Linnzi

Paris, France — Five minutes earlier

 

I STARED DOWN at the man sitting outside the coffee shop. He looked agitated, and at one point, I swore he was having an anxiety attack. For some reason I had been drawn to the windows by the same kind of pull I had felt earlier when I first stepped out of my flat to leave for work. It was a similar feeling that happened every few months or so, like I was being watched. A strange tingle that went up and down my spine. It felt like someone was close by. Someone…important. It was the oddest damn thing.

“He is rather cute.”

I smiled at the voice that came from my right side. Penny Worthy was one of the women I had become fast friends with when I moved to Paris a few years back. She had moved to Paris after she graduated from Oxford. At the time, I had been involved in an accident that had left me with amnesia. Only a small part of my memory was gone. Simply gone. I remembered bits and pieces of high school, some college, but not much. Of course my love of art was still there. I had withdrawn from most of my friends whom I still had a memory of, why I wasn’t entirely sure. I knew my parents were keeping something from me regarding my lost memory, but for some reason, they didn’t feel the need to fully fill me in on what exactly I had been doing those lost few years that were missing. And I hadn’t shown an ounce of interest in learning what happened. A part of me knew it was something bad. People in Boerne looked at me strangely, and I couldn’t ignore the whispers. I knew I had to make a change—a big change—because it was all just too much for me.

It didn’t take me long to accept a position with the museum in Paris. I was more than ready to leave my hometown and all the lost memories behind. The sense that something was missing was so strong when I was back home. I could still remember how sad I felt sitting on my folks’ front porch, staring out at the rolling hills of the Texas Hill Country. The overwhelming need to cry or call out for someone was so present. I knew it was part of the reason I had never asked questions regarding the accident, and had even told the few friends I had left I didn’t want to talk about it. If I did, I knew I would find out why I felt so … empty. That scared the hell out of me. The sense of a profound loss was deep within my soul, and I tried with all my might to ignore it. When it got to the point where I could no longer dismiss it, I had to escape to anywhere, and Paris called to me.

According to my parents, I had always enjoyed working for my mother’s art studio in Boerne, and wasn’t quite ready to leave home during those missing years. There was more to the story—that much was obvious—but honestly, I didn’t want to know it. Something tragic had happened, I could see it in my parents’ eyes, and I felt it in the depths of my soul. I couldn’t get out of Texas fast enough. Call me a coward, but I wasn’t ready to face whatever tragedy had robbed me of that portion of my life.

My eyes drifted down to the man again. He looked so familiar, but I couldn’t get a good look at him. And every time I saw him glance up to the museum windows, I felt my breath catch in my throat.

“Are you still having naughty dreams about your mystery man?”

I nodded. I had been having dreams for the last few years, really erotic dreams. But I could never see his face, this mystery man of mine.

“Darling, insert that man right there into your dreams, and I bet they get a whole lot more interesting.”

I couldn’t help but giggle. He was handsome. Goodness was he handsome. He had broad shoulders, and from what I could see, a body that said he was in better-than-average physical shape. He wore a baseball cap, so I couldn’t tell the color of his hair.

“Is he wearing cowboy boots?” Penny asked in a dreamy voice.

“He is,” I said with a bit of wickedness.

He had since hung up the phone and seemed to have calmed down a bit. He stood and started to walk off.

“Merde! Non! He’s leaving!” Penny whined in half French, half English.

I had a sudden urge to go after him. Turning, I quickly grabbed my purse and headed out of my office.

“Where are you going?” Penny asked, hot on my trail.

“Le suivre.”

“You are going to him?” she nearly shouted as everyone in the office area of the museum glared at us.

I shot her a warning look over my shoulder. “Yes. To follow him. Ever since I stepped out of my house, I’ve had a strange feeling. And the moment I looked down and saw that man, the feeling has grown exponentially. I need to see if I can find out who he is.”

Penny pulled on my arm, trying to slow me down, as I pushed the doors of the museum open and stepped outside. The café was directly across the street, and the morning rush of people had slowed so I was able to still see him. He smiled at the owner of the café and started to walk away.

“Arrêtez. Linnzi, this is crazy. He’s not the man from your dreams.”

Turning back to her, I laughed. “I know that.”

She arched a brow. “Really? Because you’re racing after him like your life depends on it.”

My teeth dug into my lip as I looked at the stranger, then back to Penny. There was no way I could describe to her the feeling I had in my bones. I needed to find out who this man was.

“I know what I’m doing. Tell Phil I had to run an errand! I’ll be back in an hour!”

Penny groaned, then called out, “Don’t go to a hotel with him!”

I made a mad rush down the street, my mystery man still in view. My heart pounded in my chest and I made a mental note to start running again. Although, I had a feeling my fast walking was not the cause of my rapid heartbeat. He was walking back toward where my flat was located. That was strange. I wonder how many times we had crossed paths before.

Finally, I had caught up enough to where I was only two or three people behind him. It wasn’t hard to notice all the stares and flirty smiles from the women he passed. A sudden pang of jealousy raced through me, and I had to laugh it away.

“Goodness, I’m jealous of what?” I asked myself as I made sure to stay back far enough that he wouldn’t see me, but close enough to keep up with him.

He turned the corner, and I felt my pulse race even more. He was turning down the same street I lived on. We walked past my flat, and I quickly looked around before focusing back on the mystery man. He stopped at a flower cart and started chatting with the young girl. Her face lit up, and I honestly couldn’t blame her. If this man smiled at me the way he had, I’d be blushing as well. I caught a glimpse of brown hair peeking out from under his baseball cap and found myself smiling for some unknown reason. He handed her money then wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to her. He pointed to a bouquet of flowers. I let my eyes fully take him in. Lord, the man was not only more handsome up close, but he had an amazing body. His large leg muscles filled out the jeans he was wearing nicely. My eyes drifted up to his broad upper body. A thin waistline led to wide shoulders and muscular arms. Not bulky muscles by any means, but he certainly was the type of man who visited the gym often. My mind drifted to what he would look like naked, and I quickly shook my head to rid me of my wayward thoughts. And, he spoke in English. I couldn’t make out everything he was saying, but I could hear that he was speaking English.

Once again, I found myself looking up and down his body. A warm, tingling sensation hit me in the pit of my stomach and I nearly gasped. I hadn’t felt that in a very long time. Truth be told, I didn’t remember when I had felt it last. I knew I had been involved with someone in the past. There was no way I had the dreams I had and felt the longing I did if there hadn’t been someone in my life. I had asked my mother once about my previous relationships, and I saw the pain in her eyes. She told me there had been someone, but that things hadn’t worked out. Her answer felt like a stretch from the truth, yet at the same time, something deep inside me warned not to ask anything else. So, I hadn’t. They either didn’t like the guy I dated before my accident, or he had left me utterly brokenhearted. Or, maybe he was the reason for my memory loss. But that was caused from the accident, so that didn’t make sense.

A movement out of the corner of my eye brought me back to my present situation as the mystery man started to walk once more. He stopped and slowly started to turn around. I quickly dashed behind one of the carts that sold fresh vegetables. The owner of the cart shot me a look, and I simply smiled and said, “Cache.” Lucky for me, he didn’t ask who I was hiding from.

When I peeked through a small slat in the cart, I saw the man still looking. When I got a clear and up-close view of his face, I gasped and jumped back, landing on my ass.

No one bothered to help. After nearly five years of living on this street, most people knew me as the spinster American who had turned down every young gentleman’s invitation to go out because I had given my heart to someone else—someone whom I knew nothing about. They hadn’t known at first that I was fluent in French, so I was privy to all their ponderings about why I was alone and not interested in finding a husband.

I shook my head as I tried to clear the image of the mystery man from my mind. I couldn’t, though. I had seen him before, somewhere in the recesses of my mind, and I knew our paths had crossed. I was positive I had seen this man before. I had known him. Something inside of me screamed that I had known him personally.

When I looked again, he was gone. I quickly stood and rushed over to the flower cart. “Excusez-moi, où, est allè le monsieur?”

The girl behind the cart shrugged and told me that she had no idea where the gentleman had gone.

“Shit!” I whispered as I started walking in the same direction as the man. It was no use, though. He was gone. Suddenly, that same aching feeling of loneliness and heartache I had always experienced in Texas rushed back to me. It nearly caught me off balance as I rubbed my hand over my heart.

“Who are you?” I whispered as I stared out at the crowd. “Who are you?”

Every day for a year after that encounter I looked for him, but I never did see him again. My mystery man. The only man who had made me feel something for the first time in years. The man I was finally able to put a face to in my nightly dreams.

 

 

Texas — Three Years Later

 

As I stepped out of the airport, I breathed in the hot, wet air. “Texas.”

I’d spent the past eight years in France, throwing myself into my passion and into art, advancing far in my career. When I managed to get a curator position at the Louvre in the Department of Paintings, I knew I had reached the tipping point. I wasn’t happy. I missed my family, my friends, and a piece of me always felt empty and unfulfilled, no matter what position was listed on my resume. I was tired of feeling that emptiness, and I knew the only way to fill that void was to go back to Texas. I had ignored it long enough. It was time to move on. Time to beg my parents to finally tell me the truth.

My drive, my passion for art…I finally accepted the fact that I wasn’t advancing the career I was so hell bent on giving a hundred-and-ten percent to; I was running from a past I was afraid to remember.

With a smile on my face, I quickly looked up and down for my friend Saryn Carter. She had moved back to Boerne a few years ago with her little girl, Liliana. We had lost touch after high school but had recently reconnected when she moved back to Boerne after going through a divorce from her first husband. It was nice to have somewhat of a lifeline besides my folks. When Saryn had reached out, I had been so surprised to hear from her. It had taken Herculean strength not to ask her questions about my past, but, like my parents, she had somehow gotten the memo that my past was off limits. At least, a particular part of my past was, one that no one wanted to bring up.

My mind drifted to my folks. They were going to be so surprised. They had no idea I was coming back home to Texas for good. I knew they would be over the moon. They had to be tired of coming to France to see me all the time. I had flown back to Texas twice in the past eight years, mainly for Christmas. Other than that, I had thrown all of my time and attention into my career.

Running from the ghosts of my past in the process.

I smiled as I thought about my folks, though. Daddy wasn’t a rancher, but he was born and bred Texas. His middle name should have been cowboy. His real job was an estate lawyer, while my mother owned an art studio in town. I left when I was twenty-five, and here I was about to turn thirty-three. It had felt like a lifetime ago, yet it seemed like only a blip of time had passed. I had left Texas to avoid a truth. A truth I was now honestly ready to discover. My truth. The haunting feeling I’d had since the moment I woke up in that hospital room never really seemed to leave me. At least, not until I landed in France. The pain had eased up a lot, which was one reason I remained there for as long as I had. It was easier to forget my past there—especially the past that I didn’t remember. Except for the nights I cried myself to sleep. I had been so lonely the entire time. Sure, I had attempted to go out a few times on a date, and every single time it felt so wrong. I wasn’t the least bit interested in any of the men. The only man who had ever sparked something inside of me was him. The one I had seen sitting at the coffee shop three years ago. I closed my eyes and let his face pop back into my memory. It hadn’t faded at all. Seeing him sitting at the café. Following him down my street. When I closed my eyes and conjured him, I could see him clear as day. After that little escapade my dreams had escalated, but now they starred my mystery man. It was no wonder his face was as clear as day.

A honk caused me to jump.

“Linnzi! Linnzi!”

Turning, I saw a white Toyota 4Runner pull up. I ducked down to look at the driver and screamed. “Saryn?!”

She jumped out of the SUV and ran over to me. We hugged and laughed, and a part of me felt like crying. Saryn was a memory. One I sort of remembered. I didn’t have a lot of memories of her, but I did have a few, and it was those that I would cling to.

When we pulled back from one another, Saryn cupped my face in her hands and slowly shook her head. “Are you home? For good?”

“Yes!” I said with a bubble of laughter mixed with a sob. “I’m home. After eight long years, I realized that it was time to stop running from my past. I need to find answers.”

She smiled and pulled me in again for a hug. “Come on, let’s get your stuff in the car.”

After we loaded my bags into the trunk, we both got into the SUV. “It’s chilly!” I said, rubbing my hands together.

Saryn laughed. “It’s been a freezing cold winter. I’m hoping March brings some warmer weather!”

“How are the kids?” I asked.

With a smile so big I nearly laughed, Saryn replied, “Liliana is five. She’s asking for her own horse.”

“A girl after my own heart. I haven’t been riding in years!”

“Well, we’ll have to fix that right away.”

I nodded.

“And Nolan is about to turn two. I can hardly believe it.”

My heart instantly felt like a bolt of lightning hit it. “Nolan?” It came out more surprised rather than a question.

Saryn’s smile slipped for a moment, and I noticed she clutched onto the steering wheel harder.

“That name is so familiar to me. Did you name him after someone?” I wasn’t sure why I had asked that question. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known her son’s name, but hearing her vocalize it shocked my senses.

Saryn seemed so nervous. “Yes. Um. You remember Nolan, from high school? Nolan Byers?”

When she looked at me, I swore she almost had a pleading look in her eyes.

I shook my head. “No. I don’t remember him, at least I don’t think I do. His name…well, it sounds familiar. High school and college and those few years after are still a blur for me. I started seeing a counselor in France a few years ago, and she thinks I’m mentally blocking that time out for some reason. She was the one who actually told me it was time to stop running from the past. It was time to piece together the missing years. I know she’s right, but something has been holding me back. Until now.”

“I’m glad you listened to her,” Saryn said as she reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze.

I knew I could simply ask Saryn. Blurt out to her, ‘What happened to me that led me to wake up in a hospital with a small chunk of my life missing?’ I looked at her now, ready to say those very words. I opened my mouth, then shut it. That wouldn’t be fair to her; my parents needed to be the ones to finally tell me.

“Me too,” I said instead. “So, tell me about this Nolan who sits so highly on a pedestal that you agreed to name your son after him!”

She grinned. “Well, he’s one of Truitt’s best friends. He’s a test pilot in the Air Force.”

Saryn glanced my way, almost waiting for my response.

I rubbed my hands together. It was a nervous habit I noticed I had picked up a few years ago. “Is he married?”

With a quick glance at me, she said, “No. He’s not.”

“Does he not have family here still if he’s in the Air Force?” I asked, not sure why I was suddenly so interested in this Nolan Byers.

“No, he doesn’t. He has a family ranch here that was his father’s, but his parents passed away in a car accident a number of years ago. He has some people who run it for him now. His daddy used to grow wheat and corn on it, but Nolan has pretty much turned it into a cattle ranch. He doesn’t come back to Boerne. Hardly ever. Too many bad memories.”

I glanced out the window. “Well, we have that in common, I guess.”

A memory, or at least what I thought was a memory, flashed through my mind. I was sitting on the back of an old truck as a plane flew overhead. A small plane, like a crop duster. I laughed in the memory and turned to watch as I waved at it like a silly girl.

“A crop duster.”

“What did you say?” Saryn asked.

I laughed and shook my head as I let out a confused laugh. “I just had a flashback, I guess. A memory, maybe. I was sitting on the back of an old truck and a crop duster plane flew over. I waved at the pilot, so I’m guessing I knew him.”

“Do you have flashbacks a lot, Linnzi?” she asked, her voice sounding oddly hopeful.

I shook my head, puzzled that I would have a memory so quickly. Could being back in Texas simply trigger them? It hadn’t the other few times I’d come for a visit. “No. I honestly haven’t had any. I’ve had a lot of dreams, though,” I said with a hint of mischief in my voice.

She looked at me and our eyes met. “Why are you blushing?” she asked.

“Well, they haven’t exactly been PG-rated dreams. I’ve had them for years now. The same guy, over and over again. I have this strong sense he’s the key to the missing parts of my memory. And I know in order to remember, I needed to come back home.”

“Clearly just setting foot on Texas soil is doing it. You definitely had a flashback.”

I turned and looked at her again. “Do you think it was an actual memory?”

Saryn chewed on her lip as if she was trying to decide if she wanted to answer me or not. “I know it was.”

“You know it was?” I asked.

She nodded. “I think you were thinking of Nolan.”

Instead of a jolt, this time I felt a tingle. The same tingle I felt the day I saw my mystery man at the café. “Nolan?” I was confused. “Were we friends?”

“Um, yes. You were most certainly friends.”

I nodded. “There was this guy once, in Paris. I saw him from the window of the museum I was working at. Lord, he was handsome.” I laughed, feeling sort of embarrassed. “My slightly naughty dreams always featured a man whose face I couldn’t see. But I had the strong sense that those dreams were actually memories. The couple times I asked my parents if I had been dating anyone before the accident, they changed the subject. It was so maddening—them ignoring the fact that I wanted answers—that I finally stopped asking. I figured there was a reason they kept it from me. Anyway,” I said with a chuckle. “I saw this man at the coffee shop, and something inside me came to life. It was so strange, Saryn. I actually grabbed my purse and ran out of the museum to follow him when I saw him get up from the table. Penny, my co-worker, thought I’d lost my mind.”

“Did you catch up with him?” Saryn asked with a smile in her voice.

A familiar feeling of sadness washed over me. “No. I followed him for a few blocks. He stopped at a flower cart, but he didn’t buy any. Well, that’s not true. I saw him give the girl money and he wrote something down on a card. And the craziest thing was, later that day, someone sent me flowers. There wasn’t a name, just a note saying to enjoy the sun that day.”

I pressed my fingers to my mouth to hold back the silly grin I knew I had on my face. “I swear he was the one who sent them.” I drew in a deep breath and pushed away the giddiness that had come over me. “Anyway, from that night on, he was the man in my dreams. It was his face I had put in my dreams. And Lord, did he do wicked things to me. Well, in my dreams, that is.”

“Linnzi! My goodness!”

We both laughed.

“You haven’t dated? At all?” she asked.

I chewed on my lip and turned to look at Saryn. She was stopped at a light, so when she faced me, I knew I had to tell her. Finally share my secrets with someone I had a history with. My logic had been insane, according to Penny. My counselor didn’t think it was insane at all. She believed deep down inside my conscience that I was still in love with someone, but I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—remember who. I needed to know what Saryn thought.

“No. I don’t know how to explain this without sounding crazy. I think I’ve already given my heart to someone else. It just didn’t feel right to be with another man. Plus, I was married to my job, and I honestly wasn’t interested in dating anyone. The prospect of meeting someone and falling in love in France didn’t seem appealing to me either. I knew someday I’d be coming back to Texas, so that would only complicate an already complicated situation.”

Her eyes went wide. “So, you really haven’t dated anyone? In almost eight years?”

Saryn didn’t realize she had just given me a clue to my past. I must have been dating someone when I had the accident, or right before. “I know, it makes zero sense. A part of me has this idea that someone is out there, waiting for me to find him.”

Saryn reached over and took my hand in hers. Her eyes filled with excitement and hope. “I agree, a hundred percent.”

I smiled and squeezed her hand. “You’re so sweet to agree with me. My counselor thinks there was someone in my life from that missing timeframe. And the only way I can finally uncover that missing piece of my puzzle is to be where I was during that time. So, here I am, on a new journey to find answers. It’s been so many years of telling my folks I didn’t want to know, that now they actually avoid telling me anything when I do ask a simple question here or there. That’s why I knew it was time to come home.”

“You know, I could fill in…”

I lifted my hand. “No.” The word came out harsher than I wanted it to. “I know it seems so silly that I don’t want to talk about it, yet I say I want answers. I’m trying to work this out on my own. There is a reason my mind is blocking my memory, and I might not ever get it back. I know it must be hard to not say anything, so thank you for respecting my wishes all these years.”

She nodded, but her eyes had glassed over some.

The car behind us honked, and we both jumped and let out a little scream. The light was green, and Lord knows how long we had been sitting there.

As Saryn quickly accelerated onto the highway, she tossed me a quick, knowing look. “Oh, honey, I think you’re going to find him, sooner than you think.”

I placed my hand on my lower stomach to calm my nerves and whispered, “I hope so, Saryn, I really hope so.”