One Tuesday Morning & Beyond Tuesday Morning Compilation (38 page)

The efforts at Ground Zero were no longer being called a rescue. They were a recovery operation, and that could only mean one thing. Larry was dead. At some point Jamie and especially Jake would have to deal with the loss, but not yet. Not until her husband could figure out who he was. And until then, Jamie was more than willing to focus all her energy on Jake and, in the process, delay her own grieving, as well.

She studied him from the doorway, and he still didn't see her. He was too caught up in a world he was desperate to find again. His burns were healing. Only a few spots still required bandaging—an area on his forehead and his left cheek, and spots on both his forearms. His skin was red and blotchy, and his voice was still not back to normal, but he was looking more like himself all the time. He was finished with the crutches too, and though the boot cast remained, he could get around without assistance. She'd talked to Dr. Cleary about some of the subtle differences that remained, especially the way he walked and carried himself. The man was Jake, for sure, but there was something subtly different about him. Even Brownie, their old lab, had noticed. More than once when Jake had limped into the room, she would bare her teeth at him. Not until Jamie would assure the dog that everything was okay would she lie back down. But even then she seemed to keep a close eye on Jake.

“That's part of the amnesia,” Dr. Cleary had explained. His tone had been reassuring and Jamie was grateful. She still remembered that terrible day when she'd read Jake's chart, and how it had felt to doubt whether he was indeed her husband. The doctor went on, explaining the situation in a way that eased her vague concerns completely.

“When a person loses his long-term memory, he sometimes loses the ability to act like himself. In this case, Jake remembers how to talk and walk, just not how to talk and walk like himself. This could affect his word choices, his mannerisms, even the way he carries himself. It's only natural that your dog might not truly recognize him.”

The news was helpful, and it made Jamie feel better. But still, it was strange to have him walk past without working his arm around her waist and pulling her close for a slow kiss, odd to see him talk to Sierra without stooping down and giving her the horsey rides she missed so much.

Jamie drew in a sharp breath, and the sound of it caught his attention. Of the two books, this time he was reading his journal, and he peered at her over the top of it. The moment he did, his eyes lit up and he set the book down beside him. “We need to go to the beach.”

She stared at him. What was this? Was he actually starting to remember? “The … the beach?”

“Yes.” Enthusiasm filled his scratchy voice, and a smile flashed on his face. “So we can jet ski.”

“You mean you …” Jamie's jaw dropped, and her mouth was suddenly dry. “You remember that?”

The corners of Jake's mouth fell back into place. “No.” He pointed to the journal on the bed beside him. “But I know I used to love it. We both did.”

Disappointment cast a momentary shadow over the moment. When it was gone, Jamie nodded, willing away the tears that stung at her eyes. “So you're ready to get out again?”

“Yes.” He sat up a little straighter in bed and grinned. “I want to play tennis and jet ski with you—even if I'm no good at it now. And I want to have picnics with Sierra.”

“Jake …” She angled her head, and a single happy cry came from deep inside her. “I want that too.”

“And that's not all.” He ran his fingers through his stubby dark hair. It had grown nearly half an inch since the surgery, and it needed to be styled. But he would have to wait and go to a barber later, once he was getting out more. He was so anxious his words ran together. “I want to see the guys from the station, talk to them, and hear about the men we lost.” His eyes held hers, and his smile faded again. “I want to see Sue and Katy. Hug them and cry with them and grieve the death of my best friend the way I should've done weeks ago.”

Jamie's mind raced. The doctor had said this moment would come, but she hadn't expected it to come all at once. Listening to Jake now, it was as though he'd never lost his memory at all. She blinked and took a few steps closer. “Did … did you get all that from those books?”

“Yes.” He narrowed his eyes some. “It's funny, because at first everything I read was fascinating, but I had no memory of any of it.” He glanced out the window and then back at her. “I've read the journal four times through now, the highlighted parts of the Bible, three times. And God is so good to me, Jamie. There's no question that at this point, the information, the thoughts and memories written there are starting to feel familiar. I'm not sure if that's because I've read it so often or because I'm starting to remember.” He gave her a sad grin. “But either way it feels wonderful.”

She crossed her arms, and a hundred questions demanded expression. What about her? Was he starting to remember how they'd been together, how much he'd loved her, or how beautiful their physical love had been before his injuries?

He seemed to sense her thoughts, and he patted the place on the bed beside him. “Come here, Jamie.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she did as he said. Her gaze never left his as she took small steps and made her way beside his bed. She hesitated there, but he tapped the spot next to him once more. This time she sat down on the edge of the mattress, unable to breathe for her nervousness.

“Jamie, I'm sorry.” He brought his hand up and framed her face with it, his eyes searching hers. “I know that I love you. I know it in my head.” He touched the journal with his other hand. “I study my words, and I'm breathless with how much I love you. But I haven't been able to tell you, because when I do … I want it to come from my heart, from the way it'll be when my memory returns. Not because it's a fact, but because it's really how I feel.”

The tears came, and there was nothing she could do to stop them. She blinked so she could see him clearly. “I … I understand, Jake.”

“The thing is …” He let his voice trail off and gazed at the ceiling for a moment. Frustration etched itself into his expression as he caught her eyes once more. “The thing is I
do
love you. I see the way you care for me, the steps you've taken to keep things simple for me these past few weeks. Then I read about my feelings for you in the journal, even in my notes in the Bible. And I can't feel anything but love for you.”

She nodded, not sure what to say. How could she be last on his list? How could he remember Sierra and God, but not her? It didn't make sense … in fact it made her doubt whether he'd ever remember her fully again.

When she didn't say anything, he gently pulled her close and kissed her cheek. She stayed there, her face near his, breathing in the smell of him, the combination of his aftershave and deodorant, the faint scent of familiar detergent woven into his clothes. “Jake …” Her heart pounded and she hung her head. “I miss you.”

“Me too.” His voice was a whisper, a gentle breath against her cheek. “What we shared before … before this nightmare.” He paused and nuzzled the healed part of his cheek ever so lightly against hers. “What we shared is something I can't wait to have again.” He pulled back and locked eyes with her. “I miss it, Jamie. I wish I could remember everything right now so we could start right here where we left off.”

The nearness of him was more than she could bear. She wanted to beg him to take her in his arms, lie down with her there on the guest room bed, and love her the way he'd loved her so many times before. She trembled with a desire that threw common sense out the window and made even thinking all but impossible.

“Jamie …” Again he seemed to sense her feelings, and he slipped his arms around her, drawing her up against his chest, allowing her to be lost in the warmth of his embrace the way she'd been dying to do ever since he came home. His breathing became faster, and this time there was no question—he too was caught by the passion of the moment.

He brought his lips to her neck and made a trail of tender kisses from her collarbone to her ear. “You're so beautiful, Jamie … I lie here thinking about you, wondering how long it'll be until …”

His kisses were driving her crazy with desire, and she could feel herself angling her face toward his lips, drawing closer to him so they could kiss the way she wanted to. But she had to ask him something first, had to know what he was feeling inside. Not just physically, but emotionally. “Do … do you remember this?” Her words were breathy and almost desperate as she arched her back and pressed in against him. “Do you, Jake? Do you remember how it was?”

“Oh, Jamie …” A moan sounded from deep inside his chest, and he drew back slowly. His eyes were clouded in a desire that was as familiar to Jamie as her own heartbeat. Jake placed his hands on either side of her face and looked to a place inside her that she'd kept from him since he'd come home. “Jamie, I want this, I want all of it. Right here … right now.” He blinked and the desire faded some, but it was difficult for him to go on. “But I can't lie to you. I still don't remember it. Not the way I should.”

His words cut her deep and made her draw back a few inches. She wanted to cry or shout or scream that it wasn't fair, that she couldn't survive another day without knowing his love the way it had been before September 11. But she couldn't. It wasn't Jake's fault, and nothing good could come from upsetting him now. Lovemaking for the two of them had always been a sweetly subtle dance, but now Jake no longer remembered the steps or the music.

She sucked in a steadying breath and waited until she had the upper hand over her unbridled emotions. “Okay … then let's wait.”

He pursed his lips and let the air ease from his lungs. His hands fell to his sides once more, and pain filled his eyes. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't, Jake.” She gave a few quick shakes of her head and stood, turning to face him, her back to the wall. The wanting she'd felt only a moment ago faded completely, and in its place was a different kind of desire. The desire only to see Jake return to the person he'd once been. She made her best attempt at a smile. “One of these days you'll remember.”

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and looked up at her. Something about his expression reminded Jamie of Sierra. There was no question Jake was her father. He stretched his hands over his head.

“My body remembers, Jamie. Believe me on that, okay?”

She thought about how his breathing had quickened as he kissed her neck. “I know.” A sad chuckle sounded on her lips, and she waited, letting the moment pass. “So when do you want to start?”

“Start?” He blinked, his face blank.

This time she laughed out loud and tapped his foot with her tennis shoe. “Start living. You know, jet-skiing and picnics and talking with the guys at work. All that stuff you mentioned.”

He grinned. “That stuff. Yes …”

A moment passed, and she enjoyed the struggle on his face, how difficult it was for him to switch gears. If her nearness had made that kind of impact on him, then his days of remembering couldn't be far away.

He raised his eyebrows and grabbed a short breath. “How 'bout tomorrow?”

“Okay.” Jamie leaned against the wall and lowered her chin. “What should we do?”

“Hmmm.” Jake studied her, his eyes thoughtful. “Something the three of us can do together.”

“Right.” She was starting to like the idea. It seemed like years since they'd been out as a family.

“And something where I won't overdo it. Not on my first time out.”

“Okay.”

“I've got it …” He gave her a pointed look tinged with innocence.

Suddenly, she knew that this was the thing he'd wanted to suggest to her all along.

“Let's go to church together. Then we can take a drive down to the beach and maybe walk along the shore.”

The word “No” was almost out of Jamie's mouth when she stopped it. She searched Jake's eyes, trying to see if there was any guile there, any devious plan or ulterior motive. There was none. His journal entries obviously stated his concerns about her lack of faith and the fact that she didn't go to church. But his desire to have her beside him tomorrow for a Sunday service was only his attempt to join the living again in a way that involved Jamie and Sierra.

She bit her lip for a moment and then nodded. “Okay. We can do that.”

As soon as she said the words, panic tapped her on the shoulder and sneered at her. If she went to church tomorrow, he'd expect her to go every week. And church simply wasn't something Jamie did. Not when the whole idea of God was still so senseless and unbelievable.

Jake reached out to her then and took her hand. “Thanks, Jamie.” He glanced at the journal and then back at her. “I know it won't be easy for you. In fact, I kind of thought you'd say no. But I think it'll be good for me. It'll … it'll mean the world to have you and Sierra there.”

Throughout the evening, Jamie had her doubts. But in the end, as she fell asleep that night alone in their bed, craving the feel of Jake beside her, and drowning in the memory of their nearness earlier that day, she knew she had no choice. She would gladly give up a part of herself, her convictions, her determinations, her right arm, if it meant she could in any way help Jake's memory return. Going to church wouldn't hurt her. But living without Jake beside her, missing his touch and his kiss for much longer, might do worse than that.

It might kill her.

T
WENTY
-S
IX

O
CTOBER
14, 2001

The moment they climbed out of her van and headed across the church parking lot, Jamie wondered if she'd made a mistake. Jake's presence at church that Sunday was bound to cause more than a little stir among the congregation. None of them knew about his amnesia, and the attention wasn't something Jamie had considered.

It took just seconds before a family pulled up in a sedan two parking spots away, climbed out of their car, and stared at Jake. The man pulled himself from the group and took three long strides toward them. “Jake … we've missed you.” He looked at Jamie. “I'm Tom. You must be Jake's wife.”