Tia smiled as the sound of footsteps entered her room. Was Dr. Cavanaugh back so quickly? Perhaps he had enjoyed their conversation as much as she had and wanted to continue it. Of course, it could be Valerie, the nurse who came in to check her vitals every hour or so, but she hoped it was Dr. Cavanaugh. Valerie was much brusquer and less talkative and either had a permanent chip on her shoulder or just didn’t like Tia.
But it was neither. Instead, a short elderly woman with a full head of white hair entered the room. A visitor? She certainly looked too old to be a nurse.
“Can I help you?” Tia asked.
“I’m Edith Wilkerson. I’m a volunteer at the hospital here, and I’ve come to read to you.” The woman did not phrase this as a question but as a matter of fact statement.
“Oh, I didn’t realize the hospital did that.”
Edith waved her weathered hand as she pulled up a chair. “The hospital doesn’t. The Good Lord called me to do this and they tolerate me. Some new nurse even tried to shoo me away today. People have forgotten what God says about caring for the sick and the elderly.”
“I’m not sure I know much about that myself.” Tia didn’t know if she was a church goer or not, but she thought it might be nice to believe in a higher power looking out for her. “What does God say about caring for the sick and the elderly?”
“That we should do it. Yet most people nowadays are glued to their electronic devices and rarely bother to think about others.” She pulled a book out of her bag and opened it. “Now, I’m in Psalms. Is that okay with you?”
“Um, sure, I suppose.” Tia got the feeling that it wouldn’t matter to Edith if it wasn’t okay with her. The woman looked like she did what she wanted regardless of what others thought, and Tia wondered if she were like that. If not, she thought she might like to be. There was a refreshing honesty to Edith.
Edith pulled out a pair of reader glasses, but before she got very far, another woman entered the room. Tia glanced over but she didn’t recognize this brunette woman in cream colored pants and a flowy blouse either. Another visitor? She’d had no one come to see her and now two in one day. What were the odds? Though the woman flashed a smile, her expression seemed more anxious than friendly.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a visitor already.” A slight tremble laced the woman’s voice, and she gripped the two bags on her shoulder tighter. Tia wondered if the nervous air the woman exuded was always there or if this situation made her nervous for some reason. Perhaps the nurse had told her Tia might not remember her. That would have to be jarring for anyone.
“I’m not a visitor,” Edith said turning shrewd eyes on the woman. “I’m a volunteer.”
The woman glanced at Edith before dropping her gaze to the floor. “Oh, well, can I have a moment with Tia?”
“I’m not leaving because I haven’t finished my duty, but I’ll go sit over there.” Edith closed her book and moved to a chair across the room, but her eyes stayed on Tia and the woman.
“Do I know you?” It was a dumb question as the woman had just said her name, but it slipped out before Tia could stop it. She tried to recall any memory of the woman with her mousy brown hair and hazel eyes, but nothing appeared.
“You mean you don’t know me?” The woman said the words slowly and her voice held a hint of disbelief, but at that realization, her posture seemed to gain confidence. Her shoulders pulled back, and her gaze landed on Tia fully instead of skirting to the side as it had done before.
Something in her gaze bothered Tia, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. “I don’t. I hit my head in a car accident, and I don’t remember much before waking up here.”
“Is that right?” The woman’s voice sounded wrong somehow.
Fear bubbled in Tia’s stomach, and she narrowed her eyes at the woman. “Are we friends?”
The woman’s lips pulled into something close to a smile. “What? Yeah. Friends. I’m Debra Rearden.” She looked at Tia expectantly as if waiting for the name to mean something.
And it did. Slightly. The name triggered something at the back of Tia’s mind, something that made her heart beat faster and her pulse speed up, but she couldn’t bring the memory forward. “I’m sorry. I still don’t know you.”
At this, the woman appeared to brighten even more. “Oh, well, I heard about your accident, and I wanted to bring you this.” She slid one bag off her shoulder and held it out to Tia.
A memory flashed in Tia’s head. She had bought that bag at an upscale boutique in California. She remembered touching the different colorful bags and finally choosing the brown leather because it felt so soft beneath her fingers. “That’s my bag.”
The woman’s smile faltered, and her eyes shifted again. “So, you remember this?”
“I have a vague memory of purchasing it, but nothing more. Why do you have it? The police said it wasn’t in my car.”
“You left it at my place.” The smile returned but it seemed to stop short of Debra’s eyes. Their hazel depths contained no fondness, and Tia wondered why. Had they had an argument? “I’m not sure how you forgot it, but I found it on my table. When I saw your accident on the news, I figured you might be missing it.” She stepped closer and handed the bag to Tia. Her eyes traveled from Tia’s head to her foot. “It appears you’ll be here a while.”
“Yeah, they haven’t given me a release date yet, but I figure it will be another week at least. I guess that’s fine since I wouldn’t know where to go anyway.” Though Debra’s behavior struck her as odd, she was also the only outside person who appeared to know her, and Tia hoped she might have some answers. “Do I live here now? They said I’m from California.”
Debra’s lips pinched together and her eyes flicked away again. Her hand clutched the remaining strap on her shoulder. “I think you were just out here visiting me actually. We hadn’t gotten to visit much. Yet,” she added hastily as if sensing the oddity of her words. Her eyes flicked quickly to Edith and then back to the floor. “You really don’t remember?”
A visit? The feeling she had come to see someone felt right, but she didn’t think it was this woman. Why would Tia visit someone and not talk about where she was staying or for how long? Was Debra lying then? Or maybe Tia had been visiting someone in addition to Debra? Still, she had Tia’s bag, so at least part of her story was true. “I don’t, but thank you for bringing this by. Maybe it will jog some memories.”
“Of course, I’m happy to help,” Debra said, but her voice held that sappy fake-pleasant tone that people used when they said something they didn’t mean. As Tia thought the words, she realized she had used that very tone herself. Often. She couldn’t remember exact instances, but she knew she had that delivery down to a tee.
Debra glanced over at Edith and readjusted her bag. “I’ll let you get back to whatever I interrupted as I have to run to a meeting, but I’ll be back to see you. Soon.”
Tia glanced up at Debra with her one good eye. Apprehension filled her as something in Debra’s tone bothered her, but she didn’t know what it was. “Thank you.”
“I don’t like her,” Edith said when Debra left. “She seems off.”
Tia had to agree with her. “She does, but she brought me my purse, so how bad could she be? Maybe this will hold some keys to who I am.” She opened the bag and looked inside. Not much was in there: a maroon wallet, a black and gold makeup case, a hairbrush, and a crumpled piece of paper. Not much to go on. She pulled out the wallet first and opened it. The left side held rows of credit cards all in the name Tia Sweetchild. Behind them was a pocket that contained fifty dollars in cash. So, whoever Debra was, she hadn’t wanted to steal from Tia. Maybe she really was a friend and hospitals simply made her nervous. On the right were cards for other businesses - a movie theater, a coffee shop, places she must frequent.
Tia pulled out the movie card and held it in her hand. An image of her and a handsome man standing in line to buy tickets flashed into her brain and then disappeared. A date? A relative? She truly had no idea.
She pulled out the coffee card next. A skinny caramel macchiato with no foam? Was that what she drank? Tia replaced the coffee card and pulled out the license. The same blonde woman from the back of the book stared up at her from the license, and when she read the address, she could picture a pool, but that was all.
With a sigh, she replaced the wallet and pulled out the makeup bag. It was stuffed with all sorts of makeup - eyeliners in three different colors, four different eyeshadows, two blushes, two mascaras, and four lipstick containers.
“That is a lot of makeup,” Edith said as she watched Tia pull everything out. “I gave it up many years ago, but at my age, it isn’t really necessary. Not like you young things. You must have liked it a lot.”
“I suppose I did.” Tia’s fingers pulled out a gold plated compact and trembled as she held it. She hadn’t asked to see her face, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to, but the need to spurred her fingers. As the mirror lifted, Tia sucked in her breath. The face staring back at her didn’t look much like the woman in the picture. Angry bruises and red raw scrapes covered most of her face. A large white bandage blazed out from the top of her left forehead, and her left eye was a black and purple mottled mess. She shut the mirror not wanting to see any more, but she couldn’t stop the tear that trickled out of her right eye. “I’m so hideous.”
Edith placed a wrinkled hand on her arm. “You are not hideous. You are a beautiful creature in God’s eyes and whatever scars you may have from this accident, they don’t have to define you.”
Tia nodded, but Edith’s words didn’t replace the sickening feeling in her stomach. Everything she had learned about herself - from her nails to her makeup - was that image was important to her. What would she do if she was scarred for life? After replacing the makeup bag, she bypassed the hairbrush and pulled out the crumpled paper. Rico Rearden, six pm, 144 Palisade Drive. Rico Rearden? An image of a house exploded in her head, and she dropped the paper. She had been meeting Rico Rearden, not Debra, but the question was for what? And who was Rico Rearden?
“Are you okay?” Edith asked squeezing her arm.
“No, I don’t think that I am,” Tia said.
Brody opened his fridge and stared at the scant offerings. He really needed to get better about going to a store, or he should break down and hire an assistant like Nick had. Nick had a woman who bought for him, laid out ingredients for dinner, and straightened up. With as much as he worked, Brody should do the same, but having another woman in his house, even just to shop and do meal prep, felt like an affront to Rachel.
He still remembered coming home to her each night. The smell of whatever she was cooking would greet him as he walked in the door tantalizing his taste buds and sending his stomach growling. Rachel had been a fantastic cook.
He would drop his work gear by the front door; then he would wander into the kitchen and greet her by wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling her neck. She would pretend to bat him away with whatever cooking utensils she had in her hands, but he knew she loved the attention. After dinner, they would wash the dishes together trading secret smiles and glances when their fingers touched. Then they would retire to the bedroom where they would read or watch television before falling asleep in each other’s arms.
Brody hadn’t been able to sleep in the bed for a month after Rachel passed. It held too many memories. Many nights, he still crashed on the couch though recently that was due more to exhaustion from work than anything else.
With a sigh, he shut the fridge door. He would order pizza again and see if Nick wanted to swing by. Lately, it was how they spent most nights after work. Either his place or Nick’s or out. Except on the nights when Nick had a date.
Brody wondered if he would ever date again. He’d thought about it once or twice after Rachel’s death, but after having someone so amazing, he could tell just by meeting a woman that they would never measure up. But he was still young. And he knew Rachel would want him to find someone to spend his life with. His thoughts drifted to Tia.
What must it be like to wake up and have no memory of who you were? In his own case, he couldn’t decide if that would be a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, he would have no painful memory of Rachel’s death, but on the other hand, he would have no loving memory of Rachel in his life either. It was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Wasn’t that what the old saying was?
Brody shook his head to clear the fog. He was too philosophical tonight. He should skip the pizza and the conversation and just grab something quick. There was a restaurant just down the street that stayed open late. He would grab dinner and one drink and then return to bed. Before he could change his mind, he exited the house, locked the front door behind him, and headed down the street.
The restaurant was busy when he opened the door, but he managed to find an empty barstool.
“What’ll you have?” the bartender asked as he sat down.
Brody surveyed the drink selection. He wasn’t a big drinker, but he and Rachel had partaken on occasion. “A Sam Adams?”
With a nod, the bartender turned and grabbed a bottle, popped the lid, and handed it to Brody. “You want to open a tab?”
Brody pondered the question. He’d told himself he would just have one, but now that he was here, he wasn’t sure. He was about to agree when a voice beside him said, “No need. It’s on me.” He looked up to see Detective Graves standing next to him. “Grab that and follow me.”
Curious, he followed Jordan to an empty booth. “Were you following me, detective?”
“No, but I’m glad I ran into you. Did our patient remember anything more today?”
Brody shook his head. He had checked on Tia before his shift ended, but she hadn’t said much. “No, but I didn’t really ask today. I did find out she is an author though and I brought in one of her books hoping it would help.”
Jordan’s eyes narrowed. “How did you find out she was an author?”
“I had dinner with Nick last night and he recognized her name, so we googled her. Anyway, when I showed her the book, she said she remembered something when she touched it.” He paused, trying to remember her words. “A man saying ‘What are you doing here?’ But that was all she could remember. She didn’t even remember being an author. Should I be asking specific questions? Did you find something out?”
Jordan blew out an agitated breath. “Not much more than that, but it just isn’t sitting well with me. Why would anyone want to harm an author? She’s not a big name like Stephen King or J.K Rowling so I don’t think it was about money, and she writes clean romance so I doubt she offended someone enough to want to kill her. All I have are questions - the biggest one being what was she doing here in the first place?”
“I don’t know.” Brody shook his head and took a sip of his beer. He had his own questions, but they were more about the woman herself than why she had come to Fire Beach in the first place. “She said a woman visited her today and claimed she was in town for that reason.”
Jordan’s head snapped forward. “What? She had a visitor?”
“Yes, she didn’t remember the woman, but she hasn’t remembered much. Why? Is that a bad thing?”
Agitation filled Jordan’s face. “It could be. We asked her to call us if anything else happened. We need to know everything if we are going to figure this out. I can’t believe she didn’t tell us she had a visitor. Did you get the woman’s name?”
Brody shook his head. “No, sorry, I was a little busy, but I can ask tomorrow.”
“I’ll go over myself tomorrow to ask, but please, Brody, we can’t help if we don’t know everything. Even if it seems trivial.”
Brody gave a curt nod. He was glad Jordan was helping, but he didn’t like someone telling him how to do his job. “I understand. It seems she gets a few pieces of her memory back every day. Maybe we’ll know more in a day or two.”
“Let’s hope that’s soon enough, but please keep an eye on her and call me if you learn anything. I just have a bad feeling about all of this.”