Twin Flames: Soul Memory (2 page)

“
I know.” He didn’t want to let her go, but what reason did he
have to make her stay?

* * *
*

He set his cases in the passenger seat of the truck and shut
the door. Joy had left an hour earlier and the rain was still
coming down. More of a shower than the overnight storm had been and
the previous rainy days.

Jairo stepped carefully around the muddied yard to disconnect
the generator.

He scuffed his shoes when he stepped up on the porch to remove
the excess muck and entered the cabin.

After making sure the windows were all closed and locked he
reentered the living area. The last images of him and Joy together
teased his mind, his heart pounded. He missed her.

Closing his eyes, he breathed in the faint remnants of her
flowery scent. For everything they accomplished between them, he
knew there were issues they still had to work on.

He tipped his head and glanced at the island countertop. There
lay the moonstone choker Joy always wore. Jairo placed it there
when he removed it from her throat. Reaching for it, he lifted it
to his cheek. Unlike most gems, these were warm, even after hours
of not being against the flesh of his loved one.

Joy told him how she made the four-banded choker and the
amount of time it took for her to locate the right shades of the
stone. He fisted his hand around the jewels and gently placed the
piece in his pocket.

They had plans to meet up at the end of the week. He was
flying out to where she lived.

With a smile, he locked the front door and strode to the
driver’s door.

Joy didn’t return, that must mean the bridge is no longer
submerged.

Jairo started the truck and turned it around. The tingle at
the base of his skull thumped, demanding attention. He shook his
head and rubbed the back of his neck.

What in the hell is wrong with me?

He downshifted and let the powerful engine ease the heavy
metal slowly through the large puddles dotting the dirt drive and
road.

The pounding in his head got worse and affected his eyesight
the closer he got to the bridge. Jairo barely made out the blurry
outline of the cement structure that spanned the twenty-foot wide
gap.

Until he got to the other side, there was no cell service.
When summer storms flooded the area, they always seemed to
interfere with reception. Getting across the expansion was his
first priority and then he’d call for assistance. The pain and his
vision continued to get worse. Driving like this would certainly
cause an accident.

The truck jostled as the front tires bumped over the
difference between dirt and concrete. Another movement and the
vehicle suddenly slammed to a stop. His face hit the steering
wheel.

“
Joy…”

* * *
*

A slight ringing in her ears had Joy tilting her head to the
side. With a small shake of her head, she waited for the sound to
subside. Seconds later, she continued toward the exit doors of the
airport, luggage in hand. Stepping out into the humid Miami air,
she breathed in deep, held it, and then released. Tension consumed
her.

It’s just my nerves for the meeting tomorrow night.
She kept repeating
the thought like a mantra.

Joy straightened her shoulders and walked to the curb,
crossing her fingers a taxi would drive up soon. Suddenly her
stomach rolled as if she rode a roller coaster and her heart
pounded painfully against her ribs. Every now and again, she’d turn
her head and her eyes wobbled. Like those plastic googly ones on
stuffed animals. Images shifted and weaved. She pressed her fingers
to her temples and closed her eyes.

Something doesn’t feel right.

The crunch of tires on pavement had her squinting and lifting
a hand. Joy wanted to get to the hotel and lie down, soon. A dull
throb started at the base of her skull and wound its way up and
around to the center of her forehead.

What the hell is going on? What’s wrong with me?

The cabby hopped out and lifted her cases into the
trunk.

Joy forced her lips into what she hoped was a cheerful smile
and gave him the name of the hotel where she had
reservations.

“
I’ll have you there in no time, señorita.” His Spanish accent
came across more pronounced than Jairo’s, but his English was
understandable and he seemed friendly. He opened the back door for
her.

“
Thank you, señor.” She quickly ducked her head and everything
shifted on its axis. Joy blinked rapidly to clear the film from her
vision. It remained. She gripped the doorframe with one hand to
steady herself as the other went to her temple. She lowered herself
slowly toward the backseat and teetered unsteadily. The roof of the
cab connected with her cheek.

“
Oh, señorita, you okay?” He grabbed her elbow to keep her
from wobbling.

“
Yes, yes, just moved too fast.” Joy tried to focus on the
kind driver’s face.

“
Slow down, if you aren’t used to the humidity here in Miami
it can play with you.”

“
Thank you, I’ll have to remember that.” She faced the opening
and prepared to dip her head with more care in order to slide into
the seat.

Again, the world tipped. Joy grasped the door handle and this
time the car frame, too. Willing whatever was wrong with her to
stop, she prayed the driver didn’t think she was drunk or worse, on
drugs. She breathed in, held it, and then released it once the
jitter of images stopped.

With gentle care, she bowed her head and scuffed the area
above her eye on the curve of the roof. Grinding her teeth, she
eased herself into the seat and tugged the door closed.

Klutzy? Seriously? What is going on? I haven’t ever had a
problem with grace before. This is for the damn birds.

The car surged forward through terminal traffic. She lightly
touched her forehead and then her temple, high on her cheekbone
tenderness and a small bump, but her fingers came away with no
blood. Joy heaved a sigh of relief. The smack to her face would be
like the one she suffered slipping on ice and banging her head on
the doorframe of her car last winter.

“
Joy…”

“
Jairo?”

Nothing.

“
Jairo? Are you okay?”
She held her breath and waited
for his response. After a few seconds and still he had not come
back, she tried to reach out to him as she had
before.

Instead of locating the presence that was all Jairo, she
encountered blackness. That hadn’t ever happened before. Her head
throbbed in earnest as the cab pulled under the overhang to the
entrance of the hotel.

“
You will want to put some ice on that, señorita, to counter
the swelling.” The cabby opened the backdoor and helped her out,
his hand remaining on her elbow as if to reassure himself she
wasn’t about to topple over.

“
That is my plan, señor, thank you for your concern.” She
smiled and handed over the bills she dug from her purse.

Joy got the impression the older man was reluctant to release
her, but he did and returned to his taxi. The valet assisted with
her bags and she turned to face the ocean, only about a mile from
where she stood.

I will have the funding for my club, and Jairo and I will be
together. My mother was wrong. People can know each other instantly
without ever having met in person first, because we did.

Uncertainty flowed through her body as she turned away from
the picturesque view. Doubt doubled and tripled until Joy thought
for sure she would drown in sadness. She inhaled to settle what
trampled over her happiness, refusing to acknowledge it was
anything other than her nerves about the pending business
meeting.

Are you worthy to have a love as profound as what Jairo feels
for you?

The sharp stab of fear pierced her heart. She told herself it
was just the physical distance between them and nothing more. Joy
was worth everything Jairo felt for her, she was. It had nothing to
do with conceit and everything to do with what she knew deep down
as right and true.

She pressed those concerns back and stepped forward through
the double doors of the hotel.

Her future included a wonderful man and her dream coming into
reality.

What more could she wish for?

Joy brushed the abrasion at her temple with her fingertips.
Something didn’t feel right.

Her hand tightened on the telephone receiver. “Are you
certain?”

“
Yes, ma’am,” a friendly feminine voice responded. “You
arrived two days ago and signed the register as Joy Lyons-Morgan.
We have your photo ID and credit card here on file.”

“
Was…was there anything—strange about my appearance?” She
gritted her teeth.

I’ve been here for two days? Did I sleep yesterday
away?

“
You had a nasty bruise on your cheek and above your eye.” A
pause, and then, “I inquired about EMT services but you declined.
You laughed and said it was nothing. That you hit your head when
you got into the taxi at Miami International.”

She touched the goose egg above her eyebrow, her cheek nearly
unblemished now.

“
Are you sure you’re all right, Miss Lyons-Morgan?” Concern
laced the receptionist’s voice. It brought tears to Joy’s eyes. She
did not remember hitting her head.

“
Yes, yes.” She swiped at the moisture. “I’m fine. Thank you
for your help.”

Joy replaced the phone. Her attention focused on her finger,
the ring, noticing the play of light on the facets. Who gave it to
her?

She straightened and turned sideways to get a better look in
the mirror. Then loosened the belt of the terry robe she wore,
letting the material fall to bare her back. An elaborate double bow
and arrow tattoo on the left and a scorpion with a rosebud for a
stinger graced the spot between her shoulder blades.

Why can’t I remember getting them? Why did I choose them? When
were they done?

Joy knelt, picked up her purse, and dumped the contents on the
floor. Spreading the items with her fingers, she snatched up a
wallet and flipped it open. She lifted out a driver’s license and
let the rest fall.

Her eyes narrowed as she brought the official document close.
The state issued it to a five foot four inch tall Joy Lyons-Morgan.
Her gaze moved to the picture, her mind remained blank.

The photo reflected eyes of a pale hue, the tiny replicated
features appeared crystal, and light sandy-colored hair. She
glanced at her reflection. A stranger looked back, the likeness of
the two undeniable.

Was this really her? Was
she
Joy Lyons-Morgan?

Who in the hell is Joy Lyons-Morgan anyway?

Making a face, she pushed the waist-length wavy tresses back.
What woman would keep strands so long? She had no idea. Was it by
her desire or her love for a man erased from her memory?

“
Dammit! Who the hell are you?”

She glared at the mirror on the closet doors and noticed the
shift in her pupils. She froze. Her heart thundered in her ears and
her breath caught.

I’m imaging things.
She dropped down on the bed and gripped the edges
of her robe closed with a single hand. Her throat ached and she
inhaled. She sighed and flopped back, staring at the ceiling. Since
she was in a hotel, she assumed she did not live in this
city.

So why am I here? Where in the hell do I come from?

She rolled to her side and reached over the edge. Lifting the
license, her gaze settled on the permanent address. Joy belonged in
Wyoming. Then why was she in Miami, Florida?

Pressure built in her temples and the piece of plastic
fluttered from her fingers. She seemed to repeat the same exercise.
Questions, denial, unrelenting blank memory, followed by a piercing
headache. Nothing gave her an ounce of recall or prevented the
pain.

Blinking, she glanced at the laptop beside the emptied purse.
That piece of electronics yielded yet another challenge. She
swallowed a groan. No password protected it and some of the
information it held made her ask more questions.

So why was she afraid to delve further?

One file titled “Jairo” actually brought tears to her eyes.
Moisture blurred her vision and she shut out what lay before her.
She couldn’t keep looking at the items when they gave her nothing
but heartache and pain.

Joy moved to the floor, sat crossed legged, and picked up the
contents, replacing them in the purse. A leather-bound ledger
sticking out from beneath the skirt of the bed caught her
attention, and she reached for it. The pages flapped open to the
center, the words no more than a blob through her tears.

Those journal entries only hinted at the person called Joy. It
gave no answers to her growing list of questions. Sighing, she
closed the book and placed it in the bag.