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“From how long ago?”
“About eight or nine years.”
“My therapist told me that research says those memories often return first. The ones closest to the event that caused the amnesia—if it is psychological—come back last.”
“Yes.” He appeared embarrassed. “I read that on the Internet.”
“The memories that aren’t coming back? Those are the times when I hurt you, aren’t they?”
“I didn’t say that, Clare.”
“You didn’t have to. And it isn’t only you. Delia, too. My own sister doesn’t even call much.”
“Cathy’s sensitive where you’re concerned, ever since you were little and your parents died. But she loves you, Clare, and she’s coming as soon as she gets back from Europe. You’ll have a great reunion.”
“Still. It’s so odd feeling good things for all of you and…them not being returned.”
“They are returned. We’ve just had a rough time of it lately.”
Standing, she circled around the bar and approached him. This close, she could see the nick from shaving he must have gotten this morning. His chest rose and fell, and his features were taut. “Brady, I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you in the past. I sense we were really close.”
“We were.” His voice was husky, calling forth a memory that fled before it fully formed.
Suddenly she wanted this man to hold her again, like he had when he’d carried her last night. So she moved into him and slid her arms around his waist. As natural as spring rain, his arms encompassed her. His sigh matched hers. Closing her eyes, she placed her head on his heart.
Though she didn’t remember what she’d done, it was obvious she’d hurt this heart of his. The thought shamed her.
“HOW IS IT GOING AT HOME?” Anna Summers, Clare’s psychotherapist, smiled over at her from where she sat on a stuffed chair in her hospital office. Clare had taken a similar chair opposite her in the cheery space—sand-colored walls, nice Berber carpet, wooden accents. She felt good in here, too, and had been more than willing to come back on this Wednesday morning.
“It’s better than being in the hospital. Some of my memory’s come back.” She told Anna about the flashes she’d had about Brady, Delia and Don, Max and cooking.
“Interesting. They’re all about the people from the house.” She cocked her head. “None about Jonathan?”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way. Maybe because he had to go away and the others are around all the time. I’ve talked to him every day on the phone but, truthfully, the conversations are strained. It’s hard enough facing people you don’t know in person.”
“Maybe it’s his absence. But you’ve known him the shortest time. Remember, with retrograde amnesia, the earlier memories come back first.”
“I was just talking to Brady about that.”
Anna crossed her legs and adjusted the skirt of her beige suit. “How does it feel to be in your house?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is it like sleeping in a stranger’s bed? Like you’re wearing someone else’s clothes?”
“Not at all. I sense everything’s mine. I chose something to wear this morning without fretting about it and felt immediately at home in the kitchen.”
“It’s good that everything isn’t foreign.”
“I guess. But other things aren’t so good.”
“Like?”
Clare fidgeted with the bracelet she’d put on with khaki pants and a yellow blouse. “I’ve found some other things out about my life. About me. Some bad things.”
“From these flashes of memories?”
“No, those were all good. But the tension among Max, Delia and me became obvious right away. So I asked about it.” She told Anna that she’d grown away from her group of friends. “The problem is I don’t feel that way about them now. I’m sad that they’re so wary and I want to be closer to them.” She thought for a minute. “Anna, do personalities change when someone has amnesia?”
“Sometimes. Especially in cases of permanent amnesia. There’s a movie called Regarding Henry where Harrison Ford gets shot and turns into a totally different person than he was before the incident. He never regains his memory, though, and he retains the new personality.”
“So I could just stay the person I am now?”
“Maybe. But keep in mind, you won’t do anything with amnesia that you wouldn’t normally do. That often comforts people who are afraid they’ll do negative things. But in your case, who you are now is the real Clare, too.”
She frowned. “But I could turn back into who I was right before the accident?”
“Perhaps. We’ve discussed how nebulous this malady is. But here’s another way to look at it. You can make any changes in your life that you want. You’re in control of that with or without your memory.”
Clare stared at Anna. “I wonder if I’ll still want to be close to them when my memory returns.” The thought made her incredibly sad.
“Take one day at a time.” Anna held her gaze. “What about Brady? He was at the hospital every day, too. And you seemed to gravitate toward him. Is there any tension between you two?”
“No. Just warmth. A lot of it. And security. I feel safe with him.” She crooked a shoulder. “Safer than with Jonathan.”
“You and Brady were close for a longer period of time.”
“Maybe. It feels like more than that, though.”
Anna leaned forward. “Go with your gut, Clare. Act on the instinct that remembers things for you. A good deal of research into what’s known as cellular memory shows our cells store memories. I support that theory. Have you seen those movies about body-part transplants, where the recipient acquires the memories and experiences of the donor and often gets flashes of that person’s life? You could and probably do have residual memories of everything that’s happened to you built right into your cell structure.”
“That’s something to consider.”
“Anything else about Jonathan or Brady?”
“One thing. Obviously, Jonathan and I were close—physically. How could I forget being intimate with a man, Anna?”
“There have been documented cases of people forgetting a spouse and even a child, Clare.” Anna frowned. “He’s not asking for intimacy, is he?”
“No, not yet. No, he wouldn’t do something like that. He’s been selfless in this whole thing.”
“Then bide your time and see how you feel about it all. You’ve only been home a few days.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Now let’s talk about your dreams. Though I’m not into symbol hunting, they’re a crucial part of amnesia and should be discussed.”
A chill ran through Clare, and she rubbed her arms as she recalled Monday night’s dream. “I’m still having nightmares.”
“Most amnesiacs do.”
“I can’t remember them all, but Monday’s stays with me. Brady and Jonathan were snakes. One bit me, and one curled around my wrists.”
“Hmm. Who did what?”
Clare told her. “Do you think it’s significant?”
“As I explained right after you woke up, dreams are a person’s unconscious asserting itself, even if that person doesn’t have amnesia. I’d like you to write down the dreams you do remember. In as much detail as possible.”
Clare nodded.
“Is there anything else you’d like to talk about today?”
“Yes. I’m going stir-crazy.”
“You’ve only been home two days.”
“I was in the hospital two weeks. I need to do more than I’m doing.”
Anna smiled. “Then do it.”
“I’ve been walking, but I found tennis stuff in the closet. Am I ready to play?”
“If you think you are.”
“And I’d like to drive again.”
The therapist looked thoughtful. “Can you do that?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t tried.”
“How did you get here?”
“Brady. He’s been a doll about all this. He’s waiting outside.”
Anna watched her. “Your whole face lights up when you talk about him.”
“Does it? How odd, when I’m…involved with Jonathan.”
“Something to think about. Be careful with the driving. You don’t have procedural amnesia. You seem to know how to do things. But test-drive with someone in the car for a while. Don’t go alone for a week or so. Especially with the headaches.”
“All right.” Clare shook her head. “It’s all so frustrating.”
“I’ll bet. But your memory is starting to come back. You’re making terrific progress.”
It didn’t feel that way. And Clare worried about things. “Anna, do you think some traumatic event caused my amnesia?”
“You had severe head trauma. But your last tests indicated there’s no brain swelling now, and no apparent damage. However, why you were out at 2:00 a.m. on that road and what led up to it is missing from your mind, and that is significant. So, to answer your question, I believe it very well could be psychological.”
“I almost don’t want to remember.”
“Clare, if your amnesia is psychological, you don’t want to remember. But you most likely will. And you should prepare yourself for that.”
They made an appointment for the following week, Anna wished her well and Clare went to find Brady. She was unnerved by her talk with the counselor and needed to see him to calm down. That he could do that for her was another mystery.
He was waiting outside the office, though she’d told him to go get coffee or something to eat. He stood when he saw her. The worry on his face made her give him a smile.
“Hey, how’d it go?”
“Fine.”
“You’re lying. I can see it in your expression.”
“It’s hard, articulating all my fears.”
“Man, I bet it is.” He slid an arm around her and leaned in close. “You know, you can talk to me about those fears. We used to stay up late and share everything we were afraid of in life. Takes the sting out of them.”
“It sounds like we spent a lot of time together.”
“We did. After I moved in, Don was still alive and Max was working for a commercial airline, so he wasn’t home much. In some ways it was just you and me, babe.”
And that had changed. Poor Brady. She wondered if she could ever make it up to him.
SEATED ACROSS THE TABLE from his longtime friend, Mitch Anderson, Jonathan felt better than he had earlier when he couldn’t reach Clarissa. He and Mitch had gone to boarding school together and seen each other through a lot of scrapes. Sometimes Jonathan missed the boy he used to be—more carefree, more spontaneous. He definitely missed Mitch, who’d met him here at the restaurant in the Hyatt hotel where Jonathan was staying in Chicago.
“So, how’d the Chef’s Delight thing go? Their stocks are sky-high.” Mitch was an investment broker and followed the market daily. Jonathan used to take more of an interest in stocks than he did now. Of course, lately, he’d had a lot on his mind.
He told Mitch, “Clarissa’s going to be getting some of those options.”
“Really? Wow.” Mitch lazed back in the chair and sipped the merlot they’d ordered. “You struck quite a deal, then.”
“Well, I had to fly out our lawyers.” That had kept him here an extra day. “But they hammered out a lucrative contract for both the station and Clarissa herself.”
“No offense, but…for a local show?”
“They recognize, as do I, that she’ll syndicate soon.” He told his friend of his plans for the Cooking Channel.
Mitch raised his glass. “Congratulations. You’ve brought her into the limelight and now, so to speak, her star is shining.”
“I hope she doesn’t leave me in the dust.”
Mitch burst out laughing. He had a big belly laugh that contrasted with his polished good looks. “You can’t mean that. Rockford’s Most Eligible Bachelor?”
The designation a local magazine had given Jonathan had embarrassed him, though originally it had brought him plenty of dates. But once he met Clarissa, that part of his life was over. “I’m in love, Mitch. I don’t want anyone else.”
Immediately Mitch sobered. “I didn’t realize things between you and Clarissa were that serious. Since your divorce, I haven’t heard you talk like this.”
Jonathan had been married for six years to a nice woman he’d met at his country club. His parents hadn’t been happy when they’d divorced, but Marilyn and he both knew there was no spark there. Thankfully, they’d parted friends.
