Things Happen For A Reason Ch. 06

It was a damn strange feeling to walk into your own apartment and not recognize a thing, Luke thought as he glanced around the tiny place with a sense of déjà vu. He'd had this same feeling when Sarah had taken him home a couple of months ago.

This place had none of the warmth or feeling Sarah's home had, he had to admit. There was hardly any furniture and he had made no attempt to decorate the place whatsoever. The landlord had said Luke never seemed to be around much since he'd rented it back in February, so it probably hadn't really mattered. Apparently Sarah had contacted the man and had been paying Luke's rent since the accident. He wondered how she'd had the money to do that. Then again, the place was pretty low-rent, and it showed. He had a pile of mail waiting for him, and he smiled a little when he saw that the address on these bills matched the one on his license, finally.

A quick search didn't reveal much about the man he had been. He had a few DVDs that looked good, some magazines sitting on top of the small TV, and a desk littered with candy bar wrappers and old Coke cans. The bottom drawer, however, yielded a bounty of clues in the guise of old papers, some scribbled notes, a check book and an address book. He opened the address book first and scanned it for Riley's name. He found it, scratched through with a dark pen but still readable. He had half a mind to head over to the guy's place, wait until he got home, and then beat the hell out of him. Kind of hard to do when you don't even know what he looks like though. Besides, Sarah had told him the name of the law firm both he and Riley had used to work at. Luke figured he'd drop in there and try to pay the man a civil visit first.

An hour later, Luke walked into the law office of Hartman, Kress and James and felt another sense of déjà vu as he scanned the lobby. It was as if some part of him remembered coming here. Well, made sense if he had worked here himself for a couple of years. Still, he wondered if the feeling meant his memories were finally returning.

The middle-aged receptionist blinked in obvious surprise when Luke stepped up to the counter and asked if he could get an appointment with Riley.

"Luke!" she gasped, then smiled and rushed around the counter to hug him. "I can't believe it! It's been...well, a long time. What are you doing here?"

Awkwardly, he hugged her back, then pulled away to remind her who he'd asked for. She looked at him a bit oddly, then shook her head. "I'm sorry, Luke. I thought you of all people would have known. Riley isn't here."

Damn. "Do you know where I could find him? You know, to catch up on old times," he explained as if he and the other man were still old buddies.

"Luke, Riley isn't here because he—" she pushed at her eyeglasses and glanced away. "Well, this is awkward, isn't it? Luke, Riley died a few years ago. I'm sorry. I thought you knew. I could have sworn I remembered seeing you at the funeral."

Riley was...dead? "Are you sure?" he demanded. What about the phone calls Sarah had received. The package.

"Well, I suppose it must have been someone else," she admitted, and when he looked at her funny, she explained, "It must have been someone who looked like you that was at the funeral."

Oh, she thought he'd been asking if she was sure she'd seen him then. Of course she was sure Riley had died, he told himself.

"How did it happen?"

"It was awful," she said. "He had a bad allergic reaction to something he ate. He was alone, and the ambulance didn't get there in time. Of course, the police questioned the whole staff afterward, and we wondered if they didn't suspect foul play. Nothing ever came of it, from what I remember, so I suppose it was just one of those freak things that happens."

"How awful," he agreed flatly, feeling a little dazed at this news. If Riley was dead, then what the hell was going on? "Um, what about Bree-Anne? Does she still work here by chance?" Maybe his old assistant could offer some answers.

"Bree-Anne?" Clearly she hadn't been very popular with this lady, by the look on her face now. "Last I heard she was engaged to some rich guy. Same old Bree-Anne, you know. As soon as she got her hooks into one, she quit her job here. It was, oh, about a year ago. Good riddance, I say."

Luke wondered about this development as he made his way across town to pay his utilities. When the receptionist had mentioned possible foul play in Riley's death, he'd instantly wondered if he himself hadn't had something to do with it. Or maybe Sarah? Even so, it didn't explain why someone else would be stalking his wife.

Had she had another lover she hadn't told him about? Had she made up the stalking story to make him want to stay and protect her? Would she go to those lengths to keep him around?

He didn't think so. At least, he chose not to believe so. Not yet.

He figured, if anything, he was the most likely suspect. What if her betrayal had driven him over the edge? What if he'd wanted revenge against both Riley and Sarah? Had he killed one and secretly tormented the other?

What kind of man had he really been?

"Man, you were a great guy," was the answer given to him by one his supervisors on the construction site.

That's where he went next, looking for answers. He specifically asked if he'd had any close friends, someone he might have confided in.

"I don't know. Everyone loved you, but you always kind of kept to yourself," his boss answered after Luke explained his memory loss. "You and A.J. always seemed buddy-buddy. He's the guy whose life you saved, by the way. I know he's wanted to see you, but none of us were sure, you know, after hearing about your amnesia."

"I'd like to talk to him," Luke said, and a meeting was arranged for the next day.

When Luke made it back to his apartment that night, he was relieved to find his phone and electricity turned back on. The first thing he did was call Sarah. She answered on the second ring and sounded relieved to hear from him.

"Have you found out anything?" she asked carefully.

He decided not to tell her about Riley, not yet. "Not much. How's Jack?"

"He misses you already," she told him.

He smiled. "I miss him too."

"Just him?"

"No, actually," he admitted, then teased, "I'm also missing Edna something fierce. You know, if I were a few years older, you might have reason to worry."

"Oh really?" she said, but her voice was lighter, less strained than it had been. "I'll be sure to tell her she's made another fan."

They talked for a while longer, mostly about unimportant things. She told him all about her day and Jack's and how often she'd thought how much more fun they'd be having if Luke were there to experience it with them. He almost began to feel guilty for not telling her about Riley, so he told her he needed to get off the phone and get some sleep. Sarah hesitated, and that hesitation spoke volumes about her worry he might not return, but she was strong enough to pretend otherwise. "Just be careful," was all she said.

Luke figured he should try and get some sleep, but he was still too wired, thinking about all he'd learned. He just had this feeling that something could jog his memories here, but what? With a frustrated sigh, he turned on the television for company and then decided to go through some of the papers he'd found in the desk earlier. It was better than twiddling his thumbs.

Most of the notes scribbled in his hand-writing either made no sense or were totally unimportant. It wasn't until he was flipping through the stack of old newspapers he found that he had a weird feeling come over him, followed by a rush of knowledge that the reason he'd kept them was because of the classifieds. He even knew what page to turn to on the first one, and yep, there it was.

A smile curved his lips as he actually recognized the personal ad that had been circled in red. He actually recognized it! In fact, he remembered sitting right over there on the bed when he had spotted the ad originally. No, not this bed. He'd been in Louisiana somewhere, working on a crew that was rebuilding a library, he remembered. Blinking, half in shock, half in delight, he read:

PERRY MASON STILL HOT FOR TEACHER? MWF IN SEARCH OF LONG-LOST HUSBAND. I STILL LOVE YOU. PLEASE COME HOME OR CONTACT ME AT THE FOLLOWING PO BOX.

He'd known the ad had been placed by Sarah. In the early months of their relationship, she'd begun teasingly calling him Perry Mason whenever he got sidetracked discussing his work. The private joke between them had gotten carried along further when he'd had the hired band play Van Halen's "Hot for Teacher" at their wedding reception, he remembered.

He remembered!

Flipping through the papers, he saw that he'd kept the classifieds from at least three different months, all with the same ad circled in each one. More vaguely now, he remembered how he'd had a habit since college of perusing the Personals every morning as he ate breakfast and would often share a laugh with Sarah over some of the more offbeat ones.

Seeing that ad in the Atlanta newspaper, which he'd picked up for old times sake at a bookstore outside of New Orleans, Luke had made the decision to come home. To come back and see what Sarah wanted. He'd finished the job he was on and signed up for another one in Atlanta, even though he'd never wanted to set foot here again.

He still couldn't remember anything much beyond first seeing the ad or after deciding his return to Atlanta. Maybe a few bits and pieces that didn't make much sense. But nothing he most wanted to remember.

He almost called Sarah back to share the memories, but it was late and they both needed to get some rest. Suddenly, he realized how exhausted he felt. He was supposed to be meeting with his old friend A.J. at lunchtime. He got ready for bed and carried the classified section with him when he lay down for the night.

Sarah's ad was the last thing he saw before sleep claimed him.

***

There was just no other way to describe her. The woman was beautiful. Beautiful in that classy Grace-Kelly-kind-of-way, even while she was scantily dressed just this side of indecent. An angel and a vixen, that's how she looked.

Luke, almost reluctantly, pulled his eyes away from the woman who'd just stepped into the bar and grill and returned to nursing the beer he'd bought to help settle his nerves. He was waiting on his old co-worker to meet him for lunch and was a little worried about the information he'd learn from the meeting. All morning long he'd wavered on whether or not it was still important to learn the truth. The deeper he dug, the more puzzling things became.

"Waiting for someone?"

Luke turned at hearing the voice and saw that it had come from her. His beautiful lady. She was standing beside the bar stool next to him, smiling and looking at him as if she expected him to react to her invitation. The expectant look on her face suggested she was worried he'd turn her down.

For a split second he was tempted to invite her to join him. Maybe get drunk enough to take her back to his place for the afternoon. It would be nice to forget about his problems for a while, and women like this didn't come along every day.

But he just couldn't do that.

"Actually, I am," he said, but softened the rebuff with a soft smile. "Sorry."

She shot him a funny look, as if she was surprised by his answer after all, but then she sent him a small, almost flirtatious smile. "Too bad," she said with a dramatic sigh and sat beside him anyway. "But maybe I'll get lucky and she won't show up."

He laughed a little, then lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers, drawing attention to his ring. "Today I'm meeting a friend. But if you're just looking for a little conversation to keep you company, I'll be happy to oblige until another guy comes along to whisk you away."

She sent him another funny look, almost a probing look, before turning her attention to the bartender and ordering a drink. When she turned back to him, she said, "Your wife is a lucky woman."

"Some might say I'm a lucky man," he returned with a slight shrug.

Before he could engage the lovely brunette in deeper conversation, he heard someone call his name, and he turned to see a tall man gesturing at him in welcome. Luke figured this must be A.J. as he politely excused himself and went to meet the other man.

"Man, same old Luke," he was greeted with a big smile and hearty handshake. "I knew not even a ton of bricks could keep my man down. How are you feeling?"

Luke had hoped he'd remember something when he saw A.J., but he remembered nothing. They were seated, and Luke explained to the other man all about his recovery and in return was told a lot about the accident that he hadn't remembered.

But it didn't jog any memories either. As they ate, Luke felt himself loosing hope all over again. He was beginning to think he wouldn't remember anything else at all.

"You know, you do seem different, I think." Luke glanced across the table at his former co-worker and friend and smiled at the comment the other man had just made. A.J. Kincaid hadn't really been what Luke was expecting. A.J. was a tall, wiry black man probably in his early 30s. He'd met Luke at the restaurant wearing a Chicago Cubs hat and a white t-shirt that stated "I'm not getting smaller I'm backing away from you." No, Luke hadn't remembered him at all, but he picked up a few things right away. A.J. was a quiet guy by nature, but when he spoke he had a crazy sense of humor. He also wore a wedding ring and seemed to love his wife very much.

"Different?" Luke repeated, lifting his coffee for a sip. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," A.J. shrugged. "More laid back. More relaxed. Before, you always seemed to have the weight of the world on your shoulders."

"Hmmm," was Luke's only reply. He felt like he still had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Then, "From what I understand, you and I were pretty decent friends. Didn't I ever tell you why I might act that way?"

"I don't know, man," he shifted uncomfortably. "I never wanted to get up in your business like that."

"I just thought I might have told you, that's all."

A.J. hemmed and hawed for a bit longer until he finally admitted, "Well, yeah, I guess I had a pretty good idea why."

"Oh?"

He shrugged. "We worked together on a couple of jobs, you know? One time, I don't even remember where we were, but we got pretty drunk one night with some of the guys. Afterward, when it was just the two of us, you started talking some crazy shit."

"About what?" Luke asked, really interested now.

"You pulled out this picture you always carried with you," A.J. said. "I'd seen it before, but I always figured the girl in it was an old girlfriend or something. You finally told me she was your wife. Then you showed me the wedding ring you wore on a chain around your neck. Man, I never even knew you'd been married before that night."

Luke had another sudden, vague recollection of the picture A.J. was referring to. It had been a picture of Luke and Sarah that had been taken the night of their third anniversary. It had been the only one he'd kept when he'd left her, and he'd often pulled it out of his wallet and looked at it to remind himself that life had its good times too.

"Then you started talking about how she'd screwed around on you. Some shit about how you'd tried to forgive her, but then some friend of hers had given you a tape that proved she was still screwing around behind your back and gotten knocked up by this other dude. I didn't ask for any more details, because I didn't want to know any more than that."

"So the reason I left Sarah was because I saw a tape?" Luke repeated, and it made sense. "I said she was pregnant by another man? I actually told you that?"

Had Sarah lied when she said it was one-time event? Did she know, even now, that Jack wasn't his? He raked a frustrated hand through his hair and asked A.J. again if he'd said anything else.

"Just back around January, you asked if I could help you get a gig in Atlanta," the black man said. "I called up an old friend, and we both signed on. When I asked why you were so keen to come here, all you said was you had unfinished business you needed to take care of. I just sort of figured it had to do with your wife."

When Luke realized he wasn't going to get any more clues from A.J., he thanked the man and went to pay for their lunch only to have A.J. stop him and say, "I owe you my life. The least I can do is pay for lunch."

On the drive back to his place, Luke wondered about the tape A.J. had mentioned. He figured Bree-Anne had been the one to show it to him. He decided he'd have to track her down and confront her. If he pretended he remembered what was on the tape, she might be more open to revealing details on her own.

Luke was feeling confused about everything as he walked the stairs to his apartment. Why could he remember a few details now and not the rest? He was thinking of calling his doctor when he pushed open the door to his apartment and then jumped, startled, when he saw the woman sitting there on his couch.

"Sarah!" He clutched his chest and wondered how in hell she'd gotten in here. "You scared me to death!"

"Sorry," she said, looking nervous herself. "I...I told the landlord I was your wife."

"And he let you in, just like that?"

"I have talked to him on the phone before," she said, and then shrugged. "I hoped you wouldn't mind. I had written down the address that was on your license back when you were in the hospital, in case..."

In case I needed to find you again. Luke supposed he could hardly blame her. He would have done the same thing in her shoes. "Where's Jack?"

"Staying with Edna," she said. "I know I shouldn't have left him, but I thought it was more important right now to be here, with you. You sounded so weird last night on the phone..."

With a sigh, Sarah relaxed and rushed toward him, hugging him as if she'd never been happier to see anyone. Luke felt himself return the gesture, despite these newfound doubts.

"I was afraid you'd remember something and start to hate me again," she admitted, and he wondered if she had come to keep him from finding out information.

Sarah must have felt him stiffen because she carefully pulled back to look him in the eye. "Have you remembered something?"

He didn't answer her. Instead, he pulled away and turned to put his keys on the table. Finally, he simply said, "I'm glad you came. I wanted to ask you some questions I think might help me remember some things."

Looking reassured now, she nodded and reclaimed her place on his sofa, gesturing for him to sit close beside her. "I want to help. Even if what you remember changes how you feel about me and Jack, I want to help. Ok?"

He wasn't sure he believed her, but he decided to judge her responses and see what feeling he got from her before he decided one way or the other to trust her motives.

"When was the last time you actually saw Riley, or Bree-Anne for that matter?" he asked and watched her reaction carefully.

Her face instantly changed to one of partial disgust. "The last time I saw Riley was the night he tried to force his way into my apartment. When I wouldn't let him in, he became very nasty. He told me you would never take me back, that he'd made sure of that, and how did I like knowing that most of our so-called friends had been betting on how long it would take him to get me into bed? He said it had been easier than he'd ever imagined it would be and a lot of people had collected big money on the wager. He called me a slut and a whore and said I should be grateful he was still interested because no one else in their right mind would be. That's when my neighbor across the hall interrupted. Not long after, I moved. I haven't seen him since. Why? What did he say to you?"