One Tuesday Morning (38 page)

“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.”

“Yes.” She gave him a polite smile but kept her distance.

“Jake …” Tom reached his hand out, and Jake shook it. The stranger's eyes welled up. “I'm … I'm sorry about your buddies. About all of it. We've been praying.” He shrugged. “The whole country's praying.”

Jamie could feel Jake's uneasiness.

He shifted his weight some and nodded. “Thanks.”

There was a sad hesitation, then the man gave Jake a half grin. “You look great.”

Sierra worked her way to the other side of Jake and took his hand. A smile lit up her face, and it was obvious she agreed with the man. “Daddy's getting better!”

“It must feel good to get out.” The sun was bright that morning, and a cool breeze played through the trees that lined the parking lot.

“Yep.” Jake squinted and cast a look toward the church entrance.

There was nothing left to say, and Jamie could feel the moment grow awkward. “Excuse us …” She nestled against Jake's side and took two small steps forward. “We don't want to be late.”

“Right.” The man dropped Jake's hand and shot one more smile at him. “We're here for you.” He looked at Jamie. “All of you. Anything you need.”

“Thanks.” Jamie's answer was quick, and the man got the hint. He nodded once more and returned to his family. When he was out of earshot, Jamie leaned close to Jake and whispered, “They don't know about the amnesia, right?”

“Not unless you've told them.”

“No.” She fell in step beside him. “I only told the guys at the station. I haven't said a word to anyone else.” Jamie thought about that as they headed for the church's front door. Of course she hadn't said anything. She didn't know these people, not one of them, because Jake had kept this part of his life separate from her, not wanting to pressure or force her to believe as he did. Not wanting to burden her with talk about faith or religion or even God. Unless it was something she wanted. And even though they'd been very kind, bringing meals by and making promises of prayer for their family, Jamie wasn't about to share private details with them.

Fifteen yards separated them from the church doors, and along the way three other people waved or approached Jake with hugs and statements that they'd been praying for him. Jamie cast an occasional glance at Jake, and she felt him press in closer to her. He seemed to sense the way the attention of these strangers made her feel uncomfortable. He might not remember his past, but his journal had taught him lots about her. He had to know that attending church with him was not easy for her.

He brought his head close to hers and spoke in a voice only she could hear. “You okay?”

She licked her lower lip and shrugged. “Nervous.”

Sierra was skipping along on the other side of him, her hand tucked in his. But now, for the first time since the terrorist attacks, Jamie felt Jake reach for her hand and weave his fingers between hers. The sensation made her knees weak. In a rush of familiarity, she felt instantly at ease. She was with Jake and Sierra, together as a family for the first time in more than a month. And not even a sermon could touch the joy of that.

They went inside, Jake limping and leading the way. With every person who approached them, Jake pretended he remembered.