Indulgence (220 page)

“Oh my gosh,” I gasped. I whipped my head around to look at
Vincent. The man in my vision was him. “We met at the Buzzards Brew coffee
shop?” I asked in disbelief.

“That’s right,” Vincent responded, pleasure evident in his
tone.

“You were playing the guitar and I was reading by the fire,”
I stated, still not believing my mind was able to recall a memory.

“Yes, you used to say you sat there pretending to read but
you were actually watching me play.” Vincent smiled again. “I thought that was
sweet.”

“Huh,” was all I could muster.

I was flabbergasted. Not only was I able to remember
something that had happened in the last three years, but the memory was of
Vincent. This man was incredibly handsome, but he apparently was also a
musician. I’d always had a thing for musicians but had never dated one. He also
rode a motorcycle, which meant that he had some sense of adventure, both of
which were incredibly sexy to me. And on top of all that, in the few hours he’d
been with me, he’d been very attentive to my needs. If it hadn’t been for his
hand on my leg, I would have thought that I was dreaming.

“Come on, Allison,” Vincent whispered. “See if you can
remember something else.”

I closed my eyes again and strained my mind. I was willing
to play along now since I was getting results. If I could recall one memory tonight,
maybe I could recall another. I concentrated so hard that I barely noticed
Vincent’s hand on my leg; the heat of his skin seeped through the blanket and
my sweatpants and flowed over my skin. The flickering resumed. My mind ran
through the coffee shop scene again as if in fast forward, and then everything
went blank. I frantically rolled my eyes behind my eyelids searching for
something, anything, but it was all gone.

“I…I can’t. I don’t see anything,” I said, frustrated. I
opened my eyes and looked at Vincent. In that moment, I was consumed with fear
that I couldn’t remember anything else and my memory would never fully return.

“Concentrate,” Vincent instructed. “Let it come to you.”

Vincent’s calm demeanor was enough to calm me, for the
moment at least. I shut my eyes and after a few seconds the blankness turned
into static and more broken visions.

“Wait a minute,” I whispered.

“Shhhh, just concentrate.”

I saw a snippet of a beach but it wasn’t the ocean. It was
Lake Erie, maybe an island rather than the coastline. It was night and the
moonlight casted its hue on a small cottage. My memory skipped forward; there
was a fire in the fireplace and a table set for two. My vision skipped again;
Vincent and I were outside in a hot tub sharing a bottle of red wine. The
bottle markedly jumped out of the scene like it was glowing. It was a green
bottle with a black label and crimson monogram of some sort. Then my mind
flicked through the entire scene again.

I jumped off the couch.

“What did you see?” Vincent asked, springing to his feet
with excitement.

“You, me, some cottage at night and a hot tub.” I ran my
fingers through my hair, not believing what I just saw. I wanted my memory to
return, but this was almost too much. I was confused why certain memories were returning
before others and why I couldn’t recall losing my husband or the grieving
process I must have gone through to get to the point where I felt comfortable
going on a vacation with another man. I guessed I had really moved on – life
goes on. If these memories were filling in, it must be only a matter of time
before I remembered everything else, including Matt’s accident.

“Do you know where we were?”

I stared at the floor as more broken pictures flickered
through my head at a frantic pace; I couldn’t keep up. There was kissing – and
more – and other scenes; the two of us at the zoo, us grocery shopping, Vincent
cooking dinner for me and another vacation but I couldn’t place the locale. I
shook my head hoping to make the images stop, but it didn’t work.

“Allison?”

The pictures flashed through my mind like the sun through
the trees on the drive to my house this afternoon. It was making me dizzy. How
could I go from having no memory of the past three years to this? I finally
understood that Vincent and I were dating. I’d moved on. Got it. But it still
didn’t feel right. Everything felt odd because I still couldn’t remember Matt’s
passing. I felt like I wasn’t honoring Matt’s memory because while I couldn’t
remember his last years, I was remembering all of these fun times with my new
boyfriend.

“Allison?” Vincent called out again. He stepped towards me
and I stepped back.

“No,” I shouted at him.

“Allison, what’s wrong?”

“Everything’s wrong!” I yelled. “All of this! I wake up with
no memory, thinking I’m still married and that my husband is alive only to
discover that he’s been dead for three years. My best friend tells me I shut
out all of my friends, quit my job and moved to this place.” I waved my hand
around with dramatic flair. “This isn’t my home. This isn’t me! Why would I
move to the middle of nowhere? Why would I move away from anybody that could
help me?”

“You said…” Vincent started.

“Stop,” I commanded, holding my hand up. “I don’t feel like
I belong here. That’s the truth. Then there’s you.” I paused; Vincent didn’t
say anything. I calmed down a bit and softened my tone. “You appear in my life
in what seems like out of nowhere. I’m having memories
of
you, but I
don’t
remember
you. Vincent, I don’t think I could dream of someone more
perfect than you. It’s like my fairy godmother granted me my every wish in a
man…you are irresistibly handsome, ride a motorcycle, you’re attentive, you
play the guitar. I mean come on! And all of a sudden all of these memories
flood my mind at once. It’s a little overwhelming.” I broke down in tears, my
shoulders trembling. Vincent wrapped his arms around me.

“It’s okay Allison. It’s okay,” Vincent purred as he rubbed
my back, trying to calm me down.

“Is it?” I asked as I pulled away from Vincent’s burning
embrace. “Because it doesn’t feel okay. I don’t know who I am or whose life I’m
living. Something’s just not right here.”

Vincent rubbed my arms and stared at the floor, as if he
were contemplating something. “Well maybe you need a change of scenery,” he
suggested.

“Come again?” I was baffled by his suggestion.

“You said this doesn’t feel like home to you, right?”

I nodded my head in affirmation.

“Well, maybe you need to go someplace else, a place you
really enjoy. Maybe that will make you feel more comfortable and help your
memory.”

It was an interesting thought. Some place that felt more
homey, maybe a place where we had created a lot of memories. “Feel free to
share any ideas about where that might be, because I can’t seem to think of
any,” I said sarcastically.

“I know just the place,” Vincent smirked.

“Okay, where?”

“Oh no! I want this to be a surprise.”

“Great,” I sighed. “Another surprise. Feels like I’ve had
quite a few of those over the past few days.”

“I promise you Allison, you will know this place when you
see it.”

“Fine,” I resigned. “How are we getting there?”

Vincent’s brow creased. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you showed up on your motorcycle, and I probably
shouldn’t ride on the back of it with a head injury. My Jeep is totaled. So how
are we getting to this mystery place?”

“Look in your garage,” Vincent said with a smile. I studied
his expression for a moment, hoping he would just tell me what I was going to
find, but he offered up no clues. “Go on,” he said with a wink.

I walked through the kitchen over to the door leading to the
garage. When I opened the door and turned on the light, my jaw dropped in
shock.

“You have
got
to be kidding me!” I exclaimed.

Sitting in the middle of my garage was my dream car, a
canary yellow Corvette. Not only was it a Vette, but it was the ZR1 model, an
extremely rare car capable of going over 200 miles per hour.

“This is a ZR1,” I gasped.

“Yes it is,” Vincent whispered in my ear as he snuck up
behind me. “It’s one of a kind, just like you.” He wrapped his arms around my
waist and the heat radiating from his body was very noticeable. I broke from
his embrace.

“But how did I get my hands on this?” I asked, circling the
car.

“Let’s just say I have a few connections.”

“You didn’t buy this for me, did you?” This was way too
generous of a present. I could never accept it, despite the fact that this was
a car I had always dreamed of owning.

“No,” Vincent chuckled. “You bought it. I just helped you
find one. But I did convince you to upgrade to this model.”

“Wait,” I gasped. “I bought this?” I walked around the car
again, staring at it in amazement. I was afraid that if I touched it, it might
disappear.

Vincent nodded.

“But this car costs over $100,000!”

Vincent raised his eyebrows. He didn’t have to say anything
because his expression said it all. Of course I bought the car and of course he
knew how much it cost. I apparently had enough money from Matt’s settlement to
not have to work and to buy a car that cost more than what most people make in
a year. But I didn’t really want to think or talk about all that now. I wanted
to know what Vincent had in store for me. My newfound excitement over my car
had me looking forward to a little adventure.

“So where are we going? What do I need to pack?”

“Grab some warm clothes,” he responded with a sly grin. “And
a bathing suit.”

I packed my bags in five minutes flat. I had seriously
upgraded my wardrobe in the past three years. I felt like I was going through a
stranger’s closet stocked with name brand and custom made clothing. I couldn’t
help but slip into a pair of tight black jeans, a red sweater and tall black
boots. I felt like a rock star. Vincent packed some things from a drawer in my
dresser. According to him, we didn’t live together but he did spend some nights
at my place.

I rushed downstairs and into the garage. “You drive,” I
said, and Vincent jumped behind the wheel. I had no idea where we were going
and the idea of driving didn’t really appeal to me, even if it was a ZR1. The
anticipation of what was to come was more than I could take; I was never one
who liked to be in suspense for too long. Though only a few memories popped
back in my mind, they were enough to let me know that Vincent and I were
together, and when we hung out, it was always an adventure.

“So what kind of motorcycle do you have? I didn’t recognize
it.”

Vincent grinned. He was casually in control of my Corvette
with one hand draped over the steering wheel and the other on the shifter.

“It’s an Agusta. It’s a special production model.”

“Hmmm,” I mulled. “I’ve never heard of an Agusta and I
thought I knew a thing or two about bikes. What makes it a special production
model?”

Vincent’s grin got larger. “It’s a fairly rare bike, limited
in production.”

“Sounds expensive.”

“It is.”

“I bet it didn’t cost as much as my car,” I laughed.

Vincent chuckled as well. “Actually, more.”

I stopped laughing and stared at Vincent’s profile.
Are
you kidding me
, I thought. I had never known anyone who could afford a
motorcycle that expensive.

“Um, what is it again that you do for a living?” I asked. “I
can’t quite remember.”

Vincent glanced at me, humor awash on his face. He seemed to
enjoy the fact that I was learning all of this for the first time, even though
it was technically the second time.

“I own my own medical supply company,” he said.

“Oh,” I responded.

We drove for a bit in silence. My car easily hugged every
curve of the road as we eventually found the highway and headed north. Vincent
sure had a lead foot. I looked over to see the speedometer somewhere over 100
miles per hour.

“Um,” I cleared my throat. “I think you’d better watch your
speed. You know…cops?”

Vincent let out a laugh. “They couldn’t catch us in this
car,” he responded cockily.

“Okay, then can you slow down for me?” I asked more
seriously. “I was just in a car accident.”

Vincent turned his head towards me and studied my face. His
eyes were so bright in the darkness and the gold flecks seemed to circle his
pupils. I could have melted there, just staring into his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was inconsiderate of me.” He
returned his eyes to road and reduced his speed.

We traveled to a two lane highway that ran up the coastline,
passing highway signs with the names of the many islands that dotted the lake.

“I’m guessing we’re going to an island?” I asked, breaking
the silence.

“Yes, but which one?” Vincent playfully responded.

“Why don’t you just save us some time and tell me,” I joked
back.

Vincent looked at me and examined my face. “Rattlesnake
Island.”

I paused again and couldn’t help but stare at Vincent. This
time, I wasn’t in awe of his looks; I was shocked by our destination. “Are you
kidding? And keep your eyes on the road.” I gently pushed Vincent’s face
forward.

“No Allison, I’m not kidding. I have a place there.”

“But isn’t that the island that’s like a private club?”

“It’s not
like
a private club, it
is
a private
club.”

“Yeah, right, there’re only so many members and you have to
wait for someone to leave, which usually means you have to wait for someone to
die, to even have a chance at getting in there?”

“That’s right,” Vincent responded coolly.

Rattlesnake Island was a mystery to everyone except those
select few who were invited to be members. The island was owned by a group of
unknown investors and only those investors, members and their guests were
permitted on the island. Guests had to be approved in advance before setting
foot on the island, and private security guards made sure of it. To become a
member, you had to wait for someone to give up their membership and then be
nominated by at least two current members, a nearly impossible feat since no
one knew who the members were. It was a secretive club run by an elite group of
people who had lots of money. The secrecy caused plenty of speculation as to
what went on at the island.