Chapter 10 #3
“So that makes us the only un-engaged ones left, huh?” Truck asked Ghost.
“I guess so,” was Ghost’s response. Truck heard a note of something in his tone, but couldn’t place it.
“We gotta get going,” Coach said, interrupting the moment. “The commander wants to talk to us about something this morning.”
“Should I be there?” Truck asked.
Coach shook his head. “No need. I asked the same thing, and he said it was about the Africa mission, and since you don’t remember it, you’re excused.”
Truck wanted to insist that he be there too, that maybe if he listened to what happened it might jog his memory, but his head was killing him and he needed to lie down for a while. So he let it go. “Okay. I’ll talk to you guys later then?”
“Definitely. Truck?” Fletch asked tentatively.
“Yeah?”
“Do you think I might… Shit.”
“What, Fletch?”
“Did Mary tell you about Annie?”
“Yeah. Your daughter.”
“Right. Well…she misses you and has been begging to see you. Do you think we might come over for a while later this afternoon? I’ll keep the visit short so you aren’t overwhelmed.”
“Does she know about me?” Truck asked. “The last thing I want to do is hurt the kid by not recognizing her.”
“She knows,” Fletch told him.
Truck wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, but he couldn’t refuse his friend. “Sure.”
The look of relief on Fletch’s face was telling.
The man loved his daughter, that much was obvious.
Truck hoped the girl wasn’t annoying. He wasn’t so sure about kids, they tended to freak over his scar, or ask irritating questions.
But since Fletch said Annie had been begging to see him, he figured she’d probably be okay with the way he looked.
“I need to get to the meeting with the commander. I’ll see you later,” Fletch said as he hurried to his car.
The others all said their goodbyes as well and before he knew it, Truck was headed back to his apartment. What he really wanted to do was see Mary, but he knew he needed to give her some space.
The morning had been good. He’d cleared the air with his teammates and hopefully made his point about them not keeping shit from him anymore, no matter what the doctor said they should do. But he hadn’t remembered anything new, and that frustrated him.
He hoped as time went by he’d slowly start to remember things here and there, but that hadn’t happened yet.
The doctor had told him to be patient, that a week wasn’t enough time for his memory to return, but he’d been hopeful the doctor was wrong.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t. The last three years were just as blank as they’d been when he’d woken up after hitting his head.
The names of his teammates’ women didn’t jog his memory. They meant nothing to him. Just names of random people. He hated that, as they obviously meant a great deal to his friends. He felt as if he was missing out, and that sucked.
Truck brooded all the way back to his apartment and instead of feeling better when he got inside, seeing his apartment made his head hurt more. He looked around, trying to figure out what was missing. Something was, he was sure of it, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t remember.
“Fuck,” he swore.
Because his head hurt so badly, he decided he was going to take one of the powerful painkillers the doctor had prescribed.
He hadn’t taken many of them because, as he’d told Mary, he really didn’t like taking the hard drugs, but he was almost desperate to escape the pain and nothingness that was in his head at the moment.
Looking at his watch, he saw it was almost eight in the morning. Fletch said he’d be over in the afternoon, so he had plenty of time to take a nap before Fletch arrived with his daughter.
Truck knew taking the pill would knock him out completely. He’d be dead to the world for at least five hours. Good.
Suspecting he was slipping into a depression, Truck swallowed the pill dry. The faster he got some sleep and escaped the constant throbbing of his head, the better.
“Easy, squirt.”
Truck frowned at the voice in his head.
Then he felt something touch his face. The scarred side.
Jerking his head back, he then felt a weight settle on his belly. His eyes popped open—and he stared up into a pair of blue eyes.
A little girl was straddling his stomach.
Her dirty-blonde hair was loose around her shoulders and long enough to brush his chest as she leaned over him.
She had on a scruffy pair of jeans and a T-shirt with a silhouette of a military tank on it.
One of her small hands was on his face, over his scar, and she looked completely serious as she gazed down at him.
“Hi, Truck. I’m Annie.”
“Hi,” Truck croaked out, feeling emotional for no reason he could think of.
“Sorry, man,” Fletch said from above him. “I knocked but you didn’t answer. I used my key—one you gave me, by the way—to come in. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“It’s okay,” Truck said, still looking up at Annie.
“Do you ’member me?” Annie asked.
Pressing his lips together, he felt awful that he had to tell this little angel no. “I’m sorry…but no.”
“I’m Annie Elizabeth Grant Fletcher. I’m eight.
I have a boyfriend named Frankie. He’s deaf and lives in California.
I talk to him with my hands over the Internet.
He’s teaching me how. Daddy Fletch gave me some Army men the first time I met him.
I don’t like wearing dresses, I prefer pants.
Mommy and me moved in with Daddy Fletch when she got sick, and then the bad guys stolded us, but you and Daddy came and got us. ’Member now?”
God, this girl was precious. How could he have ever assumed she’d be annoying? Truck felt guilty even though he hadn’t met Annie yet when he’d thought that.
The hand on his cheek didn’t waver. She kept eye contact with him the entire time she was talking. She had what Truck would have to say was an “old soul.” The weird feeling of déjà vu came back with a vengeance. He knew this little girl, but he didn’t. It was a frustrating and weird feeling.
“Sorry, Annie. I don’t. But you know what?”
“What?”
“Just because I don’t remember you, doesn’t mean that I don’t like you.”
“Of course you like me,” Annie said with conviction. “I’m likable. Everyone says so.”
Truck heard Fletch chuckling. He looked up at his friend and saw him standing next to the couch. He looked both relieved and worried at the same time.
“How about you let Truck sit up, squirt.”
Instead of climbing off him, Annie lowered herself onto Truck’s chest. She lay her head on his shoulder and kept her hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry you were hurt, Truck.”
“Me too.”
“Are you scared?”
Truck swallowed and put his hand on her back, holding her to him as he sat up. Annie clung to him like an octopus, not moving even an inch away.
“I’ll get us all something to drink,” Fletch said, giving him some privacy with his daughter, now that he knew she was in good hands.
“A little,” Truck told the girl honestly.
She nodded against him. “I think it’d be scary not to ’member things. But we’ll take care of you.”
“Thanks.”
“Mommy told me that being scared means you’re about to do something brave.”
Truck closed his eyes and tried to control his emotions. “She did, huh?”
“Yeah. And when the bad guys had us, I was really scared, but I was brave too. You were there, and you made sure we were safe.”
“Good.”
“Truck?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you gonna make Mary smile again?”
“Annie!” Fletch scolded from behind the couch. “We talked about this.”
Annie picked her head up from Truck’s shoulder and glared at her dad. “I wasn’t going to tell. I just miss Mary too! She hasn’t been over in forever. I want to see her and practice my sign language with her in person. It’s not the same over the Internet. And she was sad the last time we FaceTimed.”
Truck’s mind was spinning. The dull throb was back, but not as bad as it had been this morning.
Holding Annie felt good. Right. Even listening to her talk was soothing.
It wasn’t that he remembered the little spitfire, but it was as if his body remembered her.
There was something about her little hand on his cheek that made him melt inside and felt very familiar.
“Annie Elizabeth,” Fletch warned.
The little girl’s eyes dropped. “Sorry, Daddy,” she said contritely.
Truck wanted to laugh. She had Fletch wrapped around her little finger, and she knew it.
“Damn, Fletch, I never thought I’d see the day,” Truck said.
“That’s five bucks!” Annie yelled, and held out her hand expectantly.
“Huh?”
“Five bucks. You said a bad word. Now that I have my tank, it goes toward my college fund. Daddy says that when he’s having an adult conversation with his friends that it doesn’t count, because sometimes the bad words just come out, but when someone’s talking to me, like this, then it totally counts. So…you owe me five dollars!”
Truck chuckled. “How much do you have so far?” he asked the little girl.
“Almost four thousand dollars,” she told him proudly.
Truck choked. “Seriously?”
Annie nodded. “Daddy’s friends say a lot of bad words,” she said nonchalantly, then wiggled her fingers impatiently.
Truck leaned over, pulled his wallet out of his pocket, took out a five-dollar bill, and put it in Annie’s hand. She beamed at him and climbed off his lap. She ran over to Fletch and waved the money in front of him. “Look, Daddy!”
“I see, squirt.”
Annie smiled happily and went back over to where Truck was sitting on the couch. “Does your head hurt?” she asked.
Truck immediately envisioned Mary asking him the same question. He should be sick of people asking him that by now, but for some reason, he didn’t mind if Annie or Mary asked. “A little.”
“Oh. Then you should rest some more. Mommy says when something hurts that there’s nothing like a good nap to fix it.”
“Your mom sounds smart.”
“She is. Her belly hurts all the time so she sleeps a lot right now. But that’s just my brother being impatient to come out and meet me.”