Chapter 9
“Ican’t believe I made this soup!” Danica took another spoonful and then leaned her head back and sighed. “It’s beyond delicious. Can we take a bowl to my mom? She’ll flip out.”
Her mom?
No.
Not a chance.
But it hit me that there was an important detail I didn’t know yet. “Have you told her you’re hanging out with me?”
“Sure. Of course.”
My spine stiffened, but I relaxed it as quickly as possible. “How did she react to that?”
“What’s the matter? Does my mom dislike you for some reason? Oh, no. Jeremy, did you dump me in the past and break my heart, and now my whole family despises you? Or, did I dump you and you refused to give up, and my family thinks you’re a pathetic loser? Or—”
“I think that’s enough scenarios.” I handed her a napkin. “Chin.”
She used the corner to remove the broth drip. “Thanks.” She patted it a few more times and then gave me a snarky smile. “You didn’t like my scenarios.”
“I do like your soup.” I took a bite. “And congratulations on making it all on your own.” I’d stayed on the other side of the kitchen island, coaching from a distance. “You’re quick to learn.”
“I wish I could remember more people in my life. I feel like if I did, I’d take plastic containers of this soup to widows and shut-ins. I’d be going door-to-door checking on people, making sure they had what they need.” A frown marred her visage. “But I can’t remember anyone or anything they might need.” Emotion crept into her tone. “Honestly, that feels like the biggest loss in all of this. That there are people I know need me, and I’ve left them hanging.”
I set down my spoon and walked around to the chef’s side of the island. I didn’t gather her in my arms, though my every muscle ached to do so. “You’ve got the best heart, Danica.”
“Is that why you’re here? Because like attracts like?”
Was she saying I had a good heart? “And don’t you forget it.” I placed the flat of my hand gingerly at her hairline, and I lightly stroked her forehead with my thumb. “It’s going to be all right, you know. Either you’ll remember everything, or else you’ll simply begin now to get to know everyone all over again, and you’ll be able to love and serve them like you did before.”
“Not exactly like I did before. Since I won’t know all their history like I used to.”
“In a way, can you see that as being a good thing?”
“Absolutely not.” She straightened up and pulled my hand down. “The more you know a person, the better you can love them. If I know someone’s hurts, I can begin to love them in spite of the negative behaviors that arise from the hurts. If I don’t know the pain, and all I see is the jerky stuff people do, it’s much harder to love. To know you is to love you, that’s a song lyric, I think, and it’s true. They’re functionally equal.”
I wanted to argue. But she was right that to know Danica was to love her. I loved her heart. The longer I spent with her, in close contact—and not just admiring her from afar as I’d done ever since I’d first offended her so egregiously that she’d cast me out—the more I grew to know her desires. Those hadn’t changed, despite her forgetting everything else. She still desired to love and serve and protect her neighbors and her family members and the children she taught.
Everyone.
She was an angel.
“You said your sister is coming to town.”
“It got postponed. She apparently had a surgery planned, and the date was moved up. I felt stupid for not knowing, so I didn’t want to ask what kind of surgery, since everyone else on the video chat seemed to think I’d understand.”
“Your sister was born with a bum leg.”
Danica ran her palm down the side of her face, pulling at the skin. “No wonder!” She let out a whoosh of discovery. “That makes sense now. Thanks for telling me.” She threw her arms around my waist. “Honestly, I should have you show up to everything with my family and whisper in my ear the background stories of things I’m missing. I seriously need a Sherpa to guide me through it.”
I hardly heard the Sherpa part of her request, as all my neurons were standing at attention over the fact that Danica Denton had thrown her arms around me. Carefully, I placed my hands on her lower back, feeling the warmth of her body beneath my palms, and luxuriating in the pressure of her torso against mine. She rested the side of her head against my chest. “You’re saying they don’t get it that you’re suffering amnesia?”
“I mean, they are aware, but they’re not, at the same time. You know?” She released me, and I exhaled, but I also ached to reclaim her, to pull her into another embrace. “They can’t quite comprehend it, I guess. There’s so much assumption. And I’m left in the dark. It’s tiring to keep having to ask, and I can tell it wears on them, too.”
“So you’ve kind of quit asking, I take it.”
She took a final mouthful of her soup and set the dish in the sink. “Would you? Come with me and translate all the stuff they’re saying?”
Uh, not a great idea. “I wish I could.” Truly. I wished that if I were to do so, they wouldn’t cause a scene worthy of a Broadway musical. About war. “They’ll realize eventually what they’re doing. It takes time.”
“It didn’t take you long.” She reached across the island and caught the lip of my bowl to pull it toward her. She rinsed it and said, “You’re different from everyone else, Jeremy. You’re letting me take this at my own pace. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate it. How much I appreciate you.” Her chin tilted upward, her eyes trained on mine, and she shut off the water and slipped her hands around my waist again. “I’m even excited to wash your truck.”
She was as much as inviting me to kiss her. All of me wanted to. Every single cell, every atom in every cell. She nestled closer and rose up on tiptoe. Her hands pressed against the muscles of my back, pulling me closer, drawing me inexorably toward the target of her upturned mouth.
I want to. I can’t. It’s what I’ve dreamed of for ages. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
“Would you go on a date with me, Danica? Dinner on Tuesday night?”