Blast From the Past (6 page)

“Yes?” a gruff voice spoke.

“Brad? Jackie. I need you to do me a favor.”

“What do you think? Should we do this thing or not?”

Brad shrugged. “It might work. It mightn’t. I mean, I’m not a brain expert and neither are you, Jackie.”

Jackie gave him a dirty look and he grinned. “Look, you owe it to her to do this, know what I mean? You’re the one responsible for what happened to her.”

“I think the driver of a certain SUV would be happy to hear that. Far as I know it’s still that guy drove her over, not me.”

“If you hadn’t spooked her, she wouldn’t be in this state.”

Brad’s jaw worked. Even though Jackie was right, he still resented being blamed for every bad thing that ever happened in Buford. “Look, do you want to do this thing or do you want to keep playing this blame game you’re so keen on, huh?”

“I want my sister back is what I want.”

“So do I.”

Jackie looked at him curiously, but he ignored it. The simple fact that he cared about Amy was something her family had never gotten into their heads and he thought they probably never would. To them he was Brad Fuller, that no-good kid, reckless driver, mister drunk and disorderly who roared into town from time to time where no one wanted him and then disappeared again—good riddance.

He thought about yesterday, and figured Jackie and the rest of the town were probably right about him. He was a no-good piece of scum who endangered the lives of everyone he came into contact with. Hadn’t always been like that, however. Once upon a time he’d been acing his tests, destined for greatness. But then he’d killed a man and his life had taken a turn for the dramatically worse.

“So what do you suggest? I take her to this so-called prom and then she’ll suddenly realize ten years have passed and she’ll snap out of it?”

“Something like that. You have to promise to take good care of her, though. None of that ‘gymnastics’ I saw you perform at the hospital.” The recollection sent a renewed surge of anger through her. He could see it flare up in her eyes. “What was that all about, huh?” She hit him in the chest with two fists. “Can’t get laid up North? Have to take advantage of amnesiac ex-girlfriends to get your kicks? That it?”

He held up his hands. “Hey. She was the one who started it, all right?”

“Cause she still thinks you’re her boyfriend, moron!”

He cast down his eyes, not feeling too good about the incident himself. “It just… happened. I probably shouldn’t have given in to it.”

“Probably? Do you know I could probably have you arrested for rape?”

He gritted his teeth. “In case you didn’t notice, she wasn’t exactly fighting me off either.”

Jackie shook her head, and Brad was surprised again by how much alike the two women were and yet how different. Amy’s face always revealed a certain softness reflected in slightly rounder features, while Jackie’s had become sharper and more pronounced. She’d always been a hard-ass, and now more so than ever.

“Look, we’re on the same side here. We both want what’s best for Amy.”

“I’m not so sure if you are what’s best for her,” Jackie grumbled, “but at the moment you’re all she’s got.”

He grimaced. “Thanks for that vote of confidence.”

“Hey, you’re the douchebag in the story, buddy, not me.”

He followed her into the house, and was surprised to find the place still looking exactly the same as ten years ago, when he’d come to pick up Amy for the prom. The first person he laid eyes on was Amy’s mother. The corners of her mouth turned down and her eyes hard as gimlets, she rose to her feet and walked straight up to him.

“Hello, Mrs. Remington,” he said cordially, extending his hand.

A resounding slap was her only response. His cheek smarting, he hadn’t thought the old lady had so much punch in her. He reckoned he deserved it, and didn’t speak, only gave her an almost imperceptible nod, then gestured at the sleeping figure of Amy, indicating she was what he came here for.

She wagged a finger in his face. “You better make things right, you little shit, or I’ll be on your ass like white on rice.”

For a moment he thought she was going to slap him again, but then she seemed to reconsider and abruptly took a seat next to her daughter. When Brad approached the sleeping Amy all thought of her pissed-off family members was abruptly forgotten. She’d never looked more beautiful.

“Amy,” he whispered, gently nudging her shoulder.

She stirred and opened her eyes. Then, when she realized who it was, murmured, “Brad. What happened? Where— Oh, God! I have to get dressed!”

With a groan of alarm, she sprang to her feet and raced from the room, then popped her head back in. “Jackie!” she pleaded. “Help me get into my dress?”

“Sure thing, hon. I’ll be right up.”

Mouthing ‘Excuse me,’ she threw him a look of contrition that melted his heart, then disappeared. He heard her feet pound the stairs and then a door slam upstairs and he smiled.

Then he caught Jackie’s stern gaze, and his smile faltered. “What now?”

“Just to get things straight: take her to the ‘prom’ and back. That’s it.”

“And no reckless driving, young punk!” warned Mrs. Remington.

“And no s-e-x, Brad.”

“No need to spell it out, young lady. I knew about sex long before you did!”

“Sorry, Mom. Just making sure we’re all on the same page here.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, I swear.”

“Scout’s honor?”

“I was never in the Scouts, Mrs. Remington, but if it makes you feel any better, I’ll pinky swear, all right?”

“Don’t get cute with me, asswipe.”

“Mom!”

Brad couldn’t suppress a chortle, even when two pairs of eyes bored into his. His life had just turned into a Monty Python movie, he was sure of it. Now all he needed was for a big white rabbit to pop up out of nowhere and punch him in the face.

Just then, the doorbell rang and seconds later Bill Tucker waltzed into the room, looking like a man on fire. Well, thought Brad, the chubby cop might not be a white rabbit, but from the angry looks he was throwing in his direction, he seemed ready, eager and most willing to throw him a punch.

Sheriff Tucker had been Buford’s official keeper of the peace for as long as people of Brad’s age could remember. Heck, even when he was a teenager, Bill had been the personification of law and order in town. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that the sheriff knew his Bufordians extremely well, and he’d always looked upon Brad as Buford’s bad boy.

Yesterday, though, the young punk had really outdone himself. Not only was he responsible for landing his goddaughter Amy Remington in the hospital, but he’d had the gall to force himself upon her as well! He’d just heard the story from the head nurse, who had it from Jackie Remington herself.

It wasn’t too much to say Tucker was livid and straining at the leash to get his grubby little hands on the Fuller kid.

The moment he stepped into the living room, he pointed an accusing finger at the young numbskull. “You! Are under arrest for endangering the life—”

But before he could finish the sentence, the door behind him opened, and a vision in pink walked in. His mouth dropped open at the sight of Brad’s ‘victim’ and he lost his train of thought.

“Hello, Bill,” spoke Amy softly. “So kind of you to pay us a visit. Are you escorting me and Brad to the prom?”

The sheriff’s head whipped around so fast he thought he could hear several vertebrae loudly creak in protest. “You’re taking her to the…
prom
?”

“Yep. Looks like.”

Only now did Bill notice Mrs. Remington had been trying to attract his attention all this time. “Bill. A word?”

With a deep frown etched on his broad face, the sheriff briefly twirled his mustache, threw Brad a look that could kill, and followed the lady of the house into the kitchen.

“What’s this all about?” he cried the moment the door was closed behind them.

“Amy’s got amnesia, Bill, and we’re trying to jog her memory by taking her through the last thing she remembers.”

“The prom?” he asked incredulously.

Annie Remington nodded, and he felt his heart make a sudden leap. She was still as fine a woman as she ever was, he reckoned. Delicately boned with raven hair and that highly infectious humorous glint in her eyes, she was a real looker.

“I don’t know how or why, but Amy’s memory seems to have been catapulted back in time a decade. She thinks she’s about to go to the prom.”

Bill scratched his scalp. “But that’s just crazy.”

She threw him a pleading look. “Just go along with it, will you? We think it might bring back her memory if we just go with it—let her revisit the past.”

“But what about the Fuller kid? I was just about to take him into custody. The head nurse tells me he… took advantage of Amy, after he put her in the hospital himself! That’s rape in my book, Annie.”

“We know all about that, Bill.” She wrung her hands in a gesture of desperation. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Amy is as much to blame as he is. She came onto him in the hospital. She still thinks he’s her boyfriend.”

“He could have set her straight. He had no business talking to her in the first place.”

“I know. But what’s done is done. Perhaps there’s a lesson here for those kids. Have you ever heard about karma?”

Bill arched an eyebrow. He wasn’t into any of this mumbo jumbo bullcrap and whenever people mentioned words like karma he felt like throwing up. “The only karma is my kind of karma, Annie. Crime and punishment. You do wrong, you pay the price.”

“Perhaps there’s greater forces at work here, Bill. Things beyond our comprehension. I mean, look where the meeting between Amy and Brad took place. At the church. And then instead of losing her life, Amy loses her memory and is transported back to the day our lives were thrown out of whack. Brad’s life as well. That boy—and Lord knows I’ve been harsher on him than anyone—”

“You have every right to be, Annie. You’re the one who lost a husband—and I a very dear friend.”

She put a hand on his arm, and whispered, “Brad has suffered the same way we all have. Perhaps this… amnesia thing Amy’s got is the universe showing us a way out—a way for Brad to atone for his sins and the rest of us to come to terms with the loss of…”

She didn’t finish the sentence, nor did she have to. Bill had been there for Annie during the last ten years, with words of comfort and a helping hand if she needed it. He’d never admit it, but he’d had a thing for her for a long time, though he’d never make a move on her out of respect for his old friend.

“So what do you suggest? That I escort Amy and Brad to this prom?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. We talked to the principal of Jefferson High and they’ve agreed to welcome Amy and Brad in their midst tonight. The students will also have been informed that tonight will be special—they’ll get a visit from the Prom King and Queen from a decade ago. A blast from the past.”

Bill shook his grizzled head. “It all sounds pretty weird to me, Annie. Pretty damn weird.”

“Just do it… for my little girl… For your goddaughter, Bill. Anything to bring her back to us.”

He gave her a long look, then finally relented. He never could deny Annie Remington anything, especially if she looked at him like this. As if her very life depended on him. “‘I’ll keep an eye on them for you if that’s what you want, honey.”

“That’s exactly what I want, Bill,” she said, a smile lighting up her features. She stood on tiptoes for a moment, and pressed a quick peck on his cheek. Bill swallowed, a flush creeping up his already ruddy face. “I’ll, erm, just get a move on then, shall I?” he croaked a little brusquely, and Annie threw him a radiant smile that warmed the cockles of the old cop’s heart.

“How are you feeling, Amy?”

Amy looked up in surprise. Her date for the night approached her with what appeared to her trepidation mingled with a respect he’d never shown her before. Perhaps the fact that Bill Tucker was following close behind had something to do with it? Brad and Bill had never seen eye to eye, she knew, and though she didn’t really approve of her mother arranging a police escort, there was little she could do about it.

“I’m fine. Just fine.”

As Brad expertly steered the car along the road, she gazed up at him with unadulterated adulation. He looked so handsome in a tux, she thought, never having seen him in anything other than jeans and shirt.

She wondered briefly what he thought of her. He hadn’t spoken a word since they’d left the house, and even there he hadn’t complimented her on her dress. Finally, she couldn’t hold it any longer. “What do you think of the dress? Is it… adequate?”

He glanced over, his eyes as unreadable as before, and chose to remain silent. Her heart sank. He didn’t approve. She knew she shouldn’t have picked the pink one. When her mom had offered her the choice between the blue and the pink, she’d immediately gone with the latter, Jackie’s favorite color being blue. Now she didn’t know if she’d made the right decision.

She slumped a little and fidgeted with the bodice of her dress. One more thing to cavil at, she thought, as she looked down at her small breasts. She knew men liked a handful, and hers didn’t even fill the cups of her dress let alone any man’s hands. They sure as heck didn’t fill Brad’s large hands, though he’d never complained.

And then there was her face. All those freckles were godawful, and her hair, with all those silly curls? Why couldn’t she have straight hair, like all the pretty girls? She was a mess, pure and simple, and why Brad had ever agreed to go out with her in the first place she’d never know. A hunk like him should walk down the street with a beauty queen on his arm, not with a flat-chested chipmunk like her.

She decided to settle this matter once and for all. “Brad?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Mh?”

“Do you—” She swallowed uncomfortably, her throat suddenly dry. “Do you think I’m… ugly?”

His head whipped round and he regarded her with a look of contempt. Oh, dear. She’d asked the wrong question, hadn’t she? Now the truth would finally be out and he’d dump her even before they’d arrived at the prom. Hadn’t her mother always told her to let sleeping dogs lie?