August Unknown (28 page)

“Just meet me there. Dad, relax. You gotta trust me. Do you
remember how to find it?”

She merged left, preparing to take the exit toward Palos
Verdes. So far, she remembered where she was going.

“I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. All right, see you.”
He flipped the phone shut. He slid closer on the seat and nuzzled her. “I would
rather go to a hotel. I need to touch you.”

She wanted to touch him, too. To close her eyes, let herself
be drawn into his embrace, try to forget all this had happened. She was sure,
broken arm aside, she would almost be able to imagine the last three weeks had
never happened.

But she couldn’t do that. She didn’t want to forget Geoffrey.
An unbearable ache had been twisting in her gut since leaving Newport. Since
leaving him.

Her life with Colin had been set. She had her job, her
engagement, her future. Now she had Geoffrey to consider too. Life with him and
his wonderful family had been joyous and right.

But now she recognized a new feeling, or rather a memory, that
she’d wanted to break free of the old life, where everything had been decided
for her. Of course, not in such a drastic way, but deep inside Emily knew she’d
been yearning to make her own choices.

Was that why she’d refused to set a date for the wedding for
so long? So many parts of her past were still ungraspable, and now it was even
more frustrating that she could see shapes and shadows but not be able to make
them out clearly.

“I need some time,” she said simply. “A lot’s happened, and I
still don’t remember everything.”

“I don’t understand it, but I’ll give you all the time you
need.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at him. “Okay, don’t tell me. Right up
here at...Thorndike?”

The sky had gone from dusky purple to rich sapphire sprinkled
with diamond chips. They pulled down the long gravel road through the pine
trees leading to her parents’ tiny woodland home. The windows glowed with
golden light.

Her red Prelude with its dented door and cracked windshield
sat in the driveway. Familiarity swelled through her with pleasing warmth.
Cherry Pit, she jokingly called the car. Her parents’ Oldsmobile sedan was
parked in front of the garage door.

She stopped the Jeep beside Graham’s pickup at the back of the
circular drive and turned it off.

The front door opened and Graham came out, followed by her
parents. When they saw her slip out of the front seat, her mother cried out and
covered her mouth.

Graham froze, and then ran toward her. “I don’t believe it!”
He stopped only for an instant to hold her at arm’s length, and then hauled her
into a hug. He stepped back again, staring at her as though he still couldn’t
believe his eyes.

“Hi, Graham.”

Her mother ran up and threw her arms around Emily. “My baby!”
She rocked back and forth, sobbing.

“Mom.” Her mother’s familiar scent and the scratchy apron she
never took off brought memories flooding back.

She heard her father’s slow steps and the crunch of his cane
spearing the gravel. She turned from her mother and approached him, giving a
tentative hug. Emily realized the bad memories were as vivid as the good. She
leaned back and smiled.

All at once, all three fired questions and exclamations.

“Now, now, everyone, let her come inside,” Colin said. He
never strayed more than a few feet from her side. “We’ve been on the road for three
hours.”

They sat her down in the front room. Her mother blotted her
eyes with a tissue and passed the box around.

“Did I tell you?” Colin asked his father. “I knew she wasn’t
dead.”

Graham swiped at his eye with a thumb. “You certainly did. I’m
sorry I doubted you. I’m sorry, Emily.”

“Where were you?” her mother asked. “Why didn’t you call?”

She remembered her mother’s name was Agnes. She glanced at her
father. She felt as if she’d dived into cold water as she realized she could
not remember her father’s first name.

“Uh, it’s difficult to explain.”

“You couldn’t call your own family?” her father said in his
trademark grumbling voice.
That
she remembered.

The furniture in the house was familiar, but otherwise the
place was foreign. She’d never lived here. When their cottage in Astoria didn’t
sell, they’d allowed her to rent it and bought this quiet house far from the
ocean with the money from selling their boats.

“When I washed ashore that night, I was disoriented,” she
explained. “I had hypothermia. I was hit by a car on a dark road.”

“That wonderful guy who was taking care of you is the reason
you couldn’t remember in the first place.” Colin’s voice held barely-contained anger.
He sat next to her in a matching Queen Anne chair, his face scrunched into a
grimace.

“What guy?” Graham asked.

“A family in Newport put me up.” She shot Colin a look. “All I
remember is walking along the ocean highway. My head hurt then. I was already
injured. It must have happened when I went overboard. Whatever made me forget,
it happened on board.” She’d almost said the boat’s name, but at the last
minute it wouldn’t come. This wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped it would be.

Across the tiny living room, her mother mewled like a kitten.
“Your head?”

“I had eight stitches.” Emily pulled back her bangs. “But my
arm was broken when I was hit by the car.”

Graham swallowed. “There was blood on the cabin roof.”

Her father glared at Graham. “What blood? You didn’t say
anything about any blood. Just how much did you cover up, Ridgley?”

“It wasn’t Graham’s fault, that much I know for certain,”
Emily said quickly. She should have known the accident would have caused bad
blood between them.

Graham gave a terse nod, but his shoulders still looked
bunched.

“I don’t remember what happened that night,” she continued,
anticipating his next question. She swept her glance from him, over her father,
to Agnes. “I didn’t remember much for a long time. Fleeting memories here and
there. The family who took care of me after I got out of the hospital drove me
down south to see if I remembered anything, but it didn’t help.”

Colin leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and drove his
fingers through his short-cropped hair.

She didn’t elaborate further. None of them needed to know
about her time with Geoffrey. She suddenly felt protective over it, worried
they would all be as possessive and jealous as Colin. Her time with Geoffrey,
and the new memories they’d created, were precious.

“You didn’t remember your own parents?” her father barked.
“Hogwash.”

“Now, now,” her mother soothed.

“It’s hard to explain how murky everything felt after the
accident. I’m really sorry for any pain I caused.”

“It’s not your fault, Emily,” Graham interjected. “Nobody
blames you for what happened that night, or since. We’re just glad you’re
back.”

Her father snorted. “You’re right at that; we knew whose fault
it was. You’re damned lucky, Ridgley.” He shook his finger at Graham, and Emily
cringed inwardly.

“Listen, everyone, let’s not lose sight of what’s important.”
Colin took her hand. “It’s a good thing I found you. Otherwise we might never
have known what happened to you.”

She shook her head. “No, I would have remembered, sooner or
later. The doctors who treated me said I would remember when I was ready.”

She had to tell them about her fears to encourage them to keep
her presence a secret for a while, but did so without confessing the attacks.
Until she remembered what happened, no one else could know she was alive.

Her father wanted to call the police, and Graham agreed with
him. But with Colin’s help, she managed to convince them they had no more proof
today than they did the day Graham and Colin spoke to them about Sonja. She
still had a queasy feeling in her stomach when she thought about the red-haired
girl, but Emily was dead-set against implicating Sonja any further if she
wasn’t sure.

For the next hour, she did her best to answer the barrage of
questions fired at her. When she yawned, her mother jumped from her seat. “You
must be hungry.”

“Famished,” she said, knowing it was what Agnes needed to
hear. She loved cooking for her family.

“I’ll make you a sandwich. Your favorite?” She hesitated.

“Turkey and tomato on French bread?” Emily confirmed, and
Agnes beamed.

“Coming right up!”

“Well,” Graham cleared his throat. “I suppose you two want to
be alone.”

Colin had inched progressively closer. He reached over and
took her hand. “I do want to talk to you,” he whispered.

They walked to the door with Graham. Emily found herself
captured in his big, gentle hug.

“I’m so glad you’re all right,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Part
of me died that night, Em.” Tears welled and spilled, but he smiled past them.
Love burst in Emily’s heart. Strong and sturdy Graham wasn’t afraid to let
anyone see him cry. “Now I feel alive again.”

He dragged her into another hug.

“The minute I saw Colin, I remembered you, too,” she whispered
just for him. “And how very much you mean to me.”

He chuckled, pretending the tears weren’t streaking his
cheeks, and turned to his truck without another word. He started the engine,
looked at her again while grinning like a little boy, and then drove away.

“He missed you.”

“I missed him.”

Colin took her good hand, swinging it gently back and forth as
they crunched slowly across the gravel to the edge of light spilling from the
house. She could feel his longing, his pain of believing her dead.

“I’ve been living a nightmare for the past three weeks.” He
stopped and turned to her. She felt herself draw nearer.
Her Colin
. She
had been missing something vital inside herself without him, too.

“Now it’s over and you’re back. It’s the second chance we both
deserve. It’s a miracle.”

She smiled, not sure if she was ready to chalk it up to a
miracle.

“I don’t know why you took this off that night...” He produced
a small velvet box from his pocket. “But I’m asking you to put it back on.”

He flipped open the box. Her ring gleamed in the wan light.
She remembered it perfectly: the neat, quarter carat Marquis set prettily in
its white-gold band.

“Colin—”

“I know you said you needed time, and I’ll give you as much as
you need. But just take off that ring, please.”

She shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

His hand dropped a few inches. “Why?”

“Because...”

“Do you love him?”

Her stomach quavered with nervous tension. She drew a
shuddering breath. “Yes. I do.”

He snapped the velvet box shut and turned around, bringing
both hands to his head. “I don’t believe this.”

“Colin, I haven’t decided what I’m going to do.”

“You mean you haven’t chosen between us.”

He turned back. She saw him take a deep breath and smother his
anger. He stepped close again and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“It’s all right. I know you’ve been through a lot, and it’s
confused you. Once you’re back in your old life, you’ll get used to us again.”

His eyes were as she’d never seen them before. So filled with misery,
so lost and hopeless. She understood the pain he’d been feeling the past three
weeks, because now she was feeling it, too.

“I’m so sorry.” She fought against the stinging in her throat.
“I didn’t do this on purpose.”

He took her hand and placed the velvet box in her palm. “I
know.” A long moment passed before he lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I can’t
believe I found you again, only to lose you.”

“You aren’t losing me.” She stepped forward and kissed him. He
gripped her shoulders and dragged her hard against him. In his kiss, she felt
his desperation, his tragic need. She wished she could make his pain go away.

She didn’t want either man to hurt, but she could only choose
one.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Agnes flitted about the house in a state of perpetual
happiness, eagerly catering to Emily’s every need. She didn’t have the heart to
tell her mother she only wanted some quiet time to think.

Colin had finally been convinced to return home with Graham,
even though she believed him when he said he wouldn’t be able to sleep again
until she was beside him.

She missed him and Geoffrey terribly. The sadness had only
gotten worse. Now it was a constant sharp stab at the apex of her ribs. In
order to make one happy, she had to break the other’s heart. How could she
possibly choose between them? Colin had been a part of her life for so long
that being without him would be like losing a finger, but Geoffrey was a unique
and special man who brought light alive inside her.

“Son of a bitch.” Her father dropped the invoice he’d just
opened onto the kitchen table. “I wonder if we can dig up that coffin and
return it.”

“Bernard!” Agnes shrieked.

In an instant, her father’s name sparked with familiarity. How
could she have forgotten that? And worse, why hadn’t she remembered it herself?

Her relationship with him had been a turbulent part of her
life, with as many bad memories as good. Was she blocking out the less pleasant
things from her life? Would she ever let herself remember that night on the
boat?

The unease at the things missing from her memory came with a
dark fear she could almost see. She racked her mind for a glimpse of the night
she went overboard, but still nothing would come.

She gazed at the photographs on the mantel, but didn’t have
the heart to ask her mother to name the young people in the group shot taken
aboard the
Maraschino
. She didn’t want Agnes to know how much was
missing from her memory. If it hadn’t been for the photo of the boat’s christening,
she wouldn’t have remembered its name, either.