Charming Deception, Page 6

“Relax, will you? It’s paid for.”

“Well, okay, then,” I finger the soft leather upholstery as I stare at the highway, in a state of semi-shock as we drive down toward the Gulf coast, crossing the Tampa Bay Causeway.

“Oh, this is so lovely. I’d forgotten how truly beautiful it is here.”

“You love it here. You said this was your favorite place in the world. That’s why we bought the condo here on the beach. Remember?” I don’t answer. Why does he keep asking me? What I remember is nothing like what Jakson and Dr. Reynolds tell me.

“Dr. Reynolds also gave me a prescription for my allergy medicine when he gave me your headache medicine. I’m almost out. I’ll probably have to pick it up soon.” He sniffed. “Okay?”

“How long has Dr. Reynolds been my doctor? I swear I’ve never seen that man before today.”

“For about a year now.”

“Since we’ve been married then?”

“Yes”

“What about before that? Who was my doctor?”

“You didn’t have one, Honey. You Ohio people are sturdy stock, you were never sick. That’s why I brought you to my doctor with this… um, memory problem.”

“So, I have no family. I have no doctor. I love things. I do some kind of fluff job for, who?”

“You work for PenMark. We both do. I work for PenMark, but I’m also on call all over the world for arbitration. Pendleton Markson Corporation is not fluff, Sam. You make a real difference in the lives of the children we work with, in health care, educational programs for mothers and children. Vaccinations. Sanitation. Preventive medicine. Getting those poor children born with birth defects scheduled, prepped, and ready for life-saving surgery. First aid. Food.”

“Oh.” I am still unimpressed.

“And as far as family, you have me, Sam. I love you. And you love me, very much,” he nod with just the tiniest smile.

I eye him suspiciously, but then I smile. I think it’s going to be impossible not to love him.

The area grows more beautiful with every passing mile. We pull into the parking lot of a very tall, white condominium complex.

“Well, this is it, babe, we’re home. Let me take you upstairs and get you settled in. Then I’ll come back down for our things.”

“Nonsense! I’ll grab my bag and you take yours. Don’t fuss, Jaks, it makes me think you think I’m terminal or fragile or ready to fall apart or something. And, believe me, I’m not. Let’s go.”

“Hi, Sam. Hi, Mr. Blake,” says a waving, bubbly young girl, maybe twelve years old, in the lobby. I say hi, but I don’t recognize her.

“Hello, Shay,” said Jakson. “How are you?” Shay gives us a thumbs-up and keeps walking. We get in the elevator and ride up to the seventh floor. He pulls out his keys and opens the door to 702.

“Here we are, love. We’re home. Does anything look familiar?” I nod. Yes, I’ve seen it before. The condo is beautiful, with whites and light blues dominating the living room and a pop of peachy salmon accents. Billowy white sheer curtains pulled back allowing the breath-taking view to spill into the room. From the doorway, I can see the Gulf of Mexico. The huge sky is a brilliant shade of blue, but it’s the clouds that are most impressive. There are great big white fluffy ones up high, and thin wispy ones moving quickly underneath them. The gulf water is calm and a lovely milky blue color. The view from the balcony is a panoramic paradise, with expansive white sandy beaches up and down the shoreline and palm trees and beach grasses dotting the landscape. Floral shrubs line the property in shades of pink, from pale to fuchsia. White deck furniture set in small groups accent the grounds in charming vignettes with cushions and potted plants.