Love and redemption, p.1
Love and Redemption, page 1
Love and Redemption
(Small Town Secrets #8)
Jade C. Jamison
Copyright
Copyright 2011, 2021 by Jade C. Jamison
Cover image © keeweeboy/ depositphotos
Cover design by Mr. Jamison
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Portions of this novel were previously published in 2011 as the book Fabric of Night.
Dear Reader,
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Jade
for my “Bestest,” Jerry
Thanks for reading thousands and thousands of my words
without complaint
Chapter One
I scrabbled up the rocky, muddy bank, clutching and clawing my way out of the strong current that continued trying to pull me back in. Once I had my feet out of the water, I allowed my head to drop to the ground for a moment, drawing in protracted, deep breaths. I was so cold, frozen down to my bones. Subconsciously, I knew I should be shivering, but I was probably too numb.
Finally, I opened my eyes, my head still lying on the ground. Although it was dark outside, my eyes were starting to adjust. As I lifted my head to take in my surroundings, I located the moon through the tree branches, but its thin sliver of light didn’t offer much assistance. Still, I slowly began making out the edges of treetops and bushes.
You’ll never get another thing from me.
Where had that come from? Those words kept swirling around my head, but there was no face connected to them, no event. Just a sentence that kept cycling through my brain.
Lifting myself up slowly, the muscles in my arms quivered, but it was from exhaustion, not the chill in the air. Suddenly, I felt tired.
And cold. Very cold. When the freezing sensation finally hit my nerves, I realized I had to find shelter and dry off. As my body began to shake, I knew if I stayed this way much longer, I could get hypothermia.
I could die.
With that thought, I began stripping off my clothes. The air seemed warm and something in my head told me it was spring, so it should be—but the water in the river had been ice cold. After stripping off the jeans that felt like weights and the sagging tank top that appeared to be torn up anyway, I kept my bra, panties, and sneakers on. And then I ran. I ran like hell away from the river that had almost killed me.
After some time, I’d finally gone far enough that the roar of the water was now a distant whisper, and I paused to catch my breath. Grateful that I’d removed my outer clothing, I was starting to warm up enough that I could feel my fingers and toes again.
Under the starry darkness, I stood silently taking deep breaths of air, allowing my heartbeat to slow to normal, and I tried to think.
Why was I here?
Nothing, absolutely nothing, came to me. All I could get from my uncooperative gray matter was words, sounds from someone’s voice that was fading the longer I walked. They meant something and yet they meant nothing, as I had no context to put them in.
Instead of worrying about me, check yourself.
What, exactly, was that supposed to mean?
Without thought, I started walking again, slowly this time, while I continued probing my mind for clues. But I couldn’t remember a single thing. Nothing. The most basic questions I knew I should be able to answer, I couldn’t. What was I doing before I awakened? Why was I in the river? As I continued asking questions, I realized I couldn’t remember anything.
Why couldn’t I remember anything other than the last few minutes?
As I tried to grasp something, anything from whatever was hiding in my brain, I started to panic. I couldn’t even remember my name—and yet I recalled the concept that people have names. Why could I access ideas but not memories?
What had happened to me?
As much as I wanted those answers, I knew I had to keep moving. Although I wasn’t afraid out there in the middle of nowhere, I knew I should be. There could be wild animals or maybe even people who wanted me dead. There could be danger right behind me, but how could I know?
More than safety, I needed a bed. I needed sleep.
Shelter. Security.
And, of course, answers most of all.
I continued to walk, the surface of my skin chilled, reassured by the sound of pine needles crunching under my feet. The fatigue was really starting to set in as I walked over one hill and another, the C-shaped moon my only beacon.
I’m strong.
After a little longer, a cool breeze began stirring the treetops, and it instilled in me a sense of urgency. What if civilization was miles and miles away? What if shelter would be something I had to make out here? As the moon and stars began disappearing behind dark clouds, I understood a storm was moving in, and I had to do something.
As I reached the top of a rise looking over a small valley, a sense of relief washed over me when I took in several lights here and there in the distance, telling me that people were here, people who could maybe help me. Suddenly, I had energy again, and I began sprinting.
None of what I’d seen thus far seemed familiar to me at all, but I had to hope that something would come to me eventually. Despite not knowing what my life was a few hours earlier, I knew salvation was not far away. While I hoped to have answers to all my questions, for now I had a solution to one: shelter and warmth.
I just had to make it to the closest light.
Chapter Two
There weren’t many lights on at this house as I approached, but at least there were no snarling dogs. The place seemed quaint and cozy, even in the dark—but, I supposed, with an impending storm, anywhere might have felt inviting.
When I got to the door, I looked for a doorbell but couldn’t see one, so I knocked. After a bit, there was no answer. I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering as I knocked again, this time more loudly, hoping to cut through any possible noise inside.
Wrapping my arms around my frame as tightly as I could, I waited. Relief flooded my body as a light switched on above me, but I was shaking like a leaf. When the inner door finally opened, the screen door acted as a barrier between me and the person on the other side.
An older man with thinning salt-and-pepper hair and warm brown eyes scrutinized me for a few seconds, long enough to realize he didn’t know me. Although that meant he’d have no answers for me about who I was, he still might be able to offer shelter. Before I could say anything, he asked, “Can I help you, miss?”
Through gritted teeth, I said, “I hope so. I’m wet and cold—and lost.” Just opening my mouth made my teeth begin chattering loudly again so I couldn’t even ask the question I wanted to.
An older woman with blonde hair appeared just behind the man, and I wasn’t sure if she’d heard anything. Her eyes seemed to take me in. “Are you in danger?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
Her green eyes narrowed, but I wasn’t sure why. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t remember anything. I woke up on the bank of the river,” I said, pointing in the general direction from where I’d come. “And I was soaking wet.”
“What happened to your clothes?”
For some reason, I lied. “I don’t know.” But it was out of my mouth before I could stop it and I worried that if I corrected myself, I might lose any chance of getting their help. My teeth started making noise again as I instinctively ran my hands up and down my upper arms trying to generate heat.
The woman opened the screen door and said, “Why don’t you come in for a minute?”
“Oh, thank you so much.”
“Alex, fetch a blanket from the hall closet, would you?”
The relief in his eyes was evident, and he seemed almost thrilled to have a task. Meanwhile, the woman placed her hand on my elbow, guiding me inside. I was hit immediately with the scent of apples and cinnamon, a candle, and something in my brain lit up, because it was something I actually knew. Maybe that meant my memories were trying to come back.
Past the entryway, the woman led me into a cozy living room filled with charm, decorated in earthy tones with tiny splashes of pink. The open layout of the house allowed me to see the dining and kitchen areas as well, and the aesthetic carried throughout. As we sat on the sofa near the fireplace, the man named Alex brought a quilt, one that might have been handstitched decades ago, and the woman took it from him, draping it over my shoulders.
Already I was feeling better. “Thank you.”
“Honey, would you mind building a fire, too?”
“Sure.” The man began taking logs out of a box near the fireplace before crumpling up newspapers. It was easy for me to tell he was avoiding looking at me, probably relieved that his partner was taking over dealing with me.
“Would you like some hot cocoa?” the woman asked me.
“I think I’d love some.”
She nodded and stood, walking into the k
“Like I said, all I remember is climbing out of the river…and then running.”
“The river’s about two miles away.”
“I believe it. I felt like I was never going to find shelter.”
“So where do you live? Do you need to call someone to come get you?”
Alex was lighting the newspaper in several spots in the fireplace, causing flames to begin flickering inside the enclosed space. Without looking over at us, he said, “Big thunderstorm’s moving in. If we’re gonna call somebody, we need to do it right now.”
“Who can we call for you?”
I tried at that moment—God, I tried—but there was absolutely nothing inside my brain making any connections. “I…I don’t know.” When the woman’s eyes scrutinized mine, I added, “I can’t remember anything. It’s like a big blank void inside my head.”
The woman looked past me toward Alex but didn’t say anything.
Meanwhile, I kept probing and poking inside that abyss behind my eyes and felt frustrated that nothing had changed as far as what I could recall—and I thought that honesty might be the best policy. “I can’t even remember my name or what happened that caused me to be in the river in the first place.” Finally, the warmth from the fireplace was reaching me, even under the quilt.
“Well…my name’s Charise. This is Alex. We want to help you but—” The kettle on the stove screamed, prying her attention. “Just a second. Alex, do you want some cocoa?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.” Now that my nearly naked body was hiding underneath that big quilt, he seemed a little more at ease. “Let’s see if we can figure this out. So you woke up in the river like this and you ran until you got here to our house. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.” Shifting his eyes to Charise before returning to me, he said, “Maybe we should check with the authorities. See if there’s a missing person’s report or something.”
Although I shrugged, I looked over at Charise. She was stirring a spoon in a mug, and it clinked as she swirled it around, steam rising from it. My nostrils were again assaulted, this time with the sweet smell of chocolate, and I realized something.
I hate chocolate. Or at least I think I do.
But I’m not about to turn down the generosity and kindness of these people. Still, I’m feeling hopeful that a random thought occurred to me even through the fog inside my head.
I thought to myself that it must mean something. What, I didn’t know.
As Charise made her way back from the kitchen with two mugs of cocoa, I shook my head, because I had no idea what to do. I was simply grateful that these folks had opened their door for me. Charise handed me one mug, then Alex the other. “You know those guys won’t be answering the phones for something that’s not an emergency until morning.”
“We could try.”
“I suppose we could.”
Alex took the hint and got up, walking into the kitchen and pulling a phone receiver off the wall. I almost laughed at the landline but stopped myself—because did I maybe have a landline? My head was killing me now, beginning to throb as if it were swollen with secrets clamped down yet wanting to flood out. Bringing the mug to my lips so as not to appear rude, I took a slight sip. If nothing else, maybe the heat would feel good inside.
To my surprise, though, I loved the taste. Why had I thought I hated chocolate? I took another sip to confirm and, oh, yes. Smooth, sweet, and delicious. “Thank you so much. This is wonderful.”
“Sometimes nothing hits the spot like hot cocoa.”
Alex hung up the phone. “Nothing. Miss, would you mind if I spoke to my wife in private for just a moment?”
“Please do.” That didn’t feel good, but I suspected they were trying to figure out what to do with me. By this point, they were probably regretting opening the door when I knocked. For now, I was going to accept whatever hospitality they offered, meaning the cocoa, which was warming me on the inside, and the blanket and fire, taking care of the outside. When the couple disappeared through a door leading from the kitchen, I set the cocoa on a coaster on the coffee table and pulled the quilt more tightly around my body and stood, walking over to the fireplace. I could hear their muted tones, but no one sounded angry or frustrated—and, when they returned, I hoped they couldn’t tell that I’d heard them at all.
When they came back into the living room, their expressions indicated that they wanted to appear friendly but had concerns underneath it all. Charise gave me a tight smile while sitting on the sofa, patting the cushion next to her, and Alex sat in the recliner. As I reluctantly moved away from the warmth of the fireplace, I hoped my expression didn’t seem too eager.
I was lost and alone—and their kindness thus far had been the one tiny beacon of hope in my life.
Charise asked, “Have you been able to remember anyone you can call? Anyone who could pick you up?”
Shaking my head, I swallowed, maintaining eye contact. “No.”
“Well, we have a guest bedroom. If you’d like, you’re welcome to stay the night. Maybe your memories will come back to you after a good night’s sleep.” Charise patted my arm in a reassuring manner. “I also have some clothes you can wear. Then, in the morning, if you can’t remember anyone to call, we can take you to town and check with the police station. Surely, they’ll have some kind of missing person’s report or something.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Of course. Now, I imagine you’re wanting to get out of those cold things and into something warm. Would you like to take a bath, warm up your bones?”
“Would you mind?”
“Not at all.” Charise stood. “Why don’t you go curl up by the fire, and I’ll draw a bath for you?”
Alex also stood. “And I’ll get the guest bedroom in order.”
“Thanks, honey.” While Alex was making his way down the hall, Charise asked, “Are you hungry at all?”
My stomach felt a little queasy but the cocoa was settling okay. That said, I didn’t want to chance food. “No, thanks.”
“Just make yourself comfortable and I’ll let you know when the bath is ready.”
After she disappeared down the hall behind her husband, I took another sip of my cocoa, still pleasantly surprised that I was enjoying the sweetness on my tongue. The crackling in the fireplace made me want to get near it again, so I stood, hugging the quilt tightly around my frame. From there, I could hear the sound of water splashing into a bathtub.
And the couple talking.
I was certain they didn’t want to be heard, but I couldn’t help it—and when I realized they were definitely talking about me, I intentionally tried to understand their words.
Alex’s voice was quiet but still easy to make out. “What do you think happened to her?”
I couldn’t make out the first part of what Charise said, but the last part came through loud and clear. “Maybe she got lost and couldn’t find the way back to her campsite?”
“That’s possible. I could go to the campground and see if there’s—”
“Absolutely not. That storm will be starting soon, and I don’t want you stuck out there. Let’s just wait till morning.”
“Fine.” Until Alex moved away from the bathroom door, I hadn’t really noticed that I was looking that way. Not wanting him to know I’d been eavesdropping, I looked down, nuzzling my head into the sides of the blanket, resting my chin against my chest. Alex’s voice was easier to understand now, as he was farther away from the bathroom door. Maybe he wasn’t worried that I could hear him. “But I’m going to leave the outside lights on, just in case someone’s looking.”
“Good idea.”
The voices stopped then, and all I could hear was the pop and crackle of the fire, along with the muted sounds of water being drawn. My memories might not have been accessible, but I knew a warm bath would feel good, possibly even better than the warmth of the fire. Turning around, I allowed the heat to sink into the other side of my body while I waited.
After a few minutes, the sound of the tub filling stopped, and Charise showed up a few seconds later. “It’s all ready for you.”
