Memory's Edge: Part One (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Last Time

As soon as
her parents left the kitchen to get started on their packing, Gretchen spun
around to face John. He stared at her expectantly, knowing what was coming.
Smiling, he folded his arms across his chest and waited. His quiet teasing
almost made Gretchen forget what she was going to say. Almost.

Jabbing her
finger against his chest, she said, “If I ever hear the word Gigi come out of
your mouth again, I’ll…I won’t let you in the kitchen for a week.”

John
actually looked a little surprised at that. Gretchen had no real way of making
good on her threat, but she thought he realized how serious she was. “Why
didn’t you tell me your dad called you…that?”

“I hate the
name Gigi even more than Gretch. My dad is the only person I have ever let call
me that,” she said. “You have no idea how much the other kids tortured me and
my sister because of our names. My sister was Moldy Mildred all through grade
school until she turned into a ridiculously gorgeous teenager and told everyone
her name was Millie. And I got called Gretch the Wretch until some of the boys
figured out that if you changed a few letters in that they got something a
whole lot meaner. Millie at least figured out a nickname for herself. I
couldn’t even come up with that. Gigi is a million times worse than Gretch.”

“Gretchen,
I don’t understand why you get so upset about your name,” John said. “I love
the name Gretchen. It fits you so perfectly.”

Gretchen
snorted and looked away.

“I’m
serious,” he said. “It’s a little old fashioned and unusual, but that isn’t a
bad thing. It’s also a memorable name, a name that’s strong and fun at the same
time. It’s a little quirky, but so are you. How many other people would do what
you’ve done for me? You are unique and beautiful and fun and serious, just like
your name. And I think Gigi is adorable. I think of it every time you laugh at
yourself or blush when you get embarrassed. Your name is only one of many
things that makes you special. But if you really insist, I won’t call you Gigi.
Out loud, at least.”

Somewhere
amid all of that, Gretchen’s embarrassment and anger melted away. She had spent
twenty-three years hating everything about her name, and in one fell swoop John
had almost entirely taken that away. Looking at her name as something unique
that told people who she was in just one word had never occurred to her before.
Her name had always been something to avoid talking about. John made it sound
like a badge of honor. How did he do that?

Slowly, a
bit of a smile turned up the corners of Gretchen’s mouth. “Maybe it’s not that
bad,” she said.

Smiling
triumphantly, John took her hand and kissed her fingers. He didn’t ask if her
admission made it okay for him to call her Gigi, and Gretchen didn’t offer him
any kind of answer. The idea that her name wasn't the worst thing in her life
would take a little getting used to. Gretchen thought John understood that from
her silence. At least, he didn’t press the point. They left it there, him
getting up to load the dishwasher and her leaving to go take a shower.

An hour
later, Gretchen emerged from her room dressed, refreshed, and excited to spend
the rest of the morning with her parents. That only lasted until she took two
steps out of her room and ran into her mom, who was looking very determined for
some reason. Gretchen knew that look. She had something on her mind and she
wasn't going to let her daughter out of her sight until she told Gretchen
exactly what it was.

“Gretchen,
dear, come outside with me for a minute, your begonias look like they have
bugs,” her mom said.

It was a
weak excuse, Gretchen’s mom left the landscaping and yard work to her husband
or the kid who lived down the street from them, but Gretchen forced herself to
smile, and said, “Sure, Mom.”

They walked
out to the front yard and stood looking at of a bed of flowers that had been
planted by the previous owners. Gretchen wasn’t sure whether or not there were
any begonias in the planter. Aside from watering them every so often, she
didn’t pay much attention to them. Her mom, however, was pretending to inspect the
plants, from a distance, of course.

Giving her
time to collect her thoughts, Gretchen glanced over toward Carl’s house without
thinking. She started when she saw him walking to his truck. He was looking
over at her as well, stopping when their eyes met. She expected him to head
toward her, his ever-present grin leading the way, but instead he just gave a
quick wave and kept walking.

Carl had
never just walked by her before. Never. Carl did not give up a chance to try
and steal a hug. The way his head hung and he avoided looking at her crushed
Gretchen. She had the worst desire to run over and try to explain, but what was
she going to say? She had already told him so many times. There wasn’t anything
left to say. Maybe this was best.

Watching
him drive away, Gretchen couldn’t believe that.

“That’s
part of what I wanted to talk to you about,” her mom said suddenly.

Turning
back to her, Gretchen frowned. “What?”

“Carl, he’s
part of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Gretchen
didn’t want to do this with her. “Mom, we’ve already talked about this. Carl
and I have talked about this. I’ve even talked to John about this. Well, kind
of. But the point is, it’s been covered. Carl is just going to have to accept
the way things are,” she said.

“That’s not
what I mean,” her mom said. “You told me why you didn’t want to date Carl, and
I respect that.”

“Then what
do you mean.” Gretchen was lost. Her mom had spent months trying to talk her
into giving Carl a chance. And now she was saying she respected her decision?
That hardly made sense to Gretchen, but it probably did to her mom.

“I wanted
to talk to you about why you’re willing to give John the same chance you argued
with me about giving Carl for six months,” she said.

Looking at the
path Carl had just taken to slip away, Gretchen’s eyes narrowed at his retreat.
“Have you been talking to Carl?” she asked.

Her mom
frowned. “Carl talked about you or his job, not this. I’m asking because I’m
concerned, not because someone put words in my mouth.”

Gretchen
knew that tone of voice as well as she knew the look that led her out to the
front yard in the first place. She was treading on thin ice. Knowing that only
made the fact she didn’t have any more of an answer for her mom than she did for
Carl even worse.

“I’m only
asking because I saw what happened to you last time.” Gretchen turned away, not
wanting to relive that, but her mom continued. “I couldn’t believe it when you
came home after college. I didn’t understand when you told us you weren’t going
to walk for graduation, not until you walked through the front door. You looked
so different. You’d lost weight. Your hair looked awful. It was obvious that
you’d cried the whole way home. I was honestly scared for you then, Gretchen.”

“But I got
over it,” Gretchen said.

“Only
because you had a job to get ready for,” she said. Her mom put her arms around
Gretchen’s shoulders and hugged her. “You stayed in bed for two weeks. You
wouldn’t even tell me what happened until I finally dragged you out of your
room and threatened to kick you out if you didn’t. Even then, you moped around
the house, not seeing your friends, not going out, nothing. I was half
convinced you weren’t even going to go through with the move and the new job. I
thank God to this day you already had the job here lined up before you fell
apart. Otherwise, I think you would still be lying on my couch at home.”

“Mom,
you’re being overdramatic. It wasn't that bad,” Gretchen said, looking down so
her mom wouldn’t see the lingering pain in her eyes.

“Yes, it
was,” she said. “If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be trying not to cry right now just
thinking about it.

Gretchen
sniffed, giving away how right she was. She remembered those long summer days
all too well. Having her mom remind her of how she acted and looked shamed
Gretchen to no end, but at the time, it was all she could do not to give up on
everything. It was easier now, almost a year later, but it still hurt to think
about it.

“I don’t
want to see you go through that again. I don’t think either of us could take
that,” her mom said.

“What does
this have to do with me choosing John over Carl?” Gretchen asked.

“You told
me why you wouldn’t date Carl, because he was too good of a friend to lose if
things didn’t work out between you and him. I’m well aware of the fact that if
John ever recovers his memory, it might take him away from you.” Gretchen’s mom
turned to face her. Her questioning gaze was filled with an honest concern only
a mother could manage. “Carl befriended you when you had no one. He’s helped
you and tried his hardest to get you to fall for him over the past year, but
you turned him down. John drops into your life and all of the sudden you’re
putting yourself out there again. I want to know why now, why John and not Carl.”

“Either
way, I could end up hurt. I’m supposed to love again, aren’t I?” Gretchen
asked. “What does it matter that I chose to take the risk with John instead of
Carl?”

“Because,”
her mom said, “it’s a lot more likely that John is going to be the one to hurt
you.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Tempting and Stealing

Standing up
to his elbows in mini quiches, John couldn’t help wonder what on earth he had
been thinking when he agreed to cater a wedding. It was way too big of a job
for just one person. Melanie’s crew of nieces and nephews were the only thing
keeping John afloat. Gretchen had wanted to help, but John told her in no
uncertain terms that she was not allowed in the kitchen. He didn’t want her to
miss her friend’s wedding because of him. She was one of the bridesmaids. John
hadn’t wanted her trying to do both.

“The
ceremony just ended,” Clara, one of the nieces, said as she popped her head
into the kitchen.

“Are there
salads and bread baskets on every table? Drinks?” John asked.

“Everything’s
set.”

They were
good. Apparently, this wasn't the first time the nieces and nephews of
Melanie’s family had been called on to play the part of wait staff at a family
event. The oldest was only sixteen, but John wanted to kiss each of them for
their help. Clara had been especially helpful, organizing all of her cousins
and making sure they did exactly what they were supposed to be doing. They were
doing an amazing job.

“Great,”
John said. Mini quiches slid off the baking tray and onto the serving platter
with a satisfying whoosh. “Take this last tray out to the appetizer table and
gather everyone up and get them back here to the kitchen so we can start
plating the entrée.”

“No
problem,” Clara said, bouncing as she turned.

“Oh, and, Clara,”
John said. She paused, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “Thanks for all the
help.”

Beaming at
the compliment, Clara bounded down the hall to gather her cousins. John watched
her go and sighed as the stack of one hundred plates caught his eye. The work
was only beginning. Aching for something to sit on, John pushed ahead and went
to grab a stack of plates. Thundering steps rang down the hallway as the nieces
and nephews barreled into the kitchen. Clara barked out orders and, in minutes,
they were plating fish, chicken, and beef, and carrying it out to the waiting
friends and family of Eric and Melanie.

Twenty
minutes later, a gangly boy of fourteen named Zack carried out the last two
plates and left John alone in the kitchen. Sinking down to the kitchen counter,
his head resting in his hands, John tried to ignore the pain in his leg. The
cast had been off for several weeks, but it still ached if he used it for too
long. John guessed that was what came from having it broken in three places.

The soft
sound of rented dishware sliding across the table startled John. His head
snapped up to find Clara standing in front of him, a plate of steaming pot
roast, garlic potatoes, and almond covered green beans on the counter. He
looked around, wondering how she had snuck up on him so easily. John could have
sworn the room was empty a few seconds ago.

“Well,
don’t just stare at it. Eat!” Clara said happily. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks,
Clara, but I think you and your cousins did most of the work.”

She smiled
and made herself a plate as well. Walking back over to the island counter where
John was standing, Clara handed him her plate. John took it, unsure of why she
was giving it to him, and then watched her hop onto the counter to sit, looking
at him. John handed her back her plate with an amused smile and turned back to
his own meal.

“
Mmm
,” Clara said, “this is really good, John.”

“Are you
surprised?” John asked, digging into his own meal. It really was good.

Clara
laughed. “Yeah, actually. My mom told me you were like in a coma, or something,
and you forgot everything.” John nodded, his mouth full of beef. “I guess I was
just surprised someone who forgot everything they used to know could cook so
well.”

Her honesty
was amusing. “I was still pretty beat up when I got out of the hospital. I had
to stay around the house, which got a little boring, so I decided to learn how
to cook,” John said. “I don’t know if I knew how to cook before or not, but I
seem to be pretty good at it now.”

Clara
nodded as she took a bite of potatoes. His plate cleared a few minutes later,
John pushed it away and turned around to lean against the counter. It wouldn’t
be long before empty plates made their way back. At least the others were in
charge of dishwashing.

“How many
times have you done this?” John asked Clara.

“Counting
Mel’s wedding, eight.” She set her plate down and rested her hands on the
counter, unusually close to John’s. “I’ve done two funerals, three weddings, a
baby shower, and two
quinceaneras
. We’re a pretty
festive family, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I never
would have guessed,” John said with a chuckle. Leaning more heavily against the
counter, he shifted his weight to his good leg and closed his eyes. The ache in
his bones was really starting to bother him. Clara shifted next to John, but he
didn’t look over at her. He assumed she was getting down until he felt her
hands on his shoulders.

Pulling
away quickly, John turned and looked at her. There were a lot of things John
couldn’t remember, but he was pretty sure having a sixteen-year-old girl rub
his shoulders with no one else around was not socially acceptable. Clara,
however, just smiled sweetly in mock innocence.

“What are
you doing?” John asked.

“You look
exhausted. I was just trying to help,” she said. She slid off the counter and
stepped to the side of him. John watched her move, hoping she was leaving.
Taking another step, she reached up and set her hand on his shoulder again.
John turned, grabbing her hand and removing it.

“Clara.” He
wasn't sure how to respond. There was no way he was letting her rub his back,
but he didn’t want to offend her and cause a scene at Melanie and Eric’s
wedding. It was possible she
was
just trying to be nice—John didn’t have
a whole lot of experience with women—but the way she smiled so calmly and moved
so fluidly made him think otherwise.

John was
astounded. She knew he was dating, and living with Gretchen. She knew his whole
story. Yet she was still trying to seduce him with his girlfriend in the next
room and her entire family in the building as well. She certainly had guts.
John had to at least give her that.

“Why don’t
you just relax? It’s been a long day,” Clara said.

“Did you
happen to see Gretchen when you were in the reception hall?” John asked. He was
trying to remind Clara of all the people in the next room, but she seemed to
take it another way.

“Yes, she
was busy eating and talking with her friends, last I saw her. She’ll probably
stay at the table for a good while yet.” Clara stepped in closer, gently trying
to tug her hand out of John’s grip.

“That’s not
why I asked,” John said dryly. “You’re a nice girl, but this is really
inappropriate. I have a girlfriend. And you’re sixteen. You shouldn’t be doing
this. I’m way too old for you.”

“Oh really?
And just how old are you?” she asked coyly.

“I’m,
well…I don’t know how old I am, but I know I’m not sixteen. That’s hardly the
point, and you know it,” he said. “I am dating Gretchen.”

“Oh, come
on, John. She saved you and let you live at her house. Don’t you think you should
play the field a little more before you settle for the first girl you meet?”
Clara touched her hand to John’s chest, leaning closer. He tried to step back
but he was already against the counter. “You’re a handsome guy. You’re sweet
and funny. You don’t have to settle.”

Finally
letting go of Clara’s hands, John grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back. “I
didn’t settle for Gretchen. I love her.” The admission surprised Clara. It surprised
John a little, too. He hadn’t even told Gretchen he loved her yet. Why did he
just admit it to this manipulative girl?

Clara shook
off her surprise. “I think there’s a name for that, it’s called Stockholm
syndrome.”

“That’s
only for people held captive,” John said.
Wait, how did I know that?
John wondered. He still knew what things were and how to use them from his
functional memory, but he didn’t remember anything specific about academic
topics.

“Still,”
Clara said, interrupting his thoughts, “I think you’re missing out.”

She moved
around the counter, trailing her hand on the surface and swaying her hips
seductively. John turned away from her temptation. She was an attractive young
woman.

“It’s not
going to happen, Clara. I need to start cleaning up anyway. I promised Gretchen
I would dance with her tonight,” he said.

John turned
toward the sink, intent on ignoring Clara, only to find she had circled the
counter and was standing next to him again. Sighing, he tried to think of a
polite way to get her to leave him alone.

“Do you
really love her?” Clara asked.

“Yes. Now
can we get back to work, please?” he begged. Or just leave and let him be?

“Do you
want to marry her?” Clara asked.

Her blunt
question caught John off guard. Did he want to give up on ever finding who he
used to be and give himself over to being John, Gretchen’s husband? Did he want
to spend the rest of his life with her? The question had surprised him, but the
answer didn’t.

“Yes, I
do.”

Huffing in
disappointment, Clara’s sultry movements suddenly stopped and she went back to
being the helpful kid she had been most of the evening. “All right, fine,” she
said, “let’s get this mess cleaned up.”

She turned
away and starting stacking the pots and pans that needed to be washed next to
the sink. John stared at her. It was like a light switch turning on and off.
One minute she was a cute kid being extra helpful, the next, a temptress, and
then back to an innocent girl. John’s tired mind was still trying to catch up.

“Wait,
that’s it?” John asked. “You’re backing off, just like that?”

Clara
grinned. “You sound disappointed.”

Shaking his
head, he walked over to her. “No, not disappointed, confused.”

“I have no
problem stealing another girl’s boyfriend, but I draw the line at breaking up
marriages,” she said.

“How noble
of you,” John said. She was something else.

“A girl’s
got to have some principles.” She turned on the water and stoppered the sink.

“Gretchen
and I aren’t married yet, though,” he said.

Turning
around with a grin, a bit of her flirty nature popping back up, Clara looked at
John. “You
are
disappointed.”

Flushing
slightly, John looked away. Her abrupt change had thrown him a little, but he
wasn’t
disappointed.

Clara
laughed at his discomfort, and said, “I thought I’d give you a break and let
you off easy. You’re obviously pretty serious about Gretchen. I didn’t think
you would be, so I tried, but I won’t try to steal you away from her.”

Was this
girl seriously only sixteen years old? “Uh, thanks,” John said. “I guess.”

Dropping a
few of the dishes into the sink, Clara was careful not to let the water splash
on her clothes. She was quiet for a few seconds before turning back around.
“You should probably tell Gretchen how you feel, though, before someone tries
to steal her from
you
.”

Carl. Every
time John thought of that man he found himself wanting to punch something,
preferably Carl’s face. He would try to take Gretchen if John gave him the
chance.

“Go ahead,
John. The band should have started playing by now,” Clara said, “and Gretchen
looks beautiful tonight. Go dance with her.”

Maybe Clara
was right. At the risk of scaring her away, he needed to tell Gretchen how he
felt. Somehow he doubted Carl would be as gracious as Clara, and back off just because
he knew John loved Gretchen. If he wanted to keep her in his life, John he to
make sure she knew how much he wanted her.