Chapter 17
Abigail tried to shake the groggy feeling from her nap as Simeon helped her down the stairs.
“Do you recognize the smell?” he asked, stopping at the bottom of the steps.
Abigail pulled in as deep a breath as she could without sending pain shooting through her ribs. Something savory with a hint of spice hit her nose. Simeon had said he’d made her favorite meal—but he hadn’t said what it was. She inhaled again. But she didn’t have a clue.
“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t meet his eyes because she didn’t want to see his disappointment.
He shifted so he was standing right in front of her, and she had no choice but to look at him. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Come on, I’ll show you.”
He led her past the living room and down a short hallway into a cozy kitchen with white cabinets and a gray countertop. He pointed to the stove, where a pan held a bubbly green sauce. “It’s enchiladas verdes.”
She nodded. It did smell pretty good.
“Come on. Sit down, and I’ll finish getting everything ready.” Simeon hurried to the dining room table and pulled out a chair for her.
Abigail sat slowly, her eyes going to the stacks of framed pictures and colorful boxes on the table. “What’s this?”
“Our life,” Simeon said. “Or at least pictures of it. I have more on my computer too. And my phone. I thought we could look at them while we eat. Hopefully it will trigger your memories.” He hurried back to the kitchen, and Abigail reached for the nearest framed photo. It looked like her and Simeon, though it must have been a few years ago, since Simeon didn’t have any flecks of silver in his hair. They were both smiling, and it looked like they were somewhere tropical. A vacation?
Abigail ran her finger over her own image. How could that woman be her? How could she not remember being that woman?
“That’s one of my favorite pictures.” Simeon returned, setting a platter of what looked like tacos covered in a green sauce on the table. “I have a copy at work. It’s from shortly after we met. In Ecuador.”
She gaped at him. “We met in Ecuador?”
He nodded, a strange expression crossing his face. “On a mission trip. Man alive, I fell hard and fast for you.” His smile seemed nostalgic, and Abigail reminded herself that this was probably as hard for him as it was for her.
“Did I fall hard and fast for you too?”
Simeon hesitated, seeming to consider the question. “I like to think so,” he said quietly. “At any rate, I proposed to you after three months and you said yes. So I’d say that’s pretty fast.” He scooped an enchilada onto her plate. “Should we give thanks?”
Abigail nodded. After dozens of meals with him and his family in the hospital, she knew they never ate without first thanking God. It’d made her wonder if she’d had such a strong faith as well. Apparently she had, if she and Simeon had met on a mission trip.
“Dear Lord,” Simeon started to pray, and Abigail ducked her head. “Thank you that Abigail is at last home.” He cut off and cleared his throat, and Abigail found herself blinking back tears at the emotion in his voice. They must have had such a wonderful relationship if he cared about her that deeply, even now, when she didn’t remember him.
“Please continue to watch over her and help her to recover and remember,” Simeon continued. “To know that I love her no matter what. And so do you. Amen.”
“Amen,” Abigail whispered, keeping her head down. Every time he said something about how much he loved her, the guilt over not being able to say it back stabbed a little deeper.
“Dig in,” Simeon said, picking up his own fork.
Abigail obeyed. She was starving, and Simeon had said this was her favorite, so she cut off a large bite.
But the moment it was in her mouth, she realized it was a mistake. Something tasted like dish soap.
She grabbed the glass of water in front of her plate and downed a big gulp.
“What’s wrong?” Simeon stared at her. “Did I mess it up?” He stuck a bite in his mouth.
Abigail shook her head.
“I think it’s okay,” Simeon said after he swallowed.
“No. It’s good,” she said. “I just took too big of a bite.”
“Ah.” Simeon seemed to accept her explanation. He stuck another bite in his mouth, and Abigail cut herself a much smaller piece. She managed to eat a few more before she set her fork down.
“You don’t like it?” Disappointment trickled through Simeon’s words.
“I’m just not very hungry.” She didn’t know why she felt compelled to lie. Only that she was desperate to erase the disappointment from his expression.
“Well, how about dessert then? I picked up a French silk pie from Daisy’s.” He sped over to the kitchen and was back a few seconds later with a decadent-looking piece of pie. Abigail’s mouth watered. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to have to pretend to like this. But she took a small first bite, just in case.
The moment it hit her tongue, she moaned, and Simeon chuckled. She liked the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
“Should we look at the pictures?” He dug into his own slice of pie but pulled a small striped box closer. “These are all from Ecuador. You made fun of me for getting so many printed when they’re all on my computer, but I’m glad to have them now.”
He spent the next hour showing her pictures—of Ecuador, of their wedding, of events with his family, of remodeling the kitchen of this house.
As she looked at the pictures and listened to his stories, Abigail couldn’t help feeling like she was reading a book or watching a movie. It was a good movie, and she liked the characters. But she still couldn’t convince herself that it was about her.