Page 21 of Forget Me Knot

“That must’ve been so hard.”

He shrugs, broad shoulders tightening against his baseball tee before falling again. “I don’t remember any of it. My family had to rehash everything for me then. And now, when Jack’sJack, it’s the same.”

“So you don’t remember anything when you’re not you?”

He shakes his head again. “No. Bits and pieces, but not really. It’s like I’m asleep when he’s awake. Could be a day. Could be a week. It’s not an exact science or anything. We leave notes for one another, but we essentially live separate lives.”

I want to be sensitive here, but I don’t know the right and wrong of asking questions in this situation. “Will you ever—”

“I don’t know,” Jackson interrupts me, anticipating what I would say. “Traumatic brain injuries are all unique. There are some telltale symptoms, of course, but my medical team doesn’t necessarily have black and white answers for what my life will look like tomorrow, let alone a year from now.”

“Oh.” That's all I can think to say. I feel for him. Living this way must be so confusing and frustrating. The unknowns. The loneliness. The blips in time where he isn’t himself. I reach out my hand for his. “I’m sorry, Jackson.”

And I really am. Disappointment weighs heavy in my heart. He’s, by all accounts, a wonderful man. Kind. Considerate. Charming. Easy on the eyes. But his life must feel so limited under the circumstances. I don’t know what this means for thetwo of us. If we’ll go out again or even if we should, but I want to be there for him. At the very least, I’d like to be his friend.

He shrugs his shoulders again and looks at me like,What are ya gonna do?

“It's a pretty great first date story, though, right?” The hint of his bright smile blips across his face. When I agree, he runs his thumb along mine.

“Oh, it’s definitely a first.”

“Think you'll consider a second?”

I give his hand a squeeze in return. “Let’s just take it one day at a time.”

“You’re lying!” Emory does a spit take, losing half the gulp of hot coffee she just drank and spraying it across my t-shirt. I hope it burned her mouth before it made its way to my chest.

“Why would I lie about something like this, Em?”

Molly sips her hot cocoa, and unfortunately I don’t catch onto her intentions before she does a spit take of her own, spraying hers all over Emory. “Liar, liar pants on fire. Stick your pants on a telephone wire.”

She giggles hysterically but quiets when she sees the look on her mother’s face.

“Run, kid.” I push her off her chair and gesture to the napkins on the counter. “Grab some napkins. Save yourself.”

She releases a tentative laugh and skips over to retrieve the napkins, dropping them in both of our laps. “Sorry.”

“Mmhhmmm,” Emory hums.

It takes me gesturing wildly at my wet shirt before Emory catches on and throws a hand over her mouth, apologizing through it. “Whoops. Sorry Dinah.”

“Mmhhmmm,” I echo.

We all settle back into the girls’ living area overlooking the farm from the floor to ceiling windows. The spot offers an unbroken view of the gals, as we call them, alpaca-gossiping as they hang in the field in front of the house.

“Molly, why don’t you go chat with the gals for a bit. Let me and Aunt Dinah have some big girl time.”

Molly immediately sulks, glaring over the rim of her mug. “Iama big girl. Right, Aunt Dinah Belle? That’s what you always say.”

“Duh, yes.” I roll my eyes at her mom like Ican’t even. “I get it, obviously. I mean, we have an exclusive club and everything.”

“And mommy’s in the club?”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “Course. Girls only. We’re makin’ t-shirts and everything.”

Emory raises an eyebrow.

“They’ll have unicorns on ‘em and say,Party in the streets, magic in the—”

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