Chapter 11
The Stranger
I follow Scott’s truck as he pulls into the Driftwood Inn and Cottages’ gravel driveway.
My home. I park. When I turn off the engine, the loud thrum of my heart pounds in my ears.
While I thought the inn was charming earlier this morning when I showed up for work, it feels a little different now.
Like I’m intruding. The wide front porch is dotted with swaying flower baskets, and there’s a handmade Welcome Home sign hanging from the side of the railing.
Who the hell is Nathan Carter?
The sun has set, and it will be dark soon. I try to push the air out of my lungs. What will I say to her? Crystal.
Focusing my thoughts on her, I can’t quite make out the details of her face. In my dreams, her image is clear, but when I’m awake, it’s blurred and fragmented. Did the day we kissed really happen? Was it our first kiss, or were we already lovers?
I can’t even remember what it’s like to touch a woman. Hot blood rushes up my neck to my face, and cold sweat pours down my back and out of my palms.
I’m not sure I can do this.
It’s dark now. Electric lanterns and the porch light flicker on. Scott told me to wait. He climbs up the stairs and glances over to the area of the porch that’s obscured by hedges and walks that way. He’s not going in. He’s talking to someone on a swing. I can see the metal chains moving.
It has to be her. My wife.
Time stops. I stare at a patch of sable palms and wait for something to happen. I’m so excited to meet her. And I already know I want her. Does that make me a freak? To want her and know very little about her and absolutely nothing about us.
I think about my friend Karen in Miami. We’d meet every day in the breakroom to chat.
I knew how she liked her coffee and what she liked to eat for lunch.
I knew her favorite color to wear was green, and that she had three cats and a dog.
All those little things had to stack up before we could call each other friends.
I don’t want to wait for all that. I want to give Crystal everything now, and I want my family back.
She jumps up off the bench and looks past Scott. He tries to stop her, but she runs toward me.
I can see her clearly now.
You can do this, Nathan.
I pick up the pink rose I brought with me and swallow the rest of my nerves.
When she’s a few feet away, she sees me through the open window. Her eyes lock on mine. A flash of astonishment and disbelief. Then, she throws her hands over her mouth and collapses to her knees before she falls.
I’m out of the car and to her in seconds. The brunt of her fall was softened by the grass, but she passed out cold from the shock. I crouch to her and gently raise her head off the ground. Scott tries to take her from me, but I swipe his hands away.
“Let me help you check her out.” Reluctantly, I nod, and he quickly looks her over.
Her eyes flutter open, dazed. I’m startled when I recognize that they’re the exact shade of blue I remember from my dream—my memory.
“Nathan…” she says in a raspy whisper. She tries to reach out to me, but lets her arm fall and closes her eyes. I look up at Scott.
“She’s okay. Let’s get her inside. Do you want me to carry her?”
I shake my head. “I’ll do it.” Gently, I cradle her and stand.
She’s light, warm, and soft. Following Scott to the small cottage on the side of the inn, I wait as he unlocks the door.
I gaze at her face. Her full lips are slightly open, and I can see a sliver of her teeth and tongue.
She’s making small, jerky movements with her arms and legs.
When we get into the cottage, I gently lay her on the bed and turn to Scott. “Go.”
“Are you sure…”
“Yes.” My voice is steadier than I feel. “I want to be alone with her. I know what to watch out for.”
He hesitates, searching my face, then nods. “I’ll be inside the inn if you need me. I’ve got some calls to make. A few people need to know. I’m not sure how long we can keep this quiet, but I’ll try.” He pauses, then presses something into my hand. “You may need this.”
The rose.
I put it on the nightstand by the bed, along with a glass of water, and pull up a chair. I watch her, clinging to the proof that she’s real, afraid that if I blink, she may disappear.
And then I wait.
My name is Nathan Carter.
I am an archaeologist and a cave diver.
I discovered Carter’s Drop.
I live on Maverick Key.
Crystal matters to me.
I repeat them once, twice, three times. Dr. Paulson’s five constants exercise. Five things that are true no matter what. Not memories, but facts I can verify and build from. I gently pick up her wrist, rubbing my thumb across the comforting stream of the pulse beneath her skin.
My name is Nathan Carter.
I’m in my old cottage.
Crystal is breathing.
My hand is on her wrist.
I’m not leaving her.
I stare at her face, so peaceful in sleep. Everything about her looks soft and bright.
Will her voice be the same as I remember?
Our day with the dolphins wasn’t a dream at all. It’s a memory. A real one. It happened. If I can remember our kiss in the ocean, her taste of salt and honey, I might be able to remember more.
More of Dr. Paulson’s words come back to me, and I remember another one of our conversations.
“Memories don’t usually come back because you try to remember them. They come back when your brain feels safe enough.”
“I’ve been reading about shocking the brain,” I said, leaning forward. “If that’s what it takes to get my memories back, I’ll do it, Doc. Wire me up.”
He shook his head slowly, concern etched on his face. “That’s not how it works, Elliot. It’s a myth that shock will ‘reset’ the brain. In reality, it almost never works that way.”
Then he leaned forward. “When memories return suddenly, it’s usually because the brain reaches a tipping point. After a steady stream of emotional and physical triggers, things can settle back into place. And recall happens. Not because it was forced.”
He’d paused.
“Or?”
“Or when something deep inside bypasses conscious control,” he said carefully.
“You mean if my mind snaps.”
He didn’t correct me.
“We don’t understand everything,” he said.
When I look back down at Crystal, my pulse quickens. This is just the beginning. You’re my future. I pick up her hand and hold it tightly.