“What did you do that was so bad?”
“Me drinked the las’ of the milk.”
Aw shit. He saw himself with Cody, making macaroni and cheese from a box for the fifth or sixth night in a row, thinking they were deprived because Aunt Sis had nothing else in the house. She would spend every dime at the bingo parlor before she would worry about what they ate. This was even worse. Lucky had been so much younger, unable to protect herself.
“What will happen when your mommy finds you?” the doctor asked, and Greg had to resist the urge to strangle the woman. Didn’t she know what happened to children who were raised by psychos?
“Mom-m-my will burr me.”
“Burp you?”
“Burn
her,” Greg hissed into the doctor’s ear. Didn’t the woman’s IQ hit double digits?
“Burn
? Hot?” Dr. Forenski asked, a tight frown creating a cross web of lines on her already-furrowed brow.
“Uh-huh,” Lucky confirmed. Her knees were now up to her chest in a fetal position that wasn’t much different from the position he’d found her in that night in the closet.
What had happened last night? Greg
wondered. He’d been too damn horn
y to trust himself to go check on her. How had she managed to go to sleep without making a sound?
“What’s your name?” Dr. Forenski asked, obviously reluctant to ask any more questions about Lucky’s troubled childhood. “Can you tell us?”
“Sh-ud-up.”
“What was that, honey? Tell us your name again.”
Greg had the sickening feeling he knew what Lucky was saying.
“Sh-ud-up.”
The doctor looked at Greg with wide, disbelieving
eyes. This time she got it. “
Shut up. Is that your name?
”
the doctor asked, and Greg braced himself for the answer.
“Uh-huh.” Lucky was a tight ball, so turned into herself it seemed impossible for anyone to contort into such a position.
“Do you know your last name?”
“Wasa las’ name?”
“Do you know where you live?”
“Inna closet.”
Not even when his wife had been killed and his brother severely injured in an accident had Greg broken down and cried, but now a convulsive sob—one he barely
silenced—
racked his body. He knew what Lucky had been through because he’d faced a similar demon. But he’d been older, more capable of bearing the assault. Not Lucky. She’d been younger. And alone.
“
Do you know
the names of any of your mommy
’s friends?
”
the doctor questioned, evidently unwilling to give up what Greg already knew was a lost cause. Lucky, the child, remembered nothing that could help them identify her now.
“No,” she responded in a plaintive voice.
“Stop it!” Greg vaulted to his feet. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. You’re just torturing her.”
He barely heard Dr. Forenski tell Lucky to sleep for a few minutes, that when she awoke she would remember what she had said but wouldn’t feel any of the pain. All Greg could think about was how she must have suffered. Sure, his childhood had been hell, but he’d had Cody. Lucky had been alone.
Dr. Forenski rose and motioned for him to follow her out of the room while Lucky slept. Greg snapped his fingers, but Dodger refused to budge.
“Okay, boy. Stay with her.”
Dr. Forenski led him down the hall, saying, “I believe I know why Lucky can’t remember her name. It’s obvious that
she was an abused child, not just phys
ically, but mentally as well.”
“Her bitch of a mother told her to shut up so often that she thought ‘shut up’ was her name.” Greg followed the doctor into a small office that looked out onto the parking lot. “Now she can’t sleep at night unless she hides in the closet.”
“Really,” she Dr. Forenski remarked, sitting at the desk. “Tell me about it.”
Greg explained how he’d found Lucky in the closet. “She was afraid, but she didn’t exactly know of what. She never mentioned her mother, so I assumed she was afraid of someone in the present.”
“She may not consciously realize what’s frightening her. While we’re sleeping, the mind is playing, tossing memories and experiences around. Lucky’s brain doesn’t have much left to work with. It is not surprising that it focuses on this traumatic incident, because her brain doesn’t have anything else to use.
In time, she’ll dream about it less and less. The brain will have newer experiences to focus on.”
“Is there anything I can do to help her?”
“You must understand how important you’ve become to her. Until she finds her family—if she has one to find—you are the most important person in her life. It’s clear to me that she’s in love with you.”
Greg jumped up and strode over to the window that faced the parking lot. “I don’t want her to love me.”
“Don’t you?”
He
didn’t answer, because he honestl
y didn’t know how he felt about Lucky now. He’d gone into the session telling himself that he wanted to be rid of her. Then he’d seen a different side of Lucky. She’d moved him, touching an inner place he hadn’t known existed.
The doctor continued, tactfully dropping the matter about Greg’s feelings for Lucky. “Abused children often become runaways. Life on the streets is harsh, but it’s better than what they had at home. Many runaways are forced to drugs or prostitution to survive. Didn’t you say that Lucky was dressed l
ike a prostitute?”
“
Yeah.” Greg turned to face her, leaning against the window ledge. “She acted like one, too.”
“Those women often change their names. Perhaps Lucky has used so many names that recalling the name on her birth certificate isn’t possible with her condition.”
A cold knot formed in his gut. He managed to nod as if he didn’t give a damn. But he did. Lucky was a bizarre amalgam of innocence and sexuality. Common sense said that she had been with other men, yet he didn’t want it to be true.
“You know, this may be a blessing in disguise,” the doctor told him. “Traumatic head injuries often radically change a patient’s personality. Considering what Lucky’s life seems to have been, this could give her the chance to start over.”
13
L
ucky ventured a glance in Greg’s direction. They’d left the clinic a few minutes ago, after a long discussion with Dr. Forenski. Greg had been strangely silent, his face a study in self-control. Had he been a professional card shark, no one would have known whether he held a winning or a losing hand.
She turned away from Greg, telling herself it didn’t matter what he thought. Every instinct for self-preservation warned her to look forward, not back, and to rely on herself. The session had been both draining and discouraging. Not only hadn’t she learned her name, but she had discovered her mother hadn’t loved her, hadn’t wanted her.
An indescribable emptiness overwhelmed her, a void she knew couldn’t be filled. She kept hearing a voice.
Never forget. I love you.
Who loved her? Where was he when she so desperately needed him?
Forget it. Concentrate on the future.
“Dr. Forenski believes I was an abused child who ran away and then
became involved in drugs or…
something.”
She couldn’t bring herself to say prostitution, determined
not to think of herself that way even though she believed it could be true. Given what Greg had told her about the night he’d found her and the way she’d acted when she was near him, it seemed to be the only explanation. Still, it wasn’t the way she wanted him—or anyone—to think of her.
“Her explanation’s better than anything anyone’s come up with. You can’t tell us your name because you’ve used more than one.”
Was that why she’d said that she wished her last name was Braxton? And that she belonged to him? What made her say those things when she knew perfectly well he did not want her? Even though she’d been hypnotized, Lucky had been aware of her surroundings and had known that Greg was there. Her thoughts came out, though, and she’d been powerless to stop them.
Greg pulled to the side of the road and parked the car, then led her to the edge of the bluff overlooking the island. From this elevation, the world was either blue or green. The endless blue sweep of the sea blended with the sky at the horizon, but the land was a mosaic of greens, from the green of the cane fields to the deeper green of the mature pineapples to the bright spring green of the wild ferns. Symbolizing it all was the mossy green crest of Haleakala silhouetted against the blue-blue sky.
Greg was silent for a moment, staring across the multi
-
tiered fields. “I didn’t hear you crying last night. Were you able to sleep in the bed?”
Lucky considered lying but stopped herself, thinking about what the doctor had said. Whoever she’d been before the accident, whatever she’d done, it didn’t matter now. This was a chance to start over. Good people did not he, particularly to someone trying to help them.
“No. I slept in the closet.” She gazed into his eyes and saw something she hoped wasn’t pity.
“
I shouldn’t have that problem tonight. After my session I know exactly what I’m afraid of—something that happened when I was a child. It can’t hurt me now. There’s no reason to hide.”
“
If you went into the closet last night, you must have cried.” She quickly looked away. Did she have to tell him everything? Keeping some things to herself wasn’t exactly lying.
He caught her arm and gentl
y turned her to face him. “You were crying again, weren’t you?” She nodded. “Why didn’t I hear it? Hell, I was awake the whole night.”
Lucky gazed down at his strong hand clasping her arm and remembered how she’d clutched it that day in the hospital. “I made a gag out of a blouse so I wouldn’t disturb you.”
“Oh, Christ! You didn’t.”
Greg swung her into the circle of his arms, gently cradling her against his chest. The elusive scent she recalled from the night she’d slept with him enveloped her. His closeness was so male, so powerful, that a familiar shiver of awareness crept through her.
“I’m sorry. I should have checked on you,” he whispered, his breath warm against her cheek.
“I didn’t want to bother you.” A white lie, she quickly assured herself. She had wanted him to take her into his bed again but she’d known he didn’t want her. Gagging herself had been the only option.
He looked into her eyes, his expression earnest, concerned. “Promise me you won’t do it again. Come to me if you need me.”
“You do believe me.” She touched the back of her head where the thick braid covered the shaved patch. The lump was still there, tender and ridged with stitches. “You know I’m not pretending.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s what my gut instinct told me when
I saw you in jail. It’s just…
well, you seemed like such a different woman the night I found you.”
She buried her face against his chest. How could she explain what she didn’t understand herse
lf? Her behavior had been so…
crude. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be. Let’s forget all about it.”
His voice had taken on a strange, harsh quality. Not wanting
to break the spell, she didn’t look up. Lucky sensed he wanted to comfort her yet was holding back as usual, keeping a safe distance between them. She tamped down the reckless urge to touch her lips to his and breach the barrier. Each time she’d been the one to initiate things, however; this time she wouldn’t.
He touched her face and she trembled slightly, his fingers sliding across her cheek and gently lifting until her lips were a scant inch from his, forcing her to look into his eyes. Their gazes fused, his fille
d with a dangerous sensuality.
Greg angled his head so his mouth covered hers and he
kissed her, slowly, deeply. Lucky willingly gave herself to the
kiss, opening her mouth and leani
ng into him to savor the hard
contours of his body. Hot and demanding, his tongue mated with hers. She teased it with darting little caresses of her own.
As they kissed, his hands explored the plane of her back, then coasted lower and lower, until he’d skimmed across the curve of her hips to cradle her buttocks with both hands. Her pulse throbbed, kicking into high gear, and a low moan built in her throat. She arched against him, unable to resist moving her hips while he plundered her mouth with his tongue, letting her anticipate how it would be to make love to him.
Take no prisoners.
He would be that masculine, that demanding, expecting her to give herself fully and completely. In return he would give her just as much. Here was a man who rarely gave
up control, but when he did…
oh, my.
Unexpectedly, he pulled away, as if struck by lightning. “Great timing. S and R is beeping me.” Greg grabbed the beeper he always wore on his belt and tilted the face so he could read it.
Lucky longed to tell him to ignore it and continue kissing her, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Greg’s sense of duty was too strong.
“A 7-13.
Seven
means they need a dog, and
thirteen
means the Iao Valley State Park. It’s probably a hiker lost near the lao Needle.”
“That’s where the hiker with the missing shoe was found, right?” she asked as he guided her back to the car, his arm still around her. “What is the Iao Needle?”
“It’s a basalt rock pillar that’s over two thousand feet high. In ancient times the
alii
—Hawaiian royalty—buried their dead in the caves that are all over the Iao Valley. There are lots of legends about ghosts and hauntings. You know how people love that stuff, so it draws tourists who rarely hike. At least once a week one of them wanders off a trail and gets lost.” Greg opened the car door and Dodger hopped in the backseat, then Lucky got in. “I need to get to the command station as soon as I can. It’ll be dark in a couple of hours—that’s when people who are lost panic. They go deeper into the rain forest and are harder to find. If you’re ever lost, just stay put.”
She couldn’t help smiling to herself, feeling proud. Greg was so competent, so dependable. Whoever was lost didn’t have a clue as to how lucky they were.
“I’m going to swing by Cody’s house. I’m sure Sarah is home. I’ll use the phone there to tell S and R that we’re on the way.”
Home. Unless you can never return home, never see your family again, you will never really appreciate what the word
home
means, Lucky thought. You have to lose everything to understand.
She forced her mind away from thoughts that could only make her miserable, determined not to feel sorry for herself. “Too bad you don’t have a car phone.”
“It wouldn’t do any good. The only cellular station on the islands is in Honolulu.”
How did she know about car phones? she wondered. She hadn’t seen one—that she could remember—yet the word had just popped into her head. Her brain was amazing. Sometimes it knew so much, guiding her through cyberspace on auto pilot, yet at other times it stalled on an ordinary word.
They drove down a country lane banked by tall ferns shading clusters of orchids whose blossoms were no larger than a penny.
The air was cooler in the up-count
ry, fragrant with the scent of
meadow grass and the earthy ripeness of the tropics. Overhead swooped a flock of birds, soaring high and free, leaving a
riffling wedge of a shadow on the land below.
Cody’s home was a rambling ranch built on a raised platform and shaded by stately eucalyptus trees. Off to one side was a garden and beyond it was a pasture, where two horses were grazing near a frisky colt with legs too long for its body. A goat roamed the side yard, the bell around its neck tinkling, while two mutts stood on the porch, barking furiously at the approaching car.
Sarah came out the front do
or, a toddler balanced on one
hip. She was obviously surprised to see them, but waved and smiled. Lucky was unexpectedly
glad to see her. During this
terrible ordeal, few people had been as kind and as understanding as Sarah.
“The baby must be Molly,” Greg said. “She looks just like Sarah.”
“You’ve never seen your niece?” Lucky couldn’t believe it. Judging by the look on his face, she’d hit a raw nerve. The mongoose again. There was something going on here that she didn’t understand. How could her brain come through for her one minute, telling her about car phones, yet not let her pick up on what was going on with the Braxtons?
“Mind if I use the phone?” Greg called through the open window when they pulled to a stop. “There’s an S and R emergency.”
“Sure,” Sarah replied, and he climbed out of the car and hurried inside, while she walked over to the passenger side. “How are you doing?”
“Fine, thanks.” Lucky had the urge to tell Sarah everything, but then she suspected most people did. Sarah was one of those people whom it was difficult not to like. She was very pretty, with brown eyes and long silky hair several shades darker, and she had a cheerful openness about her that put Lucky at ease.
“Ma-ma, Ma-ma,” cooed the little girl in Sarah’s arms.
“Molly,” Sarah said, pointing to Lucky, “this is Lucky. Can you say
Lucky?”
“Yuc-ky. Yucky,” Molly responded, and Sarah and Lucky both laughed.
“Great! Now I’ve been called everything,” Lucky said.
Sarah’s smile vanished. “Don’t let the
Tattler
article bother you. It’s nothing but a cheap tabloid.”
Warning spasms of alarm erupted inside her. Oddly enough, what she’d learned under hypnosis had calmed her fears, giving her a sense of self, but now her anxiety returned. “What did the article say?”
Sarah didn’t meet her inquiring gaze. “Nothing really. It showed a picture of you being wheeled into the hospital and another taken while you were helping the shark.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Lucky observed, before she deciphered Sarah’s troubled expression and knew that somehow it spelled more bad news.
“Yucky, Yucky,” cried Molly, stretching her little arms toward Lucky.
Lucky got out of the car and reached for the child. Molly smiled Sarah’s open, friendly smile and eagerly came into Lucky’s arms. “Sarah, I don’t understand what’s going on,” Lucky said as Molly played with her braid, slapping it on Lucky’s shoulder.
“Come inside. I’ll show you the article.”
Carrying Molly, Lucky followed Sarah into the house. The wood floor in the living room was covered by a sisal area rug and thick bamboo furniture. An old Hawaiian quilt with star bursts and bright yellow pineapples hung on one wall. Lucky immediately understood that the furniture was functional, inexpensive, and that the quilt—safely away from the children on the wall—was the prize possession.
Greg’s raised voice came from the nearby kitchen, where she could see him talking on the telephone. “I’m telling you, Cody, she’s not faking it. Lucky isn’t ever going to be able to tell us her name.”
“I hate to have them fighting over me,” she whispered to Sarah.
“At least they’re talking,” Sarah said as Greg slammed down the receiver. “I’ll explain it to you later.”
Greg rushed out of the kitchen and came to a halt when he saw Lucky holding Molly.
Lucky pointed to Greg. “That’s your Uncle Greg. Can you say
Greg?”