Authors: Esther M. Soto
“Will! You're home!” MJ screams as she runs into his arms.
He embraces her, without moving his eyes from mine. I’m rooted in place. He's stunning. I can't stop staring at him. He has the bluest eyes I've ever seen, framed by perfectly symmetrical dark eyebrows, a strong nose and chin. His dark hair looks like it’s growing out; it’s not too short, yet it brushes the curves of his hairline and ears, curling at the ends. He appears to be around his early thirties. His skin is fair but tanned, likely from long days of working under the sun.
Jesus, he’s like one of those superheroes.
“Hello.” His voice is deep and rich, almost hypnotic, and his tone is smooth and level, breaking me out of my spell.
“
Uh
, hello, hi,” I blurt. I sound like a flustered teenager. What is wrong with me?
MJ gestures in my direction. “This is—”
“Lily,” William finishes her sentence. My name on his lips sounds like a caress, igniting a spark within me. A spark long extinguished and forgotten.
William breaks eye contact and smiles at MJ affectionately.
“MJ, why don't you go inside and tell Mom we'll be in for dinner soon? I have to talk to Lily for a minute, okay?” His smile exposes two dimples and perfect, white teeth. Holy hell.
“Okay.” Reluctantly, MJ walks toward the kitchen door, occasionally looking over her shoulder at her brother and me. She shoots me a worried look, and I smile to reassure her. She smiles back at me then heads inside the house.
My face is devoid of emotion when I turn back to William. In reality, I can't breathe. Shit.
Don't panic
. Christ, what does he know? I have to tread lightly here.
William is staring straight ahead, his hands inside the pockets of his pleated trousers, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His work boots are worn and stained. His hair shows signs of a hat, recently removed. If I had doubts that this was 1944, William’s modest appearance fits the bill. The way he moves reminds me of those actors from old movies: strong, with shy confidence. His shoulders are massive, his frame towering over me. He’s large but lean, as is Tommy, though in a different way. Tommy’s physique is the product of strict weight, cardio, and core training. William’s is more a result of constant motion, hard physical labor, like a swimmer. He’s taller than Tommy—six four, six five, maybe? I take a deep breath, and catch the scent of musk. He's all male. This is what working hard all day smells like—woodsy and musky.
“I talked to Mom, and she says you don’t remember anything?” he asks in his deep, baritone voice, still gazing out into the distance.
“Yeah, I mean, yes.” I’m nervous. This isn’t like me. “Other than my first name, not really.”
“I called Doc over when I first found you.” His blue eyes land on me as he says it, as if he’s waiting to see my reaction. I remain impassive, so he continues. “I’ll drive you to town to see Doc tomorrow, just to make sure you're coming along. Maybe he can help jog your memory somehow.”
I nod. An alarm sounds in my head, my body going on full alert. Like the doctor, he knows something he’s not telling me. I can only hope he has my gear. My weapon retrieval is priority one.
“So, we'll go see him tomorrow. He's expecting us,” he says, before gesturing for me to head inside the house.
قلب
It’s time for dinner, so we gather to help Carol set the table. Mary is back from work and she’s just as chatty as her little sister. Both seemed pleased that I’m joining everyone for dinner for the first time. They tell me about their farm. It has been in their family for over a century, divided up among the family as the generations grew up and had families of their own; how William has been working on his cousin’s neighboring farm for the past three days, helping catch up on chores. They’re short staffed due to young men going off to war and young women working at the factory.
“The last thing Will was expecting that day was to run into a girl just lying there on the road. He was so exhausted that at first, he thought he was seeing things. Between working two farms, he barely has time to sleep,” Mary adds as we move about the kitchen table setting up for dinner.
The solid wooden table holds four chairs, but tonight there’s five. The worn natural wood and mismatched chairs add to the quaintness of this farmhouse.
“You should have seen him, Lily,” Mary says, handing me the silverware. “He waited for you to wake up, and then when you do, he’s not here. He had to find out from Mom that you couldn't remember anything.”
“All right, that’s enough, Mary.” William pierces his sister with a deadly look, yet Mary seems unfazed.
We finally sit down for dinner. William’s chair creaks in protest as he takes a seat. I steal a glance now and again when he isn't looking. His large frame makes the kitchen feel like it’s closing in on us. He reaches across the table, taking a serving of fresh vegetables, tearing up a piece of freshly baked bread, and smearing butter onto it, filling the kitchen with the smells of the home-cooked meal.
Dinner conversation carries on, the sisters telling me about what happened while I was unconscious. Despite her brother's reprimand, Mary continues her narrative, MJ piping in now and then. Carol is silent, smiling in amusement.
“Lily, do you maybe do some type of labor on a farm? William thinks you're really firm and strong.”
“Mary!” William scolds.
MJ picks up where Mary left off, as if she didn’t hear her brother. “Your hair is really curly and soft. I know because I touched it. Will touched it too when he found you. He said you looked so peaceful—”
“MJ!” Carol and William shout in unison.
I try to keep from grinning. William has such a strong, imposing presence, yet he doesn’t stand a chance against these women. They don't fear him in the least. They love him and it shows. They’re all very generous. I need to veer the conversation another way to keep the girls out of trouble.
“William, I hear you were wounded back in the war? Are you doing all right?”
He glances up at me with those deep-blue eyes, then around the table at his sisters and mother.
“It was nothing.” He shrugs.
“Nothing?” Carol says. “We almost lost you.” She turns to me, putting her fork down. “He'd been fighting for weeks in Germany when a letter arrived that changed his life forever. It was from his fiancée. She decided to marry the bank owner’s son instead of William.”
“Mom—”
Carol ignores his plea. “Leaving William alone with bills, wedding plans, and a broken heart.”
“I’m fine now,” he answers in a clipped tone.
Carol hones in on me, but I look to William apologetically. He breaks eye contact, focusing on his plate. “His mind was still reeling when the orders came to move out and for William to scout the trail ahead. Timing is everything, isn't it? An hour later, William was lying on the trail, with shrapnel in his right leg—”
“I said, I’m fine, Mom.” His voice carries over the table, stopping all movement.
The entire family’s demeanor drops a few degrees, an invisible line clearly crossed. The mood shifts and silence descends once again over the dinner table.
After a few awkwardly silent minutes with only the clanking of silverware, the mood picks up again as the girls talk to each other. I keep tuning out the conversations, can’t get out of my own head. I stay quiet, and so does William. Everyone else talks about their day. Mary shares the difficulties of getting some orders completed at the factory without the aid of machinery due to a breakdown of equipment, and Carol talks about the local ladies working on preparations for an upcoming dance. Most of the boys graduating high school are shipping out, and the dance will be their town sendoff.
I just stare at my plate, catching William’s gaze on me a few times, which makes my heart jump and beat faster than normal. Why does he have that effect on me? Most men don't intimidate me. Only men I find unbelievably attractive and so far, counting William, there’s only been two.
“There has to be someone, your husband for certain?” I hear Carol saying, and that makes me perk up at once.
“I’m sorry?”
“Your husband, perhaps you have children? Do you remember if you have children, Lily?” Carol asks, and the table grows so quiet we could hear a pin drop. Immediately I look in William’s direction. His eyes are downcast on his empty plate, his thick arms clenched, his entire body motionless, like he has stopped breathing altogether awaiting my response.
“I don’t think so, Carol. Children are something I think I would remember.” It’s all I can say.
William’s shoulders visibly relax and his massive arms come down on the table as he asks to be excused without so much as a look my way.
She brings up a good point. Who will miss me? I’ve been here for days, which means I’ve been missing as much. Oh God. Tommy.
My stomach drops and I hold on to the bits of food already ingested, struggling to keep my composure. Suddenly, I realize my feelings must show because conversation stops and all eyes are on me.
“Lily, you look ill.” Carol's concerned voice is echoed in the looks coming my way from all around the dinner table, including William’s, who is now standing by the large, porcelain kitchen sink.
“I’m just tired. May I be excused?” I say, getting up from my chair and clearing my spot at the table.
“Of course dear, good night,” Carol says. “Let us know if you need anything.”
Mary nods as well. MJ offers me a small smile. I give her a wink in return.
“I will.”
While I'm excusing myself, William says his goodbyes and heads home. I go straight to my room—so to speak—just to lie awake thinking about how and why I ended up here.
Something happened to me out there, I’m sure of it. This afternoon while walking, I noticed the hairs on my forearms are singed, as if I stood too close to a burning fire. It is just the ends, but it's there. I had my coat and sweater on, so I don't know how this happened.
Why here, and to this time? There has to be a logical explanation for all of this. I have too many questions and not enough answers. Not sure if it’s in my nature or a hazard of the job. One thing is for sure: I was out on that field because I was looking for a suspect, after talking Colton into going home to rest.
Tommy.
I wonder what he's thinking right now. He has to know I’m gone. Is he looking for me yet? Rubbing my temples and forehead in grimace, I finally drift off, my last thoughts of none other than Tommy Colton.
قلب
After lunch the next day, William takes me to see the doctor.
Carol wouldn’t let me leave her home without proper attire. Today it’s a simple, green cotton dress with buttons down the front, puffed sleeves and a belt at the waist. The ensemble is complete with a ruffled collar, bowling shoes or saddle shoes—as Carol calls them—and cuffed socks. Not my style, but not too terrible either. She once again wrapped a soft bandana around my hair. Apparently, they’re big with bandanas, hair scarves, and ribbons. This time she tucked the matching green scarf under my hair, brought it up next to my ears, and tied it atop my head in what she called a
snood scarf
. When I complimented her on the pretty green dress and scarf, she told me she made them out of old sheets. I was stunned. It all seems surreal. It's the only word I can think of.
Once we’re ready to go, William walks straight for the passenger door, opening it for me.
How chivalrous
, I think as I shake my head and climb inside. Right away, William closes the door and goes around to the driver’s side. A transit-bus-like steering wheel takes up half the dashboard, and a long rod with a solid black ball at the end sticks out from the floor, right in the middle of a long bench seat. Going from the three pedals, I assume it’s probably the gearshift. The dashboard is plain beige with no knobs or displays aside from the bare essentials.
The seat is comprised of a solid, smooth piece resembling a couch. The truck, which I would call an antique, is in mint condition. It’s hunter green with huge arched fenders framing each tire. The tires look more like floating donuts than vehicle tires; they all have a white band around them and small, plain metal hubcaps. This pickup truck is solid metal, reminding me more of a tank than a truck. Wood planks framed by metal make up the bed of the truck, which is holding a few bales of hay.
Instinctively reaching for the seatbelt, I find none. No waist seatbelt either.
When did they invent seatbelts?
“What is it?” William asks as he starts his truck.
“Nothing.” His side doesn’t have any seatbelts either.
As we leave the farm behind and head to what I can only assume is the town, the ride is rough. Every bump in the road felt through the seats. The truck is loud and slow. I bet I can run faster than this thing. Could it be any slower or bigger? Jesus, it's like traveling in a tank, too. If it weren’t for the landscape, I would think I was in Afghanistan riding a transport vehicle back to base. I need to work on my patience, barely holding in a sigh of exasperation. William seems concerned. I shake my head as I watch the landscape inching by.
I don't know what to say. Better to let our visit play out and take defense on this one. I honestly don’t know why we’re going to see this doctor. Physically, I am fine. God, I miss Tommy so much. I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on, so I’m forced to let this situation play out. Not something I’m used to doing. I like to examine my options, envision the outcomes, and construct a plan of attack. Based on the facts I have so far, I’ll keep up the role of amnesia victim until I can figure out my next step. So, following that plan, I find myself going to see the doctor with William—