Page 97 of A Future To Remember

I hadn’t told anyone about it yet. I wanted to be sure before I started demanding that everyone abandon Maddy for Abby. And I wanted to be sure that when I told Cash to do a search on a missing woman in any of the surrounding states matching my description with the name Abby that I felt at least ninety percent certain I wasn’t sending him on a wild-goose chase.

But I was nearing that ninety percent mark. I couldn’t explain it, other than it simply felt right.

And if that felt right, then maybe I could pull on that thread a bit. Maybe I could gently tease along something else with a name that felt like it belonged to me.

After setting aside the journal, I finally forced myself to take a shower and head downstairs to get the dining room ready for the breakfast rush. Relieved to be able to take a shower without having to wrap a plastic bag over my left hand now that my cast was finally off, I told myself that right after the breakfast rush, I’d place a call to Cash and have him come by the diner because there were a few things I needed to update him about.

For the first early hours of the breakfast rush, I tugged a bit on that Abby thread, and the weirdest thought popped into my mind. I’d say Abby in my mind, and almost like an echo, I’d hear Edgar in reply.

It was so odd. Could my name be Abby Edgar? Both sounded familiar, but together they felt off.

As the breakfast rush was finally winding down, I was standing in front of the heat lamps, staring into the distance at the pickup window, when a little dog yip reached my ears. I turned my head sharply toward the noise but didn’t see the dog that had made the sound—then I heard it again.

My gaze was pulled in the direction of the counter, and sitting there, pretending to clear his throat loudly to cover the sound of a dog yipping, was the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on. I stared at him, nearly starstruck, momentarily forgetting all about the dog, when from his coat a little snout appeared.

Another yip and my eyes widened. I knew that sound. A fried egg flashed across my mind’s eye. I came out from around the counter and watched as the snout turned into the head of a little chocolate-brown-and-tan dachshund that began wriggling and wriggling while the gorgeous man tried in vain to keep him hidden. The pup was having none of it.

Wanda was also looking at the scene, and she snapped, “Did you bring a dog in here?!”

After a few more wriggles, the pup was free. He slid out the bottom of the man’s coat as the guy stood up, and once the dachshund was on the floor, the pup began to race forward, barking, wiggling wildly with a wagging tail, and whining with joy. I dropped to my knees, opening my arms wide.

From my mouth—and completely unbidden—the name formed without thinking. I cried, “Eggy!”

He leaped the last foot into my arms, and I swooped him up as he began to cover my face in kisses. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I knew this pup. And I knew he was mine.

The euphoria I felt was impossible to describe. I had prayed for so long that someone would find me, that someone would come to claim me. And in my wildest dreams, I never thought that someone would be an adorable chocolate-brown dachshund named Eggy.

And then another sound came to me. The beautiful man, now bracing himself against the back of a booth, called out, “Abby?”

My vision, watery and blurred by the flow of tears, shifted toward him. He’d said it. He’d said that name that I thought I was known as.

And as I looked at him—as I really looked at him—I knew that I knew him. And I knew that I loved him. And, most importantly, I knew that he had never hurt me.

“You,” I whispered, standing up with the wriggling puppy still in my arms.

“Edgar?” he said, beginning to walk toward me.

I mentally searched for his name, and my mind couldn’t find it. My joy was momentarily disrupted when nothing came to me, but then I realized he’d tell me who he was. Hell, he’d tell me who I was.

I wanted nothing more than to run into his arms, but how could I tell him that I didn’t remember his name or anything about him? I now recognized him, but I couldn’t say how or from where. I bit my lip. Would he be upset that I didn’t know? Would he leave if I couldn’t name him or remember how he fit into my life before now?

And something transpired in those brief seconds as we stared at each other. Something unspoken, like telepathy. His expression—shocked, then joyous—relaxed into something like compassion and understanding.

He closed the distance between us slowly, and I could feel all eyes in the diner upon us. No one spoke. Everyone simply waited and watched. When the man stopped two feet away from me, staring down like he was drinking me in, I stared back, doing the same.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said softly, tears welling in his eyes before overflowing to run down his cheeks.

I shuffled forward and laid my head on his chest. “I’ve been waiting for you to find me.”

His arms wrapped around me, and it was the safest I’d felt in a long, long time.

CHAPTER 20

Him

Abby and Eggy got nearly ten days together before he left us one morning, all on his own, tucked safely in my wife’s arms while she nestled, tucked safely into mine.

Eggy passed so peacefully that he appeared merely asleep, but my hand had been resting on his back, and I could feel his little body slowly turn cold. I cried as softly as I could, mourning the loss of such a sweet, opinionated, courageous little soul.