Page 5 of The Caretaker
The question didn’t offend me. Not when his tone was gentle and searching, like perhaps he’d had to ask himself the same question a time or two and hadn’t known how to answer it. Did he have friends or family that he’d neglected because he couldn’t get over the person he’d lost? Could we really be that similar?
“Not when it feels like my heart is still out there somewhere,” I said. Because it wasn’t with me, not really. It was with Stacey, with the time I’d get back, come hell or high water. Hopefully, my answer inspired him to not give up on his person too.
“I think my wife led me here, and I need to know why. I need to remember. Nothing else matters until I do.”
“Do your friends know you’re here?”
“No. Most days I don’t even answer their calls. I avoid my sister as well. It’s easier with her. We live on opposite coasts. I’m angry and resentful and confused, and I want to be left alone to wallow in that. They all want me to be the person I used to be for them, but all I want to be is who I used to be forher,” I stressed, emotion clogging my throat.
“I’ve got this well of love in my chest, robbing me of breath most days, and sustaining me on the other days. I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t want my memories returned to me because I can’t live without them. I want every second of what I lost back because I can’t live without her, and I wantto remember every moment of the life we had together. Even the last seven hundred and thirty days of it. It’s what my heart wants.”
“That can’t be easy,” he said, voice strained.
I scoffed. “Which part? The having to fend off the people in my life? The people whose eyes fill with hope every time I walk through their door, or every time they barge through mine, only for that hope to be snuffed out when they realize I’m still not the happy-go-lucky version of myself. Not the man they once knew. Or the never-ending obsession with someone who’s no longer here? An obsession that I’m sometimes not even sure belongs to her—” I shut myself up, wishing I could take the words back. I’d never voiced that last part out loud. To be honest, I’d never had words for the feeling until then. There was a vast and all-consuming hole inside of me that I attributed to her being gone because…what else could it be? “Which part is the hard part?” I asked him, anger and shame now replacing dejection.
“All of it,” he said, his big blue eyes filled with compassion. The validation took my breath away, leaving me deflated and having to reinforce my forearms against the table to keep from crashing face-first onto it.
I returned to the topic of my friends and family, leaving my bewildering admission behind. “I’m just so sick of everyone trying to remind me of everything like it’s their goddamned duty to fix me,” I said, and he nodded again, as if he understood that too. I believed that nod. It had been a while since I believed anything, but I believed that. I believed…him.
“It confuses me, makes me defensive. It doesn’t help, even though it should. I just want to remember. I want to feel something other than lost.”
“That sounds reasonable to me.”
“Thank you,” I breathed, because he was the first person to tell me that since I woke up in this new reality of mine. “Sorry todump all this on you. You’re obviously going through something of your own.”
“It’s fine,” he said, dismissing my apology.
“I’m Noon, by the way. Noon Waters.”
He hesitated before saying, “My name’s Solace.” He watched me from beneath lowered lashes, as if waiting for something.
“Solace,” I said, tasting it, thinking about the comfort he’d given me without even knowing it. “It suits you.”
Twin crimson blotches appeared on his pale cheeks, and he pointed one long, elegant finger to the camera on the table. “Photographer?”
“Not my official job title, but it feels right.” I shrugged, holding up the bulky piece of equipment. “It was on display in the window of an electronics store I passed on a morning walk. Had a panic attack after spotting it. Figured it must have meant something. A clue, maybe. So I bought it. Turns out I’m good at it.”
Solace smiled, this half grin that was both shy and alluring. Everything in me said he was oblivious to the latter. It registered in me as a fact, one that made me uncomfortable because of how vehemently I knew it. I wanted to stay in the presence of this seemingly guileless man. My own smile shook from the force it took to maintain it.
“What’s your official job title?” he asked, those shimmering eyes lighter now that we’d moved on to a simpler topic.
“I freelance in property and estate management. Or at least I used to. I haven’t worked since the accident.” I hadn’t done much but grieve and lock myself away from the world. Thankfully, I could financially afford to continue to do so for the foreseeable future.
“What if you never figure out why you were here? What if you never get all your memories back? Is that a possibility?” Solace asked.
“Yes,” I said with a defeated sigh. “It’s a strong possibility. The head trauma I suffered was that severe.” I unconsciously sought out the scar tissue hidden by my hair.
“What then?” he asked for the second time, a hint of his melancholy returning. I found myself wanting to do anything I could to make it vanish again, because while he was lovely like this, sad and broken and in desperate need of care, he looked otherworldly when happy, even if I’d only caught a glimpse of it through his boyish grin.
I gave him an answer I’d never contemplated before because I’d never looked that far into the future. Not when so much darkness had blinded me to the road ahead. “Then I’ll have to settle for making new memories. I’ll have totryto,” I corrected, because it wouldn’t be easy, if at all possible. A sudden spark ignited behind those majestic eyes of his. “I booked a room at an inn across town.”
That surprised him. “How long will you be in Haley Cove for?”
“I don’t know. A few weeks. As long as it takes.”
Liz returned, noting the untouched food with a frown. “Can I get you anything else?”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks.”
