Stranger in my Bed Page 6

  The kitchen looks like something from a normal home, from my glance, but I continue on to go back outside. I walk to the front of the house, turn around, and gaze at the large, two story house in progress. Was I really a part of dreaming this up and designing this?

  My breath floats out, a misty cloud in the frigid air. I feel the cold mud through my shoes and wonder about my clothing and personal items here. Won’t my life be waiting in this house?

  Eli comes around the corner, worried at first and then trying for a smile. He comes and stands next to me, his hands in his coat pockets.

  “Can we make a go of it?” he asks. “We came here to live our dream and I still want to do that. With you. With you, Megan.”

  I step close to him and slide my arms under his coat and around his waist. His chest is strong, his heartbeat reassuring, his smell tantalizing.

  It’s cold out here in the mist, but the house does hold promise. I can tell this will be beautiful in the summer, and maybe welcoming in the winter once there’s windows with orange light pouring out.

  “Ellison,” I breathe. “Eli…”

  “Say yes, Meg.”

  He’s so convincing. Something about him, here with that smile and glowing eyes, makes me want to follow him anywhere. The breeze rustles, swirling, and carries a new scent to my nose, different than the pine, moss, mud and river. I’m trying to figure the familiar smell out when Eli says my name again.

  “Yessss—” I start the word and recognize the scent all at once. It’s rosemary, the herb, or something very similar.

  Rosemary.

  “My little Rosemary,” my grandmother says, taking my face in her hands. “A little Rosemary makes the recipe, did you know that? Just like you’re the spice in my life, dear.”

  I look at Eli with this knowledge exploding in my brain. He smiles at me. His expression falters for a second before I cover my emotion.

  “Are you okay?”

  I nod, breathless. If she remembers anything…

  “Welcome home, Megan.” He pulls me close and presses a kiss into my hair.

  My heart is twisting up like a washrag. Why would he trick me? What could he want from me?

  “Let’s go inside and warm up.”

  I glance at the house-in-progress. If I can’t find my life in there, I will find some answers. I won’t reveal what I know to him but I won’t give up, either. I’m a survivor.

  Part 2: Home, Sweet Home?

  Chapter Nine

  What if I’m still in a coma?

  My eyes fly open to stare up at the bathroom ceiling. The candles around the bathtub flicker like an omen. Maybe all of this feels like a nightmare because it is. The hospital, that crazy nurse Bethany, Eli, coming here to this house… Maybe I don’t remember my life because I’m dreaming.

  I rub my arms—things couldn’t feel this real in a dream, not even in a coma, right?

  At the same time, my life doesn’t feel all the way real. It’s just too messed up. I was afraid of what would happen when we got out here. Well, Eli didn’t take me out into the woods and kill me. There really was a house waiting for us. I just keep wondering, why? Why does he think I’m his wife? Is he lying to me, or did someone lie to him? And why would they do that?

  Do I know something I shouldn’t? And if I did, wouldn’t someone have taken care of me, killed me, instead of erasing my memory and putting me into this life with Eli?

  Or maybe this is all caused by dementia or some other mental problem. I’m starting to think I’m schizophrenic. Eli hinted I had some issues with depression before. If I’m not crazy, I’m quickly getting there.

  I sit up, breathing hard and feeling overheated. Steam rises off the hot water. It’s a large bathroom, with the garden tub off in its own area, but the steam has still filled the room. Eli poured me a bath so I could relax while he made dinner. He must have picked up on my sudden attack of fear and paranoia outside, looking at the house. Our home. I shiver.

  My number one goal was to get out of that hospital. I thought I’d remember something once I got out into the world…but I don’t know what I think of this place either. Will I find answers here?

  I found one memory, but not of this place or this life Eli says I belong in. The picture springs to life in full color in my mind again. I look at up the weathered face of my grandmother, her gray hair pulled into a braid that hangs down one shoulder.

  “My little Rosemary…a little Rosemary makes the recipe, did you know that? Just like you’re the spice in my life, dear. My sweet girl.” She smiles and leans into kiss my cheek.

  Each time, it seems I remember a tiny bit more.

  I tried my best to act normal so Eli wouldn’t suspect I remembered something. Did he notice? I shiver even though I’m too hot, and start to get out.

  A knock comes at the door.

  “I poured you a glass of wine.”

  I glance at the locked door handle.

  “I’ll be out soon.”

  A pause. Then, “Okay.”

  I am not letting him in here with me. I grab a plush towel and wrap it around myself. It’s a pretty plum color, coordinated with the light lavender of the bathroom walls. It’s almost like I decorated and picked out the towels…

  There’s mounting evidence to support Eli’s story that we’re married and building this house together. There is an equal amount of evidence that I’m not Megan Hawthorn, and I don’t belong here.

  Sighing, I wipe the mirror so I can see and brush my hair. There’s a blow dryer on the counter, and I find it’s a good one that blows hard and hot, the way I like it. Hmm, another thing about myself. It’s funny that I keep discovering things like I’ve always known them.

  When I open the bathroom door, cool air rushes in. The gas fireplace has warmed the bedroom up but it’s not steamy and hot out in the bedroom.

  It’s dark outside the bedroom curtains; black dark, not city dark with lights. That river—the Sandy River—is out there looming, and the trees beyond that. The moon slides up and shines through the treetops, a tiny white slice of light marking the top edge of the forest.

  I pad down to the kitchen in thick boot socks, leggings and the long gray sweater Eli had brought home from the hospital.

  The kitchen is off to the side while the dining area is straight down the hall, next to the back door that we used to come in. The walls are finished but not painted so there’s white patching over cracks and nails.

  The light over the table is dimmed, and the table is set with two plates of plain noodles and a candle in the middle. White wine is waiting in a glass for me.

  “There you are.” Eli pauses and stares at me longer than needed, his brown eyes warm, reaching out to me. He does that sometimes, and it’s like he’s looking at me for the first time, or studying me to assess my current condition. It makes me feel like I’m under a microscope.

  He looks good in a black T-shirt and jeans. I try not to check him out. Finally he turns and goes into the adjoining kitchen. The rest of the house is just framework at this point. We have the bedroom, hallway, kitchen and dining area finished. Or Eli has it finished. I wonder what he plans for the rest of the house. How much room do two people need?

  “I hope you don’t mind spaghetti. I wanted to make something fancier but we’re a bit low in the pantry.” He comes to the table with another pot. I glance at the white wine again but keep my mouth shut.

  “Oh, it’s white sauce. I do know a little about pairing, thanks to you.” He laughs as he spoons sauce onto both plates. “An expensive, nice wine, I might add. The sauce has shrimp and bits of salmon. I did have that in the freezer.”

  That’s why it smells so good. The aroma floats to my nose, making my stomach growl and my mouth water.

  “This looks delicious,” I say, meaning it, as I sit down.

  “To our first dinner now that…” He trails off realizing his faux pas. “Well, our first dinner with you home from the hospital.”

  I
raise my glass towards his. “To this.”

  ‘This’ seemed like an appropriately encompassing term.

  I tilt my glass to inhale the wine’s scent and take a sip. It is good wine. I take a longer sip and realize he’s watching me again. “So, you’re a contractor and I was an event planner, but we know our wine and you’re building this huge house. I don’t get it.”

  I want to suck the words right back into my mouth. That wasn’t playing it cool. My plan is to play my part until I can figure out what’s going on.

  Eli takes a drink out of his beer mug.

  “You planned some pretty big events,” he starts. “And knowing good wine is a life skill.” He speaks easily, with a smile. I pretend to relax, mentally kicking myself. Of course he’ll have an explanation for everything, so I shouldn’t bother asking in the first place.

  I take a bite and moan.

  “Beats hospital food, right?”

  “Hmm, mm.” I can’t get enough. I roll another big bite onto my fork and fill my mouth.

  It’s cozy in here. Some might call it romantic, but I fight against that idea. I can’t give in. Eli is hot as hell with just the right amount of male bossiness when needed. If I let myself, I’m sure I could imagine how he’d be in the bedroom, taking charge and seducing me.

  Damnit, I’m not going there.

  Eli stands and pours me another glass of wine. Somehow I’d drained the first glass. I feel it come over me then, a pleasant warmth filling my head and tickling over my shoulders.

  “Sabrina called my phone today. I guess yours is off?”

  “Sabrina?”

  “Oh, sorry, the neighbor. We were getting to know them before the accident—Nick and Sabrina O’Dalaigh.” He tries to spell it out for me while writing in the air with a finger. “They kept an eye on the house while I was at the hospital with you.”

  “Why didn’t they come to the hospital?

  “I… I didn’t invite them to come see you. But, I’m sure now…” He lifts a shoulder. “Oh, we wanted to get together for Thanksgiving. I thought it was a good idea, a good way to get reacquainted. They don’t have family here either.”

  I nod but don’t say anything. There’s just so much going on inside my head on top of my buzz and happy, full stomach. I don’t even notice when Eli comes around the table and takes my hand.

  “It’s so good to have you back.”

  Chapter Ten

  My hand in his, he leads me back to the bedroom. Alarms go off in my head—how did I miss it? He’s trying to seduce me.

  “We can go pick out some furniture soon, if you like,” Eli says as we sit down on a loveseat by the fireplace in the bedroom. He hands me my wine glass, which I didn’t even see him carry back. “And we can get cable.”

  “We could get internet.”

  A pause. A look. “That too.”

  He pulls a blanket over me and pauses. I think he wants to lay it over both of us but I’m still not comfortable being that close to him. So he sits on the other side, conceding. Still, there’s not that much space between us at all.

  We watch the flames in silence for a few minutes as I sort through what I’ve learned here. I’ll have to find a way to write it down, even if I have to hide it.

  “Megan?”

  I look his way, hoping all of my thoughts haven’t been playing out on my face.

  “I found your wedding ring in the hospital bag. Someone must have brought…” He holds out the ring I had found in the hospital: the little diamonds in the braid of gold. It’s breathtaking. I’m not sure what to do so I take it, turning it to watch the facets gleaming.

  I check his hand and see a silver band.

  While I’m thinking, he takes the ring and slides it onto my finger.

  “You’ve seemed uncertain about things… I thought it might help to have your ring on again.”

  Again? I don’t see how it’ll help at all. But it’s gorgeous.

  I turn my hand, looking at it, and remember that he invited the neighbors over for Thanksgiving soon. Maybe this is about keeping up appearances.

  Or about getting me into bed?

  I look into his eyes and he gives me a half smile, just one corner of his mouth lifting. He’s charming me. For now, it’s working. I decide to keep the ring on. If for no other reason, I need to play this part while I get on my feet again.

  “You know,” I tell him. “It seems like you’d have a living room on this end of the house with a river view.” I still haven’t been able to envision the finished house.

  “We will. It’ll be over that way.” He points past my head. “I’m planning a sunken den with a wall of bay windows facing the river. It’ll have a fireplace too. For now, the smaller living room will be easier to finish—it’s the formal sitting room you wanted.” He describes the layout again but it goes over my head. I need to see it on paper.

  I rest my head back and close my eyes, enjoying the buzz but feeling out of control too. It does occur to me that I could sleep on this sofa. Thinking about it makes me open my eyes and turn to look at the bed. A real bed. I imagine a good night’s sleep and I just can’t refuse.

  “Tired?”

  It’s probably way too early to go to bed but I want to burrow in and hibernate.

  “A little. Probably the wine.” I smile at that. “Are my clothes in…?” I look around the room.

  “Oh, let me give you the tour,” he says like it’s all good, instead of me needing help locating which drawers are mine. He shows me my side of the dresser, pulling open drawers. I put a hand to my neck, spotting the panties all neatly folded.

  If we’re married, it’s no big deal, I tell myself. But heat creeps up through my body.

  “Pajamas?”

  Eli straightens and looks at me funny, like I’ve asked for a crocodile or something.

  “You thought I’d hop in bed…” naked. I force a laugh, wishing I hadn’t even started that sentence.

  A second passes and he shakes himself out of it.

  “Let me see…” he starts opening other drawers.

  “I can get it.” I stop him. “Let me look.”

  We stare at each other. I don’t want to ask for privacy; it seems rude. He understands, though.

  “I’ll clean the kitchen,” he says on his way out of the room.

  I look in the drawer full of panties, bras and socks. It’s a long dresser and the drawer is divided in two. The other side has leggings, nylons, scarves, sweats and a few pairs of pajama tops and bottoms. Silk. I choose the blue silk set over the red and change in the bathroom with the door shut. There’s two toothbrushes in the holder, one with a blue handle and one with pink. I pick up the pink one and look at it, then go get the bag from the hospital. I don’t want to use the toothbrush that’s here.

  Yes, I’ve lost it. I’ve accepted that.

  I brush, wash my face and go to the bed, wondering if I’ve ever slept in it before. There’s a nightstand on each side with a lamp but no items to tell me which side is mine. There’s hardly any items throughout the house to show that we live here, now that I think about it. I guess we haven’t in almost two months.

  I choose the right side of the bed, the side away from the door, for some reason I can’t articulate. The bed is cool when I slide in but warms up quickly. I sink in like it’s a cloud. This is heaven after that hospital bed. I snuggle into the soft sheets and shiver in delight; it’s an all-over physical reaction of sheer joy. I’m so sleepy from dinner and the wine that I start to float away.

  I vaguely hear the door and then feel Eli sit on the other edge of the bed. I force myself to open my eyes and roll toward him. The fireplace and hallway light soften his face. His brow is furrowed, giving my heart a funny twinge of familiarity. I know that look. He’s thinking and not sure about something. Where to sleep, I gather.

  “Am I on your side?” I feel so stupid asking, but I don’t want to address the obvious issue.

  “My side?”

>   “Of the bed?”

  “Oh, no. You’re fine.”

  But you didn’t answer my question.

  He holds my gaze before going to the bathroom.

  I’m halfway asleep when he comes back and slides into the bed next to me. I can feel his weight pulling the bed down and his heat reaching out to me.

  “Oh, my god, this bed feels nice,” he says. “I can’t remember the last time I slept through the night.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Goodnight, Meg.”

  “Night,” I say through a yawn.

  I let my mind wander and sleep come.

  “I love you, Megan.” It’s just a whisper sending me off to dreamland, a funny half conscious sleep filled with my thoughts…

  You called me Eli, actually. Eli, familiar somehow.

  The Foster bag… I know that bag. Lipstick that matches my complexion. My handwriting on a shopping list.

  But the house isn’t familiar.

  If she remembers anything, and I mean anything!

  If she remembers…

  It’s all over if she remembers…

  I need to stop him.

  ***

  I wake curled up against Eli’s back, his body heat mixing with mine, his smell all around me. My eyes pop open and I might have gasped.

  Light is filtering in through the curtains, bright enough to tell me we’ve slept in. I listen to his breathing but I can’t tell if he’s awake and pretending to sleep or actually sleeping.

  Slowly, I lean back and roll away, hoping it’s natural. I lay the other way, trying to remember all the jumbled thoughts from the night before. That’s too much of a mess of thoughts, images, and feelings. There was something that came out of the fog, and then it cycled through my mind all night.

  Stop him. Stop who? I’m feeling around and guessing—someone I’m afraid of, I think. It’s hard to tell because I’m remembering some faint feeling, not actually feeling it now as I lie here in this soft, warm bed. I don’t think the thought is about Eli.

  But—my breath catches—what if I need to stop something from happening, and I’m stuck here playing house with Eli? Does he know about it? Is he keeping me from something?

  The bed moves as Eli sits up. He pauses. A second later I feel his lips on the crook of my neck. His hand lightly skims the dip of my waist.

  Did I jump?