Remember Me

     
              
Remember Me
© Priscilla T
Poole Rainwater
2007

               This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used
fictitiously;
they are not to be construed as real. All service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners, and are used herein for identification purposes only.

                                Dedication:

To my sister Deloris Neeley, Gene and Margaret
Rainwater
,
and
Melba and Wayne
Camp I
n my darkest hours you were always there
for
me
, as well as
Steve, surrounding us with u
nconditional love and support. Y
ou gave me the strength I needed to get up one more time.

               
Chapter 1
“Why do we have to talk about the dream again? It never changes, it’s always the same.” Karen Washington snapped in exasperation, as loath as ever to discuss it. She held on to the small gold cross around her neck like it was her lifeline to sanity, then dropped her trembling hands in her lap as she fought the urge to run from the room.
“Karen, in order for me to help you, we simply
must
talk about it. It could very well be your subconscious trying to work out what really happened to you.” Dr. Brett Parker spoke with cool authority as he watched his patient’s body language carefully. Her body had grown rigid, and from the way she was wringing her hands he could tell she was becoming highly agitated.
For three years he had worked with her to see what she could remember about the horrible attack, one that only he and a handful of others knew about. As for those others who knew of it, he had explained to them, as he did to her, that the person who attacked her would most likely her kill her the next time around, if he ever found her. For her safety, the attack had never been reported to the police. Looking at her more closely still, he thought that from outward appearances, if someone looked at Karen Washington, they would think nothing at all was wrong with her, but he knew it was a façade she had to maintain.
She was thirty years old, a single, African American, middle class working woman. He had always found her attractive. She was five foot six, and her figure was temptingly curvy with nice padding in all the right places. She had skin like dark chocolate, and her raven hair was cut in a short bob that fell a few inches above her delicate chin. He loved her
expressive brown eyes, they were her most alluring feature, he thought, because her emotions were always clear in them. Her dark oval face, with an exquisitely dainty nose, gave her a youthful, pixie look, and her full, kissable lips would drive any red blooded man wild at the mere thought of the things she could do with them. Other, less lucky women had to spend enormous amounts of money and endure discomfort to obtain the sexy, pouty lips that were hers, naturally. On top of all that she was extremely intelligent, and very much a lady. He had spent hours upon hours having stimulating conversations with her, just the two of them. Secretly, he thought she was the kind of woman a man like him could be proud of calling his own. His felt his heart flutter as she shifted her gaze in his direction, looking like a lost child needing his protection, which he was more than happy to give. After all, for three long years he had provided a sense of security she badly needed.
Licking her full lips, she opened her mouth as if to say something, then snapped it back shut.
“You remember nothing new?” he asked as he swallowed hard and glanced down at the file he had kept on her since the first day he had taken her into his care. Unable to look at her just yet, he scribbled some notes silently, waiting for her answer.
Running a hand over her pretty face, she felt tired, so emotionally drained, that all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and wish the world away. “The dream is always the same, I see a man….” she faltered, trying to think of a way to explain what she see was seeing in her dreams. Her expression grim, she finally continued. “His face is never clear, but I can make out little things, like, well, he has the coldest blue eyes. Like he could kill you with a glare.” she stammered as she stared off into space, her voice fragile and wavering. “He tells me that he will make me regret leaving. Then I hear a child crying, screaming for his mother, and I know it’s me the child is calling to. When I turn and look, it’s a beautiful little boy. I try to go to him, and… and the man won’t let me. He tells me I can’t take him.” she finished as her voice sank to a nearly inaudible whisper. She felt a familiar tug at her heart, a sense of longing, a sense of belonging somewhere, with someone.
Finally lifting his gaze from the file, the doctor simply looked at her in silence.
Feeling defeated, she slumped her shoulders, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “It’s hopeless, Brett. Whatever happened to me will never come back, my past will be forever lost to me. I’ll never find my true place in the world, and I’ll never know if the child is mine. If he’s crying for….I don‘t know..” she trailed off miserably, then looked up at him just in time to notice an odd, almost troubled look on his handsome face. Momentarily thrown off balance, she stammered, “Do you know what that feels like, to know you
may
have a child, and he is growing up without you?“ she asked as her face contorted and she lost control of her emotions, beginning to sob quietly.
Brett watched her body shake as her sobs became more pronounced. To him, she sounded wounded, broken. Hesitantly, he laid her file down and stood. Sitting next to her on the couch, he took her in his arms rocked her back and forth, gently. “No sweetheart.“ he
murmured, “Of course I have no way of knowing what it feels like, but you must remember this: This could simply be a dream, and was never real to begin with, or it could be the child of a friend you’re remembering. Or something you saw in a movie. I’ve had patients tell me they’ve dreamed they’re completely different people, like…celebrities, or something. One man even told me he dreamed he was a cartoon character once, how’s that for odd? There could be many reasons you’re having dreams about this child.” he said calmly, knowing that what he was telling her was weak, but he knew that she would accept it at face value. She always did. Reaching for some Kleenex that he kept on the table, he wiped her tears away gently.
Still sniffling, she took the Kleenex, finished wiping her face, and struggled to get herself back under control.
Giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze, he smiled softly and said, “There now, feel a little better? It’s always best to let it out.”
Looking up at him gratefully, she nodded, all the while thinking about what a good and patient man he was. His gorgeous gray eyes were full of understanding and compassion for her, and secretly, she thought he would be a great catch for any lucky woman.
Smiling back at her reassuringly, his outward calm gave away nothing of the inner turmoil, the emotions that were running through him. Just being in such close proximity to her was intoxicating to him. Her smooth, flawless skin, those beautiful, expressive eyes, the soft scent of sandalwood she always wore….
Clearing his throat suddenly, he tore his gaze away, got to his feet, and quickly made his way back to his desk in order to put some space in between them.
She’s not ready yet, you can’t push her like this, it’s madness…
he thought. But some would say he had crossed the line long ago. If he was honest with himself, their relationship had never been strictly doctor and patient, not as far as he was concerned, anyway. That line had been blurred the first time he had ever laid his eyes on this wounded, beautiful soul.
Feeling slightly embarrassed about her emotional outburst, she looked out the office window in silence, taking in the scenery. She loved the mountains, especially this time of year. The leaves were coming to life after a bitter winter, life was slowly returning to the mountains, beginning another cycle of rebirth, a stark contrast from the bleak, bitter cold and lifeless winter months. She had always found comfort in those hills, and on weekends would go hiking, even in the winter. And afterwards she had always felt revived, as if she was drawing strength from the earth itself. She may not remember anything about her past, but she believed with all her heart she had a deep connection with the land.
“You alright?”
Snapping out of it, she tried to focus on the matter at hand.” I may not know, yet, what is real and isn’t real, but I’ll say this much, I
strongly
feel the man with the blue eyes had something to do with my real-life attack. I‘m more than half convinced that
he‘s
real.” she
said as she gazed out the window once more. Her attention diverted, she never saw his expression morph into something decidedly more unpleasant than the smile he had worn earlier.
“Why do you feel this man is linked to your attack? This is new, I thought you said there was nothing new about the dream.” he snapped.
Startled, she turned and stared at him, speechless. He had never reacted this way, about anything she had ever shared with him.
Composing himself, he took a deep breath and plopped back down into his overstuffed chair.
“After all this time, surely you must have some answers of your own, why won’t you tell me what
you
think?” she said slowly.
With an audible sigh, he looked at her and spoke like a sad, patient uncle would to an unreasonable niece or nephew. “Karen, as I said from the very first day I began treating you, I want you to
remember
the facts,
telling
you the facts, or what I
think
, won’t help. What I think, what I believe myself, is purely speculation, not the
facts
. Surely you understand that. You also know as much as I, the most important thing is we have to be careful, your life could be in danger.” His answer wasn’t completely true, he did, in fact, know much more than she realized, but there was no way he could let her know that. It was necessary to keep her in the dark, in order to keep her safe, and with him. “Now, try just once more. Tell me what you remember.” he implored, his tone and expression once again radiating warmth and concern.
Nodding, she accepted his answer without thought, believing implicitly that he simply had her best interests at heart. Rubbing her brow, all the unanswered questions spun around in her head, and she felt the familiar throb of a migraine coming on. It always started whenever she tried to force the memories. “It’s not anything new….they’re just faint images of him. He appears to be very tall, white, with dark hair, and those damn blue eyes.” she said, and shivered. “That’s all I can…well, never mind, you already know what I’m going to say. Look, I really should be getting ready to go to work.”
With another sigh, he simply nodded, looked down, and scribbled a few more notes. “ I’m going to increase your medication dosage and see if that helps with the anxiety.” he finally said. “And Karen, I want you to understand your memory may never return, or you may only get a small part of your memory back, but whatever the case may be, we have to work through what’s real and what isn’t. Just give it time.”
She nodded, agreeing with him. After all, he was the doctor, and he had saved her. Not only that, but he was a trusted friend as well. “Just give it time, sure,” she echoed automatically.
Smiling, and obviously pleased with her reply, he opened the desk drawer where he kept the experimental medication, some of which he had been giving her. Only once had she
ever questioned him about it, and he had explained that he had developed a medication that would help patients with head injuries. He explained that while it was true that the medication was still in the testing phase, he was one hundred percent convinced it was safe for her to use.
Finished, he stood and approached her. “Alright, here they are
.” He
said, handing her the small bottle. “Like I said, it’s just an increased dosage. Don’t forget to take them on time, thirty minutes before bed.”
Taking the bottle from him, she opened her purse and placed it inside without hesitation, even though the pills had always made her feel drowsy, and seemed to muddle her thoughts. She had started developing intense panic attacks after the last upped dosage, but as usual, she deferred to his professional knowledge, and attributed those factors to side effects of the medication.
He rested his hand on her lower back as he walked her to the door, then asked, “Will you join me for dinner before I leave on my trip?” As she looked up and smiled at him, he felt his body react the way it always did. Silently, he prayed she didn’t look down, because his raging hard on would embarrass both of them.
“Sounds nice." She
replied as she touched his chest lightly with one hand in a friendly gesture. “I enjoy your company, and always miss you when you’re gone. I feel so…lonely, so lost.” Standing on tip-toe, she gave him a chaste peck on the cheek, then turned and opened the door.
As he watched her leave, his entire being seemed to be filled with need for her, and he took a moment to reflect that if she only knew what he himself was feeling, it would bewilder her, perhaps even frighten her. Because
he
was the one who felt lost and frightened, when
she
wasn’t around.
As he plodded slowly towards his desk, he frowned, troubled by the fact that she was beginning to remember little things. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should change his plans.
        
*********************************************************
Granger Mortenson stood in his six-year-old son’s room, looking down at the sleeping child, knowing that if not for his precious boy, Regan, he would have done something foolish three years ago. His son was the only reason he hadn’t tracked down the child’s mother and caused her to suffer his wrath, but since he had always put his son first, he never went after his wife.
The child snorted once, loudly, and fell back into his deep sleep almost immediately.
How could a woman leave, pack her bags, leaving her child crying night after night for her? She never looked back, never sent our only child a birthday or Christmas card…
he wondered for perhaps the thousandth time. He felt the familiar anger inside surge once again, but knew that
someday
he had to accept, face, and deal with the undeniable and dreadful facts. She didn’t care about them, and maybe never had to begin with. She had warned him on several occasions that she would leave, but at the time he thought she was simply being childish. He had to admit that she had told him many times how unhappy she was.