Incredible Dreams (7 page)

“Well, that’s good to know.”

The ward’s main door opened and Jack recognized the doctor, a plump man in a white lab coat. A nurse with a blocked, heavy figure followed close behind as they headed directly to the foot of the amnesiac’s bed.

“Good morning.” The doctor greeted her, keeping his eyes on the chart. “How are you feeling today?”

“Lost,” she answered, with a distance in her voice and a reserve in her manner that left Jack feeling powerless.

“Do you know your name?” the doctor asked, still wrapped up in the chart and scribbling his notes.

“Izzy. My name is Isabelle Miller.”

Jack wondered why anyone would call her ‘
Izzy
’. Such an odd name. He preferred Isabelle. It suited her better.

“Any idea what year it is?”

Her brow furrowed and her eyes darkened before settling back on the physician. “No.”

“Not even a guess?”

“I have no idea.”

“How about 1946? How does that sound?”

“Crazy.” Her expression shifted from annoyance to doubt to fear. The exchange chased an apprehensive shiver down Jack’s backside.

The doctor stifled a chuckle. “Other than your loss of memory, you’re in good health. There’s no reason why you can’t go home.” He finally relinquished his scribbling, laid the chart against his chest and shielded it with crossed arms as if it held some secret information.

Isabelle looked at Jack. “You wouldn’t happen to know where that is, would you?” Fear and uncertainty colored her eyes darker than usual—if you could call the few occasions he’d met her as usual.

“Yes.” Jack slid his hands inside his trouser pockets. “I can get you home.” It wasn’t a total lie. Okay, so he didn’t know where she lived. But he could find out.

“Very good.” The doctor took a couple of steps back and paused in the doorway. He turned to the nurse, saying, “Prepare her release, Miss Holcomb.”

After the hospital staff disappeared into the hallway, Izzy glanced toward the line of empty beds and lingered on them for a few seconds before looking back at him. “You know where I live?” Her body went frigid. He didn’t need to touch her to know it. “You sure you’re not stalking me?”

“I don’t know where you live, Isabelle,” he said, shaking his head. “I lied.”

“What? Why would you do that?”

“Well, Isabelle,” he said, dropping into the chair. “Around here, given that you have some sort of amnesia, and they won’t know what to do with you, the state hospital would be your next destination, see. And I just couldn’t let that happen.”

Jack questioned his motives. Why did he feel compelled to help this girl? Protecting her wasn’t the only thing on his mind, but it was enough for now. He just couldn’t stand the thought of seeing her stored away and forgotten, and he knew that’s what would happen in light of her current mental incapacities.

What he was going to do with her, he didn’t know. He’d find an inn or a boarding house somewhere. Anything was better than the alternative.

Now, all he had to do was get her out of there before the hospital staff figured out his trickery.

CHAPTER 7

IZZY COULDN’T be sure, but she had a pretty good idea about what he meant when he said state hospital. Various scenarios ran through her mind, all of them scary.

The only other patient, the one she’d seen earlier at the far end of the ward, had been strangely silent during the doctor and nurse’s visit. He’d moved though, and was now lounging just a bed or two away. He waved and disappeared.

Hoo boy! The nuthouse was gaining ground by the minute.

“I think I need some rest,” she said, massaging her forehead, “but definitely not in lock-up.”

Once he had time to think about it, would he think her crazy? Perhaps she should accept his offer before he changed his mind.

She scanned her surroundings, climbed from the bed and headed for the nearby locker, assuming her clothes were inside. A vaguely familiar red dress hung on the only hanger, along with a pair of dress shoes and a glittered clutch purse. The apparel appealed to Izzy, but it seemed old-fashioned. Still, what choice did she have? Choices were in short demand.

She gathered the clothing at her disposal and hustled behind a nearby partition. “So, I assume you have a plan?” She discarded the hospital gown and stepped into the dress.

“Yes, ma’am. I do.”

“And that is?”

“I figure someone at the
Cool Cat should know where you live, see?”

“Makes sense,” she said, working her arms into the sleeves. “They are my employer.” Pausing, Izzy checked herself and questioned the attire’s practicality for everyday use. Still, it was better than the patient’s gown, so she folded the hospital’s property neatly and laid it on a nearby table. “So, you think someone at the Cool Cat will know where I live?” She slipped her feet into shoes that seemed foreign.

“I believe so, yes. But today is Sunday.”

“So?”

“The Cool Cat isn’t open on Sunday or Monday.”

Izzy groaned. “Where do I stay until Tuesday?”
A motel
, crossed her mind and she grabbed her purse.

Did she have any money? She’d need money or maybe a credit card for a motel.

Aside from a few pieces of cosmetics paraphernalia, the bag held nothing of use. Izzy didn’t like the idea of being homeless or helpless.

“I’ve got that taken care of.” He said of her shelter dilemma.

Thank God, but... “Am I going to regret this?” She stepped from behind the screen and propped her hands on her hips, keeping her feelings—half appreciation and half fear—a secret.

Jack rose and stepped forward, extending his hand. “I will never do anything to hurt you or place you in danger, Isabelle.”

Humph
. “Famous last words.” She looked at his hand but avoided touching it. “Ya’ know, just in case you got any funny ideas—” She breezed past him. “—I’m pretty sure I can take you.”

“Where are you going to take me?” he asked, following her toward the doors.

She wanted to scream but contained it to just a thought, somehow. A feeling of familiarity washed over her—this wasn’t the first time he’d called out her aggravation.

“You go ahead and make jokes.” She breezed through the swinging doors. “But I’m a red belt in Tae Kwon Do and I’m pretty sure I can kick your ass.”

She didn’t get the chance to wonder about her odd comment, thanks to bed-boy, who was now standing in the middle of the hallway.

How’d he get out here
? He hadn’t gotten up and walked out of the patients’ ward. He’d simply disappeared, right before her eyes. And now he’d reappeared here in the hallway. The nuthouse was closing in, gaining ground by the minute.

Nurse Holcomb rounded the corner at the opposite end of the corridor, heading straight for the mysterious man.

Look out
! Halting the scream to just a thought, Izzy’s instincts urged her to close her eyes but curiosity forced her to keep one open.

The nurse passed through bed-boy. He stepped aside and disappeared.

Izzy’s eyes shot open, wide. Her pounding heart echoed in her ears. Denial trembled her shoulders and wobbled her head. She reached for Jack.

“Are you okay, Isabelle?” He offered her a sturdy hand.

“I think so. I’m just a little dizzy.” Feeling faint, she wrapped her arm around his. The reason was up for grabs. Did it stem from her medical condition? Seeing people who weren’t there? Or perhaps her close proximity to Jack?

He led her through the hospital corridors and out the main entrance, and Izzy kept her eyes locked on the floor to avoid seeing anyone else fade out and disappear.

They crossed the parking lot and a brisk air smacked her in the face. A chill shivered over her but it wasn’t the climate.

“You cold?” he asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “I find the cool air refreshing.”

Jack escorted her to the car and recognition overpowered her again. Like a true gentleman, he opened the passenger door. That seemed about as right as her belonging in 1946.

The Chevrolet emblem on the glove box roused her curiosity. She’d been in this car before. It was one of the few memories she owned.

Consumed by déjà vu, she bit back the frustration that followed and fogged everything trying to emerge.

“Is it really 1946?” she asked. The doctor had said it, but it didn’t seem credible.

“Yes ma’am.” He climbed into the driver’s side and shut the door.

“The date?”

“January 27th.” His solemn tone satisfied her curiosity.

“Why again are you doing this for me?” She let the questions flow as they came to her. “You said, because you didn’t want to see them send me to the local nuthouse?”

“Let’s just say it’s something I feel compelled to do, Isabelle.” He curled his fingers around the steering wheel and paused before reaching for the ignition key. Starting the engine, he turned to her, preparing to shift the car into gear. “I feel connected to you. Don’t ask me to explain it, because I can’t.”

“So, the fact that you and I keep running into each other is...fate?” She’d meant it to be funny but now that she’d said it, she worried that it sounded stupid.

“I’m beginning to believe that.” He pressed his foot against the gas pedal and eased the car out of the parking space.

“That’s a pretty good line.” She took her time turning toward him. Skepticism loomed in her thoughts and she tried to project that in her expression, but she doubted it covered her amusement. “Does it work on many girls?”

“I don’t know.” He teased her with a salacious wink. “You’re the first I’ve tried it on.”

“Where are we going?” The roominess inside the car amplified the distance between them. She rested her arm along the back of the seat, inches from his shoulder. Energy of a sexual nature urged her to touch him. She grabbed the seat, hooking her tensed fingers around the edge to keep from acting like a complete fool.

“Some of the guys keep a little bungalow not far from the airfield.” A mischievous grin spread across Jack’s face. “In case of an emergency, see.”

Izzy snorted. “So I’m an emergency?” She shifted, feeling awkward. “Look, Jack, I’m not going to find myself as... entertainment, am I?”

“No. I told you I’d never do anything to harm you, see.”

“Just checking,” she said, with a one-sided shrug. She considered apologizing, but thought better of it. In her shoes, only a fool would drop their guard.

“Isabelle, just consider me your personal protector. I will never let anything happen to you.”

She wanted to believe him but it wasn’t wise. Still, deep down inside, she knew he was telling the truth.

Jack pulled into a driveway and stopped the car. She reached for the door handle and he stalled her with one hand while opening his door with the other. “Don’t you dare. You sit tight and let me be the gentleman I am.”

He raced around the car with ease, opened her door, and offered his hand with a smile and a glint in his eye. She draped her palm over his and stepped out of the vehicle. Their closeness ignited desire and she melted like marshmallows in hot chocolate.

The sound of rushing waves suggested the ocean was steps behind the house. An image of walking hand-in-hand with Jack along the shoreline, water brushing against their bare feet preoccupied her thoughts. She tripped on the walkway, stumbled and almost fell.

Jack grabbed her and drew her close, urging her to use him as support. She didn’t fight it. She didn’t want to. She drew a deep breath and draped her arm around his waist, enjoying the feel of his solid body.

They eased up the steps and Jack wrapped her in the safety of his embrace, steadying her. He paused at the entryway, drew a key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. With one-handed effort, he pushed the wooden door open and nudged Izzy inside.

She glanced around, gaping her mouth open in astonishment. Although furnished, the décor of soft lights, velvety-smooth fabrics and beads—lots of beads—left something to be desired.

Good, Lord.
The interior looked like a cheap cathouse. “Well, this is quaint.” She tried not to laugh.

“Quaint, huh? That’s generous.” He switched on a light near the door.

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers.” She gazed at the wall-hangings of naked women flaunted on every wall. “You might want to tell your friends that these aren’t going to help them score,” she said, pointing to the gaudy tapestries. “If a girl walks in here and likes these, she’s not going to like her escort...unless they’re another woman.”

Jack chuckled and sank down into the couch. He relaxed, spreading his arms and legs apart. “Isabelle, I find your frankness absolutely irresistible.”

“My frankness, huh?” She examined the couch, more the size of a loveseat, before sitting. Small and cozy, the size was clearly a strategic move on the tenant’s part to minimize the space between them and their conquests.

“Seriously, I know it looks cheap.” He paused, looking around. “It’s the best I can do on short notice.” He glanced back at her, the need for approval shining in his expression. “You’ll be safe here, until the Cool Cat
opens and we can find out where you live.”

“Don’t get me wrong...” She touched his shoulder with a gentle hand. “I do appreciate what you’re doing for me. I can’t imagine where I’d be if it weren’t for you.” Uneasiness tore at her nerves. What price might there be for his generosity? Izzy wouldn’t mind sleeping with Jack, but she didn’t want to be another conquest. She wanted to mean something more than one more notch.

“Isabelle, I’m not expecting anything in return,” he said as if he’d read her mind. “Yes, I think you’re beautiful. Yes, I’m very attracted to you. But no, I don’t maneuver women into a corner to make them feel obligated, see.” His tone hardened and his stature stiffened, like someone who’d just been slammed with a cold, blustery wind.

“Leave it to me.” She tried to conceal her nerves, failing miserably. “I’ve managed to alienate my guardian.”

“Why don’t we forget all that.” He rested his arm on the back of the couch and turned to her. “What would you like to have for dinner? I’m a pretty good cook, see.”

“You?” She chuckled. Something told her men in the forties weren’t much for the kitchen, except out of necessity. Why had she referenced the era as
the forties
in her thoughts? That almost made her think of it as past tense.

But that was ridiculous.

Jack moved into the kitchen and checked the food supply. “I think we’ll need some provisions,” he said, holding open the door of some ancient-looking refrigerator and examining the interior contents. The appliance was big, bulky and this weird robin-egg blue. The damned thing didn’t even have a light inside.

His odd word choice chased her curiosity away about the peculiar looking refrigerator. “Provisions?” She leaned against the door jamb and folded her arms across her chest. “You mean like food?”

“Exactly.” Jack swung the refrigerator door shut. He glanced over his shoulder and paused. His eyes brightened and a smile curled on his lips. “If you want to change your clothes, I had some of the guys borrow some stuff for you. It’s all clean, and in the bedroom.”

“I would like to change into something more casual.” She glanced down at her
much-too-formal-for-daytime
attire.

Jack shifted her around, and from behind he guided her by the shoulders down a short hallway. He leaned around her, opened the door and gave her a nudge inside.

“It’s all in there,” he said, and closed the door between them.

Jack paused for a moment and headed back to the living room where he sat on the couch and waited. After a brief bout with uncertainty, he tapped his fingers on the sofa’s arm.

Isabelle Miller had claimed a spot inside his head, and now she was working her way down to his heart. She said some crazy things from time to time, but the thought of her walking out of his life was somehow saddening.

He wanted her. He wanted her in the worst way. But he wanted her to want him, too. When they did get around to sex, it would be mutual. That’s the only way Jack wanted it. He wanted her begging for more, not pleading for him to stop.

She emerged slowly, wringing her hands and dropping them into fists at her sides. Standing before him in a pair of dark slacks and a white button-down blouse, she didn’t seem to care much for the attire, but he liked it. It showed off her figure in the most flattering way. Her slim neck sloped daintily into graceful shoulders that seemed almost too small for her generous breasts. The belt around her waist defined its smallness. Curved hips tapered into long slender legs. The toe nails on her bare feet were painted red. His heart took a perilous leap, falling into a place he’d never been—commitment.

She shrugged. “This seems to be the current fashion in women’s casual wear.” She breezed toward him and stopped near the coffee table. “So, is there a market near here? Oh wait, what do they call them in the military—commissaries?”

Her odd choice of terms didn’t discourage him. He assumed it was an effect of the amnesia, something he didn’t know a whole lot about. “Let’s go down to the Piggly Wiggly. I think we can get what we need there, see.”

“The Piggly Wiggly?” She wrinkled her brow.

“It’s a brand new store. I haven’t been there yet, but from what I hear it’s pretty amazing.” He guided her toward the door, opened it and led her outside.