Thirty Days: Part One Read online

  “God, you’re cocky,” Samantha states.

  “If I remember correctly, that’s a quality you once found endearing.”

  “Now I’m not so sure.” She smiles wearily before Marcus puts a feather-light kiss to her cheek. “You promised, Samantha. She’ll be here when I get back.”

  “And she will be. Now you’d better go, I’ve got this.”

  “Okay,” he says before brushing past Mosby, never acknowledging that he’s there.

  “Abigail, I’ll be back soon. Everything is going to seem much clearer. I’ll be home when I can.”

  I can’t look at Marcus, so I keep my eyes focused on Sammy, my best friend, who up until now I never really thought would betray me in such a way.

  Marcus huffs before I hear the front door opening.

  “Miss Dermont, Mr. Mosby, here are your bags,” Grady says.

  I turn to see him placing their bags onto the floor inside the door.

  “Marcus”—his hand gestures for him to come—“we need to go now, sir. They are waiting for your return.” The worried expression on Grady’s face tells me Marcus has probably not done the right thing by returning here.

  With hunched shoulders Marcus walks past Grady and then he is gone without another word.

  Allowing my eyes to drop to the floor, my head begins to shake.

  “Pale pink is definitely not your colour, Dorothy,” Sammy says nervously, trying to break the tension by referring to the shirt I’m wearing.

  “Don’t do that,” I mutter.

  “What?”

  “Don’t act like nothing has happened.” The room goes deathly quiet as I lift my eyes and catch Mosby’s soft smile.

  “Well, what do I say, Abigail?”

  “You say nothing. Shut your mouth and not say a word, that’s what you do. You were supposed to be my best friend, but you’re not. You’re my worst enemy.” I go to storm off.

  “Abigail, don’t speak to her like that.” Mosby comes to her defence.

  “Let her go,” Sammy reassures him as I run up the staircase and slam the bedroom door.

  “Fuck everyone,” I scream as my body lands on the soft bedding, and I curl into a tight ball.

  Ruse

  Working up the nerve to exit the room I’ve holed myself up in for over two hours is harder than I first thought. Pacing the floor, my mind runs wild with thoughts of Marcus and our time together this morning. Breakfast in a bra, that look in his eyes as my chest heaved in and out as I ate. Marcus telling me to leave and go back to the Coast outside the courthouse right before I repeated the last words he said to me. Fuck knows when he said them, but he did. Sweet, sweet words. Visions of our bodies naked and entwined together on his bed make my stomach flutter. “You’re mine.” Those words were spoken so confidently. “Do you want to know what else we used to do?” His wicked smile is embedded in my soul forever. What do I do now?

  Stopping, I grab the doorknob and rest my head against the door.

  “Are you going to talk to me yet?” Sammy’s saddened voice asks from the opposite side. I picture her in the same position as me.

  “Are you going to tell me what I want to know if I do?”

  “I’m going to tell you what I can.”

  “Why does it have to be this way, the secrets?”

  “Because it’s what’s best for you.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me, the doctors, Mrs. M.”

  “Doctors?” What doctors?

  “Come out, Abigail, please.”

  “What did Marcus do to me? What did he do that would make me erase him from my memory?” There’s an eerie silence that falls between us and my heart begins beating at a frantic tempo.

  “He didn’t do anything, Abigail. It was you.”

  My mouth springs open as I let out an exaggerated gasp.

  “Come out, Abs, please.”

  “I’m scared,” I say with honesty.

  “So am I.”

  Turning the door handle, I feel physically sick. I’m even worse when I see the tear soaked cheeks of my Sammy before me.

  Lunging forwards, Sammy wraps her pale white string bean arms around my neck and holds me so tightly I’m surprised by her strength.

  “I love you, Abigail. I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you. Everybody did what they thought was best for you. Even Marcus. I’m sorry I’ve been keeping this secret, but it’s because I love you. There’s a reason you forgot. It was you who decided it would be this way.” Her blubbery words are spoken so quickly, it’s as if she can’t get them out fast enough.

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispers, pressing her cheek against mine. “I don’t know.”

  ***

  The afternoon sun is hot, so Mosby, Sammy, and I pull three of the lawn chairs under a shady tree and stretch out, admiring the beauty of the lake.

  “This place is something else,” Mosby admires openly with an ice cold beer in hand. “Who the hell owns it?”

  “Marcus said it’s Mr. Sims’ and they stay here when they are in town. I can see why. There couldn’t be a hotel nicer.”

  “It’s like something from an olden day movie.” Sammy giggles.

  “That’s what I said.”

  “So where do we start?” I ask, drinking a pink lemonade that Ginger put together with the liquids from the fridge.

  “The beginning, maybe.” Her tone sounds unsure.

  “When did I meet Marcus?” I spew out before she says another word.

  “Fuck,” she says before I hear her swallow hard. “The day your dad died.”

  “That can’t be true.”

  “It is.”

  “Where, how?”

  “I can’t,” she says quickly, turning her body on its side so she is no longer looking out to the river, but to my turned head.

  “Why?”

  “You need to remember that on your own.”

  Huffing, I turn my body to face her, so we are both lying on our sides in the chairs. “Sammy?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was seven years ago.”

  “It was.”

  “Before Mike.”

  “Yes, you met Mike not long after your accident.”

  “What accident?”

  “I can’t tell you, Abigail—”

  “Because I have to remember it on my fucking own.” I glower.

  Sammy closes her eyes and takes a lengthy inhale. “It’s for the best, Abigail.”

  “Who’s best, yours?”

  “No, Abigail, yours.”

  “None of this makes any sense.”

  “I know it doesn’t, but I’m trying to tell you.”

  “Marcus said that what I remembered today was the last thing he said to me before he left me. When was that?”

  “A few days after you woke up and couldn’t remember who he was. It was heartbreaking. You remembered everybody. Me, your mum, our friends, Brussels your mum’s cat, rest in peace, psycho kitty. You even remembered what school you went to, your professors at the university…but not Marcus and not the accident.”

  “A few days after I woke up, after an accident…was I in a coma?”

  Sammy nods her head.

  “How old was I?”

  “You were thirty days away from turning twenty when you had the accident.”

  “How can you be so precise?” I’m fearful of her answer.

  “Because your dad died thirty days before your eightieth birthday, two years earlier on the same date. We thought we’d be losing you forever, too.”

  “Hang on, so Marcus and I were together for two years?”

  Sammy nods.

  “But I have memories in that time, why isn’t he in them?”

  “We don’t know. You erased him. You have what they call retrograde amnesia. The doctors think that you erased the memories of anyone who came into your life on the same day as your dad died.”

  “Because sometimes we choose to forget the things i
n life that hurt us the most.” It’s what Marcus said. “So Dad dying from the aneurism hurt me so bad, it was sudden, and we were super close, right? That’s why I forgot Marcus when I had an accident, because it was the moment that hurt me the most in my life and it was the day I met him. I’m guessing at the hospital? Holy shit, the scar.”

  “You remember that?” Sammy’s eyes grow wide.

  “No, but I know I’ve seen it before, like when it was freshly cut. That’s it. I met him in the hospital when they were stitching his scar. It has to be.”

  “Do you ladies want anything from the kitchen? I’m going to get another beer,” Mosby interrupts, causing Sammy and I to burst into a fit of laughter. “What’s funny?” he scoffs as we both bolt upright and turn in his direction.

  “I forgot you were here.” Sammy snorts loudly.

  “Me too.”

  “You two are crazy.” He chuckles before he starts to hike back to the house.

  “Has he been there the entire time?” I choke out.

  “I think so.” Sammy snorts again.

  When our laughter finely calms, I lie back and watch as a contender bay boat chugs down the river. The swirls of the water as it breaks into two, allowing the boat to channel through it, holds my gaze. I have amnesia. I had an accident, so that means I must have hit my head. Ten fingers press against the front of my skull, feeling for any obvious dips or abnormalities, but there are none. I continue this process until every part of my head is examined by touch.

  “What are you doing?” Mosby asks, looking down at me.

  “I hit my head.”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  “Has Ginger told you everything that happened?”

  ‘No,” he replies with a cocked eyebrow. “Just the basics on the plane here.”

  “Oh.”

  Jackson moves out of my line of sight and the afternoon drifts by quietly. Occasionally, I hear Sammy and Mosby mutter to each other, but their words are never clear enough to warrant my attention. I close my eyes and a light afternoon breeze brings the smell of rain with it.

  Marcus’ face appeared in my mind from a distance before it got closer, and he closed in until I could reach out my fingers and touch a freshly stitched cut to his cheek. My face felt moist and my eyes puffy as my tongue licked my lips that were bone dry. Every beat of my heart caused an ache so painful and raw, it was unbearable.

  “See, it was only a small cut. Two stitches were not even worth getting it stitched.” His eyes were so dark I could barely see the pupils. “Are you always so persistent?”

  “My dad always said I was.” The pain in my chest became so excruciating, it caused my knees to buckle slightly.

  “I really think you should sit back down like the doctor just told you to.”

  “My mum. She’ll be here any minute. How can someone tell a person that their love is gone? The father of her child no longer breathes.”

  “I don’t know.” His eyes were sympathetic.

  “What’s your name?” I asked even though I felt like I’d known this man my entire life.

  “Marcus Klein,” he replied softly.

  “Thank you, Marcus Klein, for trying to save my dad.”

  He nodded. “You’re so lucky to be alive, Abigail. If I hadn’t seen what happened with my own eyes, I would’ve never believed it. How it didn’t collect you with its force is a complete miracle.”

  “Can you stay with me?” I asked as I wiped fresh tears that fell over my cheeks with the back of my hands.

  “I won’t leave you.” His lip quivered on his statement.

  “Thank you.”

  “Earth to Abigail, where is your head at? I’ve been talking to you,” Sammy’s voice calls me back from the memory.

  “I want to go inside now.” My throat tightens. “It wasn’t an aneurism,” I yell as my feet hit the ground, and I run back to the house.

  A Past Forgotten

  Lying with my head tucked into the crook of my arm, I will every bit of these last few days to disappear completely. Right now I want nothing more than my body to be freed from this overwhelming tension. I’m shattered and completely robbed of what was once my true reality.

  My father didn’t die from an aneurism. So why does my memory tell me that he did? I can picture the entire event like it was yesterday. How can one remember an event that never took place? Clear visions of the race to the hospital, as I held Mum’s cold hand in mine, exist. She was shocked to her core as she watched her husband collapse to the floor. The screams of horror that had me sprinting from my bedroom moments before, only to find her hunched over his body, have to be real.

  “Don’t leave me, please,” she begged. “Don’t leave us.”

  Running through hospital corridors in search of where Dad was taken after the ambulance brought him in. Was he still alive when they got him there? Pure desperation seared through my heart as the pain grew so intense, it was almost debilitating. That look, the one in the surgeon’s eyes as he approached us, the look that said he was gone and it was over. I couldn’t have imagined this, could I?

  “Hey, Abs, how are you holding up?” Mosby’s voice is soft as he approaches me.

  “I can’t do this,” I blurt out, removing my head from the crook of my elbow.

  “I have to admit this is a lot to take in. I’m a pretty chilled person, but if I were in your shoes right now, I’d be freaking the fuck out. This is crazy.”

  “You’re telling me,” I scoff as Mosby sits in the chair beside me.

  “Sammy is struggling, Abigail. You need to go easy on her.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Where you left her. I think she hoped that this day would never come, but strangely I think she also hoped it would. I don’t think she is prepared as much as she thought she would be.” Jackson runs his fingers over his prickled head and offers me a half smile. “She loves you, Abs, always has and always will. Kindred sisters, isn’t that how you two refer to one another in private?” His smile grows slightly.

  “A kindred sister would never do this to the other, Jackson—”

  “I disagree. They would, Abigail. Think about it—if you had to protect Samantha, you would, without a second thought. I know it’s true. You can deny it all you want, but it’s true.”

  Taking a long inhale, I rest my head against Jackson’s strong arm. “This entire situation blows. Do you believe I’m cursed now?”

  “You know I don’t believe in hexes and voodoo magic. But I can see why you do. A lot of bad shit seems to happen to you, but I have a feeling it’s all leading to something truly wonderful, not awful.”

  “You a fortune-teller, Mosby?”

  He guffaws. “If only. Hey, maybe if I were, I could tell you how great this would end and then your heart wouldn’t have to hurt so badly.”

  “Yeah.” Closing my eyes, I inhale the full scent that is Jackson Mosby. Manly, yet musky. The smell of comfort and security. “I feel betrayed, you know. Mum, Sammy…shit, does everybody else know I’m living in make-believe land?”

  “I’d hardly call it make-believe. But I can understand why you’re thinking this way. To answer your question, I’m not sure, to be honest. Hell, I only found out bits and pieces on the plane. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.” Mosby reaches his hand around my neck and kisses my hair. “Hey, Abs?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is Marcus the booty call from the Coast?”

  “Yep. You want to know what’s ironic about that now?”

  “Sure. Ironic I enjoy.”

  “I think Marcus was my first.”

  “First fuck?” His voice goes high on the words.

  “Yep.” I smirk.

  “Seriously?”

  “I’m pretty sure of it.”

  “Well, there you go. You slept with a man on a one-night stand whom you’ve already slept with.” As the words leave his lips, we both burst into hysterical laughter. Mosby always makes everything better.

  “What’s
so funny, you two?” Sammy asks as she comes in through the sliding doors.

  “Nothing,” Jackson chokes out through teary eyes.

  “Well, okay then,” Sammy sings in song.

  “Hey, that’s my thing,” I scoff. “Can you see how much your woman wants to be me? Can’t blame her, really. I’m a pretty awesome, hexed, fucked up, and mega crazy person.”

  “That you are, Abs, that you are.” Mosby chortles, leaning his head against mine.

  Sitting across from us, Sammy stares into my eyes. She looks zapped of strength and courage. I hate this look.

  “So, when did he give you that back?” Her finger points at my neck.

  “Huh?”

  “The necklace.”

  I realise it has fallen against my shoulder as I cuddled into Mosby. “This was mine then?”

  “It sure was. He didn’t tell you, did he?”

  “No,” I mutter.

  “He really hasn’t told you much, has he?”

  “Nope.”

  “So how did you get it back then?”

  “It was on the bed the first morning I woke up here. I wondered how he had purchased it so late at night.”

  “Let me guess, in a white box?”

  “Yes.” My brow must furrow because Sammy’s does the same.

  “The same way he gave it to you the first time.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Graduation present.”

  “But I didn’t go to Grad. I’d just lost Dad.”

  “I know. Have you turned it over and looked at the back?”

  “No.” My body springs upright and my fingers play with the charm. “Do I want to?”

  “You do.” Sammy smiles a half smile. “Here, let me help you.” She grins before making her way around the table. The tips of Sammy’s fingers brush the skin of my neck, sending a shiver coursing to my legs. The clasp undoes and the chain falls limp around my hand as Ginger takes her seat once more. “Well?”

  With a heart that beats erratically, I turn the charm and lay it flat on my palm. I read the two words engraved on the back, “Forever mine,” in a soft voice.

  “He knew right away that you were his, Abigail. He said he would keep you safe come hell or high water and that he would guarantee nothing bad would ever happen to you again, and he kept that promise until…”