August Unknown (14 page)

“This is the...” He touched a rope secured to a cleat.

“I have no idea.”

“Main sheet. Don’t worry, that’s a tough one. Here’s an easier
one.” He pointed to a polished silver fixture.

“That’s a cleat.” August rose, her gaze caught by a small door
set flush in a fiberglass compartment in the low cabin roof. She crossed the
deck and flipped it open. Inside was a flare gun with a safety pin securing it
like a fire extinguisher might have, and a small plastic case of extra flares.

“Not what I thought,” she said absently.

“That should be marked, according to code. I’m still ironing
out the kinks.”

She glanced away, tamping down her increasing agitation. “How
about a tour of the inside?”

“Vright zees vay. Through the grand double doors and into the
foyer.” He unlocked a set of louvered doors and pushed back a hatch-cover, and then
offered his hand. “Watch your step.”

A beam of sunlight cut through the small windows on the right
side of the cabin.

“It looks like Derek’s been here,” August said.

He glanced to the empty pint bottle of vodka lying on the
small galley counter. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I’d say you’re right,” he
said, shifting his gaze to the rumpled makeshift bed. “He’s dog meat.”

“Now, wait a minute. This is good.”

He raised his eyebrows skeptically. “If you can prove that,
I’ll spare him.”

“I know this—that’s usually a table, right? You unscrew the
table’s support pole, and then use the table top to fill in the space and put a
pad over it to make the bed.”

Geoffrey nodded. “How did you know that?”

“I wish I knew.” She shrugged. “So, is he off the hook?”

“Hmmm. I’m not sure.”

“What if we make him chip barnacles?”

He laughed. “Barnacles? On
Penny Lane?
”

“We can pick some off the rocks and relocate them, just for
Derek.”

Geoffrey’s smile washed away her frustration. “Deal.”

* * *

This was a huge risk, but not finding out as much as she could
was a bigger risk. She parked her car in the parking garage located behind the
hospital and walked to the main entry.

The facility bustled with a high level of energy for a
Saturday afternoon. The main desk was huge, but with several nurse attendants
on duty, she didn’t have to wait. She chose the youngest looking one, hoping
she’d be easier to deceive.

“Do you think I’d be able to see an OBGYN? I’m five months
pregnant and last night I started having terrible pains in my abdomen. I
thought it might be constipation...” She smiled sheepishly. “But I’m not
constipated. I have insurance.”

The nurse’s icy expression thawed at the mention of insurance.
“I’m sure we can get you in. You did the right thing coming in, even if it is
just constipation. What’s your name, hon?”

“Sonja Davis.” She handed over the insurance card for Blue
Cross.

“Second trimester,” the nurse said as she typed. “I need to
see your ID.”

Her heart jumped, and she really did feel a cramp in her gut.
She fumbled getting the driver’s license out of the plastic pocket of the
wallet.

She handed it to the nurse, who looked at it, and then up at
her. Her eyes flicked back and forth, suspicious.

“I had red hair when that was taken,” she said. “Can’t color
it now, though, because of the baby.”

“That’s good to hear. You’d be surprised how many still do. Shouldn’t
do it while you’re nursing, either, okay?”

She nodded along, obedient and agreeable.
So far, so good
.

The nurse set the ID and insurance card on the front of her
keyboard and typed in the information. “You’re from Washington. So you’ve never
been here before?”

She breathed out her relief. “No, I’m down here visiting
friends. I can’t tell you how happy I was to find you have this big, beautiful
hospital here. I was really worried I would have to drive all the way back to
Seattle.”

The nurse beamed as she handed her back the driver’s license
and insurance card. A well-placed compliment was usually all it took to
persuade the simple-minded.

“You’re in luck. We have an appointment available.”

A stylish woman in a lab coat entered the nurse’s station,
wearing expensive high heels. She handed a clipboard to another nurse, speaking
in soft tones. She looked up when another doctor entered the station.

“Dr. Jessup, I wonder if you have a moment to discuss my
amnesia patient?”

Her attention went to red-hot.
Amnesia?
Was it possible
this was the mysterious traffic accident victim Vinnie found?

“The young woman found out on the coastal highway?” The male
doctor she was talking to checked his watch. “Sure, I have time before my next
appointment.”

The room around her had increased by ten degrees. Her mind
worked with the fantastic possibilities as she dimly heard the printer grinding
out a plastic ID band with her details. The nurse fixed it around her wrist.

“Take a seat. They’ll call you in about ten minutes. I’ve
indicated this is urgent. Dr. Freeman will be seeing you.” The nurse winked.
“She’s a woman.”

She gave a huge smile. “That’s a relief. Thank you
so
much.”

Could it really have been this easy? She’d known Emily had been
in this hospital, but to have the bitch just fall into her lap...and with
amnesia, no less!
Fuckin’ A
.

In the promised ten minutes, a nurse practitioner called her
name. Swiftly and efficiently, her blood pressure and temperature were taken,
and she was weighed. This chubby nurse seemed generally disinterested—in
anything other than cake and cookies, it would appear—and hardly said two
words. She showed her into an examination room and sat down at a computer
console.

“Take off everything and put the smock on, opening in the
front.” She gestured to the folded garments on the examination table. “Your birthdate?”

Shit. She swallowed.
Think, think, think!
Valentine’s Day.
“February fourteenth.” Close one. Thank goodness it was an easy birthday to
remember.

“You’re in for stomach pains...and you’re in your second
trimester?”

“Yes.”

“Have you eaten any spicy foods in the last twenty-four
hours?”

“No. That would be bad for the baby.”

The nurse looked at her like she’d insulted her intelligence.
“The doctor will be with you in a few minutes.”

The instant the door of the exam room closed, she bolted for
the computer. The screen was still visible; the nurse hadn’t locked it.

She didn’t know much about computers, and certainly not
hospital programs, but there was a search bar for patient names at the top of a
user-friendly looking screen.

She typed “Emily Atkinson.”

NO PATIENT FOUND.

“Dammit. Come on.” She tried again, but got the same response.
Vinnie had been right; whatever record might have been in this system had been
deleted.

There was another search bar, presumably to search the system
by other factors. She typed in “traffic accident” and waited while it searched.
The computer spit out more than twenty pages, judging by the resulting page
links numbered at the bottom.

“Shit.”

She couldn’t possibly find Emily in all these. She typed
“amnesia,” in the search bar and clicked the search symbol again. A single page
of results came up for a Dr. Lohman in the psychiatry department. She quickly
scanned through patient summaries before she realized the first one, a listing
whose abbreviated description showed the word “amnesia” and “August
Unknown–Barthlow,” was the one she was looking for.

She clicked the link for the first entry. No picture, but she
hadn’t expected one. She didn’t know what “Barthlow” meant, either, but figured
it was somebody’s name. She’d check it out later on her smart phone.

She scanned what she could as seconds ticked by. She couldn’t
be caught, and she couldn’t go through with this appointment. She could not
afford to be remembered here.

If this was Emily, she had walked in front of a car on the night
of September ninth on the Oregon Coastal Highway. She had broken her arm, and needed
eight stitches in her forehead. She didn’t remember what had happened before
the accident.

“Bloody beautiful.”

The address was listed as 19 Crestview Drive. That was easy
enough to remember. She typed “Sonja Davis” into the search bar, bringing up
the original patient record again, in case anyone needed reminding who had been
assigned to this room and mysteriously disappeared before the doctor arrived.

She grabbed her purse and casually exited the examination
room, looking like any other patient who’d finished with their appointment.

* * *

“Wow, Uncle G. You’re smokin’.” Jocelyn giggled.

Geoffrey stopped in the doorway and met August’s eyes in the
mirror. She smiled as she looked over his tuxedo, and his insides turned quivery.

“I love that tux on you,” Leah said. “Jocelyn, let August
borrow your beige hair ribbon, okay? It’ll go nice with my shawl.”

Leah had woven August’s long hair into a single French braid
and coiled the length of it into a bun at the nape of her neck.

A sliver of guilt needled its way in to his gut. Had August
asked Leah to disguise her by hiding her hair?

“It’s a little cool for this outfit this time of year, so this
shawl will be perfect to drape over your cast. It’s wool, but it’s not too
scratchy.” Leah tied the cream colored shawl over August’s shoulder as Jocelyn
came bounding back into the room with the tiny ribbon bow.

“Let me put it on.”

August sat on the edge of the bed and Jocelyn knelt behind her
on the mattress. She gingerly slipped the bobby-pin into the center of the bun.

“Perfect,” Leah said, surveying her work. “With the shawl, you
can hardly tell you have a broken arm.”

“Except for this ugly body sling,” August said. She stood, and
after glancing over her reflection, met Geoffrey’s eyes again in the mirror.

She looked beautiful in the borrowed turquoise dress and
strappy high-heeled sandals. Wispy bangs brushed over her forehead, and Geoffrey
saw Leah had replaced the Sesame Street bandage at August’s forehead with a
smaller, flesh-colored one. A subtle touch of rose-toned makeup accentuated her
natural coloring, and her lips were shiny with pink gloss.

Another wave of guilt surged through him. If anything happened
to her tonight, he would never forgive himself.

He was being selfish. He’d watched his brothers parade around
with beautiful women his whole life, and tonight was just another desperate
effort to leap out of their shadows. Having her with him would make him feel a
little less like an outcast in a room full of strangers.

Those were foolish thoughts. August was no more his girlfriend
than Yaquina Head was his lighthouse.

The guilt morphed into something darker. Even if he and August
both agreed this wasn’t a date, the plain and simple truth was his feelings
were becoming dangerous. Feelings he wasn’t ready for.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked, looking to justify
his own excuse.

“Sure, bro. After I get her all dressed up, now you’re trying
to back out?” Leah teased.

“I did her nails,” Jocelyn volunteered.

“It sounds like you’re trying to talk me out of it.” August
turned from the mirror and approached him. “Something wrong with the dress?”

“God no. August, you’re gorgeous.” Pale hints of pink eye
shadow made her blue eyes more brilliant than a summer sky. The frosty-pink
lip-gloss had turned her lips downright edible.

This is wrong. Somehow, I’m betraying Christina
.

The hand August placed on his arm squeezed reassuringly. “I’m
beginning to feel silly with all this paranoia. All that worrying was for
nothing, right? I mean, who even knows if I have an enemy with red hair?”

He took her hand from his arm and wrapped it in his own. “You need
to trust your gut. If this isn’t right, tell me.”

“It’s right. Don’t worry.”

He wasn’t convinced. Even if she felt safe, a nagging voice
whispering in his ear told him taking August out was wrong. But was it the
angelic side of his conscience, or the devilish?

Even though she clearly enjoyed his company, August truly
wasn’t his, just like Christina had never truly been his. Geoffrey felt himself
being pulled north and south by his emotions, but heaven help him, he liked
being around her too much.

“The award, one drink, and we’ll skip out before dinner.”

“I don’t even get dinner?”

She smiled, and her eyes twinkled. Lord, he could watch that
happen for the rest of his life.

“Geez, you’re a stingy date.”

Date
. There, she’d said it. He didn’t know how to respond.
Heat crawled into his face as an uncomfortable second stretched into an
uncomfortable minute.

“Can I come, too?” Jocelyn asked.

“No, honey, it’s grown-up stuff,” Leah told her. “Besides, I
thought we were going to bake a blueberry pie?” She shooed them out of the
room. “Get going, you two, before Geoffrey misses his award.”

August took his arm as they walked down the hall. When Derek
caught sight of them, he whistled.

“Whoa, don’t you two look like the dapper duo. Nice penguin
suit, dude. Tonight’s your tree-hugging thing, isn’t it?”

Geoffrey clenched his jaw. “Yeah. The tree-hugging thing.”

“Hey, I’m all for it. Save the trees, you know. Too much
logging, too much pavement.”

“That’s funny, considering you’re most at home in New York City.”

“Actually, Derek,” Leah cut in, “two years ago a fire started
by campers destroyed 165 acres of national forest. This family—those members
who were present anyhow—was primarily responsible for organizing and funding
the reseeding. Geoffrey headed up the project, so the Newport Chamber of
Commerce and the Sierra Foundation are presenting him with the Mayor’s
Volunteer of the Year award.”