Always In: The Shore Series Book 2 Page 7

  I see Willow from across the room standing against the wall and she waves and gestures her hands like she needs a drink. I roll my eyes and nod agreeing. I feel a hard tug on my skirt that makes my body jolt. When I look down I see a little boy. He can't be much more than five years old, maybe six. I look at him puzzled as he continues to tug. What would a little boy be doing here? Did he sneak in?

  I stoop down so I’m eye level with him. His eyes are big and blue. He has blondish hair and the sweetest face I’ve ever seen.

  "What can I do for you? Are you here with someone? Are you lost?" He shakes his head, no.

  "No, what, sweetie? You're not lost?"

  In the tiniest of voices and over the loudness of the music I hear him say, "I’m lookin' for the loo and if I don't find it soon I may have an accident and I don't wanna."

  The kid has an accent. A British accent.

  What in the bloody hell?

  "Okay, well we will get you to one but first I need to know your name and who you are here with."

  He steps away slightly from me, sort of frightened.

  "I’m not apossed to talk to strangers." He points at me. "You are a stranger. My daddy tells me even if they are nice, stay away from strangers."

  The wheels in my not-so-great head are spinning. So I ask the question I’m pretty sure I know the answer to.

  "Well can you tell me if your daddy is here?"

  "Yes," he answers quietly.

  "Shall we walk around to find him? I want to help you, but if you can't give me your name, can you give me your daddy's name?"

  He pulls me down farther so he's cupping my ear with his little hands and whispers, "Don't tell anyone but my name is—" And before he can tell me, I hear someone beside us.

  "Henry! Good God, boy. You nearly gave me a heart attack."

  Daniel.

  Daniel scoops him up and rests the tiny boy on his hip.

  "I’m sorry, Daddy, but I need to use the loo and I lost you."

  Daniel squeezes the boy and his frantic look from a few minutes ago is lost as he hugs him.

  It takes him a minute to realize I’m standing here.

  "Oh God, Miss Hannum. I’m so sorry. I was explaining to the principal why I was running a bit late this evening and I lost sight of this little bugger." He starts to tickle his son and he laughs but then a look of terror comes on the child's face.

  "Oh, Daddy, no. I have to go and I don't want to wee on you. Hurry, Daddy. Hurry." Daniel places his son down and takes his little hand and begins to be dragged away.

  Daniel looks toward me rolling his eyes but yet has a charming smile on his face. He mouths to me, “I'll be right back.”

  Holy shit. He has a child. He never mentioned one, not that we have long, in-depth conversations. I see him in the hallways and he comes in my classroom a lot to borrow things like pencils, erasers, and chalk, and to ask what time lunch is. We arrive at the same time every day, our cars seem to always be parked either right next to one another, or across from each other. We sit in the teachers’ lounge almost every day, not at the same table, but still I see him throughout the school day.

  So he's married? I have noticed he wears some sort of ring but it's on his right hand.

  He has a son. A sweet little boy.

  He makes his way back to where I’m standing with his son's hand in his. When they reach me, he lifts him up. "Miss Hannum, I'd like to properly introduce you to my bloke here. This is my son, Henry Mathewson. Say hello to Miss Hannum, Henry."

  His face lights up like the sun when he says his name. His amber eyes almost glowing. The pride on his face evident.

  I stick out my hand and little Henry sticks his out and shakes mine.

  "Hello, Miss Hannum. Pleasure."

  Oh God, he says that in his little accent and I want to melt like the ice cream that sits beside me.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Henry, but please call me Harlow."

  Daniel winks at me and puts Henry down and asks him if he wants some ice cream. He looks a bit frazzled and I watch the interaction between the two of them. Henry picks every sort of topping that's available for his ice cream and Daniel happily obliges him. He finds a seat at one of the tables not far from where the ice-cream bar is and sits Henry down making sure he is okay. Daniel walks back over to where I am. Reaching me, he leans against the wall and runs his hand through his messy hair. He let's out an exaggerated breath. He looks over to me and smiles. He looks really tired. My curiosity is piqued but I’m not sure why I need to know more about Daniel and Henry for that matter. But, I do.

  Besides my lack of ability to find words with him in the hallway, I don’t struggle to ask him this next question. "So, you have a son?"

  He looks to me, arms crossed in front of his chest while looking toward where Henry sits and pigs out on his ice cream.

  "Yep. That's my boy. A bit mischievous at times but he's a good egg."

  And of course I need to ask the question, not that it matters, but I just am curious.

  "And you're wife? You have one?"

  Why in God's name would I say that? What the hell is wrong with me? Freaking brain trauma.

  "I mean…what I mean is…. Oh God, I don't know what I’m trying to say. My brain doesn't work as well as it used to."

  He turns his body to me, his shoulder resting against the wall. His arms still crossed in front of him.

  "Well before I answer that question, will you answer one for me?"

  He wants to ask me a question? Oh, crap. What could he possibly want to ask me?

  He looks at me with all the seriousness in the world.

  "What's it like being in a coma?"

  Is he for real?

  I am so confused why a person would ask such a thing.

  "Excuse me?" I’m a little annoyed but he still keeps his expression sincere in his questioning.

  Then a smile creeps up on his face and he begins to laugh.

  "I’m not serious, Harlow. Do you take me for some daft prick of a man? I know about your accident and the ordeal you have gone through. Sometimes when I’m nervous I make jokes and um, obviously this was...oh, um a bad one. I’m sorry."

  Nervous? Do I even dare to ask why he's nervous? Daft prick? What the hell is that?

  So now it's time for my line of questioning and a new one has surfaced.

  "No offense taken, but how do you know so much about me but I obviously know so little about you?" I motion to where his ice-cream-eating son is sitting.

  He inches closer to me and I smell him.

  Damn, that is fabric softener I smell.

  I shiver when his lips reach my ear.

  "You never asked."

  Silence sits between us as he pulls away and I can still smell his scent. Stunned, I wait till I can muster up the courage to ask another question.

  "Well, if what you call yourself, a daft prick was it, makes you ask stupid questions, how does your wife feel about the ones you ask so blatantly?"

  He looks out onto the dance floor and watches the kids, the playfulness he displayed before, gone in an instant. Oh, I hit a nerve.

  "I wouldn't know," he answers.

  So he can dish it, but can't take it.

  "Guess she got tired of your arse." I begin to chuckle when he turns back to me.

  "Either that or the fact that she's dead."

  Dear Lord, what is the matter with me?

  I am stunned, beyond stunned, I’m mortified and I feel like the arse now.

  God, Harlow, rectify this, and now.

  I scoot my way over to him with one crutch so I’m right in front of him. I look at his face feeling sad and embarrassed. His eyes meet mine and he gives me a tight-lipped smile.

  "Daniel, I’m, I’m so sorry, I had no idea. I just thought you were, I thought because you acted so…. I don't know I thought you were—"

  "Divorced?" he says not looking at me but past me.

  I nod. A few kids come to the ice-cream bar wanting som
e help, so I leave Daniel and grab my second crutch so I can help them. As I apply topping on the students’ sundaes and ask them if they are having a good time, I feel a breeze go into my ear and throughout my hair without knowing where it's coming from.

  "Do you like vanilla or chocolate, Miss Hannum?"

  Shivers.

  I finish with the children and turn slowly into the direction of the voice that breathed softly into my ear. My face, my mouth, my eyes are so close to Daniel Mathewson's when I do.

  I stammer for words because this damn air conditioning is making me freeze so badly I need a sweater.

  "I, um, neither. I’m a strawberry girl." That's all I can get out because he's staring at me with those eyes. Those freaking eyes!

  "Me, too." His lips so close to mine, I can feel his breath on my face and it's minty and fresh like his scent. It's my turn to stare and I’m so confused as suddenly my heartbeat accelerates and I go from freezing cold to white-hot sweating in about thirty seconds flat. I break away and glance over to where Henry is and it looks like he has spilled his ice cream down his shirt. I don't say a thing to Daniel, I just make my way slowly and carefully over to the poor little boy, grabbing a stack of napkins first. I lean my crutches on the table where he is and start wiping at his shirt and his mouth and nose. The child looks like he just bathed in chocolate ice cream. Daniel is at his side in an instant as I continue to help clean Henry.

  "Oh good Lord, boy. Would you look at you? What a mess. Henry, my little chicken, I can't take you anywhere, can I?" He laughs when he talks to the boy, his son looking up at him adoringly with wide set eyes and remnants of whipped cream and jimmies on his chin. Guess I missed a spot.

  "Daddy, I’m sleepy. Can we go home?" Daniel picks up his son and he rests his head on his shoulder. Daniel sways back and forth with his son in his arms. What a feeling that must be. To hold your child in your arms. I'll never get that chance.

  Momentarily, Daniel turns to me, Henry's head in my view and whispers, "Is he asleep?" I nod yes and it's incredible how he passed right out. You would think the music, the background chattering, and that damn sugar from the ice cream would cause the child to stay awake, but oh, not this boy.

  "Miss Hannum, may I ask you a question?" Daniel looks out onto the dance floor again and the beat of the music causes the floor to vibrate below our feet.

  "Sure."

  "Do you have plans for tomorrow evening?"

  Huh?

  Why is he asking me?

  "I’m having dinner with my family. My sister is having a baby and she is on bed rest, so we are taking our weekly family dinner to her."

  His eyes still intently focused on anything but me he asks, "What about dessert? Do you have plans for dessert?"

  "Dessert? I don't think so. Why do you ask?"

  Seriously, why does he ask?

  When he turns in my direction, his eyes are now finally focused on mine. Henry's tiny arm falls to the side of his father's shoulder and it dangles there, looking uncomfortable. I place it back across Daniel's neck and tuck it in a way so it won't move again. I graze Daniel's shirt and part of the flesh that is exposed on his neck. When I do this and I swear, I swear on this half a working brain of mine, I think I’m going through the early stages of menopause or something, because I just had a hot flash. I’m sweating profusely, and I can feel under my boobs start to perspire.

  Can your boobs perspire? Apparently so.

  "I ask because I think it's mad that this school does not supply strawberry ice cream for those of us who do not enjoy the basic flavors of vanilla and chocolate. My question is would you, if able, like to join me tomorrow evening after your family supper for some strawberry ice cream? My treat."

  Did Daniel Mathewson from England, father of one, widower, teacher at my school, smells fresh like fabric softener, eyes like a summer sunset, just ask me out for ice cream?

  My brain has no time to assess the question asked so I go with the first thing that pops into this broken brain of mine.

  "Sure, I'd love to."

  CHAPTER 6

  The Plan

  Cruz~

  Craw has to go for it. He has to. My master plan. What does it involve: getting my girl back. I know I have no control over her brain but what I have up my sleeve may just spark something in her memory and she'll remember. Like Bella said, I have to have hope. I had hope that she would wake up, but hope has a strange way of fucking things up.

  Retrograde Amnesia. That's what Harlow has. What does that mean? It means that Harlow can't process recent memories, but older memories may be easier to recall, or not. It may cause her to forget specific dates, or situations, but more specifically, she can remember general knowledge and over time, more recent memories can be brought back. Triggers can bring back certain memories. Smells, tastes, and even certain locations can bring back partial memories. I’ve done my homework and I’m trying to figure out which of those scenarios fits us.

  My palms are sweating as I hold this phone, hesitating as I dial Craw's number. It's been a while since we've talked. A few texts here and there and it's usually just to check up on Harlow.

  Big surprise right there, huh?

  Oh, fuck it. Here goes nothing.

  Answering on the second ring, I hear him say, "Yo."

  "Craw? Hey, man, it's Cruz."

  "Cruz, oh, hey man. How the hell are you?"

  "I’m good...well not good, but better."

  I hear him sigh and it's not that it's awkward talking to Craw or to have a conversation with him, it's that he knows to a point what I’m dealing with. We’ve both been through the worst with Harlow.

  "Glad to hear that. So what's up? How's work?"

  I scratch at the stubble on my face and smile, uncomfortably, but I do.

  "Funny you should ask that. I kinda got a new job and I'll be going back to school to finish my degree instead of doing it all online."

  "Cool, man.” He sounds very enthusiastic about my news. Let's see if it continues.

  "Um, yea, I’m pretty excited about it. I'll be moving in the next week to start."

  “Really? I’m really glad to hear that you are moving on and accomplishing so much."

  "I appreciate that, Craw. I really do."

  There's a strong pause, neither one of us knowing what to say next. I know he thinks I’m about to ask about my Turnip, but just not yet. I have to strike while the iron is hot, and right at this particular second, it's not striking time.

  After a bit, Craw, not as predicted, asks about the job first. I’m pretty sure I'd rather have him ask me if I want to know how Harlow is.

  Oh, well.

  "So what school did you get into and where's the job?"

  My answer? Frozen beneath my rough exterior because silence speaks louder than words. Not that I’m afraid to tell him...well, actually, yea I am. A bit.

  "Cruz?" My name is spoken in an accusatory tone. But I haven't even been accused of anything yet.

  Wait for it...

  "Cruz!" My name is spoken in harshness.

  "North Ridge, okay? In North Ridge. For the job I turned down before Harlow got in the accident. I went to them, told them the situation and they put me on as part time for now. I got lucky and I’m grateful ’cause luck hasn't been on my side lately."

  "Jesus Christ, Cruz! What the hell are you thinking? It has nothing to do with luck."

  It kind of does. I let that job go a long time ago for fear that granny would somehow destroy my chances of being happy and to start a life with Harlow. That's why I did what I did. I literally begged the North Ridge Police Department, pleaded a case that goes beyond traditional begging. I was so desperate I would have gotten on my knees and sucked the Captain's dick to get the job I turned down.

  Not really, but maybe a hand job.

  "Craw, you are in Princeton and I’m in Sandy Cove. Alone. Want to know what that's like to just text you to find out how she is, or get an e-mail from Willow about how she's taking it day by
day? It fucking sucks. I’m in a constant state of anxiety, she's all I think about, and I need to do something ’cause I’m going out of my mind here."

  I made so many wrong choices and I just need to make good on the ones I made bad. In all the wars I have fought in, and in all the pain I have seen, it doesn't compare to the pain of living without her.

  "Cruz, I understand, I do, but Harlow needs space, she needs time. You working a town away from where she lives doesn't help with that. It makes it worse. I...I just don't know what you're thinking."

  "I’m thinking about your sister, Craw. I’m thinking how it's my fault she's not with me. I’m thinking of how it all could have been different."

  I hear a click and I know he's lightening a cigarette. I hear him let out the smoke in an overdrawn exhale.

  "How many times do I, or my parents, or our friends, have to tell you that it's not your fault? It's no one's fault."

  "I have to get her back, Craw. I can't live without her."

  "And you think that getting a job near her where you can run into her at any time is going to get her back? You think you seeing her on the street and talking to her is going to make her remember?"

  There's more to it, Craw.

  "I’ve done my homework, Craw."

  "Homework?"

  "Retrograde Amnesia. That's what she has and I know what it's going to take to help her remember."

  He chuckles and it's cocky, but I let it slide because he knows I’m grasping at straws here.

  "Yes, I know what she has, and I know certain things can trigger her memories, but do you think you in a cop uniform will make her remember? In all honesty, and I know she's my sister, but she saw you out of that cop uniform more than in it."

  "Watch it," I bark at him.

  "You know what I mean. And school? Guess it doesn't take a genius to figure out that it's around here."