Blurring the Lines-nook (11 page)

Their friendship wouldn’t survive it.

The door opened behind him and he lifted his head. Dr. Magdalene stepped outside and
shut the door quietly behind her.

Burke stood. “How is she?”

“She’s resting now, but she’s okay. Just trying to figure it all out.”

He sagged against the porch railing. “So no memories still. Look, I’m sorry I yelled.
That was out of line. But shouldn’t we get her to a hospital? What if the head injury
is more serious than we thought?”

Dr. Magdalene lowered herself into one of the porch rocking chairs in a swirl of colored
fabric and patted the seat of the one next to her. “Sit, child.”

Something about her voice and the way she put her words together brought back memories
of Gretchen’s gran again, but he shook off the eerie feeling, and joined her.

For a while, the doctor was quiet. The island breeze whirled around them, shaking
the palms and making everything sound like cascading water. Calm. Peaceful. Burke
was none of those things and had to fight hard not to demand she start talking. But
he sensed this was a woman who wouldn’t be rushed.

Dr. Magdalene stared out at the knotted foliage that surrounded the cabana and finally
said, “Physically, she’s fine and in no danger. And her memories are there but…altered.”

He frowned. “Altered?”

“Yes.” Magdalene released a slow breath. “She told me of New York, her painting. She
talked about where she went to college. She talked of your friendship and how long
you’ve known each other. Those things seem to be clear in her head.”

“But Harris was there for all those things.” How could she remember New York and not
the man who moved her there?

“Yes, I figured as much. There are holes when I ask her to talk about dates she’s
been on, men she’s kissed. There is a blank spot where her Harris used to be, like
he’s been cut out of the photos.”

He laced his fingers between his knees and shook his head. “That can’t be a normal
reaction to a concussion, right?”

She pressed her lips together, still looking out into the darkness like it held answers.
“It is not, no. I suspect there are other things at work.”

“You’re losing me, doc.”

Her hands folded in her lap, one thumb rubbing across the other in an absentminded
motion. “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about this part of the ocean. Ships go
astray and disappear. Instruments can’t find their north. Tricks of the eyes tempt
people to their ruin.”

Burke didn’t like where this was going. He didn’t have time for hocus pocus bullshit.
He got enough of that in New Orleans. “Doc—”

“If you search for it on a map, you will never find this island. Our pilot probably
doesn’t even realize it, but you can only get here by following your instincts. The
island will lead you to it, but you have to trust it to do so.”

“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me,” he mumbled. The one doctor on the island was
a goddamned nutcase.

She sent him a quelling look, and her posture seemed to morph in an instant. “Burke
Brennan, you never had patience as a boy, and you still have not learned it. Open
your ears and listen. You may have won her heart in the beginning if you hadn’t been
so impulsive before.”

The sharp tone wasn’t what had him stilling in his seat. No, it was the blatant familiarity.
The Cajun accent. It was the voice of a woman he hadn’t heard since she’d passed on.
And definitely not the voice of Dr. Magdalene. He blinked a few times, sure that he
was losing his fucking mind.

She gave a curt nod—as if the matter was settled that he’d shut up. “Your faith needs
work, boy. I was hoping not to have to impose upon the good doctor more than I needed
to, but you have a hard head.”

Burke simply stared. His companion didn’t pay any mind to his breakdown in progress,
though.

“You need to hear this. This place is both beautiful and terrible. Blessed and cursed.
The energy here is potent and can act in unpredictable ways. But its roots are good.”
She smoothed her skirt with hands that didn’t belong to the voice. “It brought me
here to you two and to the doctor because Gretchen needed me. I think all of this
other stuff is just more of that.”

The island knows what you need.
Christ, he was losing it. Maybe he’d been the one to hit his head. Maybe he was still
on the plane in a coma.
Attention men in white coats! You can come and collect me now.

“Gretchen wishes more than anything for closure,” she continued. “But she could never
get it because she’s holding on so hard—to her guilt, to the memories, to the man
who left her. And that boy isn’t making it any easier on her, let me tell you.”

That snapped Burke to attention. “Wait, what?”

“He lingers, child.” She flicked her hand out toward the trees like Harris was hiding
in the leaves somewhere.

Of course, Burke couldn’t help but look that way, which made him feel even more ridiculous.

“She needed a roadblock removed to go forward, and the island took care of it for
her—at least temporarily.”

“Her memories of Harris.”

Her chin dipped low, a far off twinkle in her eyes. “Yes, child. It gave her her wish.”

Anger welled in him. “No. It gave us a lie. She never would’ve wanted to forget Harris.
And it made her do things she never would’ve done. Say things she never would’ve said.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, young man,” she said with a small smile. She patted
his knee and stood. “Removing a roadblock only allows what was already there to drive
on through. It does not create new things out of nothing.”

“But—”

“She needs to make peace.” She took his hand, opened his palm, and placed something
in it before curling his fingers back over it. “Tell her to wear this and to go to
the spot where the road to your beach crosses with the road to the main house. It
must be past midnight but before the sun shines any light. And tell her the answers
are there, she only has to listen like she did when she was a child. If she lets go
of her fear, the door will open again.”

He unfurled his fingers, revealing the small medal in his palm. It was like the one
Gretchen had always worn around her neck. But he hadn’t seen hers on her in days.
“How do you have—”

But when he lifted his head, Dr. Magdalene was gone.

He jumped to his feet and took a quick stride across the porch, knowing there was
no way the portly older woman could move that quickly and without a sound. But when
he peered around the front of the cabana, he was alone.

He rested his head against the porch post and banged gently. This had to be a dream.
Or maybe they’d laced the cheese and crackers with hallucinogenics. Or maybe the plane
had crashed and he was in some purgatory state.

Or maybe that was Gran.

The door squeaked behind him. He turned, finding Gretchen leaning against the doorjamb.
Her hair was twisted up in a knot on top her head, and she’d put on pajama bottoms
and a tank top. She rolled her lips together. Nervous. Awkward. Beautiful. “Hey.”

He hated that he couldn’t go to her. Hated this weird gulf that had dropped right
between them. “Hey.”

“Sorry I kicked you out earlier. I just—I needed to think. And I knew I didn’t need
a hospital.”

“No, it’s my fault. I was acting like an ass.” His gaze fell to the floorboards, which
seemed to stretch for miles between them, and rubbed the back of his neck. “God, Gretch,
I don’t even know what to say right now. I’m so sorry for not realizing that things
weren’t okay before—well, before everything. I would’ve never—”

“I know,” she said, cutting him off. “I can’t remember everything, but I haven’t forgotten
the kind of man you are. You couldn’t have known.”

He let out a breath, the exhalation physically painful. “How are you feeling?”

“Scared.”

He looked up, surprised at the answer. “Scared that you won’t remember?”

She gave a little shrug. “Maybe more scared that I will.”

“What?”

Her expression darkened. “A man I was engaged to and apparently loved
died
. You told me I’ve been depressed and grieving for a year. At the beach, you said
that a few days ago, a kiss from you freaked me out.” Her gaze slid toward the trees.
“Does it make me a terrible person if I don’t want to remember?”

“Oh,
cher
.”

She turned to him, her eyes sad. “Things were perfect on that beach with you, Burke.
I—I’m feeling things for you. Things that feel right and good. I feel…happy. And even
without my memories, I can sense that I haven’t been that way in a very long time.”
She pressed her fingers to her sternum and rubbed. “I can feel that dark place inside
me where all of this is probably locked up. And maybe it makes me a bad person or
a coward, but I don’t want to open it. All I want is for you to come to bed, curl
up with me, and fall asleep to the waves. I want to be who we were on the beach.”

Pain striped through his chest. “Gretch, you can’t just—Magdalene said you need to
go to the crossroads on the island tonight before sunrise and listen. It will help
you. We can’t ignore—”

“We can do whatever we want to.” she said, her voice wavering a bit but her words
firm. She took tentative steps onto the porch and didn’t stop until she stood in front
of him. She put her hands to his chest. “If this is the only vacation I get from what
sounds like a pretty tragic life, I don’t want to end it prematurely. I need this,
Burke. I need you.”

He closed his eyes and put his hands over hers, the temptation to take her up on her
offer like a living, breathing entity inside him. “You’re not yourself. You can’t
make this decision.”

“That’s bull. You know what I remember?”

He shook his head, the hurt moving through him like a toxic fog.

“I remember that in fourth grade, these mean girls from another school teased me at
the church’s Easter crawfish boil, and you grabbed a water hose and sprayed them down,
ruining their dresses. I remember that when I broke my arm in middle school, you took
notes for me for weeks, even when you were never one to take notes for yourself. And
I remember that day you dared me to kiss you in the rec room that I didn’t want to
do it.”

He opened his eyes.

“But then you kissed me and as awkward as it was, I didn’t want it to stop. For weeks
afterward, I couldn’t be around you without wanting to do it again, without thinking
about you as more than a friend.”

He grimaced. “See? That’s where you’re wrong, Gretch. You’re not remembering it right.
You already liked Harris. That kiss—you were just practicing on me.”

“That doesn’t feel like the truth.” Her gaze was steady on his. “A few weeks after
that kiss, I remember hearing that you’d gone to third base with that dance team chick,
Jen Theriot, and it crushed me.
That
I remember. I realized then that if she was the kind of girl you were into, you’d
never be interested in me.”

“What?” He frowned. “I never did anything with Jen—well, besides a really awful chemistry
project where I almost lit her hair on fire. Who said we’d hooked up?”

Her brow wrinkled. “I don’t remember.”

And that was the problem. “Gretch.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter who told me. All that matters is that I
know
I wanted you back then. And I want you now.”

He stared down at her, at the openness on her face, the interest in her eyes. Goddamn,
he wanted it to be the truth. The selfish part of him wanted to believe that there
had been something there all along on her end as well. But if the island was granting
her wish, maybe it was granting his, too. Maybe it took away memories for her sake
and created false ones for his.

He cupped her face in his hands and tilted it toward him. Her hopeful look nearly
killed him, but he swallowed past the tightness in his throat. “I’m in love with you
Gretchen Price. I think I have been for a long time. Even when I shouldn’t have been.
Even when it was wrong. And if you want me, I’m here for you to have. But not like
this. Not with an edited past. It needs to be a whole Gretchen coming to me. One who
wants to be with me despite the history and the tragedies and the ugly stuff. One
who chooses me even when it hurts.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Burke…”

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips then backed away before he lost
his ability to do so. He took her hand and lifted the necklace from his pocket to
drop it in her palm. “Someone thought you should have this for whenever you’re ready
to remember.”

She stared at the St. Benedict medal, confusion on her face.

Then, as hard as it was, he left her there. He headed into the cabana and set up a
place to sleep on the couch. He would let her have her vacation. He would keep her
safe from sleepwalking. But he wouldn’t allow himself to touch her again.

It hurt too much.

~Gretchen~

I sat on the end of the bed, watching Burke’s back rise and fall with sleeping breaths,
and let the despair invade me. I’d lost him anyway. I’d laid my heart out there and
it hadn’t mattered. My old memories might be blocked, but it seemed there was always
room for new tragedies to fill that dark void. Life was abundant that way.

Even with the blank spots, I could feel that old stuff pushing at the gates, trying
to flood my mind, trying to make me remember. The fear of being overwhelmed with all
of it on top of what I was already feeling had my skin clammy and my heart pounding.
I touched the St. Benedict medal hanging around my neck.
My
medal. The nicks and scratches on it were mine. I had no idea how Burke got a hold
of it. I’d left it at my house in New Orleans. I remembered that much. But regardless,
I’d felt some shred of comfort once I’d looped it around my throat again, like my
gran’s presence was here with me.