Page 35 of Remember Me

A moment later I heard the line pick up. “Mr. Ellison. You just caught me. How’s Ms. Grant doing?”

“Thanks for taking my call. I’ll make it quick so you can get out of there. Birdie’s doing okay, I think. Struggling a little with what her instincts are telling her and what she’s not able to remember.”

“That’s perfectly normal, and actually an excellent sign. If she’s having ‘feelings’ about people, places, things like that, it may be an indication that full memory restoration isn’t far behind. That’s her subconscious working, and her awareness of it indicates that it’s leaking into her consciousness.”

“Good. Listen, I know you can’t tell me specifics, but something happened today and I’m not a hundred percent how to handle it. Birdie walked into my aunt’s shop and asked for a job. My aunt said it was obvious she didn’t recognize her, so she played along, and gave her the job. This is a place she’s worked at off and on for the past several years. She’s close with my aunt. Should she tell her who she is, or would it be better to let her figure that out on her own?”

“Hmmm. That’s fascinating. Truly amazing how the subconscious works…” I waited as he mused to himself. “Mr. Ellison, nothing is ever certain with head injuries. I hesitate to give you any hard and fast directives regarding things like this, other than it could be harmful to press her too hard to remember. I know that neither you or your aunt want to out and out lie to her, but maybe you should give it a few days and see if things start coming back on their own.”

“Will do. Thank you, Dr. Chen.”

I called Maggie back and let her know the verdict and she agreed to follow along, telling the truth however she could, but letting Birdie’s subconscious ease her gently back to remembering.

Weary all of a sudden, I placed the glass I’d been drinking from in the sink and started down the hall to the bedroom. I paused outside a guest room we’d converted to a studio, where Birdie had begun making the wooden signs that people shopping at Aunt Mags’s were going crazy over. She had a steady hand for pretty handwriting and a knack for turning expressions, scripture, and quotations into art. I entered the room and sat down at her workspace, my fingers skimming over the flats of wood laying there to await framing, the soft bristles of the brushes in a cup.

I needed to make a plan. I did better with concrete ideas, neatly organized. There was a stack of paper in a tray and I pulled a piece out to set in front of me, then rooted around until I found a pen. It was purple, like she’d used years ago when I met her.

I sat and thought, absently chewing the end of the pen as I contemplated my options.

Bring Birdie to house. Make her see what she left behind.

Elf.

Kiss her. Often.

I drew a blank after I wrote the words ‘kiss her,’ or maybe it was simply that my little brain was suddenly hyper-focused on the wrong thing. Then a thought struck me.The baby.The baby was really the only thing keeping us together at the moment, the onlyrealthing for Birdie. I went back to number three with renewed purpose, and suddenly I was filled with vision.

4. Put together nursery.

5. Baby names.

6. Tell her.

I wasn’t certain why I wrote ‘tell her.’ I didn’t want to tell Birdie any more than I already had about one of the most awful nights I’d had. And yet…deep within was the persistent knowledge that I was screwing up, perhaps irrevocably, in keeping Serena Hansen from her. She didn’t fully trust me, and it didn’t take a genius to realize that her subconscious was throwing up walls.

I needed to circumvent those walls with honesty, or it was all too possible that I’d lose her for good.

“I would be lying if I said there were not times that I am an earthquake contained inside this skin.”

Tyler Knott Gregson

December 2¦Birdie

I’D BEEN WORKING ATTHEFARMER’SWIFE FOR SEVERAL DAYS NOW AND COULD HONESTLY CLAIM TO LOVE IT, EVEN IFIDID FIND MYSELF EXHAUSTED BY THE END OF A SHIFT.I’d been tasked with some simple arrangements, shelf dusting, stock display, and a few other odds and ends. It all seemed second-nature to me, and I found myself wondering if I’d worked in retail at some point. Magnolia Lane, aka Maggie and the woman I’d spoken to days past, seemed happy enough with my performance that I figured she’d keep me on once the trial period had ended. She was always smiling, always encouraging.

Today she had me cleaning and organizing the storeroom, a task I was hoping would keep my mind off of Hayes and that kiss he’d planted on me the other day. I settled into a groove of sorting trash-donate-treasure style, the Bluetooth perched on the shelf beside me playing eighties rock.

Hayes hadn’t called or come by since our lunch, leaving me with a vague sense of annoyance. Yes, he was doing exactly as I’d asked him to, but I’d have thought that if I was important to him, he wouldn’t give up so fast. And yes, I realized how fickle and petty I was being.

I grumbled to myself as I stretched for a box on a top shelf, rising onto my tiptoes.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Maggie stood in the doorway, hands on hips. “Um...getting this box down?” The edge of the box rested on my fingertips.

“I told you no lifting.”

“Oh. Sorry, wasn’t thinking.” I pushed the edge back and lowered myself, looking around for the folding stool as I did.

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