When Sparks Fly (89 page)

December

I’ve been at my grandmother’s house in North Carolina for just over a week, rarely venturing outside to see friends. It’s hard, knowing they’re all looking at me like they should apologize.

For what? Sorry your girlfriend married her ex? Sorry we didn’t let you know what was going on behind your back?

So, I’m content to sit in the basement of my grandmother’s house, watch TV and drink beer. It’s simple. And I don’t have to feel any worse about myself than I already do.

“Grant,” my grandmother calls from upstairs. “You have a visitor.”

I groan and walk to the bottom of the stairs. “Who is it?”

“Grant Ely Williams, it doesn’t matter who it is. You get your butt up these stairs this minute.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” She used the middle name – not good. My grandmother’s not one to be messed with, especially when it comes to having guests at the house.

I ascend the stairs, enter the front room, and nearly turn around and walk back out.

I only see her back, but I can tell by the blonde hair just who has come calling.

“Rachel.” My voice is low and level. I don’t want to piss off my grandmother, but I also don’t want Rachel thinking she’s welcome.

She turns around and smiles. In her arms is a baby tightly bundled in a pink blanket. “Hey Grant.”

I let out a long breath and run my hand through my hair.
So, she got herself knocked up and had to get married
.

“I wanted you to meet someone.” She stops in front of me, a little head sticking out of the opening in the blanket. “This is Mary.”

“Your daughter?”

“Yes.”

“With Derek?”

My grandmother gets up from the couch and makes her way towards the kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink, Rachel?”

“Oh, no thank you, Mae.”

My grandmother nods and excuses herself.

And there we stand. Staring at each other.

“Do you want to hold her?” Rachel asks. “I remember how much you love kids.”

Something in me snaps. She might as well’ve stabbed me in the heart. We talked about having a family. And here she is… married to another man, asking me to hold
their
child, somehow thinking it will make me happy.

I move to the chair and motion towards the couch.

“I know you’re probably upset with me, Grant. I hope you know I never meant to hurt you. I’ve had a lot of time to think about things lately. And I just want you to know that it was nothing that you did.”

I chuckle and shake my head.
Here we go
. I heard it once already from her. I don’t need this particular salt in the wound.

“I know how that sounds but I was so scared, so very overwhelmed by your new life. We’ve known each other for so long. I still remember the first day you came to school after you moved here – when your parents died. I wanted to be your friend so much. And then we dated. The times we were together, when you came home from the Academy on break, those were the best times of my life.”

“So good, you slept with your ex-boyfriend while I was deployed, got pregnant, and dumped me through a series of phone calls, texts and emails. Yep, good times. The best times for me, too.”

I want to smash my fists through something. I want her to leave. I want to forget her, forget that she ever meant anything to me. Then something Beeper said to me rang through my ears. This is my opportunity to ask questions and get answers.

“What do you mean – you were overwhelmed by my new life?”

She glances down at the bundle sleeping soundly in her arms. “You talked about all the places you’d been. How long you were gone on deployments. I couldn’t imagine leaving here, moving away and not having you there all the time. Not having my family and friends with me. It scared me. I didn’t want to admit to you at the time that I didn’t want to be a Navy wife.

I really can’t argue with her on that. Being a Navy spouse is not easy and it takes a special person to live that kind of life. I’ve seen so many marriages… and divorces, sadly.

I look at her, tears rimming her lower eyelids.

“Thanks for telling me, Rachel. And thanks for not going along with something you knew you didn’t want. I think we’re both better off.”

The tears finally run over her cheeks. She quickly swipes them away.

“Thanks…” She stands, wrapping the baby up. “Well, I should go. Tell Mae goodbye for me, will you?”

“Of course.” I walk her to the door and open it.

“You’re a pretty amazing guy, Grant. I really mean that. There’s someone out there for you. I wish it could’ve been me. I wish I was a stronger person…”

We say our goodbyes and I close the door, cursing Beeper in my head. I asked questions. I got answers. And I felt a helluva lot better knowing the truth. I don’t necessarily like the truth, but at least I know what happened. And that’s so much better than what I’d come up with in my head.

Damn, I really hate when Beeper’s right
.

*

Jordyn

Christmas was horrid.

The week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve has not been much better. Apparently, Faith is unhappy with my rude behavior towards Jeremy on Christmas Day. I suppose excusing myself after dinner and pretending to be asleep when they tried to get me to come down and open his present was inexcusable behavior.

I couldn’t care less. I can’t stand Jeremy. And there is no way in hell I will ever marry that self-important prick. He makes my skin crawl. I feel dirty whenever he touches me.

I’m on the cusp of a brand new year. Full of possibilities. A blank page in a new journal. The story of my life that I’ll write without having the Keyes family inserting their ideas of who I am and what I need. I don’t know how the old Jordyn felt, but I am
not
going to be their puppet.

My physical therapy sessions with Carlos are going really well. My back is stronger, and I’m able to walk for longer periods of time without needing massages or pain meds. Of course, there are still days that I push it too far. On those days, I collapse in pain, unable to move. Carlos tries to manipulate the muscles in my lower back to release them, but more often than not, is forced to administer a shot.

Carlos and I are doing yoga on the north lawn. It’s my favorite part of the day. We had an intense morning strengthening session and it feels good to be outside, even though it’s still cold. The sun is shining, and while it’s not really offering much warmth, it’s a welcome addition to the day.

I’m at ease around Carlos. He doesn’t expect anything from me. He pushes me to strengthen my legs and lower back, but never pushes me to remember my life before the accident.

He’s engaged to a girl named Dusty who likes to read my aura and brings me essence oils to promote my healing and good mood. She has no idea that hanging out with her and Carlos does more than oils, or any other people currently in my life.

Carlos talks to me. Asks me questions. And he listens to me. It’s a breath of fresh air and reminds me of something –
of someone
 – from my past. I have this dreamlike memory of a nameless, faceless person, asking me what I want to do with my life.

I try to force the vision into something recognizable. It’s driving me crazy. Carlos tells me just let it happen.

I’m in one of my favorite positions, stretching like a seal getting some sun. My head is back, taking in all the sun I can. Jets pass overhead and I open my eyes to watch them.

“I wonder if Grant is flying one of those jets?” I bring my head level and look at Carlos.

“Maybe.” A lopsided grin slides across his face. “Who’s Grant?”

I still. A wave of warmth passes through me.
Who is Grant?

Scenes of my life begin to flood my vision. The jets cracked open a dam, and my memories are rushing through it.

“I met him… in Tahoe. He’s sweet and wonderful, and – oh my God, Carlos! I remember. I remember him! We had the most amazing weekend together.”

Carlos moves closer. I grasp his hand as my memories flow. Tears hit my eyes, but they’re tears of joy. Relief. Finally, I can put a face and name with the person lost in the shadows of my memories. The one that always seems to excite and calm me when memories would come so close to the surface, but never reveal themselves.

“Grant. My flyboy. We were supposed to meet in Chicago. My family tried to stop me from seeing him before he deployed, but he came to Chicago. I was on my way to meet him when…” A car flashes before my eyes, the bumper making impact with my body.

“Where is he? Why hasn’t he come to visit me? Why hasn’t my family talked about him?” The questions rush from my lips.

“All good questions, Jordyn, but I don’t have answers to them. You’re going to have to talk to your family.”

I jump up, rolling my yoga mat and securing it with the strap. “Are we done for the day?”

“As if I could keep you here.”

I walk to the house as fast as I can, entering the kitchen. Amelia is stirring a pot of something that smells delicious.

“Do you know where my parents are?” I ask her.

She looks up from the pot. “Your father is in his study, and the last time I saw your mother she was having a cup of tea in her sunroom.”

Amelia is the only person from my past that hasn’t tried to manipulate me in some way. And she’s always straightforward when I ask her questions. “Did I ever talk about Grant?”

Her eyebrows knit together and she frowns just slightly. “I remember there being discussions about a man named Grant, but I didn’t pay attention to it. You never spoke to me about him directly.”

“Okay, thanks.” I leave the kitchen and head to the sunroom. My mother is flipping through a magazine and looks up.

“Hello, are your therapy sessions done? How are they going? Are you feeling stronger?” She has a habit of rapid firing questions at me. I’m not sure she really cares about the answers. I just know I make her very uncomfortable.

“Yes, they’re helping me.” I move to the chair across from her, a coffee table between us. “Are you interested in my memories coming back?”

“What?” Her hand flies to her neck. “Of course. We want you to get back to your life, Jordyn. The life you had before the accident.”

“Is that why you keep throwing Jeremy at me, because you think it will jog my memory?”

“Well, yes… of course. We’re hoping you’ll remember how you feel about him.”

“And Grant? Where does he fit in this?”

She instantly pales, her fingers twisting in the gold chain around her neck. “Bronte,” she yells, her eyes never leaving mine.

My father appears at the door. “For Christ’s sake, Faith, why are you screeching at me from the other room?”

I turn to him before my mother can respond. “Why hasn’t Grant been here to see me? If you’re truly interested in helping me regain my memories, why haven’t I seen him?”

Bronte’s eyes shift to his wife and then back to me. “He wouldn’t come, Jordyn. When we contacted him, we told him you were experiencing some medical issues due to your accident, and asked him to come here, but he refused.”

An ice cold wave crushes me. My chest tightens and I feel like I’m drowning.

“Are you sure it wasn’t because he was deployed or something?” My head is spinning, every nerve ending in my body is tingling. This can’t be true. Grant wouldn’t refuse to come here without a good reason.

“He said the time apart had given him some perspective, and that he didn’t believe the relationship could work. It had already become more difficult than he had anticipated. I guess with your injuries and amnesia – him being in the Navy and being deployed so often – he just didn’t think he could care for you.”

My head is shaking back and forth. This doesn’t sound like Grant at all. My hands are shaking in my lap and it feels as if I’m suffocating.

“I can show you the series of emails between us,” Bronte says. “Your mother and I discussed whether or not to tell you about him, see if it jogged some memories. But in the end, we decided that it’d be more painful for you. Right or wrong, we did what we thought was best.”

I turn away from them and stagger up to my room. My head’s spinning. I want to scream. To cry. I fall onto my bed trying to makes sense of it all.

Grant doesn’t want me. He wouldn’t even help me regain my memories.

How could I have been so wrong about him?

*