A Picture of the Heart

Tom stood on the sidewalk and admired the quaint white chapel. Ten steps led to four doors, which seemed eagerly awaiting the opportunity to swing wide and usher him inside. Ten feet above the doors centered on the wall was a beautiful stained glass window with the image of a dove in light, and above that, a white cross adorned the pinnacle. It was the quintessential chapel.

Suddenly, the doors opened, drawing his attention to the entryway, where a wisp of blonde hair disappeared inside. Ascending the steps, he moved through the foyer into the sanctuary, where a lovely lady stood in the center aisle.

“Hey, Tom,” she said with a warm smile.

“I’m sorry…”

“Lilly,” she said, the smile vanishing.

“I’m sorry, Lilly. It’s just I can’t seem to remember anything.”

“How could you forget me?”

He was about to respond when a faint knock at the chapel door drew his attention. When he turned back, Lilly had disappeared. The color began draining from the walls, pews, and floors as he scanned the chapel for signs of her. A moment later, the scene was replaced with darkness. Blinking, Tom opened his eyes to find himself in an unfamiliar room. A dream. It was only a dream; he sighed and fell back onto the pillow. Maybe if he could fall back asleep quickly enough, he could reclaim the scene, but a knock on the door interrupted.

The door opened, and standing at the entrance was a lovely middle-aged woman who bore a striking resemblance to Lilly from his dream.

“Still resting?” she asked.

“I’m sorry…”

“We don’t know each other,” she said reassuringly. “My name is JeAnna.”

“JeAnna. Well, I'm Tom, or at least I think that's my name. At least the girl from my dream seemed to think so.”

“I can’t seem to remember anything at the moment, but I guess Tom’s as good a name as any.”

“Very well, Tom, it is then,” she said, coming close and pulling back the sheets. “So, how’s your leg feeling?”

“My leg?” Tom asked, looking at the heavy bandages. “What happened?”

“We hoped you might tell us.”

“I’m sorry, but like I said, I can’t seem to remember anything.”

“Probably Korathax.”

“It’s a local weed often confused for an herb. The herb makes a fine cup of tea, the Korathax, on the other hand, has some nasty side effects; memory loss is one example. Thankfully, it’s often temporary. You’ll likely regain bits of memories over the next few days.”

“I should let Joran explain,” JeAnna said, pulling the covers back up before turning to leave.

“Commander of White Oaks defense force,” she said over her shoulder.

Tom opened his mouth to warn her, but before he could, she’d ran into a man who’d just appeared in the doorway.

“JeAnna,” the man said, reaching out and catching her by the arms.

“Joran,” she said, righting herself and sweeping the hair from her face. “I, umm, I was just coming to tell you that he—” she gestured over her shoulder, “—he’s awake, and he thinks his name is Tom.”

Somewhere over the last thirty seconds, the confident professional nurse had disappeared, and the new JeAnna, blushing and stumbling over her words, had replaced her.

“I was in the neighborhood and figured I’d stop by and save you the trouble of tracking me down,” Joran said.

“Oh, I don’t think it would have been too difficult to find you at the café.”

“You know me too well,” he smiled.

Despite his rugged appearance, the smile looked natural on him.

“Probably, but in this case, everyone knows.”

“I’m that predictable?”

“He’s a creature of habit,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “Anyway, I best get going. I still have rounds to make, but I’ll return in a few hours to change the bandages.”

Joran stepped aside.

“Oh, before I forget,” she said, her confident, professional voice returning. Tom mentioned he couldn’t remember anything.”

“As you know, there’s no way to test for it. Still, that would be my guess.”

Joran nodded and turned toward Tom.

“As Nurse JeAnna said, my name is Joran,” he said, striding confidently across the room. The soft voice, which implied familiarity with JeAnna, was now deeper and exuded authority.

“Commander,” Tom said, sitting up.

“Take it slow and save the formality for soldiers,” Joran said, pulling a chair to the side of the bed.

Tom nodded. Gently but determinedly, he swung his legs over the edge, sending a rush of blood into the wound, which throbbed intensely. Gritting his teeth, he fought to keep his face neutral in front of Joran, who had the rugged appearance of someone who could wrestle a grizzly bear and walk away unscathed.

“So, you have some memory loss?”

Joran eyed him with a suspicious look.

“Memory loss is a known side effect of Korathax. It’s nasty stuff. I’ve ordered my men to burn it when they find it.”

“How’d I get here?”

“Two of my defenders found you unconscious with several large gashes in your leg.”

Suddenly, images of shadowy creatures invaded Tom’s mind. It was like looking through a thick fog. He concentrated on one of the shadows, willing it to show itself, but it remained hidden behind a veil of mist.

“Do you recall what happened?”

“Mostly fractured memories, shadowy images. None of it makes sense to me,” Tom said, shaking the thoughts away. “Where are we?”

“White Oak,” Tom repeated thoughtfully. “How long have I been here?”

“Since yesterday evening. My men found you near an old path leading to the Bergsteiger village. Any idea what you were doing there?”

He’d already told the man he didn’t have any memories. What made him think that’d changed over the last minute? Take it easy, he encouraged himself. Despite his gentle demeanor with JeAnna, Joran looked like a man who wasn't accustomed to having someone speak to him roughly.

“No, as I mentioned, I only have fractured memories.”

Tom decided he’d feel better if he could stand and face Joran. Planting his feet, he pushed up, but his knees buckled. Instead of hitting the floor as expected, Tom found himself in Joran’s vice-like grip. His face flushed. He somehow doubted this was how JeAnna had felt a few minutes earlier.

“Thanks,” Tom growled, shrugging off Joran’s grip.

Determined not to be rescued again, Tom gritted his teeth and hobbled to the window. Pulling back the curtains, he lifted the window and opened the shutters, allowing bright sunlight and the smell of freshly baked bread to flood the room, which caused his stomach to growl.

Clearly Joran had heard his stomach because he said, “If I know JeAnna, she’ll bring you something to eat, but I suggest getting a bite from the tavern up the street. She may be the best nurse in the realm, but just between you and me, her cooking leaves a little to be desired.”

“I’ll send one of my men over to speak to the owner and ask him to start a tab for you. He’ll let you work off your debt when you’re back on your feet.”

“So, I can leave?”

“If you want something to eat,” Joran said, heading for the door.

“Can I leave the city.”

“Unfortunately, that won’t be possible,” Joran said with a dark edge.

“Why not?” Tom asked, trying to keep trepidation out of his voice.

“For starters—” Joran said, turning and locking eyes with Tom, who forced himself to hold his gaze, “—there’s an army camped in the fields outside the city.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“That, my friend—”

“—Tom,” Joran corrected, “is the question I’m wrestling with.”

“You can’t possibly think this has anything to do with me?”

“Do you know it doesn’t?”

“It’s not possible,” Tom said without conviction, turning and looking out the window at the faces filling the street below. Strangers. Not a familiar face in the crowd.

“I hope you’re right,” Joran said. “Still, you must admit that your showing up at the same time an enemy army arrives is strangely coincidental.”

“I didn’t show up. As you said, two of your defenders found me unconscious, and they brought me here. Even if I were connected with that army, how would I orchestrate that?”

“Good point, but it’s no secret that our defenders patrol the path where they found you every day. Your injury could have been staged. I only have your word that you don’t have your memory. What assurance could you possibly offer to convince me you’re not a threat to the safety of White Oak?”

“None, obviously, but why allow me to walk around the city unguarded?”

“Who said you’d be unguarded?”

“What if I want to leave the city?”

“What?” Tom asked, starting to feel frustrated. It was one thing to question his allegiance. After all, he had no idea who he was, and obviously, the people of White Oak didn’t either. Still, it was another matter to hold him hostage because of who he might be.

“Let’s suppose, like you say, that you’re not connected with the army out there,” Joran said, pointing toward the wall looming at what appeared to be the city’s edge. “Do you think the enemy will allow you to casually stroll through their camp?”

“That’s the only way out of the city?”

“Yes, but what would it matter? You say you lost your memory. If that’s true, then you’re unfamiliar with the realm. Where would you go? Wander around aimlessly, hoping something jars your memory. No, the only thing that makes sense is for you to remain here until your leg heals and your memory returns,” Joran said and left the room before Tom could make another rebuttal.