The Stranger in the Mirror(3)

And then I put myself in Blythe’s place. How would I feel if my son were marrying a woman with no past? No health or genetic information. No clue about her own background. I would wonder if there were any mental health problems in her family, or addiction, or . . . or . . . I would have myriad questions that couldn’t be answered. Blythe and Ted must surely have the same questions. How could they not?

“Addison.” Gigi’s stern voice startles me, and I raise my eyes to hers. “You’re brooding, and you’ve got to stop this. It’s clear to us that Gabriel and his family love you. You’re a lovely woman—kind and caring. Not to mention that you’re also smart and beautiful.” She smiles at this. “But seriously, you can’t keep thinking of yourself as this poor little stray that doesn’t deserve happiness.”

“I can tell myself that all day, Gigi, but it doesn’t make me believe it.” I shake my head. “You don’t understand. You can’t understand what it’s like to have no past, no memory of who you are.”

“You’re right, honey. I don’t know how it feels. But you’ve got to stop beating yourself up about it. You didn’t deliberately choose to forget everything.”

“But what if I did? Maybe I did something so awful I wanted to black it out.”

“You didn’t do something awful. And people don’t choose amnesia. It happens as a result of something.” Gigi throws her hands out, palms up. “A head injury or some type of trauma. Something.”

I sigh and rub my forehead. “I know I’ve asked you this a hundred times, but can you remember anything from the night Ed brought me here? Something I said or did that seemed unusual?” I knew it was a useless question. I don’t even know why I asked.

How many times had I relived every detail of that night two years ago? I was drained, dragging my feet, limping, and feeling as if I would pass out if I had to go any farther. My throat was closing like it was filled with dust and grit, making it hard to breathe. I needed water desperately, and I knew I had to do whatever I could to make someone stop.

I made my way to the road and stumbled along the shoulder until I was unable to walk farther and put my thumb out for the next vehicle that passed. I’m not sure how long it was until I saw the headlights of a big rig coming toward me. It went right past me, and all the air whooshed from my lungs like a balloon deflating, and I felt tears run down my cheeks. And then, miracle of miracles, he stopped, backed up, and reached over and opened the passenger door.

“You need a ride, missy?” His deep voice washed over me like a balm.

“Yes, please,” I said, shivering.

“Hop in,” he said, reaching his hand out to help me up the steps on the passenger side.

I shut the door and wrapped my arms around myself, and he continued to study me. “You okay?”

I looked down at my ripped pants and the dried blood on my hands. My head was pounding, and when I reached up to touch my forehead, my body jolted in pain. “I’m fine. Could I . . . do you have any water?”

He reached into a compartment next to him and grabbed a cold bottle, handing it to me, before he started driving. He kept his eyes on the road and didn’t say anything right away. Then, “Where you headed?”

I thought a minute. I had no idea. “Wherever you’re going,” I said.

He gave me an odd look. “I’m heading home to Pennsylvania. I’ve been on the road ten days.”

“Pennsylvania. That sounds good.” I looked out my window at the tall pine trees we were passing and then turned to him. “Where are we now?”

“New Jersey.” He frowned and looked at me strangely, then back at the road. “You have people in Pennsylvania?”

“I’m not sure,” was all I could get out.

“I know it’s none of my business, but hitchhiking is very dangerous. Do you realize the things that can happen? Especially to a young woman?”

I felt a nervous flutter in my stomach. Was he about to tell me that I’d made a mistake getting in his truck? I said nothing.

He must have realized he’d scared me because he put a hand up. “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me. I belong to an organization that tries to stop people from being hurt.” He glanced over at me again and looked concerned. “You don’t look too good. Kinda pale. I can swing off the highway and get you to a hospital. No problem.”

My stomach tightened as panic welled up inside of me. I was terrified but had no idea why. “No, please. I’m okay. Really. Please. Don’t stop.”

He rubbed his chin for a moment. “Okay. But when we get to Philadelphia, you get medical attention.” Ed told me later that he’d continued to drive against his better judgment, but there was something in my voice that made him keep going.

I sighed, relieved, and leaned my head against the window, closing my eyes. I felt myself drifting off to sleep when Ed’s deep voice startled me.

“What’s your name? You from around here?”

My name? I had no idea. I scrunched my eyes shut and tried to concentrate, but my brain felt muddled and hazy. Taking a deep breath, I decided to tell him the truth. It was going to come out sooner or later anyway. “I don’t know. The thing is . . .” I stopped and inhaled deeply again. “The thing is, I don’t remember anything that happened before I was walking along the road, holding my head.”