Chapter 2
When her godsister Veronica told her about designing an orphanage for the elusive James Sorenson, Mariah Sanchez knew that her big break had come.
She also felt that this orphanage project was a chance to do something impactful. Something for orphans like herself. The thought excited her more than anything. But first, she had to pass the first stage, which was sitting down with Mr. James Sorenson and drawing from his imagination the building he wanted.
It was the next day after Veronica had introduced her to Mr. Sorenson at a restaurant. She stared at the massive cast iron gates that led to his mansion and took a deep breath.
Turning back to the path behind her, she noticed her taxi was gone, and she was alone. She walked to the massive gates, pressed a buzzer, and stated her name and her appointment.
Veronica had told her Mr. Sorenson would be expecting her, but it didn”t make her any less nervous. This was her first important client and her first time running these kinds of meetings alone.
She heard a buzz, and the gates opened for her. She had not seen anyone at the gate to open it. So, she was certain it was someone inside the house who let her in.
From the gates, a winding gravel path flanked by trees on both sides lay in front of her. She followed it and met a large yard with a fountain bubbling at the center.
The gravel path gave way to houses that belonged on magazine covers and postcards. It was a massive bungalow with tall Corinthian pillars flanking the entrance with tall windows lining the walls.
Through the windows, she caught glimpses of ornate pieces of furniture, glowing chandeliers, and people walking the halls. Although she tried not to stare, seeing the interior design of the house excited the architect’s mind.
She approached a black SUV and a guy in glasses leaning on it. She approached the man. He raised his head from his phone and observed her with a question on his face.
“Hi!” she said with a wave of her hand. “I”m Mariah Sanchez, and I”m here to see Mr. Sorenson.” The man watched her behind his glasses, and she wondered if he was listening to her. “I have an appointment.”
“Yeah, I know who you are,” the man said, breaking his stoic look with a smile. “The famous and talented architect that wants to build James’ orphanage.” He pushed himself off the car and tucked his phone into his pants pocket. Then he put his arm around her shoulders like they were well acquainted.
“Well, I wouldn”t say famous,” she chuckled nervously, tilting her head to the side.
“Well,” he imitated her with a sideward tilt of his head, “you must be fantastic for Veronica to have hired you. Now come on. He’s waiting.” Instead of leading her inside the house, the man guided her along the length of the building.
Mariah suppressed a pout as she saw the interior of the house through the clear windows. She wanted to go inside. Through the windows, she saw antique high-back chairs and stools positioned next to the windows. She saw shelves with trinkets, a gleaming black grand piano, a set of beautiful couches, and an ornate dining room. Her imagination ran wild with what memories and stories the house could hold.
“I”m Gregory, by the way,” the man leading her said, breaking her from her daydreaming. “But you can call me Greg.”
“Nice to meet you, Greg,” Mariah managed to say before a sharp turn to the side of the house revealed a view that left her speechless. She mouthed a silent ‘wow’ as she took in the large backyard, a beautiful outdoor kitchen, and a gazebo that held a large gleaming table and chairs. Past the gazebo, Mariah caught sight of tall green hedges that spanned the horizon. The fragrant scent of flowers invaded her scene, but she couldn”t see a garden in sight. Greg led her to the gazebo and offered her a seat, then disappeared into the house through French doors.
Looking back at the house, she saw white curtains floating in the breeze from a set of glass doors that had been left open. Inside a spotless stainless-steel kitchen, a man walked back and forth. It was James.
Before their meeting yesterday, Mariah had seen James Sorenson on TV and billboards. But their introduction yesterday was the first time that she had seen him in the flesh. Mariah had barely looked at him as she had been awestruck to be in his presence.
At the restaurant, his presence had seemed imposing and had made her feel small. He had looked cold, like a stoic king upon a stone throne.
He hadn”t smiled, and his eagle-like gaze had burned her. That was the James Sorenson she had met that day, which seemed to be different from the James she saw now walking in the kitchen.
Mariah stared with wide eyes as James smiled brightly and genuinely at someone inside the house. He said something in response and turned his bright eyes on Mariah. Her breath caught in her throat as he approached her.
He was dressed casually, but he looked incredibly handsome. His gray sweatpants highlighted his toned legs. His white V-neck tee shirt hugged his body, displaying the planes and contours of his chiseled chest.
He raised one hand to push his glossy honey-brown curls out of his eyes, giving Mariah a better view of his toned biceps. In his other hand was a tray, which he balanced elegantly on his long fingers.
His strides were swift, and he was standing before her in the gazebo and dropping the tray on the table. On the tray were two plates of pie, a jug with what Mariah suspected was orange juice, and two cups.
“Care for a snack?” was the first thing he said to her as he sat down. Seated across from him, Mariah could make out the green in his eyes, glassy like the grass after rain. He noticed her silence and smiled, picking up one of the plates.
“Not the eating or talking type, huh?” Leaning back onto his seat, he picked up a piece of pie with his fork and brought it to his lips. “I could have sworn you spoke the last time we met, or was it just a trick of the eyes?” His lips curled into a teasing smile as they clasped shut over the fork.
Mariah watched his Adam”s apple bob as he chewed slowly. It felt as if he was giving her time to gather herself in his presence. She didn’t usually get awestruck. However, a dull pain had settled behind her eyes since their first handshake yesterday. It only intensified now in his presence.
Her head throbbed as she stared at him, and she felt foggy, which wasn”t new to her. Her headaches came and went. She didn”t need one now, though. Not when she was sitting across from someone like James Sorenson. When his eyes focused on her again, she did her best to shake away the pain in her head.
Her doctor had told her that the headaches and nausea resulted from her mind trying to remember events or people. He told her that these were normal for amnesia patients. He also said that people with repressed traumatic memories could have more severe headaches than normal.
He had advised her not to try to force her mind to remember lest it cause her to faint. Fainting could be dangerous if she were crossing the street, driving, or in any other situation where she could get harmed. She had gone against the doctor’s advice and paid dearly for it on several occasions.
Despite the doctor’s advice, she desperately wanted to remember who she was and if she had a family. She longed to know where she was from. She generally didn’t share all of this with people, though. No one could understand what it was like to live with amnesia.
On the few occasions when Mariah had tried to talk to friends about her desires, she had been advised to move on from the past that she could not remember and stop worrying about the family she might have out there. Her friends had told her that she should give up trying to remember her past because it caused her headaches. After that, she chose to keep her business to herself.
Now, looking up at the wealthy man, she remembered her days growing up as an orphan and attending school with other kids who had families. She had always envied them. She had felt inferior to them as clothes from the orphanage had been raggedy hand-me-downs. The social status of orphans had always put her in a lower social stratum than the rest of the kids in the school. Pulling herself out of memories, she focused on the handsome man in front of her.
“I do talk,” she said, shifting in her seat and reaching for the other plate of pie. “And I eat too.” She stabbed the pie with her fork and ate a bit of it. It melted in her mouth in a burst of flavor, and she moaned. Apple was her favorite fruit.
She did not know when she closed her eyes, but when she opened them, she met James”s piercing green gaze. She swallowed quickly and subdued a cough, dropping the plate back on the table.
James let out a laugh. His rich baritone sent vibrations through her body. She flushed, not sure if it was because he was laughing at her or that she found the sound of his laughter soothing. She shifted her gaze to the house.
“If I had known you would enjoy my cooking so much, I would have made more than one.”
Mariah’s eyes widened. “You made the pie?” she heard herself ask in a shocked voice.
“Surprising, I know,” James said, eating more of his pie. “But I consider cooking a life skill and being able to cook what I like to eat is a necessity.”
“But you don”t have to make what you want to eat yourself. I”m assuming you have people to do it for you,” Mariah answered, her interest piqued.
“I do,” James said with a low, amused sound in his throat. “But I”d rather make my pie myself,” he smiled at her. “Especially when it’s not time for meals yet,” he added as an afterthought. “Now that I know you like my cooking, can we move on to the business of the hour? Hopefully, you”ll like my taste in buildings too,” James muttered, twirling the fork in his hand, and gave her a small smile.
Mariah unstrapped her satchel and brought out her tablet and stylus pen. She readied herself to draw and take down notes. After a moment of silence, she looked up from the table to see a chuckling James.
He smiled at her. “You are the focused one, aren’t you?”
Mariah managed to smile. The tension in her shoulder dissipated, and the knot in her stomach unfurled. “I thought you were about to tell me your thoughts about the orphanage design?”
“Truthfully, I do not know where to start. The orphanage had always been a thought. I had all the funding and partners figured out, but the actual building… I never thought I would need to give my input so early in its design.” He sighed, and his eyes turned towards footsteps approaching from the house.
Mariah followed his gaze. A man emerged from behind the curtains. He was tall like James, but that was where the similarities ended. He had a willowy frame and a birdlike nose. Blonde curls fell to his shoulders. He stalked to the gazebo and eyed James with a bored look in his eyes.
With his approach, the pain in Mariah’s head became more insistent.
“Hey, li’l bro,” His voice was haughty. “What”s going on here? Did you make pie? You”re looking all cozy, eating al fresco with a beautiful lady,” he shifted his gaze to Mariah, and the blood in her veins ran cold.
There was a sinister familiarity in his voice. The newcomer ran his eyes over her, and she shrank back from his gaze.
“Hello,” he said with a sliver of a smile on his lips. “If you”re bored of my bro, here, you can come with me. There”s an indoor jacuzzi with our name on it.” He winked at her and picked up the plate of pie in front of James. “Find me when this–” he motioned to James “—is done, okay sweet pea?”
Mariah fought the urge to scoff at the pet name he called her and focused on James, who had a scowl on his face. Just as quickly as he had come, the newcomer left with James” plate of pie, and she saw James”s shoulder relax. When he looked at her again, his eyes held an apology.
“Sorenson’s are not all so brash,” He sat up straighter. “Forgive my brother. He”s not supposed to be home, but he is, and he likes to poke around.”
The cold in Mariah”s blood began to recede, and she reached for the jug, but James beat her to it. As their fingers brushed, goose pimples rose on Mariah”s skin, and a jolt of electricity rippled down her spine. This was followed by a wave of nausea, and her vision blurred as the headache suddenly decided to take on a new, more ferocious beat.
Instantly, she retracted her fingers from James” and pressed them to her temples when another wave of nausea passed over her, and her vision tunneled.
Not now, please not. Go away, headache!
“Are you okay?” She heard James say, but his voice sounded far away, and her dizziness increased.
Taking deep breaths, she waited until her vision cleared up. “No… No, I”m fine,” she managed to say. “Just a little headache.”
James offered her a cup of juice and said, “If you”re unwell, we could…”
“No,” she protested, taking the cup and bringing it to her lips. After a couple sips, she continued, “I”m fine. Let”s proceed, please.”
She avoided looking at him, afraid to see concern or pity in his eyes. She picked up her tablet, ready to write or draw. They sat in silence for more than a minute. She could tell he was waiting to see how she felt.
Then, with a sigh, she said, “Okay… let”s start from the very beginning. What made you want to build an orphanage?” She sat poised and ready to take notes.
“When I was a kid, I went to Ashton McKellen Academy–so did my brother. Every morning, we drove past an orphanage and I had never cared to look out the window. I never cared to see other children who were less privileged than me. You could say I lived in my rich bubble. That was until I made a new friend, Anastasia Chandler.”
When he told her about his school and mentioned his friend’s name, Mariah felt a new sensation in her head. A buzz started. The names sounded familiar to her. Yet, she couldn”t remember where and when she had heard them before.
She tried focusing on him to distract her mind. She was mesmerized by how his honey-brown curls fell over his green eyes and how his slender fingers–a musician”s hand–pushed the curls away from his eyes. After he moved them away, it took only a second for the stubborn curls to return to their original position. Then, with a sigh, he let them be. She almost giggled.
He continued, “Anastasia burst my bubble and showed me that you didn”t need money to change the world. You just needed a good heart burning with passion. She made me join her after school every Wednesday to teach toddlers their alphabet.”
He continued, “I barely did anything. I just watched her sing and cajole the kids to sing along with her. I saw the joy in her eyes when they finally got the alphabet rhyme right. Eventually, I became a toy for the more rambunctious toddlers. They would pull at my shirt, or bag, wanting me to carry them or play with them. And if I didn”t want to or expressed any anger, they would wail,” James was chuckling now as he spoke, and Mariah marveled at how beautiful he looked, lost in the past.
He went on, “And boy, those kids could cry. Stacie was the nickname I had for Anastasia. She was at my side the second the crying started, giving me a lecture about handling toddlers. She had been eleven then. What did she know about handling toddlers? She knew a lot, I suppose. She had been going to the orphanage with her parents for years.”
James gave a small sigh and stared at Mariah. It made her face flush more, trying to match his gaze. She looked away first and asked him to tell her more about his volunteering at the orphanage.
He continued, “At first, I didn”t like it so much. Made me feel bad that I had parents–even if one of them wasn”t my birth parent.”
Mariah hummed softly as she took in this information. She didn”t want to pry, but the question of which parent was his stepparent hung in her mind.
“Elaine did her best, but she didn”t have my mother”s bright smile and warmth,” James answered the question she had not asked. “Where my mother had hugs and laughter, Elaine was pats on the back and silent. I missed my mother so much after she died, that I was drifting away from reality…”
“I”m so sorry,” Mariah found herself saying.
“It”s fine,” James said with a sad smile. “I made peace with her death years ago. Besides, Stacie came with her bright light and kind heart to remind me that my life was still beautiful and that I could be a force of good.”
“She sounds like a special girl,” Mariah smiled.
“She was. She made me donate items that had been fading away in my room: clothes, shoes, bags, hats, toys, and books. Some things I had never worn or used before. It felt good. She made me tutor the kids too. She said it would make me a better student, and it was true. I became so much better in school. If we didn”t want to teach or play with the kids, we would help in the kitchen, with the older kids and the cook. Miss Annamarie, who worked there, had grown up in that orphanage but had made a life for herself as a chef. She taught Stacie and me how to make delicious meals, like apple pie,” he added, and Mariah couldn”t help but smile.
The more he talked about his past, the more Mariah’s headache increased. She was used to hiding headaches and nausea from those around her. The problem was that this headache seemed stronger than usual.
“Now I know where you picked up this recipe from,” she said, and she took down a few notes. “And I also know, you would like a large kitchen in your orphanage, much like the one you have here.”
“What else have you picked from my little speech about the past?” James asked her with amusement in his voice.
“You seem to like learning… so we can add a few classrooms to the orphanage and a large playroom–for when school is done.”
James nodded in approval, and her heart galloped in her chest. He commented, “You are good. You got that from barely ten minutes of talk?”
“The more you talk, the more I know what you want to have in your orphanage.”
“Technically, it wouldn”t be my orphanage–just to add that point.”
Stunned at his confession, Mariah asked, “Then whose is it?”
“Stacie”s,” James said, leaning back on the seat. “It belongs to Anastasia Chandler, as a memorial. The orphanage would be in her honor and name.”
“A memorial?” The buzz in Mariah”s head changed. Now, it was like a full-on beehive roaming inside her skull. She dropped her pen and reached for the cup of juice with shaking fingers.
“Yes. Stacie… Well, Stacie died about two years after we met.”
“Died? She–” Mariah didn”t get to finish her sentence as the cup she was holding fell from her hands, and the juice spilled. She jumped to her feet with an apology and realized a second too late that that had been a bad idea.
The instant she jumped to her feet, her vision blurred as the bees in her head rampaged. She was dizzy. She managed to lean a hand on her chair. She took off her glasses and shut her eyes.
She heard James asking her what was wrong, but speaking in reply would only increase her pain. She opened her eyes for a second and found James standing right beside her with worry in his eyes.
“Mariah, you are not okay,” he said. “We could go to a hospital if you–”
“No,” She groaned. “I just need to rest. ” Tears stung her eyes at the thought that her client had to see her like this–weak and sick. She was certain he would find another architect for the job. “I just need to go home,” her voice broke as she spoke. Taking deep breaths to steady herself, she began putting her things back into her satchel.
“I”m not letting you drive like this,” James protested, placing his hand over her shaky one on the table. Her head pounded even more as she flushed from his touch.
“I… I didn”t drive myself here,” she answered. She pulled her hand from underneath his and quickly grabbed her satchel. “Thank you, but I can find my way back home,” she said and tried to take a step away.
Immediately, the world spun. Mariah felt a breathlessness hit. Then her eyelids fluttered shut, and she felt herself fainting. The pain in her head had become so intense that she prepared herself to welcome the pain of the ground, which might knock her unconscious and put her out of her misery. But she never felt the impact of the ground.
After a second, she forced her eyes open and saw herself reflected in James” green eyes, which were filled with worry. She realized that she was in his arms and pressed close to his chest. One of his arms was around her lower back, and the other was under her shoulders. He was holding her weight. She focused on making her legs work so that she could escape his secure grasp. She felt overwhelmed with embarrassment.
James spoke softly, “I”m not letting you go anywhere like this. So, it”s either you stay here, with me and I call the doctor, or I drive you home to rest. Take your pick.”