Dear Tori Page 6

  “There’s no need to apologize. I don’t really remember it, but can we sit down and talk? I was hoping you could help me clarify a few things.”

  I nod and go to unlock the front door. Lola is going crazy inside. “You might want to stand back. She’ll jump all over you. I’m afraid she might knock you down.” Swinging the door open, I direct Lola’s paws and slobbery kisses to me.

  “I had a dog like this,” Tori says, running her hands over Lola’s sandy fur.

  “You remember Buster?”

  “A little. Not for very long. It’s kind of hard to explain. That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  I direct Tori through to my living room to sit down, and I go let Lola out through the back. “Want a beer?” I ask.

  She shrugs, which I take as a yes, and I grab one for each for us from the fridge. By the time I’ve returned from the kitchen, she has a bunch of stuff spread out on the coffee table in front of her. I take the spot beside her on the couch.

  Tori’s voice and demeanor is all business as she flicks open a spiral notebook, like the kind we used back in school. The lines are filled with her neat handwriting, and certain sections are highlighted in pink, yellow, and orange. She turns a few pages, and I see another sheet paperclipped inside, and this one is my handwriting. I recognize it right away.

  “I do have some memories of those years,” she says. “I remember things and lose them again.”

  “How do you mean, lose them again?”

  “Have you ever woke up from a dream, and you tell the person beside you in bed about it, but later in the day you can’t remember what you dreamed? You can remember telling someone about the dream, but you don’t actually remember it anymore?”

  “I guess,” I say, except I don’t sleep beside anyone in bed, ever. It seems too personal. Too intimate. The last woman I slept besides is sitting close enough to touch, but I can’t touch her. I can still taste her on my lips, but judging by her brisk tone and manner, I have doubts I’ll ever kiss her again.

  “I know it’s a little hard to understand,” Tori says. “People usually can’t make sense of it when I try to explain, but I’ve been recording those fleeting memories for years. After I read your letters last night, I went back through and tried to corroborate the things you wrote.”

  I can’t help but laugh. This whole thing is so… Tori. The anal retentive note taking and highlighting. Her rigid posture. The way she folds her hands primly in her lap. When we first met, she was the epitome of strait-laced good girl.

  And I should’ve left her the hell alone. If Tori hadn’t taken up with me in the first place, she wouldn’t be sitting here trying to piece together her missing history right now.

  “So do I check out?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light as I twist the cap off my beer.

  Tori nods. “I know this was all a long time ago for you. It’s ancient history by this point, but I was hoping you could help me.”

  “Anything. Whatever you need,” I say, way too eagerly.

  She blinks a few times, and can’t quite meet my eyes. “See, I’m kind of at a crossroads right now. Maggie, my stepmother, is waiting on my input about selling our farm, but running into people from my past is disconcerting. If I can’t get those memories back, I’m not sure if staying here is going to be possible. At this point I’ve tried everything else I can think of to remember, but I thought maybe… Well, you were obviously an important person to me in the past. I’m hoping if we recreate some of these scenarios, it might unlock those memories for me.”

  A familiar knock sounds at the door, and I bury my head in my hands.

  “Aren’t you going to get that?” Tori asks as the knocking continues.

  I’d really rather not. It’s got to be Natalie, who I completely forgot about. Ever since laying eyes on Tori again last week, I haven’t been able to think of a single other thing. “Give me a minute,” I say. “This won’t take long.”

  As soon as I open the door, Natalie moves in like she means to kiss me. I hold her back by the shoulders.

  “Noah?” she asks.

  “Uh, I meant to call you. Something came up.”

  Natalie cranes her head to the side to gaze around my shoulder. Her eyes narrow to slits. “I can see that.”

  “I should’ve called.”

  “Yeah, you should’ve. It’s not exactly easy to find a babysitter on a Friday night.”

  “Sorry, Nat.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just don’t be an asshole next time.”

  Judging by the hateful look Natalie gives me as she leaves, and the fact that the only woman I’ve ever loved is under my roof at this very moment, I don’t think there’s going to be a next time.

  When I close the door and turn back around, Tori is quickly gathering all the papers and notebooks up, and shoving them into her bag. “I knew this was a terrible idea.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “I don’t want to cause problems in your life, Noah. You’ve moved on, and so have I.”

  I block the door to prevent her from leaving. “She’s just a friend.”

  Tori tilts her head to the side and gives me a dubious look.

  “Okay, she’s a little bit more than a friend, but we’re not together. We hook up occasionally, but that’s all it is.”

  “I should go.”

  “No, you definitely shouldn’t go. Sit down and let’s talk about this, because it doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” Without thinking, I reach over to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and my fingertip brushes against a raised scar hidden in her hairline. She flinches and steps away from me. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

  Tori shakes her head.

  “Tell me how I can help you.”

  “First off, you can stop touching me like you have a right to. Maybe you think you know me, but I don’t remember you, Noah.”

  Yet. You don’t remember yet. “But you remembered when I kissed you, right? Tell me the truth.”

  She shrugs and takes another big step back. “I don’t know. I remembered… something, but it doesn’t change facts. I’m engaged.”

  “And where’s he at right now?”

  Tori shrugs again and looks at her watch. “It is six or nine?” She pauses to roll her eyes. “It’s still light out. It’s gotta be six, so he’s on a flight from Miami to New York at the moment, which is neither here nor there. I have a fiance and you have… whoever that woman was that came to the door.”

  “She’s nobody.”

  Her eyes widen and she gives a disbelieving laugh. “Well, she was right about one thing. You really are an asshole.”

  “I never said I wasn’t, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to help you.”

  “Why?”

  Because I love you. I never stopped. I couldn’t stop loving you, even when I wanted to. “Why wouldn’t I? If there’s something that can help you remember who you were, it feels like the least I can do. What did you have in mind?”

  “I was thinking we could do some of these things you talked about in your letters. Maybe if we do them together… That sounds kind of stupid when I say it outloud.”

  “It’s not stupid. So, you want me to take you on a bunch of dates that we went on when we were younger?”

  “Not dates. This is purely platonic. No kissing, and we are absolutely not going to have sex. Wait. Did we have sex?” Tori rubs a hand across her forehead. “We must’ve. We were together for almost three years.”

  Shrugging, I can’t suppress my cocky grin. “You’re not getting any spoilers from me. We’ll just have to go on a few of these ‘not dates’ to see if we can jog your memory, right?”

  “Right,” she says in a quiet whisper from close enough I can feel her warm breath close to my neck.

  Maybe Tori doesn’t remember me, but I know she feels it too, whatever it is. From day one it was like this between us, and I’ve never felt anything close with another woman. It’s magnetic. We’re drawn to each other. We alw
ays were, which explains why we’re standing just inches apart again.

  “So what does your fiance think about all this?”

  Tori retreats back to a safe distance. “I haven’t spoke with him about it yet. Actually, I wasn’t sure if I was going to come see you or not.”

  “But you did.”

  “I did,” she agrees. “I’m sure he won’t like it, but we’re on a break, which I told you. Or Buck. I told you that when I thought you were Buck.” Laughing bitterly, Tori shakes her head. “Please don’t lie to me like that again. I hate it. I despise being lied to.”

  “I won’t,” I promise.

  “How do you think we should go about this?”

  “Do you still have those charms I sent you?”

  “Uh huh.” Tori wades through the bag on her shoulder again, and comes out with an envelope. She shakes it, and the gold charms rattle and tinkle together from inside.

  “Wait here.” I move past her, and back towards my bedroom. Doing this might give away too much, but I’ve waited too many long years for her to come back into my life to play it cool now. “Give me your hand,” I ask.

  Tori’s eyes are fixed on my face as I work the delicate clasp at her inner wrist. “Whose is this?”

  “It’s yours. I bought it for you, but I never had the chance to give it to you.”

  “And you kept it all this time?”

  “It’s not like it took up a lot of space.” Giving her a weak smile, I pluck the envelope out of her hands, and fish through until I find the charm I’m looking for. My oil stained fingers are big and clumsy. It takes me a few tries before I’m able to work the tiny hook clasp to one of the gold links. “We’ve already taken your first ride together. Hopefully by the time we put the rest of those charms on this bracelet, you’ll remember who I am.”

  Tori shakes her hand. Light catches against the tiny motorcycle charm. “What if I don’t?”

  I shrug. “Then you’ll have some new memories and a bracelet to go along with them.”

  Chapter Eight

  Tori

  I wake up the next morning panting and slick between my legs from a dream I can’t remember, one which I suspect stared Noah. I swear I can practically taste him on my lips again as I emerge into consciousness. That kiss has haunted me since yesterday afternoon, for more reasons than one.

  Noah kissed me. I didn’t kiss him. I don’t have any reason to feel guilty.

  Except I do.

  I am overcome with shame for kissing him back. No matter what kinds of problems I’ve been having with Christian, we are still technically engaged, and there’s no excuse for what I did.

  I didn’t just return Noah’s kiss, I loved every second of it. I replayed it over and over in my mind last night, wanting to commit every detail to memory, needing to burn it into my brain forever.

  I’ve never thought of myself as someone who could be unfaithful. I’m not a cheater, am I? It’s one of the worst parts of missing such a large chunk of time. Not only do I not know who other people are. Sometimes I’m not sure if I know myself. Maybe I really am a cheater? Perhaps I did things like that all the time back in high school, and I just can’t remember.

  I roll out of bed ten minutes before my alarm goes off and scamper across the hall to take an icy shower. By the time I’ve finished cooking breakfast, Brandon is stirring, and I help him get dressed and ready for the day. After we eat, he follows me out to the barn to lend Maggie a hand.

  When I told her last night about the scheme we’d concocted to help me regain my memories, Maggie had d’awwed and pressed a hand to her chest like she thought it was sweet. I wish I could feel the same.

  Something about Noah scares the bejesus out of me.

  But I can deal with him later. There’s too much to do this morning. A few of the herd are pregnant, and one is acting kind of funny. She might be about to give birth, or she might be sick. Dad would’ve known. He knew everything about every one of these cows, unlike Maggie, and unlike me.

  I lead her out to a small paddock and get her set up with fresh hay and water. We’re going to need to keep a close eye on her, I inform Maggie after I make my way back inside the barn.

  My phone vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans an hour later. I already have a pretty good idea who it is as I wipe my hands on my shirt, and reach back to find out. I almost want to let it go to voicemail, but I can’t. I need to face this.

  “Hey,” I say loud enough to be heard over the rustle of hooves and the industrial hum of the milking machines. Waving to get Maggie’s attention, I point to my phone, then stalk outside. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you this time of day.”

  “You know I like to get up early,” Christian says. “I guess you’re up early too, busy on the farm.” He says ‘the farm’ like something filthy and cursed. “I’ll be busy later in the day myself, and I wanted to check in while I could.”

  I suck in a huge breath, working up to it. “Christian, I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

  He scoffs loudly.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What changed between yesterday and today?”

  Everything. “Nothing, but I’ve been thinking, and… You can find someone better than me, Christian. Someone smarter, and prettier, that likes the same things you do.”

  “You’re everything I want.”

  “I’m really not. I’m sorry, but… I-I kissed someone else.”

  “What!”

  “Well, he kissed me, but I kissed him back. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Christian. I didn’t mean to hurt you. See, you really are better off without me.”

  “Who was it?” he demands.

  “Does it matter? You don’t even know him.”

  “I want a name.”

  “Just let it go. I appreciate everything you did for me, and tried to do for me, but… We aren’t a good fit. You need to let me go.”

  “Darling, you’re not thinking clearly at the moment.”

  Shaking my head, I sigh. “Some things in my life might be a little unclear right not, but this isn’t one of them. We just aren’t meant to be.”

  “I should’ve dropped everything and went with you.”

  “Probably, but it wouldn’t have changed anything. I’ve been unhappy for a while, and I think if you’re honest with yourself, you weren’t happy with me either.”

  “That’s not true. I love you.”

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you, Christian. I have to let you go. I’m hanging up now.”

  “Vic-”

  I end the call, and put my phone on silent, then slide down the side of the corrugated metal wall. I still feel like crap about kissing Noah, but I’m not sad or tearful that my relationship is over. This has been a long time coming. It’s something I should’ve done well before now.

  All the other times I let Christian talk me out of it. I let him tell me what I felt wasn’t real, or I was confused. Sometimes I really am confused. If I could just get those memories back, maybe things would be different. Not different with Christian, but different with me. I would finally know who I am, and what I’m supposed to be doing with my life.

  After a moment to process what just happened, I go back inside to finish up the morning chores. Once that’s complete, we all make our way back to the house to get cleaned up. While Maggie cooks lunch, Brandon sits at the kitchen table, drawing another picture. Maggie gives me a sad look when he asks where the envelopes are.

  Was telling him that the right thing? One of us has been walking him down to the mailbox just about everyday to post those letters to heaven.

  Since Maggie cooked, I clean up, then she goes to attend to the bees while I drive into town with Brandon to grab a few things, including some more envelopes. At the grocery store, a tall, slender redhead with a heart shaped face and a ton of freckles runs the register. She gives me a huge grin. “You look exactly the same. How’ve you been Tori?”

  “I can’t complain… Abby.”

  “You rememb
er me?”

  I shake my head as I slide my card through the reader. “No, sorry. I was just reading your name tag.”

  “Aww, that’s a shame. Who’s this little guy?”

  “My name’s Brandon,” he informs her, digging into the shopping bag she just filled to get to the candy bar I bought him.

  “I’ve got a little girl not much younger than him,” Abby says.

  The card reader asks for my pin number, and I’m momentarily seized with panic, then in input my abbreviated name. T-O-R-I. It might not be very secure, but it beats spending ten minutes trying to recall and input four measly numbers. “He’s actually my little brother,” I say.

  “Wow.” Abby’s eyebrows shoot up, and she smiles wider. “I heard you moved off somewhere.”

  “I was living in Miami for a while.”

  “And you came back here?” She laughs. “I bet you’re going to be hating that come winter.”

  “Probably,” I agree.

  Abby fishes around in her smock pocket for a pen, and scrawls her number on a scrap of paper. “Give me a call sometime. We can hang out and catch up.”

  “I guess we were friends?”

  Her smile falters momentarily. “We were in french club together. Parlez-vous francais?”

  Laughing, I shake my head. “Sorry. I don’t remember french either.”

  “Neither do I, barely, but maybe you could bring your brother along. He could play with my daughter. It might be fun.”

  I take her number, tuck it into the pocket of my jean shorts, and nod. Maybe it really will be fun, or maybe it’ll be a couple hours spent playing the uncomfortable game of—I can’t believe you don’t remember this, or this, or this.

  Brandon doesn’t ask about the encounter during the drive home. I don’t think he has any inkling about my accident, or my missing years, and why would he? That all happened before he was born.

  Later when I ask Maggie if she remembers Abby, she doesn’t, but she thinks reconnecting with her might be a good idea.

  “Maybe it’ll help me remember something,” I say, trailing after her towards the carriage house. Brandon runs ahead of both of us, beating down tall grass with a branch as he goes.