stopping by…”
“I have a present for you.”
And I was one scoop of ice cream and a straw away from a milkshake. “I really hope it’s a filed missing person report.”
“Better. I noticed you didn’t have one of these…”
He swung into the hall, picking up a heavy box and moving it inside. I remained on the welcome mat turned make-shift nursing pad.
“A car seat?” I asked.
“You needed one.”
“Did you happen to notice I don’t have a car?” I tried to shush Clue. “Or a driver’s license?”
He dropped the box on the coffee table with a grunt. “Oh.”
“Ace work there, Detective.”
“It’s good to be prepared.”
“Right. Well, thank you. Breanna is grateful.”
He made a face. “Breanna?”
“No?” I sighed. “What about Emilia?”
“Nah.”
“One of these days I’ll choose something.” I glanced to the box. “You didn’t have to bring us a gift. I’m sure my boyfriend or husband or whoever he is already has the car prepared.”
Shepard agreed with a slow shake of his head. “I’m sure that’s the case.”
“I really need to get her fed and hop in the tub…”
“There’s something I can do to help.”
“Not unless you can get this kid to eat takeout.”
“I mean with the case.”
He motioned towards the couch. The pesto
situation wasn’t making it easy to sit. I faked a smile instead and ensured I didn’t flash him.
Or leaked on him.
Not my usual daily concern.
Shepard took a deep breath. “Evie, this is important. I want you to tell me everything that you remember.”
“I remember having this conversation before—with the doctors, the nurses, the OBGYN, the pediatrician, the charity…you.”
“Tell me again.”
I sighed. “I’m not pleading the fifth here, Shepard. I’ve told you everything. I woke up in the hospital. They handed me a baby. She’s very hungry right now.”
“And there’s nothing else?”
“What else would there be?”
“A name. A face. Someone who meant something to you.”
“I wished there was.”
“You can’t remember someone that you loved? Or someone who loved you?”
Clue fussed enough for the both of us. “If I did, don’t you think I’d be out there right now, running to find him?”
“Are you sure you really loved this person?”
One step too far over the line. I pointed at him. “Enough of the bad cop routine, Detective. I’m not on trial here. I have a hungry baby. I’m tired. I’m sore. I’m alone.”
“I know that.”
“I get that finding my family isn’t your problem…but it is your job. The only thing I’m asking is that you check every once in a while to see if someone is looking for me.”
“I’m doing that.”
“Good. Because otherwise? I don’t know what to do. I have a newborn, and it’s by the charity of others that I’m not in a woman’s shelter right now. I don’t know who I am. What to do. Or how to even start. I’m doing my best, and I’m sorry if that interferes with your investigation.”
“You’re right.” Shepard’s voice deepened, a soothing baritone. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you believe me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because you’re not acting like it.”
He sighed. “That’s because…I’m doing my job.”
I pointed to the car seat. “And that? Is that part of the job?”
He quieted. So did I. Clue took it as her cue for a solo. She was beyond comforting without a full belly. Shepard extended his arms.
“May I?”
“What?”
“Let me take her.”
He stepped close, leaning down so he could scoop Clue into his arms. I gently offered her to him, desperately wishing I hadn’t breathed deep and practically tasted his spicy, woodland scent.