Smoked (The Invincibles 5)

My eyes opened wide when she lifted her left hand and held it out to me. “You have better movement.”

“I guess I do.” She looked down at her arm as though it wasn’t attached to her body.

A funny feeling settled in the middle of my chest. Did that mean her memory would soon improve too? And when it did, would she be angry with me for not telling her the truth about us, that we weren’t in a relationship? More that we barely tolerated each other?

“Describe it to me, Smoke.”

I turned my head, looking back out at the forests that never failed to take my breath away.

“They say that the Smokies are three million years old. I’m sure there’s scientific evidence to back that up, but looking down on them, it’s easy to believe. The range is part of both Blue Ridge and the Appalachian Mountains system. The Cherokees were the ones who first called the mountains Shaconage, meaning ‘place of the blue smoke.’”

She squeezed my hand. “Tell me what you see.”

I smiled. “I’ve never viewed the mountains from this vantage point. The rolling peaks look endless, like a vast, eternal sea shrouded in smoke.”

“Why shrouded in smoke?”

“I don’t understand the exact science, but over a hundred different species of hardwood trees grow in these mountains. The transpiration of their density, coupled with an average rainfall of eighty-five inches, produces a haze that looks like smoke.”

The awe-filled look of wonder on her face as I told her about the place that had been my home most of my life, was unexpected. There was so much I didn’t know about this woman. The reminder filled me with a sudden desire to learn everything I could.

Except, until Siren regained her memory, she would likely be unable to answer any questions I asked.

“Were you born here?”

“Near here, in a place called Pigeon Forge.”

“Why would that name sound familiar to me?”

I shrugged. “Not too much there when I was growing up. Now it’s one of Tennessee’s biggest tourist destinations.”

She nodded and turned her head away from me.

“Siren?”

“I can’t remember where I was born,” she whispered. “Where I grew up.”

“I can tell you if you’d like.”

Her head spun back in my direction. “I would.”

“You grew up in southeast Ireland, in a place called Waterford. It’s the country’s oldest city.”

“What else do you know about it?”

I reached over and stroked her cheek with my fingertip. “It’s beautiful. Just like the woman who was born there.” Her pale cheeks flushed, and she leaned into my hand.

“You’ve been?”

“My grandmother’s family was from Kinsale. It’s about two hours from Waterford, so yes, I visited the area.”

“But not with me?”

I shook my head. “There hasn’t been time.”

“How long have we known each other?”

“A few months.”