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Those were two things I’d not want to deal with in one day either, so I let it go in my mind. Offering him my arm instead as he hauls his huge body up, and after swaying for a moment, he tells me he’s good to go, carrying his coat on one arm as if it weighs nothing.
Even though to me, it felt like a circus tent.
The trip back down to the street seems easier, and once I have the few things I need and close my apartment door, it feels like I’m never coming back for some reason.
Instead of worrying me, the idea of never returning excites me. Almost as much as the man on my arm, who hails a cab with a nod of his head.
As if the whole world is ticking, working itself like clockwork and just waiting for a man like Steve Carter to make his presence known.
People seem to want to do whatever he wants without him even having to ask.
Myself included.
“St. Rosemary’s,” he orders the cab driver, who nods without question, turning the car and heading in the opposite direction. Giving me what I know will be the last look at where I’ve spent so long, working so hard for absolutely nothing.
Waiting for my knight in shining armor, who’s finally come to rescue me.
I open my mouth to ask how he knew where to go but think better of it.
Maybe he’s getting some of his memory back on his own, or maybe the wallet and the check have given him enough clues.
If I could figure out the nearest hospital with nuns in it, I’m sure a guy like Steve could too.
We drive in silence, and I’m still watching the meter. However, this time around, our driver doesn’t seem too bothered about us having the fare money.
It’s enough to get us there, and when we pull up to the huge modern-looking building with what looks like an ancient church attached, I only consider how we might be getting anywhere else after this.
“Here we are, Mr. Carter,” the driver smiles, giving a friendly smile to us both in the rearview mirror.
Steve leans forward, gripping the passenger headrest until it creaks.
“How do you know who I am?” he almost gasps, his eyes almost suspicious as the driver looks confused before chuckling.
“You always were quick with the jokes, Mr. Carter,” he says, his body rocking with laughter.
“I used to drive for youa lotwhen you had the offices on the East Side… before you gotbig,” he beams.
“What’s your name?” Steve asks, glancing at the driver’s ID on the console.
“Hank Rutherford, Sir. I don’t blame you for not remembering me. But I remember you!” he says with another wide smile.
I pass Hank the two twenties, feeling my stomach lurch when Steve disregards the change, helping himself out of the cab and coming around to my side to help me out.
“I’ll be in touch soon, Hank,” Steve promises the man, a determined look in his eyes as the cabbie shrugs cheerfully, pulling out from the curb and leaving only a gray plume of gas-scented fog in the chilly winter air.
“You know that guy?” I ask, shivering a little and not even trying to avoid snuggling into Steve’s bulk anymore.
Apart from feeling so right, he’s also the warmest thing for twenty blocks right now.
“I don’t know how, but yeah. I think I do,” he mumbles cryptically, staring up at the huge glass and chrome building in front of us before shifting his gaze to the old and faded sandstone church.
Obviously converted into something else now with a huge brass plaque declaring it the St. Rosemary’s Special Children’s Hospital.
Hooking my arm in his, Steve doesn’t bother with the cold by putting his coat on. He strides toward the older side of the building with me in tow.
As if he knows it better than himself right now.
“You seem to know your way around,” I observe. Feeling my heart stop in my chest as we both reach the large glass doors of the Heritage Building, another huge plaque gleaming in the miserable late gray afternoon.
