Amnesia (21 page)

“Peter!” Beverley sat up in the bed, reality snapping back with force as the girl thought of the man she had grown to love. Wildly she looked around the unfamiliar room, frightened beyond words, searching her mind frantically for some memory to tell her where she was and what had happened.

She heard movement outside her door and scanned the nearly empty room for a weapon against whoever was coming to get her. The only other piece of furniture in the small bedroom was a chest of drawers at the foot of the bed. She noted there was a change of clothing sitting on the top of the chest, but nothing to use as against her captor. It was no use, there was nothing else but her hands to protect her from the unknown person outside the door, but she determined it would be enough. She escaped once, she would do it again!

She started to rise from the bed just as the door opened, but was stopped at the sight of the small, but by no means frail, woman in the opening. She was only a little over five feet tall, slim, and rather attractive. Beverley also noticed that her beautiful face had a wonderful, open smile and a radiant spirit, filling her with a sense of warmth and peace, diffusing the fear. She had no idea who the lady was, but her spirit instinctively knew that she could be trusted, and that she was safe.

“Beverley, you’re awake!” the lady spoke.

“Yes, but very confused,” Beverley responded, still wary despite her instincts. She had seen too much to trust too quickly.

“I’m sure you are after what Shirley told me that happened. My name is Carrie, Carrie Price. I’m the sister of the girl, Shirley, that found you,” Carrie explained.

“Peter. Where’s Peter? Is he…is he…,” Beverley couldn’t quite pronounce her fears.

“He’s in the hospital,” Carrie assured with a big smile. “And before you ask, he’s safe. The police are watching him very closely. Now, if you are feeling up to it, why don’t you take a nice hot shower and put on those clothes there. I’m afraid we had to destroy what was left of the sweats you were wearing. Lissa was concerned that they might be infected with fleas or something worse.”

“Lissa?”

“Doctor Lissa Brandon. She is the doctor to whom they brought you and Peter when they found you. This is her apartment. And her clothes.”

“I’m sorry, you’re going too fast for me. What happened?” Beverley pleaded.

“Why don’t you take that shower, then we can get you something to eat and I can tell you everything that I know. The bathroom is the door just to the right.” Carrie left, closing the door behind her, allowing the privacy the younger girl needed.

Deciding a hot shower sounded heavenly, Beverley rose from the comfortable bed, and noticed that her clothes were indeed missing. She went into the bathroom and started the shower then turned to look at herself in the mirror. What she saw frightened her.

Her face was covered in cuts, scrapes and bruises, evidence of the abuses over the past several days. Her hair was matted and dirty, with strands sticking out at odd angles everywhere. There was even blood spatter across her right cheek.

She looked down at her hands and saw that they too were cut and scraped. There were also red lines around her wrists, ligature marks from the ropes that had held her for so long. Blood stains covered her right hand and arm, the remnants of that last fight with her abductor. She shuddered involuntarily at the memory and turned back to the shower and its wonderfully clean, hot water.

She stayed in the shower for a long time, scrubbing at the dirt and blood until her skin was raw, and her rumbling stomach reminded her that she needed food. She turned the water off, dried herself with a towel conscientiously left for her, then dressed in the clothing provided.

Although these replacement sweats were large on her, they were wonderfully clean and soft. The still packaged underclothes made her feel like a woman again. Ignoring the socks and her soiled shoes for now, she walked barefoot into the living area, enjoying the feel of the carpet on her bare soles.

She found Carrie sitting in the living room across from a tall handsome man wearing hospital scrubs. They were obviously at ease with each other, and she wondered for a moment if they were a couple. She didn’t have time to think about it before Carrie jumped up and led her to the kitchen and a steaming bowl of chicken-noodle soup.

“I know its cliché,” Carrie told her once Beverley had started spooning the scalding concoction into her parched throat, “but it really does help when you need something easy on your stomach.”

“It’s perfect,” Beverley responded, noticing that the man had entered the room as well, showing a big smile at the two. Carrie followed the look back to the man, and smiled herself.

“Beverley, this is Robbie, well, we call him Robbie anyway,” she introduced. “He has amnesia, and can’t remember his real name,” she added, noting the confused look on the other woman’s face.

“Amnesia?” Beverley asked. “So you’ve forgotten everything?”

“No,” Robbie answered, “only the stuff about who I am, where I live, my family, and that sort. But there is a great deal I can remember.” He paused, thinking through his next comment. “It’s really not as bad as it sounds. I’m confident that I will remember the rest sometime as well. I’ve already remembered quite a bit.”

“I wonder if that might be a blessing,” Beverley responded darkly. “There are some things I wish I could forget.”

“Oh, don’t say that!” Robbie responded emphatically. “Memories are all we have in this life. I wouldn’t give up any of them, even the bad ones, if I didn’t have to. They are very precious!”

A pained look crossed Carrie’s face at the comment, and she sat down across from Beverley. The group was quiet for a moment, caught up in their own thoughts. It was Carrie who finally broke the tension.

“Well, you must be dying to know what’s been going on while you were asleep.”

“Very much so,” Beverley agreed.

Carrie went on to explain how Curt and Shirley had found the couple in the middle of the street and how they had sought out Bill for help. She told how Bill had brought the two of them here to Lissa for help, and then taken Peter on to the emergency room. She was also quick to point out that they were going to great lengths to protect their identity, and how the police captain was involved in keeping a tight lid on things.

Beverley in turn told of how some ugly brutes had grabbed her and Peter, thrown them into the back of a cargo van, and tied them up and took them to the old dilapidated house. She told them about how they had been only given a glass of water and a piece of bread three times a day, and never allowed to use the restroom.

She then explained how she had gotten the knife when Peter had been beaten. Finally she told how they had escaped. Throughout it all she spoke dispassionately, her emotions still too numb to allow her to feel.

Not so with Carrie, whose tears had cascaded down her cheeks from the beginning. Even Robbie had shed tears when she retold how the evil man had attempted to rob her of her virtue, and then nearly robbed her of her dearest friend. Neither of them could imagine the courage it must have taken for this girl to have made it through the ordeal, let alone the bravery to escape so dramatically.

“You poor child,” Carrie spoke as she concluded. “How did you ever make it through?”

“What choice did I have?” Beverley asked matter-of-factly. Then she got a curious look on her face. “There is one thing I don’t quite understand though. Right when we were in the most dangerous moment, just before that disgusting creep came back and we got away, I had the strangest experience. I was standing there, holding tightly to Peter, and I realized how much I loved him. That was wonderful, but it was nothing like what I felt next.

“We were just standing there, and I felt like I got hit with a bolt of
lightning
. It was like my whole heart was full of…of feeling…of peace, and tranquility, that all was right in the world. I thought my heart would burst because there was just so much…feeling. I know it doesn’t make any sense….”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” Robbie offered. “I’ve felt that before, although never in such deplorable circumstances. When I was on my mission I felt that way several times. And since I’ve been home I’ve felt it many times when in the temple.”

“I’ve felt it too,” Carrie added softly, “when I needed strength and I prayed for comfort. It wasn’t nearly that strong, but I know it was the same thing.”

“What was it?” Beverley pried.

“The Spirit of Christ, of course,” Robbie answered simply.

“I don’t understand,” Beverley shook her head. “I’ve talked to the missionaries, and they spoke of this spirit, but I never felt it before.”

“I don’t have all the answers myself,” Robbie chuckled. “But sometimes we aren’t really listening to the Spirit when it tries to communicate with us. Sometimes it’s pretty soft and we have to really try to feel it. Other times it’s like you describe it, a bolt of
lightning
. I think it really depends on what the person needs at the time. What was it you were looking for when you felt it this time?”

“This will sound kind of weird, I know, given our condition and where we were, but what I really wanted right then was to know that I wouldn’t have to lose Peter again. I almost lost him there, and I didn’t want that to ever happen again.” The tears that had not accompanied her recounting the story of her abduction were starting to form now as she remembered the feelings.

“You don’t have to,” Carrie cut in. “Not if the two of you do what you are supposed to do and keep your faith.”

“I…I don’t have his faith. Or yours,” Beverley uttered quietly.

“You don’t have to yet,” Robbie comforted. “None of us got our faith automatically, nor did we get it all at once. We all started with a small seed of faith, and nurtured it and protected it and let it grow. You can do the same, until it is a huge redwood forest of faith.”

“I do want that peace I felt that night,” Beverley responded with hope. “And I do want to be with Peter, no matter what that takes. I really love him.”

“And you know what the neat part is,” Carrie encouraged, “you don’t have to give up a thing to have both. In fact, the harder you work at the one, the more you have of it and the other. The source of that spirit of peace is our Heavenly Father. As your relationship with your Father in Heaven increases, so will your relationship with Peter, as long as you get married, and in the temple.”

“But I’m not a Mormon,” Beverley said wistfully.

“Why aren’t you?” Robbie asked poignantly.

“Because, well, mostly because my mother would never allow it,” she answered.

“I can’t remember my mother,” Robbie responded, “but I do know how I feel about her. I can only imagine how hard it must be to have to make that type of a decision. But let me ask you one last question, one I know is extremely cruel and unfair. Which would you rather have, an eternal life with Peter, most likely his children, and the constant companionship of the Spirit you have already felt, or a few short years of relative comfort with your mother?”

No one spoke for a moment as Beverley struggled with the logic of his question, knowing that it was a fruitless battle. Of course she wanted the former, but why did it have to come with such a high price? Tears stung her eyes again, but she knew what she must do. Then Robbie offered her a new glimmer of hope.

“There is another alternative, you know. If you do what you know is right, hold tight to the faith you have, and love them enough, someday your parents may come to understand what it is that you feel, and they may even want it themselves.” He paused a moment to let that sink in then added, “it really is about family, and being together forever. All of your family, not just your spouse and children. That includes your parents.”

Tears freely streamed down the faces of the two women, both feeling the spirit confirming the truth of Robbie’s words, but each in their own way, and in their own plight. It was Robbie that summed up the entire conversation.

“Now let me suggest one more thing to you, Beverley. As awful as this whole affair was, compared to what you have learned, and how your relationship with Peter and your Father in Heaven has been promised, was it worth it?”

She sat for a moment, thinking back about what had happened, the pain, the fear, the terror, but also the love, peace, and promise. Emotion filled her heart again as the trauma and hope coalesced in her mind. Starting deep down in her soul, the cleansing she needed began, and sobs bubbled to the surface, washing away the experiences, replacing the fears with hope.

Sobs wracked her body as she sat there, head cradled against Carrie’s bosom, the smaller woman gently stroking her hair, rocking slightly back and forth, allowing the catharsis to work inside the younger woman. Several minutes later the crying ended and Beverley sat back up, hope shining in her wet eyes.

“Thank-you Robbie,” she smiled. “I will do whatever I have to do and leave the rest up to my Father in Heaven and Jesus!”

*
             
             
*
             
             
*

Tawny Windham breezed through her palatial home, a regal sovereign parading through her vast empire. She was proud not only of her prestige and heritage, but also of her own decisions and activities of the day. It had started so badly, with a telephone call from that common police captain about that abhorrent Peter Frindle, but she had used her considerable prowess and tenacity to turn things to her favor.