Reborn (20 page)

I awoke sometime later in a blanket of cold sweat. Jumping from the soaked sheets, I ran naked to the window, threw open the drapes, and with a fear-filled gaze, peered out into the parking lot.

All looked as it should.

Streetlamps glowed in rows down the street and across the lot, mixing with the tree branches. Somewhere in the city, a dog barked. Vehicles belonging to motel patrons were back in their spaces, and so was the white truck.

With my next breath, I picked up a faint, charred scent. I followed the odor to my jeans on the floor. One piece of the hem had been burnt.

arly the next morning, I called Desiree from Glyda’s. When I heard her voice and knew she was safe, I hauled in a deep breath and silently thanked the spirits.

Then, I inspected the parking lot for clues as to whether or not I had dreamed up the horror. What I found was evidence to the contrary. Bits of pavement were gouged out in an irregular line from the empty parking space to my door, perhaps by hot, dripping flames.

I spent the rest of the week under the persona of Shane Black. I went to work, avoided going inside the mansion, ate at the motel diner—thwarting Justin’s suggestions for fun—and slept dreamless. Desiree called once, on Friday night, to remind me of our date the next day. That evening, I fought with my conscience about whether or not to end this relationship before it got started. I could just not show up, not call her back when she called. She would never understand, of course. But I would be doing it for her. The abysmal ache inside my chest told me to heed the threat presented in the latest nightmare, that I really had been visited by Solomon Brandt.

Despite it all, excitement coursed through me as Saturday morning broke over the city. Before showering, I decided to shave off the scruff. Mistake. With my hair in need of a trim, and my face bare, I looked more like my evil twin than I cared to. But it was too late now. I just hoped I didn’t remind Desiree of the image she’d shown me of the other Solomon Brandt.

With my map of Savannah as a guide, and the bus for transportation, I set out to find Chippewa Square, arriving more than an hour early. The statue of the General wasn’t hard to find, since it dominated the area with its height.

Of all the places I’d been to so far in the past month, from Melba’s piece of paradise to the high traffic area around the motel, to the frenzied club scene, this was by far the most soul-fulfilling. Something about the people, the way they mingled; their laughter carrying on the breeze with the bird song overhead in the treetop canopy. My life never held a more perfect day.

As I sat on the base of the statue, people strolling by threw plenty of looks my way, but always positive. One older man, dressed in layers of tattered clothing, even asked me for money. I figured he must need it badly, so I gave him my pocket full of change. A while later, a young couple asked if I would take a picture of them in front of the statue. The woman kindly showed me how to use her camera, and thanked me with a generous smile afterward. This part of the city sparked with life and happiness. No wonder Desiree wanted to meet here.

A group of bicyclers rode through the square. On the other side of them, a head of persimmon curls appeared. Today, Desiree wore it just the way I liked it—long and loose. Once the bicyclers passed, and there wasn’t anything between us, a thrill settled into my chest as I watched her walk toward me. She wore her jeans tight down her legs, ending above her slender ankles. A purple top covered her upper half loosely, leaving her arms bare, which swung at her sides. She was close enough now that I could hear her sandals slapping on the walkway, growing louder with each step she took.

I stood, barely breathing, waiting for the seconds to pass until she was in front of me. Even before words were exchanged between us, we were in each other’s embrace. The spell broke when I heard someone say, “Oh, how sweet.” Then I heard the snap of a camera.

Wearing embarrassed grins, we broke apart.

“You found the place,” Desiree said, her bronze skin shimmering in the light-dappled area.

“It was easy.”

Her gaze fell to my left forearm. “How’s the wound? Any better?”

I lifted my arm and looked at the fresh bandage she’d given me to change with. “It’s getting better, thanks to you.”

She flicked her gaze briefly to my forehead, where the other cut was hidden behind my bangs. “Good.”

Taking a deep breath, she looked up at the tree branches waving merrily above us. “I love it here. It’s my favorite place in all of Savannah.”

“I can see why.” Although the area wasn’t big enough to afford any privacy, the people here seemed happy.

“I grew up near here with my mother. She would bring me to a different square each day when I was little, and when she had the time. This one became my favorite. We’d picnic, and she’d read to me under the shade of the oaks. I still come here to study sometimes.”

“I don’t know how you can study with so many distractions.”

“I can usually tune it all out. It just makes me happy to be here. It’s where I feel closest to my mom.”

Her hand slipped inside mine; our fingers laced together.

“Come on, let’s walk,” she said.

Desiree had a story to tell about nearly every tree, bench, or patch of grass we passed. But I didn’t grow tired of listening to her talk, or watching her express herself with an arm gesture, or a twist of her body. With every breath I drew in under the oaks, I felt as if I belonged, not out of place, or unwanted. In this moment, I was just an ordinary man enjoying the perfect breeze with the perfect woman, on this day in late May.

Desiree stopped in front of a massive tree trunk and pulled me to the other side, where another tree helped partially shelter us from the public. A playful grin lifted her cheeks.

“This is my favorite reading spot—when it’s not taken.”

She let go of my hand and rested her back against one tree. I copied, leaning against the other, resting a foot on the trunk.

Her chest lifted in a deep breath. “Mmm, smell the lilacs?”

I nodded, breathing in the floral perfume, reminding me of Melba’s magnolia tree, which steered my thoughts to Excalibur.

But Desiree continued to talk, pulling me back to the present.

“Did you remember anything from your past yet?”

I didn’t know how to answer. If my cursed dreams and visions were clues to my past, then yes, I had memories.

“No. Nothing.” I hated lying to Desiree, but I wasn’t sure of anything, really.

“That must be awful. I hope you don’t mind, but I had a friend who works for the Metro Police, and has access to police records, look up your name in their data base to see if you were missing.”

I lifted a curious eyebrow. “And?”

“Well, she didn’t find anything.” Her expression turned apologetic. “There’s no police record in the country on Solomon Brandt. No one missing by that name.”

I figured as much.

“So, that makes me think that Solomon Brandt isn’t your real name.”

Unfortunately, it is.

“What do you think?”

“You may be right.”

“You know, like I said before, you can always go have that blood test.”

Although I was sure there was no need, I humored her anyway. “Maybe I will.”

“I can take you to the hospital sometime, after exams are over.”

“That would be very kind of you.”

A soft giggle floated in the sweet air between us. “You’re so formal sometimes. Like a real Southern gentleman. Whoever you are, Mr. Brandt, you must come from good stock.”

Her statement took me back to the latest nightmare. My nemesis had dressed and spoken so formally, he had almost seemed like someone else, until he turned to face me. I shook the horror from my mind and concentrated on the beauty in front of me. This was our day, our
date,
as Desiree had called it on the phone. I couldn’t help but wonder why she’d want to be here in this glorious place with me. I couldn’t even identify myself properly. But, she was here, of her own free will, and it was time I started feeling a little less worthless.

”Solomon? What’s wrong? You look so serious all of a sudden.”

Holding her gaze with mine, I pushed my back off the tree and took a step toward her. I reached for her hands. She gave them freely.

“I think you’re beautiful, Desiree.” The declaration came easily. I’d wanted to say it since the first night I’d met her. “Your eyes are so striking, I find it hard to look at anything else when I’m with you.”

Relinquishing one of her hands, I picked up a lock of fiery ringlets from her shoulder. She placed the abandoned hand on my waist.

“And your hair…”

“You mean my curse.”

“How could such loveliness be a curse?”

“Let’s just say, humidity is my enemy. And it’s quite humid in Georgia—but not today.”

With the silky locks wrapped around my fingers, I moved my hand to her face and brushed the plump part of her bottom lip with my thumb.

A telling shade of blush tinted her cheeks, spreading to the tip of her nose. She lifted her head away from the tree. Her lips fell apart, “Now would be a good time to kiss me, Mr. Brandt.”

She whispered the last word against my mouth as I pressed it into hers, in a smooth, glorious motion that didn’t last nearly long enough. Her eyes were closed and her lips still puckered when I pulled my yearning lips from hers. A heat like no other stirred deep down in my loins. If I felt one more stroke of her eager tongue against mine, one more press of her soft body, I might breach the point of no return, or at the very least, some protocol.

When Desiree lifted her heavy lids, two glassy pools gazed back at me.

“Forgive me if I’ve taken advantage of you, Miss McClinton. It was not my intention.”

Her sweet breath touched my lips when she giggled. “I know. You’re a novelist, who writes whirlwind romances that sweep girls off their feet.”

I gave her a curious look.

“Well, you never know.”

“Maybe.” It wasn’t a bad thought. “For now, I can be whoever you want me to be.”

A playful grin lifted her cheeks. “I like the sound of that, mystery man.”

On the other side of the tree, a crowd gathered around an old woman and a cart she pushed, drawing my attention. People gave the woman money and left with her ware. Flowers, of several kinds and colors, filled their grips.

“Maybe you’re a doctor, or a Secret Service agent, and you know who you are, but can’t tell anyone.”

Her imagination made me grin.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back. And keep looking that way.”

I left Desiree to stare at the opposite tree. The last of the crowd left with a bouquet of yellow tulips as I approached the weathered cart. As if she read my heart, the woman picked the showiest red rose from a bunch and held it out to me.

“A special flower for da special lady,” she said, in a thicker accent than I was used to hearing.

I took the rose. Its fragrance surpassed all others on the cart.

“Dat be tree dolla.”

I pulled out a five and handed it to her. When she passed me the change, the tips of her fingers grazed mine. Instantly, her plump cheeks fell, turning her grin into a silent cry. She dropped the change into my palm and snatched back her hand, as if she’d been stung. The fear in her once laughing eyes doused any happiness inside me.