Captured Again(The Let Me Go Series)

Chapter 18


GABBY settled into the comfortable chair facing Dr. White, ready for yet another failed attempt at breaking through to her locked memories.

“Gabby, let’s talk about your husband,” Dr. White said expectedly.

She looked off into space, remembering, but not letting herself go back to the night of the accident, instead focusing on their previous date night. Jake always knew she was more comfortable at home, but he'd continued to coax her to keep their date night routine, always reminding her they needed to keep their marriage fresh and not fall into the grasp of disconnected boredom, as so many of their friends had.

The weekend before the night of the accident, their last successful date night, she'd called him at work to check on their plans, trying to talk Jake into staying home. But he'd come in from work, seemingly in a hurry, and threw a “be ready in fifteen, casual attire required,” over his shoulder as he rushed into the spare bathroom with a hastily gathered bundle of clean clothes for himself.

Fifteen minutes, showered, dressed, and smelling so Jake, he hovered over Gabby's shoulder in their master bathroom, poking at her, telling her she didn't need all that primping, grabbing at her rollers and plucking them out, one at a time, letting the long locks fall limply back into their original place before they'd had time to set. Finally, annoyed, she'd given up. She'd mirrored his casual clothes with her own pair of worn but comfortable jeans, but sprucing them up just a little with a clingy sequined tank top and some flashy flip-flops.

She'd headed toward her car, as they usually drove it if they were going out. Jake had quick-stepped up beside her, grabbed her hand, and led her to his truck, opening the door for her, as usual.

“We're taking your truck, Jake?”

“Yep. Climb on up into your carriage, my princess,” he'd answered, grinning ear to ear.

She'd played along with the game to humor him because she loved that he still did that, never wanting to lose the coveted playfulness they had.

Jake climbed into his side, wasting no time putting the truck into gear and backing up.

“Wait, my prince! You forgot your royal harness,” Gabby had reminded him, stretching her own seatbelt away from her chest, then letting it fall back into place.

“We're not going far enough to need it,” Jake answered, glancing over at her with a smile.

And they hadn't gone far, not even far enough to need a vehicle. He had pulled straight into the front yard and backed his truck as close as he could get to their big oak tree.

“What are you doing, Jake?”

“Just wait right there... five minutes, Gabby. Don't move—and don't peek!” Jake reached over and turned up the radio before hopping out of the truck, leaving her to listen to the beginning of one of his favorite CDs, an unusual collection of love songs by long-haired rock bands.

Gabby remembered the torture of not giving in to the impulse to turn around and see what Jake was doing as she felt the weight of him stepping into the bed of the truck, then jumping down again. But she'd promised, and she'd never want to spoil his surprise.

The second song had just finished as he'd come around to her door, opening it and gallantly extending his hand again to help her out.

“Are we not going—”

“Shh. Just come with me.”


Gabby had let him lead her behind the truck, where she found he'd spread out a red-checkered blanket scattered with throw pillows. He’d placed a wicker basket on the corner of the blanket, a few feet from her swing. Around the gingham blanket, he'd also placed over a dozen mason jars, half of which were filled with brightly burning candles, welcoming the twilight that was quickly unfolding, serving as the perfect romantic backdrop.

“Jake, this looks beautiful! Where did you get this stuff?”

“Well, Mama helped a little. You keep sayin' you’re happier stayin' home... So we'll just have our date here—your favorite place. Is it okay?”

Gabby remembered feeling a lump in her throat, not being able to answer him. Instead, she'd thrown her arms around him and kissed him.

Jake had always been that way, easily finding the simplest and quickest way to make her happy—making her feel as if his entire world revolved around her—but upon closer inspection, she saw it wasn't as simple as she'd first thought. Beside every Mason jar lit by a candle was a matching Mason jar holding a picture, the picture magnified by the thick glass—seven jars reflecting Gabby and Jake. Pictures snapped by someone else, capturing the faces of two kids growing into adults together, through the years. Two kids who only had eyes for each other. Casual shots, unexpected and natural, one for each year they'd been together.

She remembered, as she'd held each jar one by one, trying to recollect the exact moment the picture must have been taken, she’d thought again how lucky she was to have a man who had stood beside her through everything. She'd gotten to the last jar, but it was empty. No candle... No picture...

“Jake, you forgot one,” she'd said to him.

“Naw, I didn't forget it. See, that jar is bigger than the rest. I thought we'd save it until we had three faces to put in it. Wanna skip dinner and start tryin' right now?”

He'd winked at her and then swiftly pulled her close. Before Gabby had known what he was going to do, he’d gently pushed her down onto the blanket, where she'd put on an exaggerated effort of getting him off of her, only to make his win even sweeter. They'd made love under the big oak, with the stars peeping through the branches.

“I love you, Gabby,” Jake had whispered into her ear, afterward.

“I love you more,” she'd whispered back, looking from his eyes to gaze up at the stars. “Look, Jake. Look how beautiful it is.”

He'd held her a few minutes more, pressing his face against hers before rolling over to stare at the stars with her. The moment was broken by a long, gurgling growl.

Jake had laughed, never embarrassed with her, and helped her sit up before they both had hungrily dug into the basket his mama had rushed to prepare, having had it ready for him to scoop up on his way home.

They'd eaten their dinner, playfully spork-fighting over the last of the shared Styrofoam containers of slaw and mashed potatoes, their fingers greasy from fried chicken, and wrestling over the last flimsy paper napkin.

Gabby had teased Jake, calling him an animal when his napkin had nearly disintegrated from repeatedly trying to wipe his hand. He’d grunted and pushed her down on her back, with his chest to hers, and then sat up and straddled her on the blanket, threatening to wipe his big paws on her shirt. She had giggled at his empty threats. She'd known he wouldn't do it; he was all gentleman and fluff under that country boy gruff. He'd followed his threats with a long kiss. Gabby had felt the grease on her face as he tenderly ran his fingers over her cheeks, lost in their kiss, and she hadn't minded one bit.

“Gabby!” Dr. White said again, startling her from her thoughts of Jake.

“I'm sorry. What did you say?” Gabby asked, flustered to see Dr. White leaning forward in his chair, looking worriedly at her, and embarrassed to have gotten lost in her memory of the last time her husband had made love to her. She turned away, hoping he couldn't read her face.

“I thought you'd fallen asleep. Your eyes were closed and you wouldn't answer me. Where did you go? Talk to me.”

Gabby looked up again, meeting his eyes. She could see he hadn't a clue where her mind had been, and she was relieved. “I... I was... just thinking about Jake.”

Dr. White leaned even farther, nearly on the very edge of his chair, and anxiously asked, “What, Gabby? What were you thinking about exactly?”

Gabby swallowed back a lump. “I was just thinking what a great guy I had.”