Page 59 of Destroyed With You

“I made cookies,” Miriam says. “I used that recipe you sent me. Do you remember? The extra-chocolatey chocolate chip cookies?”

I sift through my memories, trying to pull up those moments of domesticity. It’s not actually in my nature to be in the kitchen, and I faked it a lot.

Those cookies, however, I do remember. I’d gotten the recipe from a neighbor, and passed it to Miriam for bonus in-law points. “Even with amnesia, I don’t think I could forget those.”

She laughs, then passes me an oven mitt. I pull out the tray, then start to salivate at the rich chocolatey smell.

“Just put them on the cooling rack over there,” she says. “Do you still take your coffee black?”

I nod, then sit where she indicates at the wooden kitchen table. She brings two cups over and takes the chair next to me. “I’m sure this must be strange. Such a long time has passed. Can you talk about what happened?”

“Well, you know that Winston was working on a case as sheriff.”

He and I had talked about this in the car, the mix of truth and lies that we would tell them to justify the fact that I disappeared for years. They know that he was the sheriff, but they still have no idea about his intelligence work. And as far as they’re concerned, I was exactly what I seemed to be to Winston, a low-level government employee who married the sheriff and made a home.

“Of course, we knew about that. Imagine, all that corruption in a town like Hades. I’m so glad that he left that place after you—well, after that car bomb.”

I nod. “Apparently those people were trying to get him off the case. And to do that, they decided to target what was important to him.”

“You. You were the most important thing in the world to him.” She smiles wistfully “I remember your wedding. I’ve never seen that boy look so happy. And the letters he wrote. He talked about you all the time in those letters.”

“Letters?” Winston used to write me a letter at every holiday, and I always thought it was such a sweet thing to do. I wish I still had them, but of course when one is fake-killed in a car bomb, one can’t pack their belongings ahead of time. Leaving those letters behind is one of my biggest regrets.

“Yes. It was a habit that started back when he was young. Something I trained both the boys to do. It’s a sad world we live in now with nothing but emails and texts. Who’s going to find an old shoebox in the attic fifty years from now with treasured correspondence? Nobody, that’s who.”

I can’t argue, because I don’t disagree.

“But we got off topic,” she says. “What happened in Hades?”

“Honestly, you know about as much as I do. They decided to target me, and then they bombed my car. They extracted two of my teeth. But they didn’t kill me. I don’t know why. And I don’t know why my memories disappeared.”

“And you woke up in Montana all these years later?”

I laugh. “I think maybe the first hint that something wasn’t right was the fact that I couldn’t stand the cold.” It’s a stupid joke, and she doesn’t laugh. I don’t blame her.

“Seriously,” I say. “I was working in a library and I started having these flashes. So I went to a psychiatrist, and it took a couple of years. But we got my memories back. And then, although it was terrifying, I sought out Winston.”

Miriam leans over and takes my hands. “You two had a special relationship. You still do. I know it must be very strange after all this time, but what you have is worth working for.”

I swallow, my throat suddenly too thick. “Would you mind if we changed the subject? It’s just so...”

She takes my hand and squeezes it. “Don’t you worry, honey. I understand. And it’s about time we take a plate of cookies in to the men. Don’t you think?”

“Yes. That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

We both stand, and I go automatically to the cabinet beside the window where the cookie platter is. When I pull it down, I see her looking at me, a teary-eyed smile on her face.

“I had a dream that one day you’d come back. I didn’t think it could ever come true, because well, you were dead. It’s nice to know that some things work out for the best.”

“I think so too, Miriam.”

She takes the platter from me and urges me over. “Now, I promised Dale I wouldn’t ask this, but I’m going to anyway. You two are getting a late start, but before the, well, accident, you were talking about a family. Maybe there’s still a chance for little Michelle?”

“Mom!”

We both turn, and even I feel guilty when I see the storm on Winston’s face. He leaves the doorway and comes to my side, his arm going around my waist. I lean against him, fitting perfectly, the pain of those memories soothed by his touch.

“I’m sorry,” Miriam says, looking between both of us. “I shouldn’t have said anything about that. I know it’s too soon. I just—”