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  “Okay, but let’s start eating first. I'm hungry.” He

  nodded towards the chair for her to take a seat. She walked over and sat down, smiling. She tried to be patient as they dished their food up and both started eating. When half his fillet was gone, he finally looked up at her.

  “It was back in grade school. Mitch and I were already friends. You were just this little girl with braces and glasses that followed us everywhere. We thought you had a crush on one of us, since you wouldn't leave us alone.” He took a sip of his beer. “Mitch had heard from Vance Kyle that Rodney Stoller's cousin had found this really cool hang out place under the freeway. Well, when Vance dared Mitch to go there and spray paint his name on the walls, I decided my best friend couldn't be called a chicken. After all, we were at a crucial time in our lives. Girls were starting to look a lot more like fun to us and that meant we had to impress them. And after all, what about spray painting a cool hangout didn't scream chick magnet?”

  Eve laughed, the sound almost shocked her and she covered her mouth. Carter smiled. “Go ahead, sweetie. You've always had such a wonderful laugh.”

  She smiled at him.

  “Well, we decided that I would pretend to spend the night at his place and he'd tell his folks he was staying at mine. You know, the old switch-a-roo.” She nodded. “So, after school that next Friday, we hopped on our bikes and rode like the wind to our hangout, a tree house we'd built a few summers back with Mitchell's dad. When we got there, you were there. We'd told you a million times not to come there, but you never paid attention to us. We said something mean, like, “Girls suck” and you went off crying. Finally, after ditching you, we packed our stuff on our bikes and took off, using the map Rodney's cousin had made for us. What we didn't know was that in order to get to this cool hangout, we had to cross a busy highway. It took us two hours to find a bridge and cross under. By that time, it was almost getting dark. Mitch was complaining about it, but I reminded him we had our flashlights and reflectors on our bikes. No ten-year-old thinks he's vulnerable. When we got there, we realized there were a bunch of drunks living under the bridge. They had their barrels full of trash they were burning and little makeshift homes made out of cardboard boxes. It took us ten minutes of arguing before we finally decided it wasn't worth risking. We tagged both our names on the cement pillar just outside the underpass and started heading back home. But when we got a few yards away, we noticed a pink Barbie bike hidden in the bushes.” He shook his head. “So we turned back around and rushed back to the bridge, thinking the worse.” He picked up his beer and took a slow sip. Then he picked up his fork and started eating again.

  “Well?” She leaned closer. “What happened next? What was the incident?”

  He looked across from her, his eyebrows raised. “What do you think happened?”

  She thought about it, tried really hard to pull any sliver of memory from her brain. Nothing. She shook her head and noticed his eyes dull a little as he frowned.

  “When we got to the bridge, we looked on from the bushes, too afraid to go out in the open with so many scary people. Finally, as we were about to turn back and go for help, we heard your laugh. Slowly, we stepped out from our hiding spot and followed the sound. We found you sitting next to an old woman, holding a cat that looked like it had been run over ten times. There were a few other people sitting around the fire with you and you were telling them all about your two best friends, Mitchell and Carter.”

  “I wasn't afraid of them?” She couldn't see or imagine her ten-year-old self doing something so brave.

  He shook his head. “No, not only were you not afraid of them, you ended up going back there once a month for two years to talk to that old woman. We tagged along, just to make sure you were safe.”

  “Of course you did.” She smiled at him. “What happened?”

  His smile faltered. “They found her, the old woman, one winter, frozen to death. Someone had stolen her blankets and boots.”

  Eve's eyes turned damp and she realized she was crying for a woman she didn't remember. “Why?”

  “Why did they steal her stuff? Probably to keep warm themselves.”

  “No, why did I go back every month? Why would I do such a thing? Why would you let me do something so dangerous?” She stood and carried her dishes to the kitchen, hating the tears that were streaming down her face. She set her dish in the sink, half-eaten food and all. Leaning on the counter, she frantically wiped at the tears.

  “Sweetie, there was no stopping you.” He stood right behind her. Then his hands went to her shoulders and he turned her around to face him. His fingers reached up and wiped her tears away gently. “When you got something into your head, there was no stopping you. You had showed up two ten-year-olds who thought they were the bravest of the brave. You, a ten-year-old, Barbie-bike-riding girl. You were much stronger and braver, we just had to be your friends. From that night on, the three of us were inseparable.”

  He pulled her close, her face buried in his shoulder. “I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm crying over someone I don't even remember.”

  “Eve,” he pulled back and looked down at her. “Stella was like a grandmother to you. You’d never had a grandmother before. That summer, after she died, your folks let you come up to my grandparents’ house. You and my grandmother instantly hit it off and were always together from then on. Just look at the pictures all over the house. You were the granddaughter she never had. I have a lot of cousins, boys, all of them.” He smiled and pulled her close again.

  She went to bed in the large soft bed that night and her mind refused to shut down. She wished for images to pop into her head, memories of the events Carter had described, but nothing did. She picked up the photo book and started looking through it again.

  There were so many pictures of the three of them together, but none of the images showed any clue that she and Carter were an item. When had they become an item? Was it recently? What had sparked that first interest from friendship to something else?

  She had so many other questions, but didn't quite know how to ask him. It would have been a lot easier if she'd had a few close girlfriends she could ask.

  Looking at the pictures, she realized there wasn't even a picture of her with any girlfriends. Did she have any close ones?

  She set the book back down and tried to close her eyes, but images kept flashing under her dark eyelashes. Getting up, she walked over and flipped on the television. Watching the news, she finally fell asleep.

  Chapter Seven

  Carter watched the sunrise from the beach. Winter was just around the corner. Since he was going to be around the old place for a while, he might as well get done some of the work that was needed. Yesterday, while Eve had napped, he'd called someone to see about re-roofing the huge place. There were only a few shingles that needed fixing, but he decided to replace the whole thing instead. It had been about fifteen years since it had been replaced. The electric and plumbing were all good to go, and since the furnace had been pumping out heat since they had arrived, all seemed to be working fine.

  He had plans to paint several of the rooms, and although he knew his grandmother loved the flower wallpaper in the dining room, he had plans to replace it. Not to mention that the furniture could use an update as well. Although the mauve-flowered couch was an eyesore, it still was the most comfortable couch he'd ever sat on. Maybe he could have it reupholstered. The grand piano still sat in the window alcove and was in mint condition. As his grandfather's prized possession, none of the kids were allowed to play with it without him on hand. It could probably use a tuning and a good dusting, but he bet the thing still played like new.

  There were a couple of loose floorboards here and there and the light in one of the closets needed repair. Since the place had six bedrooms and five bathrooms, he knew there were a lot of other things that would need to be done.

  When he started walking back towards the house, he spotted Eve walking towards him. Her long strides ate up th
e beach so he met her halfway.

  “Morning.” He noticed she'd worn a pair of his old sweats that he'd probably left in one of the drawers somewhere. She also had on one of his old Princeton sweatshirts on. Her hair was tied back in a long ponytail and her checks were a little pink. “Out for a morning walk?”

  “Yes.” She looked around and smiled. “It's so peaceful here. Is it always like this?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, pretty much. The only time I can remember it being crowded was when we had parties.” He looked around too. The beach was deserted and he knew it would remain so most of the winter. The nearest neighbor was a ways down the road and he was in his late seventies. “When we were in college, staying up here for the summers, we had a lot of parties.” He smiled and took her hand and started walking back towards the house. He knew she was feeling better, but he didn't think that too much cool air would do her any good. She needed rest and to stay off her feet. At least that's what the doctor had said.

  “Yeah, I saw a few pictures. Maybe you can sit down with me and tell me who everyone is. At least the people I'll need to know for future reference.” She was gazing off towards the sound.

  “Is that a lighthouse?” She pointed to the rocky cliff and an old building.

  “Yeah, we can take a walk there some day. What do you say to some hot chocolate and French toast? I have the roofing guys coming in about an hour, but I can squeeze in making us some breakfast.”

  “Hmmm, sounds good.” He enjoyed the feel of her small hand in his and he could tell she was in deep thought as they walked back towards the house.

  When they hit the clearing, he glanced around the place. The yard would need some work next spring, but so far, the company he'd hired the last few summers had done a great job keeping it up. He knew the pool had been drained and had sat empty since the first summer he'd owned the place.

  The yard could stand for a few flowers, though. His grandmother had always had flowers everywhere. He looked off towards her rose garden and sighed when he saw the state the bushes were in. Just then Eve stopped. He looked over at her and her eyes were huge.

  “What? What is it? Are you dizzy?” He reached for her and held her close.

  “I…I think I remember your grandmother. I just had a flash.” She reached up and touched her forehead. “There was a woman in a large hat with a blue bow on it. She was bending over, digging in the dirt with a red spade.”

  He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Yes!” He leaned back and looked into her eyes. “That was our grandmother.” He noticed a tear on her cheek and wiped it away gently. “You two would disappear into the garden for hours.”

  “I had my first memory.” She smiled up at him. “What a wonderful memory.” Then she put her hand to her head and frowned. “Ohh.” She held onto his arm and he saw her face go pale.

  “What?” He held her tighter.

  “I'm dizzy.” He could see her eyes become unfocused. Swooping her up quickly, he rushed into the house with her in his arms. Setting her on the couch, he sat beside her.

  “Do you want some water? What about an aspirin?”

  “No, I'm fine now. I think I'll just rest a while.” She leaned back on the cushions. “You said something about French toast and hot coco?”

  He smiled and stood up. “Stay put. Hot food coming up.” He rushed out and into the kitchen. Less than half an hour later, he walked in with a tray full of food. When he walked in, she was asleep, the large comforter his grandmother had made covering her almost completely. He set the tray down and sat next to her, watching her sleep until the roofers drove up outside.

  When he came back inside after getting the men started, Eve was sitting up finishing the plate of food he'd left for her.

  “Sorry if it was cold. You were resting when I brought it in.” He sat beside her and propped his feet on the coffee table.

  “That's okay. It was still warm.” She drank the rest of her hot chocolate. “Thank you, it was delicious.” She leaned back and put her feet next to his, crossing them at the ankles. “You're fixing the place up?” She nodded towards the men outside the large picture window. There were half a dozen of them, scurrying about trying to get ladders and other equipment ready.

  “Yeah, I can pretty much do everything else myself. But, well, you know how I feel about heights.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

  She chuckled. “No, I don't. But I guess I can piece together that you're not too fond of them.” She watched his eyes open and a hint of sadness crossed his face.

  “Oh, yeah. I guess I forgot.” He closed his eyes again.

  “What else are you going to be doing around here?” She looked around the large room, trying to imagine what it could look like. The furniture in the room was old and very much out of date, but the room was solid and had great potential. With a fresh coat of paint, new curtains, new furniture, the room would be more up to date. She could just imagine how rearranging the furniture would open the room up and make it flow better.

  “Was I any good at decorating?” She tilted her head, trying to remember.

  “Hmmm, yes. You helped Mitch redecorate his place after the Suzanne incident.”

  “Now you've got me curious. What was the Suzanne incident?” She watched the men working outside and listened to Carter tell her all about yet another part of her past that she no longer remembered.

  That evening she decided to try and cook something. Since they'd been there, Carter had been the only one moving around the kitchen. She'd been curious if she could cook. A few minutes later, she had her answer.

  The fire alarm was blaring as Carter ran in, sheer panic on his face. He'd been cleaning out his grandfather's old office, and there was dust all over his shirt and pants. Eve tried not to laugh, but the scene was almost too much. The pan she'd used had black things floating in the oil she'd used.

  Carter rushed over and put the lid on the pan, sufficiently snuffing out the blaze that had been building. “What are you doing? You know damn well you're not allowed to use this kitchen. Not after the cake incident.” He carried the pan to the sink and turned on the water. As a large pile of steam rose and almost hit him in the face, she crossed her arm and raised her chin.

  “No, I don't know. I don't remember! I don't know anything about what I can and can't do. I can't remember anything about being here before. About you!” She stomped her foot as he turned towards her. “I don't know if I can cook. I don't know if I know how to drive a car, or what my favorite book is. I don't remember my first kiss or my mother's name. I don't know if I like chocolate or vanilla.” She walked towards him and shoved her finger into his chest. “I don't remember you or even if I still liked you. I can't remember why we were in Chicago or what happened to me that night. I don't even know how I got this bump on my head. So far, all you want to tell me about are the good, ‘safe’ things like your grandparents.” She air quoted around the word safe. She threw her hand up in the air and raised her chin a little more. “I don't even know why I feel a very strong urge to kiss you and to throttle you at the same time.” She turned and stormed out of the room and made it all the way up stairs before he spun her around.

  “Wait just a minute. I'm sorry, I forgot.” She could see sadness in his eyes again, and it tore at her a little more. “I'll answer any questions you have.” He rubbed his hand over his forehead and she could tell he was tired.

  “Do you need some help?” She watched his eyes fly open.

  “Help? In the office? No.” He shook his head.

  “Listen. Since it's obvious that I'm no good in the kitchen and you've confirmed that I am good at decorating, maybe I can give you a hand.”

  He shook his head again. “No. You're not supposed to overdo it.” He stood up and started to walk out. “Your arm is still in a sling and just this morning you almost passed out when walking.” He stopped and looked over at her. “Were you hungry? Is that why you were in the kitchen?”

  She shook her head. “I was jus
t seeing if I could cook. I wanted to make you dinner since you were working so hard.”

  He smiled. “Well, now you know. Avoid cooking, cats”—he ticked things off with his fingers as he talked—“riding a unicycle while juggling, oh, and most importantly…staplers.” He smiled and walked out.

  She jumped up from the couch. “Staplers? Why staplers?” She rushed after him as he laughed.

  Chapter Eight

  Carter knew that Eve was getting restless. He could see that look she got in her eyes when she was bored. And she was very bored a few days later. She'd taken her arm out of the sling and swore to him that it was feeling better, but he could see that she kept it close to her and didn't use it when lifting things. But he agreed that she could help him sort through all his grandparents’ stuff. He had a large storage unit delivered the day after the roofers had finished the roof. The metal box sat on the drive and was already half full of items he planned on selling. Already he was thinking he'd need at least two more storage devices just to hold everything.