Memory Reload

Chapter Two

Her words hung in the air.

Okay, so she’s a runaway wife having an identity crisis. Tread lightly, boyo.

He ignored his mental warning and shifted out of his chair to kneel on the floor in front of her. He touched her hand, the hand once again clutching the shoulder strap draped over her knee, intending to lend some comfort and encouragement. The chill clinging to her long fingers startled him. Gathering both of her hands into his, he began chafing them, trying to ease the cold. He met her tear-filled eyes with a steady gaze. “It’ll be okay.”

She blinked her eyes closed and shook her head. “How can you know that?”

Ryan couldn’t stop the grin pulling up one side of his mouth. He shrugged. “Because things always work out. You couldn’t know this, but I live a charmed life. When I found you on the beach, you became part of it. So, I just naturally know everything will be all right.”

“You really believe that?”

“Nothing’s ever happened to show me different.” He brushed away the tear trailing over her cheek. It began as an innocent touch, but the contact sent a vibration through him, relaying an unexpected intimacy.

“Then I’d say you’ve been very lucky.”

“Like I said, sugar, a charmed life. So, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” He gave her hands an encouraging squeeze before releasing them. Pulling his chair around the table, he sat down, scooting closer to her until their knees nearly touched.

She shifted on the cushioned chair seat, crossing then uncrossing her legs. With each movement, their knees brushed together, her dark leggings against his bare skin. Each brush sent heat curling up his leg. Ryan spread his legs, giving her a little more room. Giving himself a break from the unexpected torture of that oh-so-brief touch.

He took a sip of lemonade to ease the sudden dryness of his mouth. “Let’s start at the beginning. Will you tell me your name?”

Confusion flickered across her face, she blinked, her gaze darted around the room. “I…I can’t,” she choked out.

“I promise you, if it’s a matter of safety, no one else will know.”

A fine tremble shook her fingers as she tucked her hair behind her ears. “It’s not that. At least, I don’t think so.” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“Then, what is it?” He kept his voice low and calm, then waited through the silence.

She sat up straighter, pulled her shoulders back and finally met his gaze head-on. “You want to start at the beginning?”

He nodded.

“That would be on the beach, when I woke up thirty-four minutes before you found me.”

“You slept on the beach? All night?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs and cupping her knees in his hands. The scent of the beach—sunshine, sand and salt—clung to her clothes. Another fragrance, subtler, more feminine, teased his senses. He thought of pulling back, putting some distance, some breathing space between them, but the fear on her face drew him closer. The need to protect and comfort her ignited a slow-burning fire deep within him.

He searched her eyes, trying to find the answers hidden in the stormy depths. “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

She shook her head.

“Sugar, I can’t help you if you don’t give me anything to work with.”

“Ryan, I can’t tell you my name, because I don’t remember it.” Her words came out in a rush, tumbling one over the next in her urgency to say them. “I don’t remember why I was on the beach or how or when I got there. I don’t recognize my own voice. I couldn’t describe myself until I looked in the mirror. My mind is a huge void.”

Ryan sat back, staring at her for a moment before releasing a soft whistle. “Well now, that is a fix, ain’t it?”

Truth echoed in her words. Of course, she could just be a good actress. It wouldn’t be the first time a beautiful woman had fooled a man with tears and a woeful smile.

He studied her, searched her face for clues to what was really going on. Her gray eyes never wavered from his. He saw honesty and a silent plea asking him to believe.

Her body language reinforced the image. She sat with her arms wrapped around her waist, as though trying to hold the fear in before it overpowered her. She still held on to the camera-bag strap as though it was her only anchor of certainty in an unknown world.

His instincts said this wasn’t an act; she told the truth.

Another set of instincts, the undercover-survival instincts, kicked in. He leaned forward, reaching toward her.

She flinched at his first touch, but didn’t pull away, just sat motionless as he burrowed his fingers through her hair. The dark mass slid over his hands in a soft caress. The sensation called up the image of her hair falling in a curtain around him. He tamped down his reaction. Now was not the time.

Starting at her temples, he conducted a thorough exam of her skull. “Do you have any bruises, bumps, sore spots, anything to indicate some kind of injury?”

“No.” Her whispered answer brushed over his inner arm, raising gooseflesh.

He smoothed the silken mass of her hair back over her shoulder and probed her neck and shoulders. None of his prodding elicited a flinch of pain. He broke the physical contact with her and leaned back in his chair. A silent sigh of relief escaped his lips. “What about a headache?”

“Only when I strain to remember.”

“What about your ID? You must have something on you with a name.”

Early-morning sunlight slanted through the kitchen window, gleaming in her midnight hair as she shook her head. “No. There’s nothing. No pockets except this one.”

He followed her gesture toward her breast. The outline of the slip of paper he’d given her looked harsh against the roundness of her breast. His mouth went dry as cotton.

This was getting out of hand. He had to get his reactions to her under control before his libido completely took over. If he didn’t, he’d be useless to both of them. He swallowed and forced his attention back to her face.

“What about the camera bag?” He downed the rest of his lemonade and refilled the glass.

“I looked. There’s nothing.”

“Everything looked normal?”

She nodded.

Ryan tugged at his earlobe. There had to be something, some clue to her identity. Maybe she hadn’t noticed it because it looked normal. People sometimes missed the obvious because they were so intent on finding the obscure. Hide in plain sight.

Or maybe it was all there in the bag and she didn’t want her little game to end just yet.

“Do you mind if I look?” He held out his right hand, testing her, wondering if she’d let him search the bag.

She leaned over, lifted the bag by the handle and set it in her lap. Her long fingers rubbed the bag, her fingertips pressing into the nylon as they slid over the surface. It was an odd gesture. Almost that of a child reluctant to give up a cherished security blanket. She hesitated, gnawing on her lower lip for a moment before handing the bag to him.

The weight of it caught him off guard. She’d been handling the bag with such ease there’d been no indication of its heft.

He pushed his chair back and stood. After clearing the small table, he set the camera case on the sunny yellow Formica top. He slanted a glance at her. “What’ve you got in here?”

“Cameras, lenses, film. Pretty much what you’d expect.”

“I guess that depends on what you expect.” He lifted it and let it drop back on the table with a soft thunk. “It seems mighty heavy.”

“No more than usual.” She shrugged.

Ryan hesitated. Had she just slipped? Or was this a spontaneous memory breaking through the amnesia? When she didn’t say any more, he shifted back to the camera bag. He began his search with the outside pockets, snapping open each quick-release catch and pulling out the contents. He checked each item before laying it on the table. Packets of lens tissues, a shutter-release cable, several cases holding filters, a small cloth coin-purse. He spilled its contents onto the table, revealing a few coins and several small bills.

Once the pockets were emptied, he ran his hands over the interiors, double-checking for any items that may have escaped his initial notice.

He shifted a little, positioning himself so he could watch her reactions as he opened the body of the case. The zipper slipped over its teeth with surprising silence. The ticking of the kitchen clock sounded louder in the quiet room. As he folded back the cover he forgot about watching her, doing a classic double take when he saw the contents.

This was not a tourist’s camera bag.

He’d seen one camera when he came across her on the beach. It was inside the case, along with a second camera body, each nestled in a cushioned compartment. Several lenses and a shrink-wrapped block of film boxes filled other sections. Individual film canisters were held in place across the inside top of the bag with elastic loops. One by one, he transferred the items from the camera bag to the table.

Underneath the block of film he found a small black beanbag. He held it up and raised a questioning eyebrow.

“It comes in handy as a cushion when I need to prop the camera against an uneven surface,” she answered without hesitating.

He nodded, then pulled out the next items. Two disposable cameras. Again, he looked at her.

A smile lifted the corners of her full lips. “They’re great for scouting. You’d be amazed at how good some of the shots are. There should be a notebook in there, too.”

“Here it is.” He pulled the small spiral-bound pad out from between two of the cushioned dividers and flipped through the pages before setting it aside. “No flash attachment or motor drive?”

“Not necessary and too noisy, in that order.”

He nodded, his gaze steady on hers.

A frown creased her forehead. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I think we can safely say we know one thing about you.”

“What? What do you know?”

Her answers had been automatic, not rehearsed. The difference was subtle but discernible if you knew what to listen for. And Ryan knew. “You’re a professional photographer.”

She rubbed her temples. “A lot of people carry camera bags. That doesn’t make them photographers.”

“True, but this is high-end equipment. Pretty pricey. Except for the disposables, it’s not exactly standard vacation supplies. I’ve only met one other person who carries this kind of stuff with her and she’s a pro.”

“Maybe I’m just rich and waste a lot of money on a hobby.” She picked up one of the cameras and fiddled with the settings.

Ryan shook his head. “Maybe so, but I don’t really think that’s it. You hold that camera with…authority. When I found you on the beach, you were completely absorbed with what you were shooting. You knew what you were doing, exactly how long it’d take you. Then, of course, there’s your answers.”

“My answers.”

“Uh-huh. They come instinctively. You know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh.” Her lips shaped the word more than said it. “Then why can’t I tell you my name? Shouldn’t that be instinctive?”

“Well now, ya got me there. Can’t claim to know much about amnesia, but if you’re running from some kind of danger…” He lifted his shoulders. “Guess your name might be one of the things your mind would want to keep hidden. First thing we do is see if we can get you in to see a doctor.”

“Is that really necessary? There’s nothing wrong with me, physically. What can a doctor do?”

“Won’t know ’til we ask. Is there any reason you don’t want to see a doctor?” He watched as she thought for a moment. Finally she shook her head.

“I’ll give Jamie a call when it’s a more civilized hour and see if he can recommend someone.” He turned back to the camera bag. “These dividers look movable. Mind if I pull them out?”

“Go ahead. They’re only Velcroed in place.”

He pulled each cushioned section out, checked them for hidden contents, then laid them on the table. The bottom cushion didn’t budge when he tugged on it. Stitching held it tight at all four corners, making for a solid bottom. When the bag stood empty, he surveyed the items covering the tabletop then turned to her. “Does anything strike you as not being right?”

“You mean other than the gun?” She shook her head, all the while massaging her temple with one hand. Her other hand cradled the camera to her chest.

Ryan tilted the bag, trying to get a better view of the interior. The dark fabric soaked up light like a sponge. The overhead light didn’t help much in the way of illumination. He opened the drawer beneath the phone and pulled out a flashlight.

The intense beam of light played over the interior of the bag. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. None of the seams showed evidence of having been opened and re-sewn. Light bounced off something in the bottom. He tilted the bag more with a little shake.

The bottom cushion wasn’t so solid after all. A dull silver bead chain fell into view, the short length slithering out from beneath that cushion. He tugged it free and probed beneath the cushion for any other hidden treasures. All he encountered was the nylon-covered base.

He settled into his chair and held his last find up to the light. Two items dangled from the chain looped over his finger, jingling softly in the still kitchen.

A rectangular matte silver medallion, about one inch in length, gleamed in the dull kitchen light. The tag wasn’t new but hadn’t come standard issue with the bag, either. From the weight, it could be real silver.

The second item held even more interest. Three gold bands intertwined to form a single ring.

His thumb brushed the lettering engraved across the surface of the medallion. He flipped it over. More engraving. Something in his chest shifted, tightened as he made out the words.

“What is it?” Her question pulled his attention from the tag.

“Do the letters AJD mean anything?”

She squinted, as if trying to focus on a distant image, then sighed. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“They’re etched into this tag. They don’t trigger anything for you?” He watched her, waiting for some sign, a flicker in her eyes, a tightening around her mouth, something that would reveal the truth of her coming answer.

“No.” She sank against the chair’s ladder-back. “Is there anything else?”

He nodded. His thumb rubbed the engraving again. He imagined he could feel the rest of the phrase, the words, each individual letter burning against his skin. His eyes narrowed and he waited for her reaction. “Together, always.”

The blood drained from her face, leaving her pale beneath her slight tan. The kitchen’s fluorescent light heightened the effect, making her look even more ashen, sickly.

It was the first automatic response from her with any real emotional strength. The first crack in the defensive wall her mind seemed to have built. If he pushed her a little more, maybe he could widen the crack, and they would discover what she didn’t want to remember.

The idea of using her pain left a sour taste in his mouth. His need to protect her battled their need to discover what lay hidden in her mind. He hated himself for it, but he had to take advantage of her reaction before her defense mechanism kicked in again. “There’s more on the flip side. ‘Remember’ and some numbers. They could be a date. ‘Three slash fifteen.’”

Her eyelids fluttered shut and she seemed to struggle to breathe for a moment. She set the camera back on the table with great precision. He didn’t try to stop her when she stood. She wrapped her arms around her waist, holding herself tight.

Why did her reaction feel like a knife stabbing his chest? How had this woman managed to get so far under his skin?

She crossed the kitchen to stand by the wall of windows overlooking the beach. He followed her, coming to a stop beside her.

He wanted to comfort her, to put his arms around her and hold her close. All he would allow himself was to brush her hair back over her shoulder so he could see her face. He dangled the chain in front of her.

After a moment, she took it from him. Her fingers worried the clasp open, slipped the ring off the chain and onto her left ring finger. The trio of gold bands rolled over her knuckle and settled into place, neatly covering the lighter colored skin banding her finger. A perfect match.

She refastened the clasp and examined the silver medallion. A soft ting-ting-ting punctuated the silence. Ryan watched as she repeatedly rolled the triple bands over her knuckle, around her finger and back into place. All of her attention was focused on the medallion. Playing with the ring was an unconscious action, one born of an old habit.

“What does it mean?” His words sounded harsh in his own ears and he couldn’t say for sure if he was asking about the medallion or the ring. Either way, his hands itched to reach out to her. Instead, he jammed his fists onto his hips.

“It’s…he…no, they…” She struggled to find the words, her chin trembling with the effort. “I don’t remember.”

She impaled him with a haunted look before squeezing her eyes shut and turning away from him.

The pain in her eyes undid Ryan. Anger he could stand. Tears he could deal with. But this silent agony was too familiar, reminded him too much of another woman a lifetime ago. He’d been helpless then, just a little boy, powerless to ease a suffering he couldn’t begin to comprehend. Not until it was too late and he never had a chance for atonement.

Maybe this was his chance. Years too late, it wouldn’t erase the old memory. Nothing could do that. Nor would he want to lose that image. It was too much a part of him, too ingrained in his psyche. He wouldn’t be who he was, where he was, what he was without it.

But maybe here, now, with this woman, he could do what he hadn’t been able to do when he was six.

He drew her into his arms, resting his chin on her head. A soft tremor shook her body as she dragged in a breath.

“Why can’t I remember?” Her warm breath washed over his arm in a soft moan. “It’s so close. But it’s all jumbled together….”

“It’ll be okay. Shhh.” He rubbed her back and shoulders, crooning in soothing tones. “We’ll sort it all out. Don’t worry, sugar. If there’s someone out there, he’s probably looking for you. We’ll…” He stopped short of promising they would find him. Don’t make a promise you might not be able to keep, boyo.

She pushed away from him and paced across the room. For a moment, he thought she might bolt out the door, but she turned and continued walking the perimeter of the kitchen.

“Why can’t I remember?” Her voice trembled between tears and frustration. “It doesn’t appear that I hit my head. There’s no reason I shouldn’t remember. I should know who I am.” She spun to look at him. “I should know who gave me these things and why I feel nothing but empty when I think of him.”

Ryan’s stomach rolled into a giant knot. Whoever the guy was, the connection to her was strong. He couldn’t keep his gaze from that blasted ring she still played with. Could this shadow be anyone other than her husband?

Damn, first woman to get my interest—

Whoa. Where’d that come from? Just because he was on R and R didn’t make this any different from one of his undercover assignments. No personal involvement. She was a woman in need of help. That’s all it was. That’s all it could be.

He crossed the room to her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he looked into the pale gray depths of her eyes. “We will solve this. I promise you that.” He slid one hand down to her elbow and tugged. “Come’n sit down. Let’s look through everything. Maybe something will jog loose.”

She followed him back to the table like a tired puppy. He settled her in her chair and watched as her head sank into her hands. “Do you have a headache? Do you want some aspirin?”

“Yes. No.” She glanced at him and he saw a glimmer of a weak smile. “Yes, I have a headache. No, I don’t want any aspirin. The lemonade will do.”

He refilled their glasses and sat next to her again. “Why don’t you look through the notebook, see if you recognize anything.”

The kitchen clock ticked the next few minutes off while she leafed through the small spiral-bound notebook, studying each page. He busied himself with the film canisters. They held nothing but film, a mix of color and black-and-white, most of it used, judging by the lack of any film leaders.

She flipped the last page of the notebook, closed it and pushed it aside. Slumping back in her chair, she combed her hair away from her face. “Nothing other than exposure settings and a few locations.”

“Well, don’t fret on it. We can check out the locations later, see if that shakes anything loose. We’ll get this film developed, too. Maybe whatever you shot will tell us something. Come on, AJ.” A shiver danced across his insides. Right or wrong, he’d just given her a name. “Let’s get you tidied up some. Sleeping on the beach probably left you a mite gritty.”