One Tuesday Morning (43 page)

“I know, Jamie … I wasn't going to call. I just thought that maybe you were too close to the situation to see what the rest of us saw as soon as—”

“Please, Captain Hisel, stop.” Jamie stood and headed back to the kitchen. “I've got dinner to make. Thank you for calling.” Then without waiting for a response from the man, she clicked the off button and returned the phone to its base. Adrenaline surged through her veins and made her heart race. A fine layer of perspiration broke out on the palms of her hands and across her face.

Of all the nerve, calling to say something so completely absurd. Did he think a call like that would help her feel better? Make her more relaxed while she waited for Jake's memory to return? Or was he merely so self-centered that he couldn't see past the amnesia to the man who was trying so hard to become the person he'd left behind? Either way, Jamie couldn't believe he'd called.

It was the meanest thing she'd ever heard.

A few minutes later Jake and Sierra came into the kitchen, holding hands. Sierra was smiling, skipping along beside Jake, but Jake's eyes were troubled, more confused than she'd seen them in weeks. “I had another one.”

Sierra broke away and headed into the backyard toward the swing set.

Jamie stared at Jake and barely noticed the child leave the house. “Another flashback?”

Jake nodded and leaned against the wall, his eyes locked on hers. “It's getting more vivid, longer than before.”

The roof of Jamie's mouth was dry as dirt. “What … what do you see?”

“The same thing.” Jake shrugged. “I'm running down the stairs and I fall, a fireman stops to help me, but when I look at him, it's like looking in a mirror.”

Doubts ricocheted across her mind like so many pinballs. Jamie closed her eyes and thought about God.
Lord … I hate feeling like this … Please take away the awful thoughts Captain Hisel's put in my mind. Please
. She blinked and opened her mouth, but it took several seconds before she could form the question. “Which way was the firefighter headed, you know, the one who looked like you?”

Jake lowered his brow and angled his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Jamie ran her tongue along her lower lip, “I mean was he going up the stairs or down?”

For a moment Jake stared out the window, then his eyebrows relaxed as the answer came to him. “Up.” He gave a firm nod of his head and slipped his hands in the pockets of his sweats. “The fireman was going up.”

****

The flashback grew even longer the following day, and Jake shared the details with her. Now, after the firefighter—who seemed to be Jake—helped him to his feet, Jake noticed a helmet on the ground, a helmet with something taped to the inside.

Jamie was terrified about what the flashbacks meant and how they lined up with Captain Hisel's concerns. She started scrutinizing Jake more closely, watching the way he brushed his teeth and combed his hair, calculating in her mind the dozens of little ways that the captain was right. The man living in her house did
not
act exactly like Jake Bryan. Once when Jake had turned and found her staring at him, she jumped—as though she'd been caught looking at a stranger.

After that incident she prayed for nearly an hour, and God helped her relax. It was amazing, after doubting His existence for so long, how quickly she'd adapted to calling on Him. Not because she was supposed to, but because she knew no other way to find solid ground in the midst of all that was happening. And always when she prayed, she felt her doubts dim, at least a little.

So what if Jake could see himself in the flashback. At least he was a part of the memory; that had to be a good sign, right? Jamie begged God to eliminate her fears altogether, but by nightfall the tension grew again. What if Captain Hisel was right? What if by some freak mix-up Jake wasn't really Jake? She kept her fears to herself, but they made it impossible for her to eat or sleep.

By Friday night she felt like she was losing her mind.

That evening after dinner, Jake and Sierra headed into the family room and popped the
Cinderella
video into the VCR. Jamie bundled up in a sweater and grabbed the phone off its base just as Jake looked back into the room. His smile was easy and warm. “What're you doing?”

Jamie felt like a convict. She swallowed hard and held up the phone. “I'm going outside to call Sue.”

“Okay.” He winked at her and pulled Sierra up onto his lap. “We'll be waiting for you.”

The picture he made sitting in his favorite chair, cuddling Sierra close and watching
Cinderella
, was so familiar Jamie almost hung up the phone and joined them. Jake's face was still red, still thinner than it had been. His voice wasn't quite back to normal, and neither were his mannerisms. But the man was Jake; he had to be. What was the alternative? Someone else who looked just like Jake had been in the stairwell at the same exact instant … someone who knew the look and name of Sierra.

It was impossible.

Still … the few times she'd talked to Sue since their visit the other night, they hadn't discussed Jake, other than to agree that he was doing well—all things considered. Instead, they'd focused their conversations on the search for Larry's body and the hard time Katy was having handling her daddy's death. Not once had Jamie wanted to voice her irrational fears or the comments that Captain Hisel had made.

Until that moment.

Now she needed to share every doubt that plagued her, needed her friend to listen and assure her that these crazy concerns were completely unfounded. Most of all Jamie needed perspective, and as she headed outside to the picnic table with the phone, that's exactly what she intended to get.

Sue was home, and they spent the first few minutes talking about two more firefighter bodies that had been found in the rubble. When there was a lull, Jamie cleared her throat and stared at the stars overhead. A cold wind found its way down the back of her jacket, and she pulled it tighter to her body.

“I want to tell you something … something about Jake.”

“Okay.” The anxiety in Jamie's tone was enough to make Sue sound suddenly serious. “What about him?”

“Captain Hisel called the other day.” Jamie held her breath. She wouldn't cry, not when she wanted so badly to tell Sue what the captain said. “He … he and the guys honestly wonder if Jake's really Jake.” She paused. “Can you believe that?”

“That's … crazy.” Sue hesitated just a bit too long. “Don't you think so?”

“Of course I do. That's why I'm telling you.”

Sue waited a beat. “Jake isn't acting strange, is he?”

Jamie wanted to stand up and throw the phone over the fence. She worked to keep the frustration from her tone. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I don't know … I mean,
you
think he's really Jake, don't you?”

“Yes.” Jamie stood and paced across the yard to her dying flower garden. She'd planned on telling Sue about Jake's strange flashbacks, but then, she'd also planned on Sue acting more shocked about Captain Hisel's phone call. Somehow, instead, her friend seemed almost ambivalent, as though maybe a mix-up really were possible. “Look, Sue, I feel like I'm losing it here.” She raked her fingers through her hair and turned around, her back to the garden. “Tell me I'm having a couple of bad days. Tell me doubts are normal. Tell me that Jake is who I think he is. But don't let me just sway here in the wind.”

“All right.” Empathy filled Sue's voice, and her tone was softer than before. “You're having a couple of bad days, and your doubts are normal. Is that better?”

“No.” Jamie's mouth hung open, and she let herself fall back against the wooden fence. “Not if you don't mean it. I mean tell me the truth, Sue, did he seem like Jake to you?”

“You want the truth?” Sue's voice caught.

“Yes … I want it desperately.” Jamie's teeth chattered, but not because of the cool night air.

“Okay.” A shaky sigh made its way across the phone lines. “When you left that night, Katy found me in the kitchen. She asked me a question that has bothered me ever since.”

Jamie held her breath. “What?”

“She asked me who the man was with you and Sierra.”

The phone slipped from Jamie's hands and fell to the dirt below. Ignoring the damp ground, she dropped to her knees and stared at the place where the receiver lay.
Breathe
, she ordered herself.
This is all just a dream, a nightmare, and any moment you'll wake up and everyone will know the truth. That Jake Bryan really was who everyone thought him to be
.

Jamie could hear a small tinny voice coming from the phone. “Jamie … Jamie, talk to me. Jamie, are you there?”

God … help me. I haven't been praying long enough to know what to say, but help me. I can't stand up underneath this
.

Words that Jake had highlighted in his Bible filtered through her mind.
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls
.

Jamie's head was spinning. She closed her eyes and forced herself to blow the air from her lungs with slow breaths. The voice was still calling out to her. “Jamie … pick up the phone. Please.”

Finally, her fingers worked their way across the damp soil and found the receiver. She brought it to her ear and tried to think of what to say. Control, that's what she needed. God would give her rest, but she needed to give herself a little control. She gave two short coughs. “Sue … I'm … I'm sorry. I'm back.”

“Jamie, are you okay? I can come over if you need me.”

“No.”
Control … control … control
… “Everything's fine.” She opened her mouth, and a quiet, strange-sounding laugh came out. “The doctor said Jake wouldn't act like himself until his memory returned. Really, Sue … tell Katy the man was Sierra's daddy. And that everything's okay.”

“Of course.” Sue's answer came fast. “I mean the guy is Jake. Obviously. I'm just saying that Katy didn't recognize him right off, but that's to be expected what with his broken ankle and his burns, the way he walks and talks a little different. I never meant to …”

Jamie stopped listening. Sue was rambling, her words running together in an attempt to make up for scaring Jamie. When she was finished, Jamie worked the muscles in her jaw and looked up at the sky once more. “Thanks for listening, Sue. I need to get back inside. Don't worry about me. Everything's fine. We're watching
Cinderella
tonight.”

T
HIRTY

N
OVEMBER
12, 2001

There was no question Jamie was acting different around him.

Maybe it was the flashbacks, or something else Jake wasn't aware of. But she seemed distant and distracted, and several times he'd caught her staring at him. Her attitude didn't help ease his concerns—especially in light of the latest flashbacks.

The newest imagery started appearing over the weekend while Jake was taking a nap after church. His head had been hurting, so he sprawled out on the guest room bed. Almost as soon as he fell asleep, the flashback came. He was standing in an office talking to an older man, a man with white hair. They were in the World Trade Center surrounded by hundreds of office workers and looking out a window. There, in vivid colors, he could see balls of fire and billowing black smoke so close he could nearly touch them.

Then the memory had stopped, and Jake sat straight up in bed, out of breath as he stared at the closed bedroom door. What office had he been in, and who was the white-haired man? Why weren't firefighters in the picture, and how come he'd been able to see so clearly out the windows at the fire in the other building?

Nothing about the memory gelled with the idea that he'd been called to the scene with his Engine company and had headed up the stairs to help rescue survivors. Because if that had been the case, he wouldn't have been in an office, looking out a window. He would've been in a stairwell headed up until something—or someone—caused him to head back down.

Wouldn't he?

The flashbacks were supposed to help life make more sense, not less. And that night after Sierra was in bed, he found Jamie alone in the living room, sitting in a chair and facing out the front window. He came up behind her and worked his fingers into the base of her neck. “You okay?”

“Mmmm.” Jamie reached up and covered his hands with hers. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing.” The chair was a swivel rocker, and Jamie turned it so she was facing him. The whole time, she never let go of his hand, but the smile on her face looked unnatural. “Nothing in particular.”

Jake didn't believe her, but he wasn't about to force the discussion. Not when it might mean she'd get that strange look on her face again, the one that made him think something was wrong. And even though he'd have to tell her about his latest flashback at some point, now simply didn't seem the time. “I'm going to bed.” He bent down and kissed the top of her head. “Good night.”

She searched his eyes and continued to hold his hand. “Any memories, Jake? You know … of the two of us?”

“No.” He gave her a sad, knowing look. They both wanted him to remember. It would be impossible to move forward until he did. “But things are happening in my brain. I can feel them. One of these days it'll all come rushing back, and we can be the way we were again.”

“Right. I know.” She nodded once.

Something about her face touched his heart. She was nothing more than a frightened little girl. He squeezed her hand and released it. “I'm begging God every night to help me remember. The moment I have anything for sure, you'll be the first to know.”

“Okay.” She worked the corners of her mouth up a notch. “Good night, Jake.”

He'd been asleep three hours when a different flashback hit. He was running down the stairwell as fast as he could, and the building was shaking. The sound of breaking windows and creaking walls filled his senses, and he doubled his pace, racing as fast as the crowd in front of him would let him. All of a sudden he could actually remember what he'd been thinking as he ran down the stairs.