by Liz Crowe
“Fantastic,” I said and threw my arms in the air. “Is there nothing familiar left in my life? Matt is gone, my friends are gone, my car is totaled and now I live in a different house? Well, you’re still here, so thank you for that. I was at least looking forward to going home where I could hopefully still feel Matt’s presence!”
“Hey, give it some time Ali. You were just in a major accident and have amnesia. It will all come back to you. You’ll settle back into your life.”
We drove for another thirty minutes or so in silence. Jenna finally exited the highway onto a country road. I wasn’t sure where we were. The two lane road was lined with trees and thick foliage in shades of crimson, marigold and copper. Few houses were around and the landscape was mainly dotted with farms and woods. We approached an intersection with a two-way stop and I sunk down into the seat, fearful that another car wouldn’t stop as we zoomed past. I relaxed once we were clear. The road twisted and fell into steep dips and rose back out of them. The motion, combined with the sunlight flickering through the trees, made me sick.
“Where in the world are you taking me,” I muttered, one hand on my stomach, the other blocking the sunlight from my eyes. My head was cocked to shield my neck from the sun.
“Home,” Jenna replied. “We’re almost there.”
We passed a weathered wooden sign that had seen better days. Carved letters filled with chipped black paint read ‘Welcome to Ridge Hollow.’
“Really?” I asked.
“Really,” Jenna replied.
I was a bit surprised that I apparently moved to Ridge Hollow. This sleepy little town was miles away from where I had lived in Buzzard Hill, deeper into the countryside than I ever thought I would move. The landscape was blanketed with trees, pines and wildflowers and there were more farms than there were in Buzzard Hill. Houses were few and far between. I doubted that there were more than fifty homes in the entire town. I recalled passing through this area years ago with Matt. There was absolutely nothing here; no grocery stores, gas stations, bars, malls, nothing. This was a place where Matt would have loved to have lived.
Jenna slowed the car and turned off onto a gravel driveway. Trees lining the path formed an arch overhead, shielding the area from any sunshine. The tires rolled slowly through the twisting gravel corridor leading to a blacktop driveway. After a few more twists, the trees broke and there stood a quaint little cottage. It was a one story home with white siding and green shutters. It was tiny but the perfect size for one person. I saw an attached garage to the left and a separate building, possibly another garage, in the backyard.
“It’s cute,” I said, “but I certainly don’t remember buying this place.”
“You apparently took up gardening over the years,” Jenna pointed out.
“Geez, no kidding.”
The front of the house was bordered by a white picket fence. Tall orange lilies and multicolored zinnias filled the bed in front of the fence. Beyond that was a small walkway leading to the front door with flower beds on both sides of the porch filled with short pines and burning bushes.
I got out of the car before Jenna even had a chance to put it in park. I stood in the driveway and stared at the house, hoping that something would trigger my memory, but nothing did. I walked around to the back of the house and Jenna followed. The backyard was spacious, a huge green area with a fenced-in garden a few yards back. Tomatoes, peppers and corn were ready for harvest.
“Clearly I have a green thumb I don’t know about,” I murmured under my breath. Jenna chuckled. “Seriously. I never gardened before, so how on earth did I pull this off?”
“Well,” Jenna said softly, “I did mention you had a lot of time on your hands.”
We walked further into the yard and came upon a good sized lake with a paddle boat and a bench in the perfect spot to watch the sunset. The lake stretched out to the edge of the ridge where the land steeply fell off into a hollow, rocky abyss. The town was aptly named Ridge Hollow for the many rocky ridges and valleys it had within its borders. The rest of the property was surrounded by dense woods, the fall foliage a bright contrast to the gray backdrop.
“It is beautiful,” I whispered. I looked around at the back of the house and the ridge and the lake. It truly was a beautiful, serene place, but it just wasn’t me. I was an urbanite. I would have guessed I had moved to the city or even a beach house; just not here, in the complete middle of nowhere. This property might have been as close to nowhere as anything. Then again, it did have a beachy vibe. Maybe I opted for this rather than the shores of Lake Erie, which could be brutally snowy in the winter. Or maybe, since this was the type of town Matt wanted to move to, I had moved here to feel closer to him. “But it doesn’t feel like home.”
“Let’s get you inside,” Jenna said. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and redirected me towards the house. “Maybe something in there will spark a memory.”
We entered through the green front door and were greeted by a casually decorated foyer. The walls were painted light blue and the floor tiled in a rustic tan stone. A picture of the sun setting over the lake in the backyard hung on the wall.
A staircase to the right led to the loft bedroom. It was a small room but plenty enough space for one. A large wrought iron bed anchored the room, topped with a sea foam green comforter and oversized pillows. A white wooden dresser was tucked into a corner. The room was open to the living space below.
Back downstairs, the foyer stepped down into the living room which was open to the kitchen. A white sofa sat across from the fireplace and a TV was mounted on the wall. Jenna walked into the kitchen but I broke to the right towards a door.
“Let’s see what’s behind door number one,” I said to myself.
The door creaked open and I felt around for a light switch. Soft lighting blossomed from the ceiling illuminating a room filled with wooden bookshelves. I stepped into the middle of the room and looked up and all around. Every square inch of wall space was filled with books or CD cases. I had always wanted a den filled with books and music, and had begged Matt to build one for me at our house in Buzzard Hill, but I had never gotten it. I must have indulged myself. I ran my finger across a row of books. All were bound in black, brown or burgundy leather, some with buckles on their spines, but none had titles or authors. I pulled out a book and flipped through the yellowed pages. They were filled with beautiful calligraphy that appeared to have been written by a person, not printed by a machine. I started to read a line when Jenna walked in.
“What’s in here?”
I placed the book back on the shelf. “Looks like I got that den I always wanted.”
“Boy, you aren’t kidding. How many books are in here?”
“Who knows? Enough to occupy all that free time you told me I have.” I cracked a smile which Jenna returned.
“So whatcha been reading?” Jenna walked over to a desk and switched on the lamp. She tilted her head to look at the book on the desk. “Wow, Ali. The Bible?”
“The Bible?” I asked. That was one book I would have never have guessed I was reading. I walked next to Jenna and chuckled when I saw the words ‘Holy Bible’ pressed in gold leaf on the cover. “After twelve years of Catholic schooling, you’d think I’d have had enough of that book.”
“No kidding. Hey, it doesn’t look like you got very far,” Jenna said as she flipped through the pages. “Your bookmarker is at the story of Adam and Eve.”
“Geez, not far at all. Well you can bet with all of the other interesting books in this room, I’ll be reading something else before picking the Bible back up!” We both chuckled.
We left the den and walked back into the living room. I stopped at the sofa table topped with picture frames and examined them. There was one of me and Jenna in our college sweatshirts; another of me with a big group of friends (most of whom I had apparently deserted); a picture of my parents; and several panoramic shots that looked like they had been taken on various vacations. I paused as I came up
on a picture of Matt. It was a small bronzed frame, and Matt was sitting on his Harley with a huge smile on his face. This must have been taken when he first bought the bike; the bike still had all of its stock parts and showed no signs of any of the customization Matt had done. I stared at the picture, my heart not believing he was gone but my mind telling me that he was. I set it down when another picture caught my eye. This one was of me and a stranger. It was a man, an extremely attractive man, who had his arm around me. He was taller than me with thick black hair and piercing blue eyes. He was slender yet muscular. I searched the background of the picture looking for some sign of where we might have been but I couldn’t figure it out.
“Who is this?” I asked Jenna.
Jenna peeked over my shoulder. “Whoa!” she exclaimed. “I don’t know but he sure is a looker.”
“Apparently we know each other by the way he has his arm around me. I haven’t mentioned anything about him to you?”
“Ali, you and I haven’t talked that much and when we did, it was brief. You never mentioned if you were seeing someone new.” Jenna winced as she delivered the news, as if trying to break it to me softly.
The words sliced through me. Seeing someone new. It seemed so surreal that I could be dating anybody when I felt like I had just lost Matt.
“But it’s okay if you are,” Jenna quickly added. “Matt has been gone for three years; it’s understandable that you’ve moved on by now.”
Jenna’s words echoed through my ears as I stared at the picture. I must have met this stranger sometime during the last few years if I couldn’t remember him at all.
I set the frame down and flung myself on the couch. “This sucks!” I yelled at the top of my lungs and punched a cushion. “This not remembering stuff is for the birds. I feel like my life has been flipped upside down, that I went to bed and woke up living someone else’s life!”
“Oh Ali, I’m so sorry,” Jenna said. “Doctor Frid said it would take some time for your memory to come back. It will come back. And now that you are home, maybe that will happen sooner rather than later.”
I looked Jenna in the eyes; she was trying to reassure me that I would be okay, but it wasn’t working. I felt tears welling up in my eyes and I really didn’t want to cry anymore. I rolled my eyes and clenched my jaw to make the tears stop.
“I can spend the night here if you want,” Jenna offered.
I let out a large sigh, trying to decide if that was what I wanted or if I wanted some time to myself. My thoughts were interrupted by a frantic knock at the door. I sat up and looked at Jenna.
“Who could that be?” I asked.
Jenna shrugged her shoulders.
I got up and went to the front door, cracking it just enough for me to see outside. A man in a leather riding jacket stood there fumbling to remove his motorcycle helmet. Beyond him, parked in my driveway, was a motorcycle. It was a sharp, red sport bike but a make and model that I didn’t recognize. I found this odd since Matt taught me quite a bit about motorcycles and I could usually quickly identify most any bike.
“Allison,” the voice called out from under the helmet. “Are you all right?”
The stranger pulled off his helmet and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Are you okay?” he asked again.
“Um,” I stammered. I squinted to make sure I was seeing things clearly. The man in front of me was the same man from the picture.
“I’m, um, I’m fine,” I stammered.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I was out of town on business but as soon as I heard about your accident, I flew back.”
“Uh huh,” I responded, hoping my mind would start connecting some dots.
“Ali,” Jenna called from the living room, “who is it?”
I opened the door wider to allow the stranger to enter. He was more beautiful in person than he was in the photograph. He was definitely taller than me and his hair was different than it was in the picture. His dark locks were long and spiky on top and short on the sides and perfectly held in place even though he had just removed a helmet. His features were chiseled and defined, his cheekbones high, his jaw strong. His skin appeared smooth and flawless, pale like mine, and his eyes…well, they were breathtaking. They were a beautiful shade of aquamarine with several yellow flecks.
I stood in the middle of the foyer staring at the stranger and he stared back, holding my gaze.
“Well are you going to introduce me?” Jenna asked politely as she walked into the foyer, clearing her throat.
“Um, err, this is Jenna Wintourly, my best friend,” I said to the handsome stranger, pointing over my shoulder without moving my head. “Jenna, this is…um…” I trailed off.
The stranger cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “Allison, do you know who I am? Do you remember me?” He placed a hand on my arm and affectionately rubbed it.
“She, uh, hit her head,” Jenna fumbled. The stranger looked at Jenna, and that look apparently took her voice away because she didn’t finish her sentence.
I continued staring into his eyes as my mind scanned through what must have been memories. Picture after picture of the two of us together flew through my mind. They were mostly head shots of the two of us in various poses, the backgrounds indiscernible. I concentrated, hoping I could freeze on one scene and that it would give me some concrete information. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the memories to stop at one and they finally did. We were in an embrace staring deep into each other’s eyes. The stranger mouthed I love you, Allison and I mouthed I love you back to him.
I opened my eyes. “Yes, I remember you.”
The stranger stepped closer and bowed his head as if to get a better look into my eyes. “What is my name?” he whispered. He smelled so delicious that I wanted to wrap my arms around him and not let go, but I fought the urge. He grabbed both of my hands and a wave of energy ran over me, a warm numbing feeling. Images flew through my head like a flip book, more scenes of the two of us together.
“Vincent,” I whispered. A smirk drew across the stranger’s face as he raised an eyebrow waiting for me to speak his last name. “Vincent Drake.”
I pulled my hands away from his and turned to look at Jenna. “This is Vincent Drake,” I said assuredly.
“Oh Ali! This is great,” Jenna gushed. She ran over and gave me a hug. “Your memory is coming back already! That’s so promising.”
“Very promising,” Vincent echoed, his smooth voice soft and pleasant.
“Nice to meet you,” Jenna said to Vincent. The two shook hands. Jenna smiled like a little kid in a toy store. She couldn’t stop staring.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Vincent replied, turning Jenna’s hand to kiss it. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Jenna blurted out.
There was a pause as Jenna and Vincent were caught in a brief gaze before Jenna shook her hand loose. “I uh, should get going and leave you two alone. Unless you need me, Ali.”
I looked at Vincent, and while I couldn’t remember the details of our apparent relationship, I felt that I had known him a long time; long enough that I could be alone with him. It felt like there was depth to our relationship in the visions that flashed through my head and I felt safe in his presence now. This man was part of my life. I could feel it if even if I didn’t remember it.
“I’m fine Jenna, thanks. Thanks for everything.”
“Okay, well I left my phone number on the fridge; I figured you wouldn’t remember it.”
Jenna grabbed her jacket and purse and headed for the door. “Call if you need anything. Take care of her,” Jenna said pointing a finger at Vincent.
“There’s nothing more I’d rather do,” he responded.
Chapter Five
I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. I love you, Allison, Vincent whispered to me. I love you, I whispered back. The vision had been so vivid I had actually felt Vincent’s arms around me and heard the words we both uttered. I repl
ayed the scene in my mind like a skipping record, still not believing that I was with another man who wasn’t my husband. Realizing Vincent and I were together was made easier by the emotions accompanying the vision; the words were sincere, the feelings true. I felt it as I saw it. I could practically taste the passion in those spoken words. Now I just needed the memories to make all the pieces fall into place.
I sat on the couch mulling over this particular vision as Vincent dashed around the house tending to my every need. He had been doing this for the past several hours, ever since Jenna had left us. I thought it was a bit much; I was a big girl and could take care of myself. But I figured I’d let him spoil me if that was what he wanted.
“Do you want me to get you a book to read?” Vincent asked, pointing to the den.
“No, I’m not in the mood for reading.”
“Are you sure? It’s getting late and it might help you fall asleep.”
“I’m sure.”
Vincent looked towards the den and back at me. His mouth parted, as if he were going to ask again if I wanted a book, but I cut him off. “I really don’t want a book,” I stated. I had no idea why he wanted me to read something so badly.
“Well how about a blanket?”
“No, I’m…” I trailed off. There was no point in finishing the sentence. Vincent was already up the stairs, in my bedroom retrieving a blanket. A blanket I didn’t need. I was hot and seemed to be getting hotter by the second. I took off my sweatshirt and socks and straightened my t-shirt.
“Here you go.” Vincent unfolded the blanket and swept it across my lap, tucking it in under my feet.
“Thanks.” I didn’t want to fight it.
“How about a fire?”
“Fine,” I resigned. Even if I said no, I was sure he’d still build it.
I watched Vincent stack wood in the fireplace and shove newspaper between the logs. So this was my boyfriend. The boyfriend I couldn’t remember. He is quite handsome, I thought as a smile spread across my face. He stood, grabbed some matches from the mantle and bent over to light the fire. I had to admit, it was a nice view.