Rebecca searched for any sense of familiarity in the passing houses, stores, signs. Anything that said she’d walked this way before. Miranda had probably been just as bright on that day, bursting with curiosity and enthusiasm. Had Rebecca laughed with her? Had she held her hand just like this?
She still didn’t know.
“Here we are.” Tony’s voice broke the stillness.
They stopped in the small lot outside a mid-sized toy store. The brightly colored sign was as unfamiliar to Rebecca as the whitewashed, weathered brick walls. She tried to picture herself opening the front door and walking in with Miranda in tow, but it was like watching a movie about a stranger. Nothing.
Her gaze lingered on the window display, a massive bin filled with colorful plastic balls. Something prickled at her, something that told her this should be her aha! moment, but she was still entirely lost.
Maybe she would be stuck like this forever.
Inside, Miranda broke away from them and ran straight for the ball bin. Tony followed and retrieved a ball from the window display. He wound up and pitched it to Miranda; she jumped to catch it and nearly tumbled to the floor, giggling.
“Becca, catch!” She flung the ball at Rebecca. Rebecca caught it, laughed, and hugged it against her chest.
“My ball now. You’re not getting it back.”
“‘Beeeccaaa!” Miranda crowded around her legs, reaching up with a whimper. “My ball!”
“Okay, okay.” Relenting, Rebecca crouched down and set the ball in Miranda’s little hands. “Your ball. But you have to promise to let me play with it sometimes.”
“Promise!” Miranda nodded and beamed.
Tony touched Rebecca’s shoulder. She glanced back, looking up at him.
“Anything?” he asked, his voice strained. Dread etched his face, and it only rattled her nerves more.
She stood and took his hand. He held her so tightly his knuckles turned white, but she’d rather have the comfort of his touch than none at all. What was he so afraid of? What kind of horrible memories had she made in this store?
“I don’t remember anything,” she said.
He let out a breath and nodded. “Then let’s get out of here.”
Rebecca took Miranda’s hand and followed Tony to the line at the register. A portly man with a thick white beard worked the register. Rebecca frowned. She thought he looked familiar. His name was Dennis or Dave or—
Doug.
—maybe Dwayne, but she was sure she—
His name is Doug; he looks like Santa Claus; his nametag says Doug.
—had…had seen him before, somewhere…somewhere recently.
“Afternoon, ladies. What can I do for you?”
“Just this, please.”
“Here you go, young miss. Ah—but wait just a moment. Ah! Here we go. And it even matches your ball.”
“Okay, munchkin. But don’t tell your father.”
“I won’t!”
“You have a beautiful daughter, ma’am.”
Rebecca’s vision cleared, and she crashed back into reality. She gripped the checkout counter so tightly her hands ached. Tony loomed over her, his face pale. Past the roaring in her ears, she vaguely realized he was calling her name frantically. She stared at him.
“What do you remember?” He gripped her shoulders, looking down at her with haunted eyes.
“Nothing,” she croaked, and cleared her throat. “It…it was nothing.”
“It didn’t look like nothing.” His eyes narrowed. “You looked pretty damn upset for nothing.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. Everything’s okay.”
“No,” he murmured. “It’s really not. What did you remember?” His grasp tightened. “Please, Rebecca.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I saw that man before. The cashier. We were right here, and he gave Miranda a purple lollipop. She had a purple ball, so he gave her a purple lollipop.” It was getting harder to breathe. “He called Miranda my daughter. And it upset me, because she wasn’t. Because for some reason…for some reason I couldn’t have a daughter. Because I was doing something else, something in my life…”
She shuddered. Why had she been so upset? What in her life had kept her from considering children in her future?
Was she barren?
And had Tony meant to leave her because of it?
Her eyes widened, and she stared up into his concerned face. He’d wanted her out, before the accident. Before he’d felt obligated to look after her, and maybe even come to reconsider his feelings for her. It made sense. He’d probably wanted a woman who could give Miranda siblings, and build a new, stronger family unit after…
After what? Something had happened to take Miranda’s mother away. Something bad. Something that made Tony unwilling to commit again. The knowledge was so close she could taste it. It was all tied up in this—why Tony wouldn’t touch her, what he was hiding, his consuming guilt.
“This is what you didn’t want me to remember.” She shook free of his grip. “I can’t have kids. Or I didn’t want to. Which one is it?”
He clenched his jaw. “You can. Of course you can. At least, as far as I know.”
“Maybe you didn’t know.” She leaned hard against the counter. “Maybe I kept it a secret.”
“I doubt it. You can’t come to those kinds of conclusions just from a few fragments of memory, honey.” He pulled her away from the counter and into his arms. His embrace was fierce, almost too tight. A moment later she felt Miranda pressing against her leg and clinging tight. Tony kissed Rebecca’s hair. “Come on. Let’s go home. We’ll talk later.”
Tony kept himself between Rebecca and Doug as he bought Miranda’s ball, then ushered them both from the store. On the walk home, Miranda clutched at her ball as if terrified to let go. Rebecca couldn’t help but feel Tony held her the same way, with his arm around her shoulder and his body brushing hip to hip. As if, should he let her go, she’d disappear forever.
Once inside, Miranda ran off to play with her new toy. Rebecca turned to Tony—but he was already pulling away from her, his expression set in stone. Her heart sank.
“Tony?” She caught his arm. “Will you just tell me what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”
His arm was tense in her grip, rock-hard. “I’m scaring myself,” he muttered.
“Why?” She made herself let go. He obviously didn’t want her touch, and she wouldn’t force herself on him anymore. “You don’t make sense. You keep trying to help me remember, but then you seem…you seem afraid I will. I don’t get it. Don’t you want me to remember our life together?”