Amnesia (31 page)

“Let’s see. I graduated from Valhalla High School, after we moved to El Cajon when I was a teenager. I already told you about being in the school plays, band, choir, etc. I remember going to Disneyland many times, and a whole lot of thrilling moments on those rides.”

He relished these memories, and basked in their glow as he had spent the hours with his new found friend, whose presence he so thoroughly enjoyed. He leaned over and slid his hand across the table finding hers. The contact sent a jolt of energy through his whole body, leaving it buzzing with the thrill. This was nothing like a Disneyland ride.

Lissa looked down at his hand in hers. She started to say something that came out as a wheeze. She cleared her throat and tried again. When she could talk it came out a husky rasp.

“I like this,” she said. “I like it a lot.
”

“Me too,” he managed breathily.

He glanced around the room to see if anyone was watching. He was certain that if anyone looked their way he would be lit up like a neon light shouting “Hey world—this smart, beautiful, luscious woman likes me! I think I’m going to explode!” No one was looking, but he was pretty sure there was no way they could miss it.

Robbie cleared his throat, trying to remember what they were talking about. He had the hardest time concentrating on anything but the feel of Lissa’s hand in his. For a split-second he thought about moving his hand so he could focus again, but dismissed it. He didn’t mind just sitting there like that for now. He wouldn’t mind sitting like that forever.

“Um, so, uh,” Lissa stammered. She took a deep breath and tried again. “So you were saying, about remembering things…”

“Oh, yeah. Well, I can’t remember my real name or anything about what is going on with my family now. I have no clue how I ended up in a hospital in Idaho. But to be honest, at the moment I don’t really care.” He didn’t add that right now he could only give thanks to the divine hand that had placed him in contact with the beautiful lady now sitting with him.

“But I did figure one thing out. I used to think it would be so great to get amnesia. To forget all my problems and start over. I thought it would be fun to forget all my promises and commitments and just do whatever, because I didn’t know I had made them. But I tell you now, I would give anything to have them all back.

“Like I told Beverley and Carrie, our memories are all we have that make us who we are. I’d even take the bad memories, because without them I wouldn’t realize how good the good ones are. Besides, maybe those bad memories are really good too. I mean, imagine that you ‘forgot’ that fire would burn you, or even that stealing makes you feel awful inside. If you didn’t remember that, maybe you would keep burning yourself or stealing, and then you would be miserable all the time.”

“Hmmm,” Lissa intoned. “I’d never thought of it that way. I guess I’m as guilty as anyone of wishing bad memories away.” Still it had that ring of truth to it. Like kissing Darrion Stanton, she thought. That awful moment with Darrion made her moments with Robbie all the sweeter.

Lissa had found herself fondly whiling away her time with her Robbie, awestruck that she could find such feelings of completeness and wholeness. Not only had she felt peace in this man’s presence, she also felt safe and protected, despite knowing that evil had, and still was, conspiring against them.

She had thought the worst thing that could have happened to her was losing her license, and by extension her motivation and identity. Yet she had never felt more alive, vitality springing forth from her heart and entering into her every action. She found herself with a continual smile on her face, and hope in her breast; it was as if her faculties had reawakened to a new and brighter world.

In the back of their minds, they both knew this was merely a respite, the proverbial “eye of the storm.” Yet they chose to ignore those thoughts, painstakingly avoiding any conversation of their present circumstances. Instead they spoke only of what memories they could recall, both finding long forgotten images, and of course of the gospel of Jesus Christ that they both so loved.

They continued their meal one-
handed as neither was willing to break off their physical contact and free the other hand. Without realizing it they said no more, their spirits communing in ways their words could not. Nor were they aware of how long they sat there, only that they were toget
her. Oh, and that there was
food of some sort involved.

Robbie sat back after taking a long draught of water, and patted his stomach, signaling he was completely stuffed. He gazed at Lissa, locking eyes for an eternity in mere seconds. He realized that the mood really needed to lighten up.

“You know, I’ve found I like Supreme pizzas,” he said. “I wonder if I like anchovies.”

“Maybe you do,” Lissa responded, leaning back from her plate as well, recognizing the attempt for what it was. Part of her was disappointed, but the other part thankful. “But you can find that one out all on your own. As for me, keep it simple. Canadian bacon and pineapple all the way!”

He chuckled, and then a twinkle appeared in his eye. “Did I ever tell you that I once won a pizza eating contest?”

“Really?” she responded gullibly.

“Yep. They named me the ‘Head Cheese.’”

She stared at him for a moment, until the joke sank in and she started to smile. Seeing his opening, he pressed on.

“They were going to call me ‘Top Dog,’ but were afraid that Weinerschnitzel might get upset. Of course ‘Dairy King’ was out, too close to some fast-food chain.”

Lissa was giggling now, and decided to jump in. “I think it should be ‘Pizza Nut.’”

Now they were both laughing hard. It took a few moments for the peals to die down, and they just gazed at each other for a moment. It was Robbie that broke the silence.

“Thank-you.”

“For what?”

“Everything you’ve done for me. Finding me a place to stay at Bill’s, helping me remember so much, for helping me be happy.”

“
You’re
welcome,” she smiled back. “And thank-you too. I never believed I would ever feel this way. I feel so good when you’re around. I even like me better when I’m with you.”

“I feel the same. No matter what happens, I will forever be grateful for this time together.”

Again silence descended upon the two. Not wanting to ruin the moment, but yearning to escape the pizza parlor, Robbie rose, took her hand, and headed toward the door. When they got outside, he stopped her and took her in his arms. They stood holding each other longingly, oblivious to the scorching heat radiating from the sunbaked asphalt as well as the stream of traffic rushing by watching their ardor.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he whispered, clinging ever more tightly to him.

“I know I am,” she responded. She reached up and pulled his head down to her, kissing him, gently at first, then growing with passion and urgency.

Robbie pulled back after a long moment and looked deep into her eyes. “I need you in my life. I can’t imagine how I could have possibly survived this long without you near me. You’ve become my very world.”

Tears glistened in the corners of Lissa’s eyes, and she had to swallow a huge lump before she could answer him. “You mean the same to me. I can’t believe….”

A loud crash behind them interrupted their reverie, and the two quickly turned to see what was happening. To their dismay, they could see the shattered windshield of Carla’s car that Lissa had borrowed.

They ran over to the car to survey the damage, and found a brick lying on the gray cloth seat, surrounded by thousands of pieces of shattered glass. Affixed to the brick was a three-by-five card taped in place with two pieces of duct tape. Clearly visible was a hand written note, penned with a black Sharpie felt tip pen, reading “You’ve gone too far. You will both die. Marcuse."

The horror was only beginning.

Beverley burst through the door of the mansion size house, yelling for her mother and father. It had been only ten days since she had last set foot in her home, but it seemed an eternity to her beleaguered mind and body. Her life had been forever changed in those ten short days, and she felt like the different person she was.

It took only seconds for the office door across from her to burst open as her distraught and teary father rushed out, crushing his once lost daughter to him. He let loose the pent-up emotions; sobs of worry and fear a catharsis to his heavy heart.

Feeling emotional herself, Beverley also loosed many tears before the embrace ended and her father stepped back slightly. He sat there looking at her appraisingly, as if seeing her for the first time.

“I…I can’t believe you’re actually home….” Gregg’s voice broke before he could finish the thought, and he grabbed his daughter for the second time, holding her close to him. “Please forgive me. Please forgive me…for everything.”

“There’s nothing to forgive Daddy,” Beverley responded, not certain what he was talking about. “And it is good to be home.”

Suddenly the protector sprang up in the father, concern etched into his face. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did they…” he couldn’t finish the thought out loud.

“I’m fine, just a little tired. No, nothing like that happened. But there is a lot I need to talk to you and Mom about. Where is she?”

“Right here darling,” Tawny responded. She had held back from the tearful reunion, her own eyes dry and slightly hard. She too had much to talk about with this group. Silently she strode over to Beverley, gave her a perfunctory hug, and then turned her toward the stairs. “You need to get washed up and changed. Whose clothes are these anyway? They are way too big, and that style is frightening.”

Beverley looked down at the too large sweat suit she wore; the replacement for her own soiled and ripped jogging outfit. “They are Lissa—Dr. Brandon’s. She lent them to me when I…we…it’s a long story. I think I will take a long hot shower and get into some fresh clothes.” She walked up the long staircase toward her comfortable bedchambers, then stopped halfway up, turned back to face her parents, and fought down the lump in her throat to speak to them.

“I learned a great deal this past week and a half. Mostly I realized how much I missed you both.” She struggled to control her emotions for a moment before adding, “I love you guys so much.”

Gregg was too choked up to respond, and Tawny answered. “Yes dear. Now hurry up, there is much to do.”

Beverley turned reluctantly and climbed the rest of the way to her room and the waiting shower. She had many things to tell her parents, but right now her mother was right, she needed to feel clean and fresh again. The talk would wait a while longer.

She took much longer than usual in the shower, trying to rid all the filth from her body, both the real dirt from her experience, and the intangible filth from the trauma. The hot water was like a balm to her soul, scalding out the feel of Scardoni and the hot, dilapidated house in which he had held them captive. The lavender smell of her favorite shampoo filled her nostrils soothing her frayed nerves, a tangible reminder that she was indeed home. The memories of the past week began dimming into the nightmare that it was.

Her skin tingled when she finally turned off the water, dried and slipped into her soft, comfortable pink terry robe. She felt like a new, better version of herself as she sat in front of her vanity, and began to brush out her long blonde hair, something she had truly missed.

She gazed absently into her reflection as she slowly pulled on the brush, her thoughts turned from the horrors she had faced, and on to the bright memories she held precious. She had spent many hours sitting in front of this mirror, brushing her long tresses, but at this moment it was mechanical, going through the motions by habit, not even seeing the image before her.  Instead, she dwelt on memories of her glimpse into the eternities, first as she reveled in Peter’s love, then later in her Savior’s love, as she recuperated from her ordeal. She had thought long and hard about the God of which she had heard so much, as she sat convalescing at Lissa’s and the McConnell’s. She had made many decisions about her life during that time, and she was eager to implement those changes.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She called for her visitor to enter, releasing a low sigh at having been interrupted. In walked her graceful mother, looking perfect as always. She wore a light chiffon summer dress, the print an elegant blending of warm oranges, yellows, tans, and peach colors, accenting her creamy skin and light brown hair; her appearance matching her name perfectly. Her hair was pulled up as always, revealing her slim, graceful neck, lending to the attractiveness of the woman, still quite beautiful in her mid-forties. Beverley never really noticed how much she and her mother looked alike before, but after all she had been through, she saw her parents through different eyes.

“I just wanted to remind you that we are hosting tonight,” Tawny said. She walked over to the large walk-in closet, rummaged through the clothing, and pulled out a rather revealing dress, placing it on the canopy bed. “I believe this one will do nicely.”

She turned to face her daughter, scrutinizing her appearance.  “Now I think we need to get you down to the hair dressers; in fact I think a complete makeover is in order. You look affright, and it would help you feel more like yourself, so you can be ready for tonight’s occasion.”

She approached her daughter, though she did not touch her, remaining, as always, regally aloof. “This whole affair has dragged our name through the mud, and it is time to set things right. Tonight we show the world that the Windham’s are strong and proud, that we can rise above such things. Now hurry up, there is much to do, and little time. I’ll call Marie to set everything up. She is the best in Boise you know.” She turned to leave the room, the queen ready to dispatch her attendants.

“Mom, wait,” Beverley called, knowing the time had come to lay it all out. Her anger when she left Peter had dissipated, especially after such a warm reunion with her father. Yet still things needed to be cleared up before they went back to the way things used to be. She was different now, and her mother needed to know that.

“Please sit down,” she requested at her mother’s quizzical look, indicating the edge of the queen-sized bed covered with a deep maroon cover.

“Yes, dear, what is it?”

Now that the time had come Beverley was hesitant to begin, knowing that it would forever change their relationship. She noticed again how much she and her mother looked alike, the same striking beauty, the same hair color, the same figure. She hoped she would still look that lovely when she was her mother’s age. In some ways she still wanted so much to be like her mother. Yet in other ways….

“I need you to understand some things. I’m not the same girl I was ten days ago….”

“Yes, dear, it’s been difficult for us all,” Tawny interrupted. “But we will get on with our lives as if it never happened.”

“No, Mom, we won’t.” She rushed on before her mother could interrupt her again. “So much has happened, not all of it bad, I see things differently. I don’t want to go back to the way things used to be. That means that there are several changes that I need to make, not only in my life, but also in our relationship.”

Tawny looked closely at her daughter; a feeling of dismay welling up inside of her at what she sensed was coming. She couldn’t quite hide the edge in her voice as she asked, “Whatever ‘changes’ do you mean?”

Beverley heard the tone in her mother’s voice and her own defenses rose, the anger rising again. She rose and crossed the room to the side of the bed where the skimpy dress her mother had chosen sat. “For one, I won’t be wearing clothes like this. I’ve seen what lust can do to men, and I won’t encourage it by being immodest.”

“Don’t be silly, girl. Men don’t need clothing to make them behave that way. You are a beautiful girl and you need to accent that beauty. That is why we bought you that dress in the first place.” Tawny felt her own anger growing and fought to retain the regal posture she had so carefully groomed over the years.

“I can accent my beauty without showing off my body, Mother. Besides that, I’m not so sure I want to bring attention to myself. I’m not trying to attract people and money—that is your thing.”

“Don’t you be impertinent child!” Tawny snapped, her control wavering.

“I don’t mean to be disrespectful,” Beverley spoke soothingly, “I just don’t want the same things you do.” She took a deep breath and plunged on. “I want to talk to the LDS missionaries again, and I think I’m going to be baptized.”

“What!” Tawny shrieked. “To that ‘Mormon’ cult? You will not! Beverley, you are a Windham, and Windham’s don’t join cults!”

“I am a child of God, Mother, and I will do what He wants me to do, Windham or not. Peter and I….”

“Peter Frindle is not a concern to us,” Tawny interrupted icily.

“Yes, I saw the check. He tried to hide it, but I saw it.” Tears stung her eyes, and she had to fight to keep herself in check. “You paid him to not see me again, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. He was only interested in your money and your looks. I took care of the money issue, and I assume he has already had his way with you….”

“Mother!” she cried, clutching her robe more closed, shielding herself from the insinuation.

“Look, Beverley, being a senator’s wife I have seen all sorts of people. They all want something. All I did was give him what he wanted so he would leave us alone. Obviously, I was right, or he would have told you about what I said instead of hiding it. He’s just like the rest.”

“He’s not like that! He is warm, considerate, caring. I love him, and he loves me.”

“Oh, Beverley!” She hesitated for a moment, as if something dawned on her, then she went on the offensive. “Or is there more? Is all this talk about joining his church, and I assume marrying him, for a different reason?” She paused for effect, and then added snidely, “Are you carrying his child perchance?”

“Mother! I can’t believe you….”

“Well, what am I supposed to think? You spend all of your time with him, go off for a week and a half with him, then come home talking about being with him.”

“We didn’t elope Mom, we were kidnapped!”

“How am I supposed to know what happened out there? There was never a ransom, no one ever called asking for anything, or making demands. Then suddenly you’re free, coming back to our home as if nothing had ever happened. Sounds to me like Peter Frindle could have staged it all to get you alone and off guard.”

“How can you say that?” Beverley retorted, horrified. It seemed that the nightmare was continuing in her beloved home, in her own bedroom.

“I don’t know what that evil man wanted, or why he took us,” she rebutted, “but it was Peter that saved my life. Yes, I wish he would marry me, but I know he won’t do it now anyway. I need to make certain changes in my life before he would have me, and I plan on making those changes.

“And yes, one of those changes includes joining the church. Before you say anything,” she was quick to insert, noticing her mother preparing to protest, “don’t worry, I will find out for myself if it is true. If it is I will join because of that, not because of Peter. If it isn’t I won’t join, despite Peter.”

She crossed over to her mother and knelt before her, as if pleading on bended knee, “Oh Mother, if only you could understand. The way I feel when I’m with him, when we talk about the gospel. Oh Mom, if only I could help you see….”

“What I see is a spoiled child,” her mother rebuffed her. “I see a little girl determined to have her own way, regardless of what anyone else feels. What I understand is that we are Windhams and that we rise above such silly misconceptions and delusions.”

Tawny rose, moving away from her now slumped daughter, holding her head high as she approached the entry. “We have a royal destiny, we Windhams. Just like the Bushs and the Kennedys. We are meant to be rulers in the land, the new aristocracy. People look at us in awe and fear, for we are their royalty. They yearn to be like us, to be acknowledged by us.”

She turned back to Beverley sitting crumpled on the floor, staring at her hands as tears trickled down her cheeks. “We do not act like coddled children when things don’t go the way we want,” Tawny lectured disdainfully. Then she added, almost to herself, “We are better than that. And better than them.”

“I won’t do it,” Beverley responded quietly. “I have to do what is right for me, not for some fantasy. I need the gospel too much. I need Peter.”

Tawny’s temper snapped. “You will do as you are told!” she raged at her daughter. “As long as you live in this house you will do as I instruct. You will not get in my way!”

“Your way?” Beverley asked, rising from the floor to face her mother, her own temper flaring. “Your way? I have tried things ‘your way’ and it has cost me. It cost me my self-respect, and possibly even my salvation.”

She was nearly screaming now herself. Fury sprung up inside of her as she recalled her mother destroying her borrowed copy of the Book of Mormon, how she had threatened her out of going to church, and stood in her way with her relationships with good members of the church. She was enraged at the way her mother had treated the man she had admired and now loved. She was incensed that Tawny would have the gall and audacity to try to buy Peter’s loyalty. She was beside herself with anger as she realized that all her mother really wanted was fame and glory—in essence deification.