Chapter Eight #3
Joe suspected there was more to the story than that. Of course, judging by how secretive Chloe had been while digging around in the desk yesterday, he had a feeling there was a lot she hadn’t shared with him about Dave, his parents and the ranch.
If she wasn’t going to open up with him, then he wouldn’t disclose the rest of his memory with her—including what Old Man Cummings had told Dave while scolding him. The words, the hurt they’d inflicted, rang clear in his mind now.
I knew letting that boy hang out on the ranch was a bad idea, Davey. Joey’s a bad influence on you.
The father and son had argued some more, but the rest was too blurry to recall.
Yet the sharp pricks of shame cut just as deeply, the sting just as intense, as if the conversation had unfolded only seconds ago.
And that was the real reason Joe hadn’t wanted to enlighten Chloe about that part of the memory. He didn’t want her to think Mr. Cummings had been right.
As Chloe unbuckled a rolled up quilt from the back of Rosabelle’s saddle and spread it out on the grass, Joe again looked up at the discarded remnant of rope still hanging in the tree and replayed the scene over again in his mind.
He’d been right. He knew Dave before the guy had ever enlisted, which meant they’d gone to high school together. Could Joe actually be from Brighton Valley? Was this small town his home?
No, it couldn’t be. Not any longer. He had no dependents, no family. And his driver’s license as well as his discharge papers said his home was in California.
He also had a friend in El Paso. Of course, a lot of good that contact information had been. Joe had called him yesterday after dinner. But the man hadn’t answered his phone, and he’d let his messages pile up until there was no room left for another one.
Chloe must’ve been thinking along the same line because she said, “I wonder if we should call Sheriff Hollister and let him know about this breakthrough. Since you can’t go into town yourself, maybe he can ask around and see if anyone remembers you.”
“I would think that he already asked all the locals that question and came up blank.” Joe helped her unpack the bags that held their lunch and carry them to the blanket.
She set out four sandwiches, some leftover scones, a thermos of lemonade and two apples. Then her motions stalled. “You know, if you went to high school with Dave, Sheriff Hollister might be able to talk to some of the other kids who were in your class.”
“Sure, but Hollister seems like a smart guy. I’ll bet he’s already asked every person my age if they remember me. And he didn’t have anything to report.”
“You have a point. But he did say that he was still investigating.”
Joe reached for a sandwich, removed it from the plastic baggie and took a bite, which would help to quench his hunger for lunch. But it wouldn’t do much when he was starving for more details on his background.
The small flashback triggered a desperate need to find out more about who he’d been, where he’d been.
Even though Chloe was keeping mum about her own business, Joe couldn’t keep his memories locked up tight.
He needed someone with whom he could bounce off his ideas and theories, and he suspected that the pretty blonde lounging next to him was eager to speculate with him.
“Maybe I was just hired help,” Joe said, “like Tomas. That day that we went swimming was hot. And I was here working. So it’s possible that the Cummings gave me a summer job, and that I’m not from around here.”
“But Dave mentioned your aunt and uncle, so maybe he knew them. You might have only lived with them during summers.”
“Then why didn’t I list them as my next of kin on my enlistment paperwork?”
They went around and around, speculating and eating and speculating some more. But none of the scenarios they came up with felt right.
Joe was just about to reach for a scone when he decided not to ruin a nice day spent with Chloe by bringing up all the what-ifs. So he lay back on the quilt instead, letting his hat fall off and stacking his hands under his head.
“You know what?” he asked. “As much as I want all the answers right this second, they’re not going to magically appear just because we’ve talked the possibilities to death. I’m just going to have to be patient and hope that something else comes along and jogs my memory.”
“Dr. Nielson suggested you give your brain time to heal and let nature take its course. You might only get snippets of memory here and there, but with time, it should all come back to you.”
“I hope so.”
“It’s amazing how you took one look at this pond and poof.” She snapped her fingers. “A boyhood recollection reappeared. I wonder what else you can remember by experiencing something similar.”
“I wouldn’t mind remembering how it felt to lie down under the blue sky and kiss a beautiful woman.”
She caught his gaze, and her smile faded. “Is that something you’ve experienced before?”
“I don’t know. Come a little closer and help me find out.”
He’d just been testing her, teasing her. But when she smiled, he turned to his side, reached for her and...just let nature take its course.