Memory Reload. Rosemary Heim
she rolled her shoulders, raised her arms over her head and stretched. Slowly her knotted muscles relaxed. She paced around the room as she worked the snarls from her long hair and braided it. This task at least seemed familiar, routine. The normalcy served to calm her a little more. She could almost pretend everything was normal. Until she picked up the T-shirt.
It was a man’s V-neck T-shirt, the kind that comes three to a package. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except she knew it had to belong to Ryan. The soft, pale green cotton matched the material of the one he wore right now.
Another shiver, totally unrelated to a chill, swept over her, dragging with it an awareness of the man who’d found her on the beach and brought her into his home. Not an awareness of him as a kind person doing a good deed. But an awareness of him as a very masculine, very attractive man.
This wouldn’t do. Not at all. She hadn’t missed Ryan’s attention to her rings, especially the one he’d found hidden in her camera bag. The one that looked like a wedding ring.
Her thumb rubbed over the twined bands, rolling them back and forth over her knuckle. The motion was familiar, comforting even. The three intertwined circles of gold rolled together easily as she slid them over her knuckle and off her finger. Sadness flowed over her. Her finger felt naked without the ring. She felt lost without that symbol of being connected to someone.
The bands were nicked and burnished, their shine muted with the patina of constant wear. Lettering etched on the inside surface of one of the bands caught her eye.
She switched on the stained-glass lamp and held the ring close to the light. Tilting it back and forth, she found additional markings. Each band had been inscribed. She swallowed hard, fighting back the rush of grief threatening to swamp her tenuous composure.
The words were familiar. On some level, she’d even expected to find them. Still the emptiness swirled around her. AJD, Together Always, Remember 3/15. The same inscription Ryan had found on the silver tag.
She slipped the ring back on and hugged her hand close to her heart. Pacing the room did nothing to ease the knot in her chest. It wasn’t fair. How could grief this strong exist without memory of the person?
The room began to close in on her. The welcoming coziness became smothering. The light scent of the potpourri turned cloying. She pulled on the loaned clothes, ignoring the rippling awareness of whom the items belonged to, intent on one thing—getting out of the room before she started crying again.
Once out of the bedroom, she regained some small measure of calm. She made her way down the short hall, aware of the soft murmur of Ryan’s voice. As she neared the door to the kitchen, he stopped talking. She held her breath, wondering who was in the kitchen with him. She wasn’t ready to face anyone else yet.
He started talking again and she let out a slow sigh. Whoever it was, they were on the other end of the phone line, not in the kitchen. Her calm façade slipped a notch as his quiet words sank into her awareness.
“I don’t know. It could be a setup, but I don’t think so. You’re the only one who knows I’m here.”
Setup? What was he talking about?
“Yeah, I know. You’re the one with the super, weird-vibe detector, but my gut says she’s okay. She comes off as…real, I guess.”
He was talking about her. Her rubber-soled sandals squeaked on the linoleum floor as she stumbled to a halt in the doorway.
Ryan turned to look at her, his steady gaze never wavering as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. He’d been leaning back against the counter by the door and now he shifted so his entire body faced her. He stood mere inches from her, relaxed, seemingly unbothered by her sudden appearance.
The clean scent of sea air mingled with the tang of the perspiration he’d worked up on his morning run. She was close, too close, too aware of him. Instinct warned her the situation was dangerous, she’d been foolish to trust him so easily.
Before she could step away, his warm fingers wound around her wrist. The pale green of his eyes darkened as he watched her. He swept her with an appreciative gaze, a smile quirking up one corner of his mouth.
“That sounds good,” he said into the phone. “Right, see y’all later.” He returned the phone to its cradle and turned the full strength of his attention to her. “Those clothes never looked better. How ’bout you? Are you feeling better?”
She nodded. “Who were you talking to?”
“The esteemed Jamison McRobbie. Better known as our host, Jamie. I thought he might be able to help us out. He works with the police sometimes—”
“No! No police.” She pulled her arm free from his loose grip and took a quick step away from him.
“AJ?” His soft tone stopped her backward movement.
“No, please, we can’t go to the police.” She fought down the panic threatening to shatter what remained of her hard-gained peace.
“Okay, we won’t.” He reached for her, gently running his hand down her arm. “Can you tell me why we can’t go to the police?”
She closed her eyes and swallowed. A shudder ran across her shoulders, down her back. “I…I don’t know. I just get this huge wave of ‘danger’ at the thought.”
“All right, sugar. Don’t worry about it. We proved your instincts are still pretty sharp, and if they’re telling you to stay away from the police, we will. For now.” He lifted her chin on the edge of his hand.
She opened her eyes. For a moment she lost herself in the pale depths of his steady gaze. How could she not trust him? From the moment they’d met on the beach, his one concern seemed to be helping her. What could he possibly gain from her?
Time stood still as she searched for an answer in his face. “Am I foolish to trust you?” she whispered.
Ryan’s focus shifted from her eyes to her lips. “Probably.” His breath caressed her cheek. “But not for the reason you think.”
His attention to her mouth lasted for a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for her to realize how close they were standing to each other, how easy it would be to close that small space. How much she wanted to do exactly that.
Awareness coursed through her, setting her nerve endings on fire. There was more than trust at issue here. She’d just been on the verge of tears over an inscription in a wedding ring, her wedding ring. Whoever her husband was, whatever the status of their relationship, he held a great deal of importance to her. She couldn’t—shouldn’t—be so attracted to Ryan so easily.
But she was. What kind of person am I?
He released her arm and stepped back, putting a little distance between them. Had he been as aware of her as she was of him?
“Now then.” He cleared his throat. “We have something really serious to discuss. Breakfast.”
The sudden change of topic granted her a momentary reprieve from her troubling thoughts.
“’Course, I need to clean up before we leave,” he continued. “But that won’t take long. There’s this great little place about ten minutes away. They do a mean loco moco.”
She realized she was nearly hungry enough to tackle the local dish of rice and hamburger patty topped with gravy.
“Or how does fresh fruit and waffles sound?” Ryan offered the alternative.
“Wonderful.” Her stomach rumbled in agreement. How long had it been since she’d eaten?
“Great. I’ll be ready in two shakes. Why don’t you put your feet up in the living room, while I go get gorgeous?” His quick smile revealed teeth so white they would have seemed fake if not for a slight misalignment of the eye-teeth. He led her into a spacious room filled with wicker furniture.
She sank onto the bright floral cushions of the couch