Lost and Found – By Tori Mitchell #3
The police officer nodded, her lips twisted in a frown. "I noticed that, too. My guess is that he learned guns are dangerous. It might be a childhood fear. Maybe he was robbed as an adult. Until we figure out his identity, we can't be sure. I don't think it means he's a bad person."
Alex took in that information. She stared at John, who was now straightening the books on her shelves.
She couldn't let the town put him in a homeless shelter.
Alex pictured his warm brown eyes, and the smile he'd given the child who wanted a new book.
His smile alone had sent her heart fluttering.
This wasn't the time to be attracted to the man, but she had to admit there was something appealing about him.
As silly as it was, she cared about John. If something terrible had happened to him, she would help him get through it—and keep him safe until they knew who he was.
"John"
John looked around Alex's oversized Victorian house in awe.
"You have a wonderful home," he said, carefully nudging off his shoes and lining them on the mat next to the door.
He stared down at the floor, unsure how he'd known to remove his shoes before he walked through Alex's house.
Hopefully, it meant he was a good man—or at least one who cared about keeping the mud out of his friends' homes.
"Thanks," Alex said, leaving her own flats on the mat next to John's shoes. "It was my grandmother's. We've passed it down from one generation to the next. My grandmother ran a bed-and-breakfast here. I'm more interested in books, but I love being surrounded by my family's history."
John nodded, staring around the room. "The stained glass windows indicate this home was built in the mid-1800s.
That's when people first settled in Sunset Cove, right?
" John closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he considered his words.
"I can tell you the history of Sunset County, but I can't tell you my name. This is incredibly frustrating."
Alex reached out and touched his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. "It's okay. We'll figure it out. You need time to heal."
She held her hand there a moment too long, the warmth from her hand seeping into John's tired body. It felt good to be touched by caring hands.
John resisted the urge to lean into her touch. Alex was nice enough to open her home to him—he couldn't do anything to make her feel uncomfortable.
Still, it took some effort to keep from reaching out and holding her hand in place. John held back a sigh as Alex removed her hand and cleared her throat. Had their touch affected her, too? He could only hope.
John might not know his own name, but he suspected Alex was his type. Smart, caring, and full of spunk.
Alex gestured toward the house's grand staircase. "Anyway, I've got lots of guest rooms upstairs. Why don't I show you what's available, and you can pick out your favorite room."
"I won't impose more than necessary," he replied. "Any room would be fine. It's better than sleeping on the streets—or a homeless shelter."
"You heard Pastor Rick?"
"I did. It was kind of you to take me in," John said, looking down into her warm green eyes. He wanted to reach out, to touch her like she'd touched him, but suspected that would overstep some invisible boundary. "I'd like to keep working at the library. I can repay my debt by helping you."
She waved away his words, opening the door at the end of the hallway. "It's no trouble. This was our master suite, and it’s perfect for you. You'll have your own bathroom and a small library."
John looked around the room, his eyes gleaming.
Bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling.
He took long strides toward the books and ran his hand along their spines.
"Thrillers, classics, and a few romance novels.
It's a nice mix." He turned to give Alex a broad smile. "Did you add this to the room?"
She shook her head. "My grandmother wanted this room to be a book lover's paradise.
She's one reason I became a librarian. I spent most of my childhood here, when there weren't guests staying in the room.
" She gestured toward the shelves. "You seemed comfortable at the library.
I thought you might enjoy this room, too. "
John grinned, imagining a tiny version of Alex curled up on the overstuffed chair. This time he didn't stop himself—he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into a gentle hug. "Thank you. For the place to stay, and sharing your home's library. You're a special person."
He held the hug just a moment too long, inhaling Alex's flowery shampoo. Alex made him feel grounded and safe. But he needed to give her space. It wouldn't do to push himself on her in Alex's own home.
John let her go, smiling down into Alex's bright eyes.
Alex blinked and nodded. "It's no problem. Get settled while I start dinner."
"John"
John stepped into the small bathroom, eager to shower and change into the clean pants and shirt Pastor Rick had left.
Feeling fresh and far more presentable after the shower, John stared at his dirty clothes. He’d have to ask Alex for access to a laundry machine. But before he did that, he’d empty out his pockets. The hospital had checked his pockets as well, but something here might trigger a memory.
A crumbled five-dollar bill. A few coins. And a tiny book—he'd thought it was a notebook, but it was actually a small Bible.
John picked up the Bible and flipped it open to John 3:16. Then he blinked, realizing what he'd done—he didn't just know books, he knew specific Bible verses. Maybe more of his memory was returning!
He rushed down the stairs, bursting into the kitchen. Alex looked up from the stove in surprise.
"I've got a favorite Bible verse," he announced. "John, chapter three. Verse sixteen. I remembered it."
Alex grinned, pulling a pan off the stove. She flipped two grilled sandwiches onto plates and carried them to the table. "We're calling you John, and it's your favorite Bible verse. Seems like a good match. In any case, I'm glad you remembered something."
John stared down at the plate. Whatever this sandwich was, it smelled delicious.
Alex must have inherited her ability to cook from her grandmother.
You couldn't run a bed-and-breakfast without knowing your way around the kitchen.
He should be starving by now, but he could barely find the energy to pick up his food.
"Who am I, though? None of this helps me figure out my name or where I belong. "
Alex sat in the seat next to him, looking him quietly in the eyes. "I've only known you for a day, but what have you done? You've opened doors for me. You've made a young child smile. And you understand how libraries work. In my mind, that makes you one of the good guys."
John frowned, frustration bubbling within him. "All I did was repay your kindness," he argued. "Isn't that what people do?"
Alex shrugged, her face carefully neutral. "I've seen my share of bad people. They can be selfish or cruel. You're not one of them." She nudged the plate toward him, making the smell of chicken and cheese fill his senses. "Eat something. You'll feel better. Your body needs fuel and rest."
John stared at his host as she walked around the table, choosing the seat across from him. He touched his hand to his forehead again—not because he was in pain, but because Alex's gentle words moved him.
John couldn't remember much of his life, but was sure he'd never known anyone as special as Alex. He needed to figure out who he was, and how to keep Alex in his life once his memories returned.
Alex
John and Alex soon fell into a routine. They worked at the library, met with doctors at Sunset County's hospital, and spent quiet summer nights alone in Alex's home.
Alex also took them on long, meandering drives through Sunset County—anything to help him spark a memory.
John's amnesia was taking a toll on both of them.
They were growing closer to each other with each passing day, but something held Alex back.
She couldn't let herself fall in love with a stranger.
If he was the new guy in town? Sure, no problem. But John had an entire life waiting for him. His life didn't include her.
The police had concluded that John wasn't married. There were no signs he'd ever worn a wedding ring, and no one had reported him missing. That still didn't mean there was room for Alex in his old life.
She glanced over at John. They'd brought beach chairs down to the bay today, determined to savor the last days of summer. John seemed to enjoy watching the families play in the waves.
Then he turned to Alex with a start, his whole body tense. "When does school open?"
Alex frowned and searched her memories. Her library patrons had mentioned school starting soon. "They go back in three weeks. The teachers start next week."
John looked healthier than when he'd arrived. Happier, and more relaxed. He'd taken his shirt off at the beach this time, vowing to "finally get a tan." But he didn't look relaxed now. John sat forward in his chair, staring at the waves. "I'm forgetting something. Something about the kids."
Alex bit her lip, hoping to help John find some of the peace they'd enjoyed at the beach today. "You're forgetting a lot of things," she said, reaching out to touch his arm. "But you're remembering more each day. You can't rush the process. The doctor said you need time for your brain to heal."
John sighed and nodded, covering Alex's hand with his own. "Of all the places I could have gone, I'm glad I found your library."
Alex bit back a smile. Who was she kidding?
It was too late to guard her heart against this handsome man.
She was halfway in love with him. Over the past few days, he'd proven he was kind and caring.
They'd spent hours discussing their favorite books—ironic, given how little of his life he remembered.