Authors: Samantha Towle
“
I don’t know for sure but I believe Arlo may be somehow responsible.”
“
And this Arlo – why would he do this to Lucyna?”
Her face falls. “I have my own theory . . . but I don’t know for sure.”
I narrow my gaze. “And your theory is?”
She looks out of the window. “Inconsequential.” Her tone is brisk. “The important thing is that I find him which I can’t do.” Her voice trails off and she is silent for a moment. She looks back to me. “It seems he doesn’t want to be found and that he didn’t want Lucyna to be found either as her essence is being masked. Her mind has been blanked of all memories. I can’t see anything, it’s as if there’s been a wall built up in there and it’s too dense for me to penetrate. The only way I’ll know anything is if she’ll allow me to try and release the memories locked in her mind. But she has to consent to this, and even then I still may not be able to break through because the magic Arlo has worked – if it is him, is strong.”
I stare out the window at the cool clear day, my mind frantically working away, trying to figure this all out.
I take a deep breath, looking back at her. “Okay,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, “so let me get this straight in my mind. You’re telling me I was an angel called Arran, and me and Lucyna were together, but three hundred years ago I left her to be with another woman, and then she left Heaven with this Arlo, became a Bringer, found me – Arran . . .” shit this is confusing. “. . . disappeared again possibly thanks to Arlo, and has now turned up in Australia, human, with no memory of who she was.”
The corners of her lips turn up. “Basically, yes.”
I press my lips together. It all sounds so . . . hmm . . . confusing, mind-bending, a bit on the crazy-side . . . need I go on?
I suddenly have a thought. “Who was the woman?”
Isabel looks at me inquisitively.
“
The woman, Arran – I mean, I –” I shake my head, “fuck, this is confusing! Sorry,” I add when I realise that I just cursed in front of an angel. Isabel looks at me blankly and says nothing, so I carry on. “Who was the woman I left Lucyna to be with?”
“
I don’t know,” she says indifferently, crossing her ankles. “It wasn’t a matter I cared to look into. You made your decision, end of story.”
Okay. So that’s me told.
“
Has it ever happened before, an angel becoming mortal?”
She purses her lips and nods formally. “It has happened, not many times. Arran was one of a few. We don’t really spend time around the living to attach ourselves emotionally, but sometimes curiosity can get the better of us.”
“
You?”
She laughs, a genuine laugh. “No. I hadn’t been to earth in a very long time, not until I was sent here to watch you and Lucyna. There’s nothing here of interest to me.”
I uncross my arm and rub my forehead with my fingertips. “Have you spoken to Lucyna?”
“
No, I wanted to speak to you first. I didn’t want to turn up there and scare her with this announcement. She’s unlikely to be reasonable, as she’s already feeling very scared and alone.”
Isabel’s words make me feel sick to the pit of my stomach. I can’t bear the thought of her being there all alone and frightened, and also very fucking angry at who put her there.
“
And I thought if you came with me –” Isabel continues, breaking me out of my pensive thoughts. “– it could be the key to help me unlock her mind. She might not be aware of it, but the emotional tie she has to you is undeniably strong, that’s been proved once already. She may listen to you because I can’t even attempt to return her memories without her consent.”
I meet her eyes. “There would never have been a moment I wouldn’t have come.”
“
Good.” She rises gracefully to her feet. “Let’s go, then.”
I nod, but there something I need to ask her first. It won’t make a difference to anything, but I have to know. “Isabel.” I pause. She looks at me curiously. I clear my suddenly hoarse throat. “Did Lucyna know who I used to be when she saved my life?”
“
No, she had no clue of who you were, who she used to be, or of your history together.” She regards me warmly for a moment. “At that point she loved you.”
“
Because I used to be him?” I think out loud.
She flashes me a tight smile. “Maybe . . . partly.”
Now I know I’m not so sure how I feel about it but I push it aside as there are far more important things to think about, mainly how quickly I can get to Lucyna. The rest I can sort out later.
I push off the wall. “Right, I’ll just pack some clothes and get my passport –”
She laughs condescendingly, halting my words. “James, we’re not travelling by human transport. I will take us.”
Okay, so now I feel stupid for even speaking.
“
But I’m going to need you a bit more mobile than that,” she adds, pointing a finger at my leg.
Almost immediately I feel a warm tingling sensation running through my broken leg and hear a crack. I watch in astonishment as the pot crumbles to the floor. I look down at my bare leg in shock. The pain is gone. I bend it slowly. It feels fine, well better than fine.
“
It’s fixed,” she says off-hand, like she’s just glued a cup back together, or something trivial like that. “And put some trousers on. I don’t think turning up to see Lucyna in a towel will help matters.”
I grab my jeans off the chair by the window and pull them up under the towel, instantly realising the ludicrousness of the situation I’m in. I’m half-naked dressing in front of an angel. Hmm? I twist my lips, forcing the smile from my face, as I button up my jeans. It must be hysteria or something which, given the situation, I think is a perfectly reasonable thing to feel.
I push my feet into my trainers. “Okay, let’s go,” I say fervently.
Isabel comes over and holds her hands out. I take hold of them. “Close your eyes,” she instructs, “and don’t open them until I tell you to.”
“
Okay,” I say, a touch apprehensively. Well, truth be told, I’m absolutely shitting myself but if it gets me to Lucyna, then I’m prepared to do just about anything. I close my eyes and open them straightaway. Isabel sighs, impatiently.
I look straight into her green eyes. “Lucyna’s not going to know who I am, is she?” I say, my voice sounding tinny as I suddenly realise the calamity of the situation.
She looks back at me regretfully. “No.”
“
Do you think you’ll be able to get her memories back?” I ask, hopefully.
She smiles a tight smile. “I can’t promise anything.”
My heart sinks. I compress the pain down and close my eyes.
“
Ready?” Isabel asks softly.
“
Ready.” I instantly feel a shuddering sensation run through my hands, up my arms, spreading throughout the whole of my body.
Within a matter of seconds I hear Isabel’s whispering voice say, “You can open your eyes, James. We’re here.” She releases my hands.
Nervously I peel my eyes open and sway slightly on my feet, feeling unsteady. I press my feet into the floor whilst quickly casting my eyes over the moonlit room.
Isabel silently points over my shoulder and I turn to see Lucyna. She’s asleep in bed. My heart nearly explodes with relief. Six weeks I’ve waited for this moment. Six fucking weeks. And now I daren’t move.
I force my feet forward and, very nervously and very quietly, I tread over to the bed.
I gaze down at her. She looks just as I remembered, if not more beautiful. She’s breathing deeply. The rise and fall of her chest is mesmerising, her face so peaceful, I’m almost afraid to wake her.
Carefully I perch on the edge of her bed and glance down at the book in her hand. She must have fallen asleep reading. I feel an instant rush of love for her. I gently pull it from her hand and reach back, placing it on the table by her bed. Then I brush her hair off her face with my fingers. “Luce, wake up, baby,” I say quietly, cradling her face with my hand.
She murmurs in her sleep and turns her face into my hand, nuzzling it. I stroke the length of her nose with my thumb. “Luce baby, wake up.”
Her breathing suddenly halts and her eyes flick open, bright blue and filled with panic. I withdraw my hand. She leaps backwards in her bed, her back pressed up against the wall.
“
Who – who are you?” she says, wide eyes flicking from me to Isabel, then back to me again. There’s not a trace of recognition in them.
Okay, so I wasn’t as prepared for this as I thought I might be. I know I was aware she wouldn’t know me, but Jesus, it really fucking hurts – A LOT – to have her looking at me like I’m a stranger. It’s like a knife in the chest.
Pushing all my pain aside, I focus on her, focus on how she must be feeling right now. Pretty freaked out I’m guessing.
“
Shh,” I say gently, raising a calming hand. “It’s okay, you’re safe. We’re here to help you get your memory back . . .”
. . . I hope.
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte
Chapter 21
A New Beginning
“
Hey Pommie.”
I look up from my magazine to see a smiling Fen coming through the door and my spirits instantly lift.
“
Hi,” I say, surprised. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. I thought you were going out for dinner tonight for your mum’s birthday?”
“
I am. I had to come past the hospital on my way to the restaurant so I thought I’d drop this in for you.” He hands me a battered looking book and sits himself down into the chair by my bed.
I notice he looks different. What is it? I eye him carefully, but I can’t see anything specifically standing out. Understandably he looks a little smarter than usual. He’s wearing black jeans and a fitted grey shirt. And his hair’s tidier than he normally wears it. It's usually all mussed up. Actually, he looks quite handsome. I mean, I know Fen’s good looking, I’d have to be blind not to notice, but tonight he looks, dare I say it, hot? Nerves flutter through my stomach at the thought. Okay, that was weird.
“
Thanks,” I say with a delay and begin to examine the front cover of the book. ‘The Beach’ – oh it’s the one he was telling me about yesterday – and, no, he’s not being ironic. Apparently it’s really good and has nothing whatsoever to do with amnesiacs turning up on it. I’m reading a lot at the moment, anything I can get my hands on really. Well, it’s not like I have much else to do and it’s nice to escape off into someone else’s fantasy for a while. It distracts me away from my own depressing reality.
“
You didn’t have to bring it now, though,” I say putting the book down on the bed. “I could have waited till tomorrow. It’s not like I haven’t got plenty to keep me busy.” I point towards the stack of books piled up on the table.
He shrugs. “It’s no problem.” He kicks his shoes off, puts his feet up on my bed, rests his head back on the chair and closes his eyes.
“
Comfortable there?” I chuckle, nudging his foot with mine.
“
Hmm, very.”
“
Hard day at work?”
“
Yep.” A lazy smile forms on his lips and he opens his eyes. It still surprises me just how blue they actually are. They’re striking in contrast with his black hair and olive skin. They look almost luminous in this fluorescent lighting. “I had the early shift,” he tells me, “then ended up having to stay late ‘cause there was a problem with one of the boats.” He yawns loudly. “Could really do with going home to bed but it’s my mum's birthday, so what can you do?” He stretches his arms over his head. His shirt rides up and I find myself involuntarily glancing down. Wow, his stomach is really smooth and toned . . .
“
So how’s your day been?” he asks.
“
Hmm?”
“
I said – how’s your day been?”
I realise I’m staring and instantly come to my senses. I see a flicker of amusement pass over his face.
“
Oh, yeah, good,” I smile.
He picks the remote off the table and turns the TV on. I glance back down at my magazine.
Actually that was a lie.
It’s just been another pointless day of nothing. I’ve been here four weeks now, and after all the testing and neuro-psychotherapy sessions, there’s still absolutely nothing happening in this stupid brain of mine. I’ve not even had one meagre, teeny tiny little memory resurface. So, yes, I still have absolutely no idea who I am – was – or whatever.
The only memories I do have are the ones I’ve made since I arrived here. And the only good ones I've made are when Fen visits, which he does everyday, and has done since that day. We’ve become really good friends and, honestly, I don’t know what I would do without him. I would never tell him this, mainly because it sounds so lame, but seeing him is the only good part of my day, the best part, in fact, because the rest of the time I’m miserable and lonely.