Charming Deception, Page 5

Again, how damn convenient. 

“Okay. Tell me about Jakson.”

“Jakson Allan Blake. Parents are wealthy diplomats in Great Britain. Jack and Miriam. Wonderful people, they’re good friends of mine. And they’re crazy about you. They claim you brought their son back to life. Jackson was born on May 4, 1980 in London, educated at Oxford. He’s a worldwide problem solver, a peacemaker, and an international miracle worker. Brilliant young man. Speaks seven languages. By occupation, he’s a binding arbitration mediator. And he gets fantastic results. He’s in very high demand all over the world.”

“And he married me?”

“You two are a perfect match!” Dr. Reynolds laughed heartily. “And I must say... he loves you, Samantha. He’s been so worried about you. In the hospital, he never left your side, even though I told him you didn't know he was there. He sat with you and held your hand and kept telling you everything was going to be all right. He's devoted to you.”

I walk to the window and look out at the sunny courtyard. None of what he says is familiar. I remember a small, lonely life. I remember tons of paperwork and maps and trucks and truck routes, a headful of numbers and formulas. I remember dust. I remember huge manuals with state regulations and code numbers. I remember bad office coffee and good cheese danish from the corner coffee shop. I remember a small, quiet, colorless town.

“Any other questions?”

“Prognosis?”

“Complete recovery. You can go home. Call me if you have any strong or unusual head pain. Jakson has headache medication for you if you need it. But call me immediately if you have a blinding migraine or nausea. Make an appointment in three weeks for bloodwork, and I’ll see you here in a month, okay?” He hands me the appointment card.

“Okay. Home. It sounds wonderful,” I nod. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Dr. Reynolds leaves. He stops to talk to Jakson outside. Jakson nods, looking very serious. I read his lips. He says ‘Yes, I’m sure she’ll do it, if she can.’ Then the doctor walks away and Jakson comes in. Do what, I wonder.

“I hear we’re going home. Great news, yes?” I nod. He opens the closet door and pulls down a beautiful red alligator bag and puts it on my side of the bed. He pulls out a black hard-sided suitcase and began to pack.

“Do you need help?”

“No. I’m almost done.”

Jakson goes into the bathroom and unscrews the bizarre-looking water filters, pops them into a zippered plastic bag and puts them in his suitcase.

“Let’s go, sweetheart. You’re going to feel so much better once we get home. Someplace safe and familiar, surrounded by all your things, the things you love.”

We walk out to the parking lot and Jakson unlocks a beautiful pearl-white Cadillac Escalade with red leather interior and puts our bags in the back seat.

“Wow! This is your car? This is absolutely gorgeous. And, my God, it’s loaded.”

“No, babe. This is YOUR car. Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to drive? I just thought…”

“No, I don’t even know where I’m going. You drive. This is my car? Are you sure? I can’t afford payments on something like this!”

“It was a present.”

“It was? From who?”

“Me,” he beams a beautiful smile at me. “I’m glad you still like it.”

“I like it, I LOVE it, but… can you afford payments on this?”

5.