Weathering the Storm. Morgan Q O'Reilly
by now? Gee, by the end of summer I hoped they might even let me use matches. Frankly, I was hoping to get my license back and drive again.
“All right.” I sighed again. “I’ll cut you a little slack if you’ll do the same for me. I don’t need a babysitter anyway.”
Karl gave me a sour look. “I am cutting you some slack by bringing you out here in the first place.” Then a smile brightened his face. Diversionary tactic at its best. “Hungry? Bill told me we were welcome to couple of his moose patties. I know you haven’t had one in a long time.”
Then again, some diversions were better than others. “Bill always has the best moose burgers and I haven’t seen him in years.”
“Come on. We can find out who that guy with him is. I think he’s the one Bill hired to add on to his hotel.”
“Paul Bunyan with the dark red hair?”
Maddie giggled as Karl wrapped his hands around our elbows.
“Noticed already, I see.”
We swerved around a guy wearing a do-rag who looked barely old enough to be out on his own, much less holding the plastic cup full of beer.
“I didn’t lose all my brains, you know. Just a few of the memory ones.” Involuntarily my hand rose to touch the left side of my head, just above the ear. Once again I considered coloring the white streak it to match my natural brown, but the doctors had discouraged it because of the chemicals.
Karl threw his arm around my shoulders. “I know you didn’t, kiddo. But until I get a chance to learn the new you, give me the benefit of the doubt, okay? I haven’t spent a lot of time around you since college. What, five years in school and you pulled out with a double BS and a Masters on top of that? Then another three playing crazed scientist? Come on, who gets their brain insured for millions except someone super special? That’s enough to set you outside of ordinary on a good day. Even without the cracked noggin, you’re a different person than the scrawny seventeen-year-old who was last here eleven years ago.”
“Don’t believe everything my paranoid parents told you. I’m still a super brain.” I dug an elbow into his side. “I just can’t access all the information or the memories.”
“Well, you better dig one up quick. If I’m not mistaken, there’s your best old ex-boyfriend Mike waving at us.”
“Mike.” One memory I’d just as soon not recall. My first, and most painful, relationship to date. Something I’d long ago learned, even before the accident, to package away in the storage closet of my mind, labeled as unimportant past history. “Boyfriend the summer before I went to college. Taught me a few new climbing tricks?”
“Would have gotten your virginity if you hadn’t caught him doing Bev.”
“Ah yes. Bev. Wanted to be my best friend. Didn’t like to climb, but came along to hold ropes. Ended up holding something else.” Yeah, that memory had been purposefully buried. Also, though Karl didn’t know, Mike had gotten my virginity. A fact I’d carefully kept to myself.
“Well, I know he heard about your accident, so get ready to talk, ’cause he’s about five seconds away.”
I barely had time to assume a serene expression before he was there. Tall, even more blond and beautiful than he’d been. At thirty, he’d filled out and developed the kind of muscles that came from constant motion. Probably climbing in the summer and chopping wood in the winter.
“Zettie.” Never short of confidence, the man from my past stopped just short of full body contact. Close enough I could have reached out for a hug. Instead, I shuffled back an inch and watched a hint of disappointment cloud eyes that stared into mine before roving to my head covering. “How are you? I heard–”
“I’m fine, really.” Not going there. I cut him off and smiled brightly. “I took a knock on the noggin, but I’m doing great now. Good to see you again, but we’re on our way…” I glanced around and saw Bill waving. I waved back. “See you around.”
Karl took the hint, tightened his hold around my shoulders and headed toward the grills.
More than anything, I didn’t let myself think about the shocked look on Mike’s face. How much more shocked would it have been if I had said what I’d really been thinking? If only Bev had been there too, I would have shared some statistical facts about men who cheated on their partners. Then again, everyone had told me Bev was gunning for Mike that summer, so maybe Mike should be the one to hear the warning. Mentally I shrugged off the incident. Over. Done. Reminded myself to be polite if I bumped into either one of them over the next few months.
One convenient side effect of the accident–if I didn’t want something to stick in short-term memory, it rarely did. Of course, the downside was often something I wanted to remember slid right on past the short-term storage area. If I was lucky enough, the memory settled into long-term and a small trigger would bring it back. Sometimes. Nothing I could rely on, as I’d learned over and over again these past three years. Well, two years since they’d let me out of the hospital, right into rehab and the loving arms of my zealously protective parents.
“Point out other folks to me, would you? I see very few familiar faces.” The few I thought I recognized looked at me curiously, but didn’t rush over to say hello. A shout went up from the dancers and I cringed into Karl’s side. Not a response I wanted to cultivate.
“Easy, babe. Cousin Karl is here to watch out for you. We’ll get you reconnected with Uncle Bill over there and won’t nobody be smacking into you.”
“Good heavens, where did you learn English? Rapper U? Gangsta Online? Ghetto-Speak for White Boys 101?”
“Thought you’d like that.” Unrepentant, he grinned a mile wide and stopped near the grills. “Bill, lookee who came back to visit.”
I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face when the older man turned from the grill and opened his arms wide.
As far as I’d ever heard, no one knew where he’d come from, or why he’d chosen Talkeetna, but one day he’d wandered into town. Spent a week at the Roadhouse, talked to anyone who had something to say. Not long after, he bought a four bedroom log house just south of the main drag, and the next year opened it up in time for the summer tourist season. He had a calm, mountain-man type of demeanor, offered up rational advice when asked, never talked about his past, never passed judgment, lent a helping hand where it was needed, and had a way with sourdough that had grown to legendary status locally. As far back as I could remember, he’d always worn his long hair in a braid and kept his beard trimmed and combed. He was the uncle to my generation, the link between us and our parents, and on occasion, served as mediator between the two warring factions.
Without a moment’s hesitation I flung myself into his embrace, instinctively keeping the injured side of my head to the outside.
“Look at you, missy.” He folded me into strong arms and carefully rocked me.
As hugs went, it fell far short of the way he’d once lifted my feet from the ground and spun me in circles. Damn. Word was out. I’d so wanted to come back and be treated as normal. A sense of disappointment sank from my heart to my toes.
“How’s my dream man?” I asked as he set me back on my feet. Maybe if I treated him the same as always, he’d relax.
“Now that you’re all grown, I’m ready for a soft, peaceful sort of woman. You stayed away too long, squirt.”
Stepping back, I took a good, long look at him. His braided hair seemed a little longer, but had new touches of gray that also frosted the grizzled beard. New, deeper lines fanned out from his eyes and mouth. All in all, he looked like Bill, just a decade older. “You’re not that old.”
He grinned, but changed the subject. “Hey, I want to introduce you. This is the guy building my addition. Azzette, this is Aiden Shaughnessy, recently up from Michigan. Aiden, this is Azzette Bettencourt. Sort of a local girl