While I Was Away(56)

“Honestly ... I don't know.”

Adele hesitated for a moment, then swallowed the fry before asking, “you don't know why you moved to one of the most populated cities in the country?”

“It's strange, I know,” he agreed, finally looking at her again. “And I thought about going back to Reno. But I just ... I wanted ... something. Does that make sense? My life was missing something. It was ... jesus, it was so fucking boring.”

He ended with a laugh, but Adele just stared at him. The hours leading up to her accident were still fuzzy in her memories, but she could remember how she felt about her life leading up to those hours.

Like it was missing something. Like it was so fucking boring.

“I know the feeling,” she said in a soft voice.

“Yeah? It's the worst. Like there was something missing, or I was missing out on something, I couldn't figure it out. But I couldn't keep doing what I was doing. So I looked into going home, but that just didn't seem right – what challenge is there in going home? I knew L.A., I already liked it there. Great hospitals, great weather, and a lot of people means a lot of business. Seemed like a good fit for me,” he explained.

“Yeah, but ... Tahoe, or Vegas, has all those things, and those would've been much closer to home,” she pointed out. “Or even San Francisco would've made more sense.”

Jones shrugged and went back to looking over the crowd.

“I don't know what to tell you. Los Angeles just called to me. Seemed like the right move.”

Because I was there. Because our souls do resonate. Because my accident was meant to happen. You said I would find you, Jones, and I think you meant it. I think you're in there somewhere, and I think you know me. I think your soul knows me.

“Hey,” she started, shoving their empty plates aside so she could lean over the table. “We never talked about your name.”

“Johannes?” he asked, glancing at her. “My father's family is Norwegian, all the first boys have it.”

“No. Jones. Where does 'Jones' come from? I always wondered.”

“Man, I gotta tell you, that freaked me out more than anything – you calling me Jones.”

“Why?”

“Because only my sister ever called me Jones.”

“No one else?”

“No, and she died last year.”

“Oh,” Adele hadn't known that, she was surprised. Dream Jones had once told her he had a sister, but he'd never spoken of her again. Real Jones must have mentioned her once, but not elaborated on her.

“I know I talked about her with you,” he said, scratching his fingers through his hair. “The anniversary of her death happened about a week after I got assigned to you. I must have mentioned something about her calling me Jones.”

“Must have,” Adele agreed. “You never said your last name, I guess, because I didn't know it until I saw your badge.”

“God, this so bizarre,” he sighed, both hands in his hair now. “Is it weird to feel this way?”

“Feel what way?”

“Like I know you. I mean, yeah, I talked to you a lot, but you never talked back. You were a patient, a coma patient. You weren't capable of response. I didn't think it was anything more than that – me talking to a comatose person. Yet here you are, and here I am, and it feels ... normal. Like we've been doing this all our lives,” he said.

Adele's heart started racing.

Because we have been doing it all our lives, Jones.

“I know what you mean,” she breathed. “And I don't think it's weird at all.”

“How is this possible? How do I know you?” he mumbled, his gaze locked onto hers. She refused to move for several moments, willing his soul to recognize hers for what it was.

While they stared at each other, the rowdy band on stage announced they were taking a break. Most of the dancers left the floor, but then a slow song crooned out of the jukebox. Something old and soulful. A powerful, raspy voice sang about stormy weather and losing a lover. Several dancers lingered, then paired up and began swaying together.

“I love this song,” Adele sighed, then felt a little stunned by her statement. She wasn't sure she'd ever even heard the song before, and yet it felt familiar to her.

Because it sounds like something that might play over an old jukebox in a retro diner, especially one in a dream.

“I love Etta James,” Jones agreed, naming the singer.

“Interesting choice for a fishing lodge,” Adele joked, glancing around at the various fish mounted on the walls.

“Would you like to dance?”

Her gaze snapped back to him, not sure if he was joking or not. But he was staring at her in complete earnest, looking so much like the Jones from her dream, it made her heart swell.

“I'd love to.”

The dance floor had grown crowded as the song had gone on, but Jones wound his way towards the middle of it, shocking her by reaching back and grabbing her hand. She tried her best to ignore the sparks of electricity flickering between their palms, refusing to get her hopes up. She just smiled when he turned to face her and wrapped her arms around his neck as they started moving to the beat.

“I don't think I ever realized,” he spoke in a soft voice.