Accidental Shield

“Okay. Let’s go.” Ready or not, I know he’s right.

We just need to get this over with.

Having Flint at my side gives me more strength than I think I’ve ever had.

Honestly, I’m not sure, because there’s still that pesky amnesia thing, but I sense it’s true.

I also, once again, remind myself there’s nothing romantic about this.

Most people would consider it creepy. Pretending to be engaged to a stranger? Ugh.

But most people haven’t had amnesia with lethal men stalking them.

If anything’s creepy, it’s that. So are the old images flashing in my mind, bits and pieces of a life that’s just too far gone to catch.

Flint gets out and walks around the truck, opens my door, and holds my hand as we walk to the house. Heavy black iron covers the screen door.

My hand starts stinging on the doorstep. There’s a faint memory, having my hand slammed in that heavy door, and Ray laughing his head off.

Flint pushes the doorbell. I wonder at the irony, ringing the doorbell to my own home.

I hear several locks being undone before the door opens, and I instantly recognize the thin, grey-haired woman.

Lorelei Gerard. My mother.

Tears threaten to form, but I hold them back. “Hi, Mother.”

“Valerie!” She shoves open the heavy screen door. “Oh, God, Valerie. I’ve been so worried.”

She practically falls out and hugs me tight.

I return the gesture, holding on longer because it feels good. Familiar. If she ever hurt me, I can’t remember how.

“What happened? It’s not like you to visit friends without telling me,” she says as we part. Her gaze jumps to Flint, and she lifts a brow, staring at me again.

“Uh, right. This is one of those friends. His name’s Flint.”

My mother’s eyes light up, just as bright and gold as mine.

“Well, no wonder you were being so secretive.” Holding out her hand, she says, “Hello, Flint, I’m Lorelei Gerard.”

He shakes her hand. “Pleasure, ma’am.”

“Nonsense. It’s a bigger pleasure to meet you,” Mother replies. “Come in.”

We do, and just as I thought, the walls are dark wood, and heavy drapes cover the windows.

This place feels more like a castle or a New England hunting lodge, somewhere far colder and darker than Oahu. It’s oppressive.

Always has been. Same for the bigger house downtown, in Honolulu proper.

Mother gestures for us to sit on the regal wine-colored sofa.

We do, side by side, and although I know she’s my mother, I’m thankful for his presence. No one becomes the center of the room quite like Flint Calum.

“So you live on the Big Island, Flint?” Mother smiles at us. “Ray said that’s where you were staying the past few weeks. I still don’t recall you telling me you were going to the Big Island with him. You and Ray never go anywhere together anymore. He said your phone quit, and that’s why you didn’t return any of my calls.”

“It did,” I say, but unable to avoid the Big Island reference, I ask, “Did Ray say why we went to the Big Island?”

She glances at Flint and partially hides a smile. “No. But after meeting your friend, I have my suspicions…”

“Mother!” I can’t figure out whose smile cuts deeper, hers or Flint’s.

I also don’t recall if the Big Island was the yacht’s real destination. I doubt it.

“He told me about that dreadful storm, how the runabout was lost in the rough weather.” She shrugs. “It’s too bad, but it was just a boat.”

Storm? I get the sense it couldn’t be more wrong.

“Would you care for a drink, Flint? Our maid is out shopping, but Webster is in the kitchen. He’ll fix you anything you’d like.”

Webster. I know that name. My heartbeat intensifies.

He’s been our cook for years and goes wherever Mother wants. Spends most of his time between this house and two others. One in the heart of the city, one here, and one on Kauai.

“No, thanks, Mrs. Gerard.” Flint says. “I’m fine.”

“You do look fine,” Mother says, brow raised. “Tell me, how do you get along with Savanny?”

“He’s a nice cat,” he says.

“Ha! I love your sense of humor. That droll little beast doesn’t like anyone except my daughter. Hasn’t since the day Stanley brought it home.” Frowning, she then looks at me. “Where is Savanny, Valerie?”

“He’s at Flint’s house,” I say, eyeing her cautiously.

“Really? You left him behind?” she asks again. “Odd. You haven’t gone anywhere without that cat since you got him. Why, you practically become a hermit sometimes, refusing to let him out of your sight, always so afraid someone will steal your precious baby away from you.” Glancing at Flint, she continues, “Exotic cats like Savanny are illegal in Hawaii. But my Stanley spoiled his little girl rotten. She always wanted a cheetah, so Stanley found a way for her to have the next best thing. He was always so good with that, finding ways around the impossible to keep this family happy.”