Heartstrings Page 7

  And oblivion finally encompassed me.

  * * *

  The room was dark for the most part. If not for the faint glow coming from the window, I wouldn’t have realized my location. I don’t remember arriving home or putting myself to bed. Yet there I lay, nestled underneath the down comforter and crisp white sheets. They seemed to illuminate from the silvery glow of moonlight peeking through the blinds.

  A surge of sadness hit me, leaving me shaken and empty. Though part of me clung to the hopelessness, I couldn’t remain in the bottomless pit of misery for long. Faint popping and cracking alerted me to one fact. I wasn’t alone. Brighton was here. He was the last person I’d seen before…

  I must have passed out. There was no other explanation, unless it had something to do with my amnesia. It was possible that I’d lost another chunk of my memory. At this point, nothing would surprise me.

  I peered over the comforter toward the door to my room. It stood ajar as a golden hue spread from the living room to the hallway. The only plausible explanation was that Brighton brought me home and tucked me in bed. He probably grew tired of waiting for me to wake and decided to start a fire.

  Yet the longer I lay there, the more I heard whispering. Either he was on the phone or someone was in the house. If the mysterious man known as Adam were real, I would question if he were the one with my brother.

  Could he possibly be…?

  No. He’d all but vanished before me last week. Of the few instances I’d seen him, I never heard him approaching. He was just there when I least expected it—a classic hallucination.

  Guess it could be worse. I could be hallucinating about a serial killer.

  The easiest thing would be closing my eyes and ignoring my brother and whomever he was talking to. He could have called my doctor to explain what happened to me. Still, the more I lay there listening, the quicker I recognized two distinct voices. One sounded feminine.

  Did my brother have a girlfriend he hadn’t mentioned? My memories of him never included anything more than the tarts he’d considered for one-night stands. Maybe I had a friend after all, and she’d come looking for me.

  The thought had me flinging the covers aside and scurrying from the bed. Doing so made my head sway a little, but I steadied myself before taking the first step. I was sweating. The jeans and sweater I’d changed into earlier were soaked.

  Ignoring the goose bumps itching my skin, I made my way into the hall and crept along the edge. My back slid against the wall with each cautious step. I prayed the floor wouldn’t creak and give me away.

  Before I entered the living room, I slowed my breathing. I was positive by now that a woman was in my living room, chatting with my brother. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the way their voices fluctuated said whatever they were discussing was part of an intense conversation.

  It was about me, of course. How could it not be? A single woman who’d not only lost the use of her hand, but also her mind, made great gossip material. Good thing I wasn’t famous. I’d have the press to contend with.

  Taking a breath of courage, I pushed myself forward, past the safe zone of the hallway. Where I expected to see some thin girl with sunken jaws and an unkempt appearance sat a well-dressed woman. She couldn’t be any older than Brighton and me. Her red hair was pinned away from her heart-shaped face. From what I could see, she had a nice build. Not too thin, not too thick. She was pretty…too pretty to be seen with my brother. At least, the brother I remembered.

  Her eyes widened a little when she saw me, but not as much as Brighton’s. His body jerked into an upright position and he scooted to the edge of the cushion.

  “Hey, Jo. You’re awake.” His voice wavered. I wasn’t sure if it was over me catching him up to something or if he was just concerned about his nutcase sister scaring away his date.

  The mantle pressed against my shoulder as I leaned into it. It warmed my arm but didn’t burn me. If anything, it chased away the coolness that left me trembling from the time I left my bed.

  “What time is it?”

  “Um,” Brighton hummed while stealing a quick glance at the woman.

  She peered at her wrist and replied, “It’s seven forty-three.”

  I didn’t recognize her face, but her serene disposition gave me no reason to distrust her. Not yet. The seconds grew more awkward as the three of us stared at each other. Then my brother cleared his throat.

  “Jo, I’d like you to meet Hadley James. Hadley, this is my sister, Jo.”

  The crease in the woman’s brow made my heart catch. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was the fact I was desperate to have a friend. Yet thinking as much disturbed me. I didn’t want to trust anyone until I found my missing pieces.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Jo.” Hadley spoke in a sweet voice.

  “You too.”

  The words came out more convincing than I thought. My senses were in overdrive. Something was off. While Hadley seemed like a nice enough person, my gut said her presence would be unwanted.

  “What brings you by, Miss James, or is it Mrs.?”

  “Just Miss.” Her knuckles whitened as she held onto the cup in her hands. Were my questions making her uncomfortable? I bit the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t grin at the thought. “As far as why I’m here,” she began as she stood from the couch, “I think your brother should explain. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to collect some things from my car.”

  After she placed her cup on the table, she moved toward the door. Her retreating figure set off my internal bullshit detector. So she wasn’t one of the typical junkies from my brother’s past. It didn’t mean she was someone I’d want in my house. Perhaps she was something worse, like his supplier.

  I didn’t know what to think. It didn’t appear as though my brother was using again. He wouldn’t be concerned about my well-being if he were. Still, his former addiction was the only thing that would explain the knot in my gut. Something was off.

  God this was so confusing. Why couldn’t I shake the feeling that he was hiding something he knew would upset me? His involvement with drugs would be the only thing that would anger me, unless he was responsible for my amnesia. Maybe that was the case, and this woman was involved as well…

  “What’s in the car that’s so important?”

  Hadley froze a foot from the door. It took her a moment to find my brother’s face and then mine. Had she been the shady person I accused of her of being, I would have sensed her arrogance, would have seen it in her eyes when she cast them on me. Instead, I saw pain.

  “Your brother mentioned you’d lost your memories, so I understand your suspicion of me. But to answer your question, I’m getting my suitcase. Brighton will explain the rest.” She scowled at him as if in disgust, then she proceeded out the door.

  Once it shut, I met my brother’s tense face. He snorted as he shook his head. “What the hell is your problem?”

  “Who is she? Why is she getting her suitcase?”

  He leaned his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face with his hands. I waited for him to look my way, but he didn’t. His shoulders slumped, and he held his head in his palms.

  “I didn’t want it to come out like this. Had you woken sooner, I wouldn’t have made the call, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

  My heart kicked up a notch. “What are you talking about, Brighton?”

  Shaking his head once more, he finally pulled his hands away. “Hadley is a home health nurse. She’s going to be staying here awhile to help you with everything.”

  “I don’t need her help,” I seethed, “or yours.”

  Brighton’s jaw dimpled. “Jo, I can’t always be here to take care of you, but you need help until you recover your memories. Please don’t fight me on this.”

  I stalked closer to where he sat. “You didn’t hire a nurse to help me. You hired a baby-sitter. For Christ’s sake, Brighton, I’m twenty-six years old. Why are you doing this to me?”

  When my voice
cracked, I gained Brighton’s attention. He stood from the chair and trudged to the edge of the coffee table where I stood. “I’m doing this to protect you, Jo. I don’t want to make you a prisoner in your own house, but I don’t want you wandering around outdoors. I don’t know when something will happen to you like it did…”

  He pressed his lips tighter.

  “Don’t you dare berate me and then leave me hanging. Finish what you started, Brighton. What’s the big secret? All of a sudden, you think I need someone watching my every move. Why?”

  “Because,” he shouted, “You passed out, Jo. You collapsed right before my eyes and I couldn’t do anything to help you.”

  Turning toward the fireplace, I ignored him the best I could and watched the cherry logs produce golden flames. I didn’t understand any of this or why he felt the need to keep lying. No wonder I was losing my mind.

  “Brighton, you shouldn’t worry so much. So I passed out. Big deal. My blood sugar was probably low or something. I didn’t eat much this morning.”

  “This morning?” Brighton coughed the words and stepped beside me. As his hand curled around my shoulder, I looked his way. “Jo, you didn’t eat breakfast this morning.”

  “God… Enough already! Stop with the lies, Brighton. They’re not necessary. I remember you fixing breakfast this morning. I remembered because it shocked the hell out of me.”

  “I’m not lying about anything, Jo. I didn’t fix anything this morning. What you remember…it didn’t…”

  So much sadness showed in his eyes. Not just in the moisture collecting within them, but the way they pleaded with me to remember.

  I couldn’t.

  “It didn’t what, Brighton?”

  “The breakfast, the argument we had on the beach, even your passing out. It didn’t happen this morning. You’ve been out of it, sis…for three days.”

  ~ CHAPTER EIGHT ~

  The glass cooled my forehead as I leaned against the window and stared at the lake in the distance. After a week of doing the same, I thought I’d have more memories involving the water. The same went for my house. Yet I faced the opposite.

  I was no closer to remembering my past than the day I left the hospital.

  Perhaps if I spent more than an hour a day outside of my room, I would trigger something. Leaving my bedroom meant interacting with Hadley, and Brighton too, when he was around.

  Humph. Brighton and Hadley… They’d spent the first two days after her arrival discussing my ‘plan of care’. Even now, I found it hard not to laugh at the notion. Plan of care my ass. It was more like a jail term, one that imprisoned me as much as my mind.

  No matter how desperately I wanted someone to confide in, I’d made no effort to make friends with Hadley. It wasn’t fair to be so reserved toward her, but her presence was not needed. If she didn’t like my attitude, she had no one to blame but Brighton. He’s the one that hired her.

  She’d made several attempts at small talk. I wasn’t completely rude. I offered her tight smiles and yes or no answers. Her purpose here still confused me. I knew Brighton wanted someone to watch my every move when he wasn’t around, but why hire a nurse to do this? He could have hired anyone to baby-sit me. Of course, a nurse made it look like she was there for the right reasons.

  God I hated this…

  Easing my head away from the window, I walked across my room. The door remained closed and locked, blocking out the rest of the house. Brighton tried to get me to open it first thing this morning before he left. He didn’t prevail. I didn’t want to see him, much less talk to him. I’d never forgive him for any of this.

  Continuing across the room, I brushed my fingers across the guitar on the edge of my bed. I hadn’t played it since Brighton informed me of why Hadley had come. I should focus my anger on creating music and healing myself, but I couldn’t. My heart wasn’t in it.

  Once I approached the dark blue curtains, I flung them open, allowing sunlight to illuminate the room. Even through the glass, the heated rays felt good. I longed to be outside, away from this madness. If Brighton refused to tell me about my past, he needn’t stick around. I didn’t need him. I didn’t need anyone.

  The French doors swung open once I twisted the knob. I braced myself for the coolness, but it surprised me when I felt the warmth of the breeze. Guess another warm front was moving through. It wouldn’t be spring for another month, but the weather often fluctuated this time of year.

  The backyard still had leaves scattered about it in tiny decomposing piles. None clung to the tree branches, nor were there signs of future growth. It wouldn’t be the case if this mild weather continued.

  All the snow that fell less than a week prior disappeared two days ago. The marshy ground it left behind now appeared somewhat firm. As windy as it had been over the last couple of days, the dirt had dried.

  When I saw the hammock between the trees, I stepped forward. It would be a great day to lie within it and lose myself in a good book. I liked reading. The miniature library off the living room said as much. I’d discovered it the same day I’d gone to the shore. Looking back, I wish I’d curled up with a book instead of going outside. Maybe I wouldn’t be in this current situation.

  Before I could proceed across the yard, I had another thought. If Hadley spotted me, she’d come outside and attempt more chitchat. I didn’t want to be rude to her. She hadn’t wronged me, was only doing what she’d been hired to do, but I didn’t feel like talking.

  Allowing myself to get to know her meant there was a chance I’d like her. If I liked her, I’d let her inside the walls I’d formed around my heart. Anything I divulged would make its way back to my brother. Even if it didn’t, I still couldn’t befriend her. I needed to find the rest of me first.

  If I couldn’t go outside without being subjected to idle talk, at least I could leave the doors open. Though my bedroom didn’t have a speck of dust, the thought of letting it air out seemed a good option. I could still enjoy the warm sunrays. In fact, I could sit near the door and read. I had more books on a shelf near the bed.

  Of course, I could always make music.

  I glanced toward the guitar again. My fingers itched to touch it, to caress the strings and make the sweetest sounds. Granted, I hadn’t played anything popular. I hadn’t played much of anything. Yet the few times I held the instrument and strummed the taut strings, it made my heart lighten.

  Moving closer to the bed, I bent forward and lifted the strap over my head. The rosewood brushed against my breasts as I cradled the neck in my hand. I couldn’t explain why, but holding the guitar filled me with a sense of peace. It was like a shield that protected me. I grew fonder of it the more I touched it.

  I slid the pick from underneath the strings near the tuners. Brighton must have wedged it there. I didn’t remember doing it and it was something he always did with his picks.

  As a couple of chords resonated from the chamber, my lips curled. There would never be anything as uplifting as music. It was one of the few things in this world that could bring people together despite their differences. It spoke words some couldn’t say, had the power to change attitudes, set moods, and speak to the human soul.

  Music, to me, was everything.

  Transfixed on the fretboard, I played a few more chords while walking back to the French doors. The warmth of the sun didn’t heat my arms like it did earlier. I checked to see if a cloud had hidden it, but suddenly, the sun wasn’t important. What I saw in its place delighted me even more.

  Adam.

  He stood outside the doors, leaning one arm against the archway. His light blue flannel made his eyes more striking than I remembered. The sleeves were rolled elbow high and left his skin exposed.

  I didn’t know how many tattoos he had on his arms, nor did I care. His biceps looked like he was flexing them, but they were naturally shaped this way. It was perfection. Then again, most of him was.

  This made the first time I had seen him since secluding myself in my room.
I had to give my warped brain credit. When it wanted to create something from nothing, it didn’t hold back. Every time I saw him, he made me forget to breathe.

  “Do I get to hear the entire song this time?”

  “Well, that depends.” I lowered my voice and crept closer. “Do you plan on sticking around to hear it in its entirety, or are you going to disappear again?”

  “Do you want me to stick around?”

  The husky tone of his voice set me ablaze. I didn’t want to give in to the notion of kissing him. I’d be kissing air. I wasn’t sure what kind of game my mind was playing with me, but Adam made it interesting enough that I wanted to play along.

  So I did.

  Inching closer, I played a few more chords and refocused on the guitar. My fingers slid over the strings to the same melody I’d played on the beach. I could feel his eyes all over me when I came within a foot of the doorway. As hard as I fought not to look up, I couldn’t resist.

  “Do I sound better than last time?”

  “What I heard before was beautiful.” He pulled away from the doorframe and dug his hands in his pockets. “I like hearing you play, regardless of how good you are. Music is more than making beautiful notes.” The sincerity on his face warmed my heart. “It’s about losing yourself in a song and the powerful emotions it evokes. It’s intense. I saw the same intensity on your face. I still see it.”

  The last chord hung as I stared at Adam. He left his spot on the outside wall and came into my room. I backed away to give him space. In truth, I felt a bit uneasy when I noticed him scanning my body, especially my hand, but before I could move it out of sight, he spoke again.

  “It’s not about how well you can play. It’s about limitations, isn’t it?”

  My throat dried, which was odd considering I wanted to throw up. This wasn’t the way our conversation should be going. I’d created him to help me forget, not to remind me of what I’d been through.

  Instincts warned me to back away or he’d touch my hand. Imaginary or not, I didn’t want him to touch it. It was bad enough that he’d noticed it at all.