Chapter 31
Abigail readjusted herself on the stool at the kitchen counter and stared at the blinking cursor. She’d just finished reading her book for the eighth time in a week, and she wondered, as she did every time, what came next?
She’d searched the computer, hoping to find notes or an outline or something that would give her a clue to what she’d been thinking. But there seemed to be nothing. Because the whole story was already in her head? Because she had lived through it?
She gnawed at her lip. After a few days of her incessant questioning, Simeon had suggested that she stop reading and obsessing over the story. So Abigail had stopped bringing it up to him. But that didn’t mean she was ready to let it go. Not when every time she read it, it felt more like a memory than it had before.
She supposed Simeon could be right. It could be confabulation, or whatever it was that he’d called it. That was probably the logical answer—otherwise, how had she ended up here, in River Falls, with Simeon?
She saw now why he’d said the book couldn’t be her memories. He didn’t want to believe she could have been a car thief. Neither did she. Not really. But what if . . .
She shook her head, reading the last page again.
I felt invincible, like we owned the world, as Garrick revved the Jag’s engine. He’d said he lifted it from some unscrupulous lawyer. But I didn’t care at this point.
The thrill. That was what I was in this for.
He’s going to ruin your life, a little voice in the back of my head yelled. But I pretended I couldn’t hear it over the scream of the tires on the road.
Abigail touched her fingers to the keyboard, closing her eyes, trying to picture the next part of the story. Whether it was her memoir or just a story she’d made up, shouldn’t she be able to figure out what came next?
But there was nothing.
With a sigh, she closed the computer. She was going to be late to meet Simeon at work so they could head over to Everlee’s office together. They’d finally bought a new car to replace the totaled one a few days ago, and it turned out that she did remember how to drive. Simeon had made her drive around and around town to prove it.
She ran upstairs and tucked the laptop into the dresser drawer so Simeon wouldn’t know she’d been reading it. Then she charged back down the stairs, grabbed the keys, and ran out the door.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to think very hard about what to do as her body seemed to take over. She turned up the volume on the Christian radio station Ruth always had on at the bookstore and that Abigail had come to enjoy—not least because they played a couple of Lydia’s songs.
She was making a left turn into the downtown area when the sound of a siren made her jump. Her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, though she was sure she hadn’t been speeding.
But the lights were right behind her, and when Abigail slowed and pulled to the shoulder to let the officer pass, the patrol car pulled up behind her.
She gripped the wheel tightly. Now what?
She had no idea if she’d ever been pulled over before, but if she had, she didn’t remember what to do.
She watched in the mirror as the police car’s door opened. The moment the officer stepped out, her chest caved in. She’d only seen Simeon’s brother Zeb a couple of times, from a distance, but the brothers all looked enough alike that it couldn’t be anyone else.
From what she understood, the accident hadn’t been her fault—but she’d also been the one driving. And she’d survived, while his wife hadn’t.
Sweat slicked her palms, but still she couldn’t release her grip on the steering wheel. Zeb reached the side of the car and made a motion for her to roll down the window.
Right.
She pried her fingers off the wheel and pressed the window button.
“Abigail?” Zeb sounded completely taken aback.
“Yes,” Abigail said meekly. “Was I speeding?”
“Uh. No.” Zeb rubbed a hand over his hair the same way Simeon did when he was uncomfortable. “You don’t have a license plate. Did you— Is this a new car?”
“Oh. Yeah.” She looked away, hoping he wasn’t thinking about what had happened to her old one. “Simeon said he did all the paperwork, but—”
“No, I mean, it’s okay. Just had to make sure the vehicle wasn’t stolen. Been a rash of car thefts in the area lately.”
“Oh. Um. No. Not stolen.” A shaky laugh slipped out. Oh goodness, did that make her sound guilty?
“Well, okay.” Zeb tapped the car. “I’ll let you get on your way then.” He stepped away from the vehicle.
“Zeb. Wait.” Abigail closed her eyes. She didn’t know what she thought she was going to say. There were no words. But she couldn’t just not say anything.
She opened her eyes to find him standing still but staring at his police car.
“I’m sorry.” The words felt so very inadequate, but they were all she had. “About your wife.”
Zeb shook his head but then turned and met her eyes. “It’s not your fault. Carly wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.” He strode back to his car, leaving Abigail to blink back the sting of tears.
The rest of the drive to Simeon’s office was blurry as she kept swiping at her eyes. She hadn’t even realized she’d been burdened by guilt over Carly’s death until Zeb had set her free from it.
She pulled into a parking spot and gave her eyes a more thorough drying, then took a breath and headed for Simeon’s building. His office door was closed, so she took a seat in the reception area. She’d been here a couple of times with Simeon, and he’d told her that she’d helped decorate it—which might explain why she felt more at home in the comfy blue chairs than in the stark whites of Everlee’s lobby.
She thumbed absently through a magazine but set it down again as the door to Simeon’s office opened.
A dark-haired woman stepped out, and though Abigail couldn’t recall ever using the word ravishing, it was the first word that popped into her head. Thick curls spilled over the woman’s shoulders, her low-cut blouse and clingy skirt emphasizing a figure Abigail had thought existed only on dolls.
“Abigail.” The woman headed in her direction with a wide smile. “Wendy. We met at the store, remember?” the woman said just as the memory clicked into place. No wonder it had taken a moment—Abigail was pretty sure Wendy hadn’t been dressed like this at the store.
Abigail’s eyes went from Wendy to Simeon, and she tried to decide whether his frown was meant for her or for the other woman.
“When was this?” he asked.
“Oh, a couple of weeks ago,” Wendy said breezily. “Abigail was there with some other guy.” She giggled as if she had given away some big secret.
“Benjamin,” Abigail murmured.
Simeon nodded. “We should get going.”
“Oh, right.” Wendy turned and sashayed toward the door. “See you next week.” She waved, and the door chime tinkled as it opened then swung shut behind her.
Simeon let out an audible breath. “Sorry about that. Her session was supposed to be done fifteen minutes ago.”
Abigail wanted to ask why Wendy was seeing him, what they talked about, but it was none of her business.
“It’s okay,” she said instead. “I just got here a minute ago. I had a little encounter on the way over.”
“An encounter?” Simeon was staring toward the parking lot, and Abigail followed his gaze to where Wendy was getting into a black SUV.
Something in Abigail’s chest jerked. Should she be worried about her husband spending time alone with a woman who looked like that?
Of course not. Simeon was a loving husband. He would never—
Well, how did she know what he would never do, when she could only remember back two months?
She shook the question off. She may not remember very far back—but in the time she did remember, he had never once shown anything but complete devotion to her.
“Abigail?”
She turned to find Simeon studying her. “What kind of encounter?”
She told him about getting pulled over by Zeb, her composure slipping a little as she recounted his comment about not blaming herself. Simeon pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair. “I’m glad the two of you talked. Though I wish he would have chosen a better forum.”
Abigail laughed into his shirt, letting his now-familiar scent comfort her. He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head, and she knew without a doubt—there was no way this man was cheating on her.
Simeon washed his hands, then stood letting them drip into the sink. He shouldn’t be so shaken up by learning that Abigail had met Wendy at the store. It was a small town—people ran into each other all the time. It wasn’t like Wendy had sought Abigail out. They’d probably struck up a conversation in the checkout line or something.
He was only agitated because he hadn’t made a lot of progress with Wendy over the last couple of weeks. And she’d chosen today’s session to casually mention that she was aware Abigail had started divorce proceedings before the accident. Simeon had calmly—he hoped—explained that the session was not about him or his relationship but about her, and she’d seemed to move on from there. But the way she’d run up to Abigail in the waiting area—Simeon had nearly had a heart attack at the prospect of Wendy mentioning the divorce to his wife.
He shook off his hands and grabbed a paper towel. Wendy may not have gotten past her feelings for him yet, but she wasn’t malicious. It was his job to help her, and he was going to do that.
He tossed the paper towel in the trash and strode back to the lobby of Everlee’s office. Everlee and Abigail were already involved in an animated conversation. Or rather, Abigail was animated. Everlee was listening with the same calm, neutral expression he used with his own clients.
“I don’t know how to explain it.” Abigail’s words reached him halfway across the lobby. “It’s like, when I’m reading it, it feels so real. Like I’ve been there, done those things.”
Simeon accidentally let an impatient sound escape his throat. Both Everlee and Abigail turned toward him, Everlee’s expression surprised, Abigail’s annoyed.
“Why don’t we step inside and talk some more.” Everlee directed them into her office. Simeon suppressed a weary sigh. He knew Abigail wanted a past—but imagining that the things in that book could be her past was a waste of time. He’d suggested that she stop rereading it—but he suspected that the book was the reason she’d gone to bed early every night this week. And the reason the progress they’d been making on their relationship had pretty much stalled. Why every time he kissed her, she seemed distracted and far away, as if she was comparing his kisses to those of some fictional character.
They both sat on the couch, though there was a much wider gap between them than there had been last week, when he’d wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she’d pressed herself into his side.
“Abigail mentioned to me that she found a book she was writing,” Everlee said as she settled into the chair across from them. “You know she was writing a book?”
Simeon nodded. “I had read some of it, yes.” He didn’t mention how he’d come across it on her computer. “It’s very good. Very realistic feeling,” he added pointedly.
Abigail threw her hands in the air. “Why can’t you admit that it could be true?”
“For one, you told me it was a novel,” Simeon answered evenly. “For two, if you really were a car thief, don’t you think you’d be in prison? And for three, I know you, Abigail. The woman in that story is not you.”
Abigail crossed her arms and shook her head. “Then why does it feel like it is?” she asked quietly.
“I told you.” Simeon rubbed a hand over his rough cheeks. “Your brain doesn’t like having gaps. It’s trying to fill them in.”
Abigail turned to Everlee. “Isn’t there any chance it’s true?”
Everlee considered. “I suppose it’s possible.”
Simeon started to interrupt, but Everlee held up a hand. “But it’s unlikely. It’s much more likely, as Simeon said, that your brain wants something—anything—to fill in those gaps. And since the story is written in your voice, it makes sense that it would feel like memories.”
Abigail shook her head, refusing to look at either of them. Simeon’s heart softened. As frustrating as this was for him, it had to be a thousand times more so for her. He reached for her hand, and she let him take it, though she didn’t lace her fingers through his.
“Simeon, you seem upset about Abigail’s feelings about the book. Why?” Everlee asked.
Simeon sighed. It was exactly the question he would have asked in her place—but it was really annoying to be the one on the receiving end of it.
“I’m not upset,” he finally said. “I’m . . . frustrated, I guess. We agreed to stop trying to force the memories and to start our relationship over again from the beginning. And it was going so well. We were spending time together, getting to know each other again. Kissing—a lot.” He squeezed Abigail’s hand, and she ducked her head, but he saw the soft smile that hovered on her lips. “But it feels like once you found that book, that was the only thing you could think about. Instead of moving forward. I want to keep moving forward, Abigail.”
She looked up, meeting his eyes. “Me too.”
He let out what may have been the world’s biggest breath. “Good.” He leaned forward to set a soft kiss on her lips.
“Wow, I am good,” Everlee said from her chair, and they all laughed.
The three of them talked for a while longer, Simeon allowing himself to slide closer to Abigail every few minutes, until he was near enough to wrap an arm around her.
“Daisy’s?” he asked as they walked to their vehicle after the session was over. The sun kissed the top of the mountains to the west, and Simeon let his heart release the stresses of the day. Talking to Everlee had been good for them.
“Absolutely.” Abigail wiggled her fingers in between his. “I’m sorry I spent so much time obsessing over the book,” she said as they neared downtown River Falls. “I know you’re probably right that it’s just a story I made up. Anyway—” She sighed. “The way my heart almost beat a hole in my chest when Zeb pulled me over before, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t be a car thief.”
Simeon chuckled and lifted her knuckles to his lips. “That’s what I’m saying.”