Escaping Memories Read online

  "No, I saw bruises, scratches, and a horrible amount of pain. I know you're naked, but the only thing I feel and see is pain. Let me help. Let go."

  She slowly released her grip on his shirt. He sighed in relief and carefully lowered her into the water, hating the small cries that left her lips. As soon as he had her fully in the tub, he let go, and turned off the water. He was thankful she screamed when she fell, not only to help her with her injuries, but also to turn the water off. It had come close to overflowing.

  "I'll be right back. I forgot to get you a washcloth." He left briefly, coming back in with a few washcloths, and knelt down by her. "Here."

  "This is embarrassing...but will you help. It hurts to move," she whispered.

  "I can…or I can call—"

  "No, Logan! Please…I trust you. I'm not sure I have it in me to trust anyone else right now." She had grabbed a hold of his arm resting on the side of the tub, grasping him with a tight embrace.

  He saw her fear and hated it. The fact she trusted him already filled him with an emotion that words couldn't describe. She had no reason to trust him—or anyone else. No memory, bruises everywhere. Why should she trust anyone at the moment? But she trusted him. His heart filled with an aching wonder.

  He hated the task ahead of him. He figured it would be far worse for her. He could still see the fear lingering in the depths of her eyes as she waited for his response. Her lower lip trembled, her eyes round with panic. He just wanted to scoop her back up and hold her until the fearful tension went away. He didn't want her nervous. He was a little nervous himself.

  "Of course. I said I would help."

  He covered her hand that held his arm in a deathlike grip, squeezing once. He slid his fingers underneath her hand and lifted, almost having to pry her fingers from his arm. Instead of returning her hand to the water like he had intended, he found himself raising it to his lips. He placed a gentle kiss upon her hand.

  "You're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you. I'll do everything in my power to help you in anyway I can." His eyes never left hers. He was too afraid to look anywhere else.

  "Thank you, Logan," she said, barely above a whisper, her eyes still firmly locked with his.

  He gave her a tender smile and lowered her hand into the water. He took one of the washcloths and gently laid it over her breasts, trying not to peek. If she wasn't covered in horror, he would've enjoyed taking a long pleasuring look, but he didn't have the energy for such despicable behavior. The less awkward he made it for her, the better. He grabbed another washcloth and laid it over her lower region, this time taking a peek. He didn't see any bruising or marks lingering, slightly feeling confident she was right in her assessment that she hadn't been violated. He didn't even want to think of any man harming this beautiful woman in such a manner.

  She watched him as he got another washcloth wet, squirted a dab of soap on it, and lifted her arm to gently wash her. He had the washcloth folded in half, his fingers sometimes brushing her skin. Tiny tingles vibrated throughout her arm every time his finger hit her skin. The water was warm, soothing to her aching body that hurt from head to toe. His soft touch soothed her even more.

  "Thank you, Logan." She couldn't help but whisper that again.

  "You're welcome, honey."

  "You keep doing that," she said as a shiver rippled throughout her body as his fingers brushed over her skin again. Every time she felt his skin touch hers, it made her feel safe, protected even.

  "Doing what? Am I hurting you?" he asked, concerned, trying to lighten his touch even more.

  "No, no. You're fine. I mean, calling me different names...honey...sweetheart...darling."

  He glanced at her, not quite sure what he was seeing in her eyes. "Well, I don't know your name. You don't know your name. I don't know what else to say, I guess. I'll stop if it bothers you."

  "No, it doesn't bother me. It's just strange. What happens if I never remember? Should I let everyone call me that?"

  "That's your call. We can think of another name to call you until you remember," he said, as he reached over to wash her other arm.

  "And if I never do?" she whispered.

  He stopped, lowering her arm back into the water, and caressed her cheek. "You will. I will help you remember."

  "Because you're the sheriff and you like helping people."

  "Yeah," he said, giving another soft caress across her cheek and went back to her arm.

  He took his time cleaning her body, making sure to be as gentle as he possibly could. When he got to her feet, he cringed at what he saw again. He paused briefly to grab a pair of tweezers. "This will probably hurt, but you have a few splinters."

  She nodded, trying to hold in her cries as he dug the splinters out. She wanted to weep each time one came out, but complete numbness from it all kept her tears inside. She just wanted to pass out from the pain. He finished cleaning her feet and glanced at the water.

  "This is disgusting. I don't want to wash your hair in this. I'm going to let this water out and refill the tub. Is that okay?"

  She nodded, afraid to speak. She just wanted to get out of the tub now. His touch had been gentle, but it hurt to lie in this hard tub.

  He twisted the plug, waiting a few minutes as it drained. He ran to the kitchen, snatching a glass from the cupboard, and turned the water on when the last drop had drained. He rinsed around her to get the lingering dirt down the drain, and reclosed the plug. They waited another few minutes for the water to fill back up.

  "Do you wanna try cleaning your own hair?" he asked, grabbing the shampoo from the corner of the tub.

  "Please…" she whispered, the pain clear in her eyes.

  He nodded, poured some shampoo onto his hands and gently massaged it in her hair. He took his time kneading her hair, lathering the shampoo up as much as he could. Every so often, he removed a leaf or twig and then continued massaging a little more. When he felt satisfied that it was plenty clean, he grabbed the glass again, and gently poured water over her head as he tried rinsing the shampoo out. It took longer than normal, but he didn't even want to ask her to dip her head lower into the water. He knew she was in pain. He quickly finished and grabbed the conditioner, repeating the excruciating process.

  When he completed rinsing her hair of the conditioner he breathed a silent sigh of relief, yet irritated with himself that everything had taken longer than he anticipated. He opened the plug again and stood up, stretching his knee quickly. "Can you stand? Or do you want me to pick you back up?"

  "Please," she whispered again, the message clear.

  He grabbed the towel hanging from the hook and threw it over the toilet. He disappeared from the bathroom for a few seconds, then walked back in with another towel. He tossed that towel over his shoulder, leaned down, and scooped her into his arms.

  "Oh, my, Logan. You're getting all wet. You could have waited for the water to drain," she said as she shivered in his arms, the water soaking him to the bone.

  "I'll dry, honey. It's only water." He set her on the toilet lid, and quickly wrapped the other towel around her. "Let me go get some clothes. I completely forgot about that. I don't know where my brain is right now. Be right back."

  He came back in with a pair of sweats and a large T-shirt. He grabbed the salve from the medicine cabinet and knelt down in front of her. "I'm gonna ask just to be sure, but do you want me to do this as well?"

  She nodded as he opened the container and got to work covering her wounds. A few minutes later, embarrassing minutes later, since he had to move the towel a few times, he had dosed her with salve over every inch of her body. He grabbed the sweats. "Alright, one leg at a time, darling."

  He guided each pant leg on with her help, and gently lifted her up as she pulled it the rest of the way. He grabbed the T-shirt next and carefully pulled it over her head as she did the rest. When he was all done, he grabbed the towel from underneath her shirt that he had kept wrapped around her as he dressed her. "Done. That wasn't so bad.
"

  "Says you. You weren't naked the whole time, or in pain," she said softly, a small crinkle forming on the corner of her lip.

  "You're absolutely right. I should've done it naked. Maybe that would've helped," he replied with a light grin back.

  "And the pain part?" she asked with a slightly bigger grin.

  "Oh, I felt the pain, honey. Any man worth his salt would feel the pain," he said tenderly, lifting a hand to caress her cheek. "Plus, my knee is hurting a bit."

  "I'm sorry about that."

  "And I already said, don't be." He stood up, put the salve back in the medicine cabinet, and turned to her with compassionate eyes. "Are you hungry?"

  "I don't know."

  He raised a brow, a smirk filtering in. "Your belly has no idea if it's hungry?"

  "Well, when you put it that way. I guess I could eat."

  "Good. Let's fill you up. You look like you need it," he said, not waiting for an answer and scooped her into his arms. He lowered his head a bit, sniffing in delight. "You smell much better. I have to say I'm a damn good doc...nurse."

  She chuckled into his chest as he carried her out of the bathroom.

  Chapter 3

  She watched as he moved around the kitchen in a graceful form. He never hesitated reaching for something, clearly knowing where everything was located. She supposed most people probably acted like that in their own home. Living in one place, day in and day out, you just memorized and remembered where you put things. She couldn't even remember her own name. She hated even thinking about it.

  He had a natural rhythm to the way he moved. Measured, yet smooth movements as he reached for a cupboard handle. Confidence in each mannerism as he grabbed a utensil or opened a drawer. Or the softness in his movements as he closed the fridge door.

  Soft—just like his hands. He had been so gentle as he cleaned her. She had been captivated watching him lightly rub the washcloth over her body. She found it easier to linger on his gentle touch than the excruciating pain covering her body. And to her shocked mortification, she had enjoyed it. Not only had he cleaned her body of the dirt, grime, and blood, he had sent a tingling sensation throughout her body. And the way he had held her to his chest, so gentle, so sweet, so carefully. She wanted him to hold her again.

  He had tenderly laid her on the couch, given her a small smile, and left the room down the hallway. He came back with a pillow and blanket, then proceeded to the kitchen to make her food. She had turned her head to watch him from the beginning.

  It was a tiny cabin. One big main room, connecting the kitchen and living room as one, and a short hallway that led to the only bedroom and bathroom. She smiled inside, grateful that it was so tiny. She enjoyed watching him.

  She wanted to rest her head against the pillow, but she couldn't turn her head away from him. He fascinated her, making her wonder if he treated his wife or girlfriend as gentle and sweet as he did to her. The thought he had someone waiting for him, pierced her heart with a deep aching pain. She tried to shake that weird notion out of her head, figuring she had bigger things to worry about. Like who the hell she was.

  Before she knew it, she saw him slide something onto a small circular plate and walk over to her. "Now, my mom's always a stickler about eating at the table. She says it's a proper family thing to do. But I'm gonna let that fact slide for tonight," he said, giving her a wink as he handed her the plate.

  She gingerly smiled. "And I appreciate that fact. This smells divine. Grilled cheese. Who knew a grilled cheese sandwich could smell so divine."

  "Well, I'm just thankful you recognized it and didn't say 'I don't know'," he said with a small grin.

  "I do. But what's the ketchup for?"

  "What? You don't eat ketchup with your grilled cheese. Don't talk such nonsense with me," he said with a short laugh. "If you're still hungry, I can whip up something else. I'm a simple guy. Maybe this isn't the right meal."

  "I love it. Like I said, it smells divine."

  "Well, to be honest, I thought it would make you feel better."

  "Really. Why?" she asked, surprised, yet intrigued to hear the answer.

  "It's silly now that I think about it. But when I was younger, I crashed my bike, pedal bike that is, really hard. So hard, I scraped the hell out of my knee. Blood gushing, gravel stuck in the skin, it was bad. I was a kid, no more than ten years old, but old enough to be considered big, you know. But I cried like a baby. My mom cleaned me up, patched my boo-boo, as she called it then, and proceeded to make me a grilled cheese sandwich. It was my favorite meal as a kid. Just loved them. As soon as I saw it coming my way, the pain in my knee didn't feel as bad. I guess, I thought of that and wanted to take a little of the pain away."

  She gave him the widest smile of the night. "And you accomplished your goal. Thank you, Logan."

  "Good. You enjoy. I'm going to pick up the kitchen."

  She nodded and grabbed a triangle, smiling again at the way he prepared her meal. Simply cute. His mom probably always cut his sandwich into two triangles as well, she thought. She dipped a small piece into the ketchup and took a bite. Pure deliciousness hit her taste buds. It may be a simple meal, by what he considered a simple man, but as her first memory of tasting food, it was simply delightful.

  She nibbled a few more bites when she heard him say, "I'm going to step outside and make a few calls. Will you be alright?"

  She jerked her head towards him, dropping the triangle in a panic. "Calls? Who? What's going to—"

  "Hey, hey, honey, calm down," he said in a rush as he interrupted her, taking quick even steps back to the couch. He knelt down in front of her. "What's the matter? What brought the sudden panic?"

  "I don't know."

  He lifted a corner of his mouth into the delicious way she enjoyed. Every time she saw that, it made her insides burn with longing. Longing for his touch, his soft hands to cradle her cheek, or run down her arm, or clasp his hand firmly with hers. Longing for him to pull her into his arms, swaddling her body close to his. Longing for his sweet, calming words to run down her spine and settle in with reassurance. So much longing. She treasured that smile of his.

  "You don't know...I swear, honey, you're gonna bring me to my knees every time you say that."

  "You're already on your knees."

  "The lady has jokes," he said, touching a soft hand to her cheek. "I need to call my deputies."

  "But—"

  He put a finger to her lips. "Let me finish. It doesn't take a genius to paint a picture here. You have bruises on your wrists, which tells me you were restrained. You have bruises all over your body, which tells me you were subject to beatings, or something of the sort. Leaves and twigs were in your hair, on your clothes, as well as small scratches here and there. That clues me in that you were running in the forest, possibly even tumbled a bit. When I put all of that together, I would say you were hidden somewhere in these woods and managed to escape. I need to find where you were held and who did this to you. If I can find the where, it will lead me to the who. And when I find this person...well, I'm the sheriff."

  "And you're gonna jack him up," she said softly.

  "After seeing the extent of your injuries I may do more than just that. But since I'm the sheriff, I guess I'll have to contain that rage, even though I don't want to. We need to find some answers. Don't you want to know who you are?" he asked quietly.

  "Yes, but I'm scared. Strangely, you make me feel safe. But I hate when you talk about someone else walking through that door. It scares me."

  "Don't be. They are all good people. I promise."

  "Please, Logan. Please, don't. I can't..." Her voice trailed off as she looked down and tried to contain the tears. "Please..."

  He placed a gentle hand on her face, lightly forcing her to look at him. "It goes against my better judgment to do that. That's a very difficult thing you're asking of me. I should've called right away."

  "Please, Logan...please. Not tonight," she whispered as a tear slid down h
er face.

  He brought his hand up a little, wiping her tear away with ease. "Please, don't cry. If you stop crying, I won't call...until tomorrow. No arguments tomorrow, sweetheart. Are we clear?"

  She shook her head lightly, steeling her features into bravery. "Thank you."

  "Finish your sandwich. Is it good?"

  "Just as divine as it smells," she whispered, leaning her head into his hand he had yet to move.

  "You're gonna be my undoing, darling." He rubbed his thumb over her cheek, and then abruptly stood up. "It might get chilly tonight. October's already been rearing its ugly head into winter. I'll start a fire. Eat up."

  She nodded as he walked away to the fireplace in front of them. She picked her triangle back up, taking a small bite, trying to get back into the delicious taste. It didn't take long as she watched him start to build a fire as efficiently as he made her food. She noticed he hadn't changed shirts yet either, still wet from grabbing her out of the tub. The memory, cherishing it for its worth as she didn't have many, made her suddenly wish to be cradled in his arms again. He made her feel safe. When he talked about bringing her problems to other people, she couldn't help but panic. She just wanted him to hold her and tell her it would be alright. She needed nothing else. She wanted nothing else.

  "I'm gonna step outside—" he raised his hand quickly to finish, "to get more wood. I promise to make no calls without your knowledge. Do you trust me? That look on your face says otherwise right now."

  She tried to dispel the horror that entered when he mentioned walking outside again. "I trust you, Logan. Just...it's dark out."

  "It is. I'll be fine. The wood is leaning against the cabin just around the corner. I'll be within shouting distance. If you need me, just holler," he said, hating that sudden fear that popped into her eyes.

  She nodded, afraid to say any more. He nodded back and walked outside. She tried eating a few more bites, but couldn't manage it. She looked down to see she had consumed only half of a triangle. She felt horrible that she couldn't muster another bite, but her stomach suddenly refused. She set the plate on the floor and rested her head against the pillow. She trained her ears to listen, to wait for anything. She wasn't positive for what. She didn't like him outside. She felt much safer when he was in her eyesight. And he was suddenly taking too long for her comfort. What if something happened to him? Was he hurt? Did he leave?