First Real Kiss

Cook stepped in. “Giselle loves Sheridan. She bought all my keychains one time, and I introduced them.”

“Sher-dan. Nice.” Gigi smiled on the outside the way I did on the inside when I thought of Sheridan. “So nice.”

We made small talk, and I looked around his yard, unable to pull myself from the hazy confusion. Evergreens ringed the yard, and a swimming pool dominated the area, but there was still enough room on the patio for a grill and a set of wrought-iron chairs at a table with an umbrella stabbing down through the middle. It was pretty, soothing.

But I was not soothed, not even by bratwurst and fresh watermelon chunks.

When Giselle left to go inside and watch television, Carlton refilled my glass and said, “Now, what’s brought you here?”

“I’m not Sheridan’s rescuer.”

“Okay.” Carlton waited, placing his feet on Giselle’s empty chair and leaning back. “What I’m hearing is that you think Sheridan wants you to rescue her and you don’t want to.”

“No, no.” That wasn’t it at all. I wanted to rescue her, I wanted to be everything to her—but I wasn’t! I hadn’t been the one to do it, and I couldn’t change that fact. Harvey Pooler had it wrong about me. If I’d been the hero of the Library Rescue incident, I’d remember that, right? Like Eloisa had said—or was it Harvey?—it was not the type of thing you’d forget even in a lifetime.

I explained all that to Carlton, who didn’t seem bothered by being tapped for help after working hours.

He nodded slowly and sat back again. He’d leaned forward while I was speaking, listening intently. Now, however, the lean-back seemed like Processing Mode. He rubbed the balding top of his head.

“Everything’s coming up roses.” A show tune came through the window loudly, along with Gigi’s not-quite-singing voice.

Not in my world, it wasn’t. And it definitely wasn’t coming up pink and white peonies.

“When you first came out of your coma after the parking garage incident,” Carlton said, “I should have asked whether you’d ever had memory loss in the past.”

What did that matter, other than the potential for disqualifying me for my career? “What about it?”

“Was the blow to the head in the parking garage your first concussion?” He looked like he was trying too hard to act casual. “I heard you didn’t press charges against Filer.”

“You heard that?”

“My brother-in-law is chief of police.”

Oh. I saw my chance to change the subject of previous concussions. “They do a good job down there. I appreciated that they found Filer.”

“You didn’t answer the question. Concussion? First time?”

“Look, Carlton. This is a Fifth Amendment situation. Don’t forget I’m still gunning for the MVS award, as well as getting back to work.”

“I see.” He nodded and tugged at his non-existent pointy beard.

Oh, brother. He’d turned into Freud. Next, he was going to ask me about my mother.

I wasn’t going to tell him what Harvey Pooler had insinuated about my being clocked by a falling brick that day, especially since I couldn’t recall that and doubted it was true. My career could be on the chopping block if I acted as lunatic as that would make me sound.

“Look, I didn’t rescue her. I wish I had.” And then she’d look at me the way she had in my dream, she’d kiss me, and I’d feel the whole measure of the love I’d experienced with her in the dream—plus the rushing of emotion I’d been trying to stem ever since our incredible kiss earlier today. “I’m not that noble.”

“But are you sure you’re not?”

“Of course I’m sure.” This was a waste of my time. I stood up. “Thanks for dinner. Thanks for listening. Sorry to interrupt you.”

Carlton stood up. Over the singing coming through the open window, he said, “How about this? You be open to the idea that Harvey Pooler might be right, and I’ll be open to clearing you to return to work.”

Gigi approximated the high note at the end of the song with great gusto—matching the soaring of my soul.

“You’re serious?” I grabbed his hand and pumped it up and down. “You got it.”

“There’s more than that. You have to try to remember what really happened that day.” He reclaimed his hand. “Calm down and go home to think about it.”