Brian turned back to me, holding his coat in his hands. “Wear this Elizabeth. I don’t want anyone to see you like that.”
Again, I looked down. I was clean and tidy. Did it really matter? But again, I accepted his decree and allowed him to drape the coat over my shoulders. His arm came around me and he escorted me to the door. There was no comfort in his touch, only a sense of being trapped. I felt the stirrings of panic again as I realized what was happening. I was leaving the last piece of Joshua behind. I turned and caught Cecilia’s eye silently, desperately wanting her to know what I was saying.
Look after him.
Her nod was barely noticeable.
“Take care, Elizabeth,” she murmured.
I smiled tremulously. I couldn’t speak. Brian guided me firmly to the elevator. “The car is downstairs and we are well-secured. No one will see us leave.”
I nodded, unsure what I was supposed to say to that remark.
The elevator doors closed and, abruptly, it hit me.
I was alone.
The car ride was quiet. Brian’s lawyer left in his own car, and other than being introduced briefly to his assistant, Randy, my presence was ignored. I looked out the window watching the bustling city go by. None of it looked familiar to me. Brian spoke at length with Randy, listing off items he wanted done. First apparently was that the shoes he was wearing be thrown out and his suit taken to the cleaners. So much for no harm done, it would seem.
We entered through the gates and pulled up in front of a large, imposing stone house. I gazed at it then turned to Brian. “This is where we live?” I asked quietly.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “This is my house.”
I didn’t fail to notice his emphasis on my house.
He helped me out of the car and we entered. I walked in ahead of him and stood looking around the grand entrance. It was so … austere. There was nothing warm or welcoming about it. I shivered. Or was it just how I was feeling about this strange homecoming? Nothing felt welcoming.
A woman came from the hall. “Mr. James. Mrs. James. Welcome home. Your room is waiting and I will bring up tea when you are settled.”
Brian nodded. “Mrs. James will be resting the remainder of the day. No visitors. Take what she is wearing and get rid of it. She doesn’t want any reminders of the past few weeks.” He turned to Randy. “Wait in the den. I will be down soon.” Then he grabbed my elbow and escorted me to the staircase.
I allowed him to lead me upstairs and into a large bedroom. I looked around trying to find something familiar. Brian cleared his throat and I turned to look at him. He stared at me for a minute.
“I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”
I wasn’t sure how to answer him. “You were looking for me though?” I said quietly, knowing I had to try and establish a connection with this man.
He nodded. He made no move toward me. I was unsure if he was waiting for me to move to him or what I should do next. I noticed his hands were clenched at his side and he appeared tense. His stance wasn’t helping ease my nerves at all.
He finally spoke. “I’m sure this must all feel very strange to you. I am told you have no recollection of who you are? Or of our life together?”
“No, none,” I whispered. “The first thing I recall is waking up in the care home.”
He frowned. “Dr. Tate informed me he thinks this is perhaps a permanent condition.”
I blinked. I hadn’t been told that. Unsure what to say, I murmured, “I’m sorry.”
He stood looking at me, a strange expression on his face. “We’ll discuss that later. I have matters to attend to downstairs. Mrs. Smith will bring you your tea. You can change into your own clothes and rest. I will come up later and go over the staff and your duties. I’m sure you’ll feel better once you understand what is expected of you.” With those words, he walked out.
I sat down feeling disoriented after his speech, which felt like a string of orders.
Was he always so formal?
My duties? What was expected of me? Was I his wife or a member of his staff?
Where was the man who had broken down in front of the camera desperate to have me back? I shook my head, my heart heavy and my thoughts chaotic.
What have you sent me back to, Joshua?
I was still sitting on the edge of the bed when Mrs. Smith appeared with a tray. She placed it on the bedside table. “You haven’t changed yet?”
I looked at her blankly. “I, um, I don’t know where anything is,” I admitted quietly.
Her stern expression softened. “So, it’s true. You have no memory?”