Finding Josie

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

I sleep surprisingly well to be in an unfamiliar place, but I am reluctant to leave the room when I wake up. I sit on the bed for almost a half an hour after I get dressed, playing with the combination to my suitcase, a habit I have formed since finding it. Anytime I have spare time I try different numbers and eventually I get mathematical about it and create a list and start at 0-0-0 then work my way up. It’s tedious but I’m obsessive about it. That’s one of the reasons that I carry it around with me. The possible combination of numbers is endless, so I need every minute possible to find it.
And I’m desperate to find the right one. I thought about trying to break into it once, but I’m not sure what’s inside and I don’t want to risk damaging anything.
At eight o’clock in morning I’m at 8-6-0. And the only reason I stop is because my stomach is growling and I can’t ignore it any longer.
This time when I go down stairs I know where I’m going. I had made it a point to ask Emma to give me a tour the night before. But I wouldn’t have had a problem anyway because there are yummy smells guiding me to the kitchen. I’m expecting to find every member of both families seated at the table stuffing their faces with whatever smelled so good, so I’m surprised to find the place empty. I glance around, confused, but find no evidence of a breakfast feast, except for two place settings at the bar that’s built into the massive island that sits in the center of the room.
The smell is still so strong that I know it could not be a remnant of an earlier feast. And when I take another look around I see a small pan on top of the stove, steam coming from around the lid.
Who would leave food on the stove?
I step closer to the smell, unable to resist the mouthwatering odor, and lift the lid off the pan to see what’s inside. The steam swirls out and up to my nostrils, I close my eyes and take a big whiff.
“ ‘Bout time you got up.”
“Oh, jeez!” I exclaim, startled as the hot lid goes flying. I clutch my racing heart while Grady stands at the pantry door silently laughing.
“You should have seen the look on your face!” he says, still laughing, which makes me a little uncomfortable. I mean, here is this perfect stranger laughing at me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. What am I supposed to do, laugh too? Throw something at him? Make a joke at him? I’m clueless, so I simply stoop down and retrieve the lid as I say lamely, “I thought I was alone. You startled me.”
He walks over to the stove and takes the lid from my hand, placing it in the sink. “Smell good?” he asks nodding in the direction of the pan.
“Delicious, actually. What is it?” This type of conversation I can handle.
“Your favorite,” he replies, as if it’s a well-known fact.
I freeze as my heart picks up again, but I don’t want him to think that this little tidbit of information is a big deal, even though it is probably the most valuable thing I have learned about myself in a while. So, I raise a brow indicating that I still don’t know what it is. “Which is…?” I turn my head to look at him and see the red apron for the first time, and wearing an apron can only mean one thing.
Did he cook me breakfast?
“Breakfast casserole,” he says, handing me a plate. He spoons a hefty helping onto my plate as he describes the dish. “It has hash browns, scrambled eggs, three kinds of cheeses, garlic powder, and I added a touch of ketchup to the top, just how you like it.”
He did cook me breakfast. I’m beginning to think that my heart is incapable of beating at a normal rate around this guy. And he has a very proud grin on his face, which makes him look absolutely adorable. he pulls off the apron and sits down at one of the place settings indicating with his hand that I do the same. I warily take the seat, a little unsure of the conglomeration of food on my plate. The thought crosses my mind that he could totally be pulling my leg, and he just wants to see me eat the mess.
I peek at him for a second before I take my first bite, and he watches expectantly. I contemplate the contents on my fork; I like all of the ingredients separately, and it does smell yummy, but would I like them all mixed together? I’m not so sure, but I put the fork into my mouth anyway.
Surprisingly it’s not that bad. The variety of textures is a little different though. “It’s good,” I tell him after I swallow.
“Well, to get the full effect of the breakfast casserole, you have to do it right,” he explains teasingly.
“Huh?”
“Okay, follow me. First, you get your fork full.” He makes an elaborate show of filling his fork and is so eager for me to play his game that I can’t refuse, so I fill mine too. He smiles, pleased with himself and continues. “Then you go ahead and have your milk glass in hand.” He picks up his glass, as do I.
“Now, as soon as you put the food in your mouth, before you chew you have to take a sip of milk. Then chew and savor the flavor.”
“What?” I say incredulous. “Is that even possible?”
“Trust me,” he replies with a cocky smile and then he does it. He puts the fork in his mouth, takes an awkward sip and starts chewing. “Mmm,” he moans while closing his eyes as if it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten. I can’t help but smile.
I look at my fork again.
Okay, here goes nothing.
And then I do exactly what he explained.
The act of sipping the milk with a mouth full of food is not as hard as it sounds, it’s the chewing with the milk in my mouth that’s the problem. I’m afraid it’s all going to come spewing out if I’m not careful. But he’s right. It’s delicious. The milk is the key ingredient, which is only effective when combined at the moment you put it into your mouth.
“Yum,” I declare and lift my brows for emphasis. I can totally see why this might be my favorite. It’s like he took what normal people would eat separately on a plate and threw them all together.
Grady has stopped eating to watch me enjoy another mouthful. “I’m glad you like it,” he says, his voice getting quieter as he speaks. He almost looks a little sad. And I don’t like the feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know why, but I don’t want this perfect stranger to ever be sad.
“Honestly, I love it!” I tell him. “Thank you.”
“Well, I can’t take all the credit. You came up with it,” he confesses, his tone once again playful.
“Me?” I think my heart stopped beating all together this time. “Really?” His face lights up when he sees my excitement.
“Yeah,” he starts. “You got tired of fixing everything in separate pans and decided to put it all in one. See, you like to cook, you just don’t like to do the dishes!” He smiles. “Of course, the milk thing was found strictly by accident.” He apparently sees the confusion on my face because he goes on, “Let’s just say, there was a lot of milk coming out of noses as we perfected the skill.”
I wrinkle my nose and smile at the same time.
“I was actually prepared for that when you just tried it,” he chuckles. “Hoping, actually. I haven’t seen milk come out of your nose in years.” He’s enjoying teasing me.
I throw my napkin at him as we both laugh. I’m starting to relax with him and I realize that he had probably set out to do just that, starting with making my favorite breakfast.
Not only am I comfortable, I’m ecstatic! I found out several things about myself. I cooked, I mean cook, he did use the present tense. And I’m not so uptight as to care that milk would come out of my nose. And my favorite breakfast dish is Breakfast Casserole, which I created. It’s a wonderful feeling, having these seemingly insignificant details revealed to me. I’m having a hard time keeping the huge goofy smile off my face. Grady probably thinks I turned into a moron, but I don’t care. I’m reveling in it all, and it’s all because of him, who I’d spent less than one day with.
“Thank you, Grady,” I say, still grinning, wanting to show just how grateful I am, and willing him to know I’m grateful for more than him cooking breakfast for me. With the look he gives me, I can tell that he understands.
We sit in silence for a few minutes eating our breakfast casserole and sneaking glances at each other. Then it dawns on me that there’s no one else around. The rest of the house is completely silent.
“Where is everyone?”
“Mom and Regina went shopping, their annual summer ritual, to buy all the necessities of summer,” he explains. “The dads took the runts on an early morning fishing trip.”
“You not much of a fisherman?” I try teasing.
“No, I like fishing just fine, it's Kohler’s whining I’m not much for.”
I roll my eyes in complete understanding of the whole brother thing. “Try riding in a confined space with my brother for eighteen hours.”
“In their defense, it’s a phase. They are awkward preteens. They haven’t always been annoying and they’ll eventually grow out of it,” he says. “Hopefully.”
“Were you an awkward, annoying preteen when you were their age?” I ask, seeing that this banter is getting easier and easier.
“Ah,” he chuckles and stands up, taking our empty plates to the sink. “I’m almost glad that you don’t remember.” My eyes widen at his bold and direct reference to my lack of memory. I am so taken off guard that I’m undecided how to feel about it. I almost feel self-conscious about it and drop my gaze to examine the pattern on the place mat. I don’t know why it makes me so uncomfortable, I mean, I just got through thanking him for being so straightforward. This is what I wanted, wasn’t it? No more masks, no more ignoring the ugly truth. And obviously this guy thinks along these same lines. So, I do what I learned to do best with Mom, I change the subject.
“So, Mom is shopping, huh?” I look up to see Grady washing the last of our dishes. “Yeah, they didn’t want to wake you, but said that if you wanted to join them, I could take you to town when I go to work. They can pick you up there.”
“My Mom said that?” I’m a bit surprised to hear that my Mom would actually leave me alone in a strange house, let alone suggest that I ride with Grady. You know, keep the Amnesiac comfortable. “Really?”
“Well,” he says. “My Mom came up with the idea. Your Mom practically fainted. I had to use my mad skills to convince her to agree.” I lift my eyebrows, impressed. No, not at his mad convincing skills (although, I would have liked to have seen that), but at my Mom actually agreeing.
“You work at the little bookstore, right?”
“Not after today,” he says wiping his hands on a towel and glancing up. “It’s my last day.”
“Oh. It’s a cute shop. I’d like to check it out, if you don’t mind taking me along?” He props his elbows on the island and smiles, “Absolutely. I was actually beginning to think I wouldn’t get the chance to offer.”
I smile a little shyly and surprise myself when I admit, “I wasn’t asleep the whole time. I’ve been up awhile.” If he’s curious about why he doesn’t show it or even mention it.
“Well, we’ve got a few more minutes before we have to leave. Is there anything special you want from the bookstore or you just wanna browse?”
Ah, he had to ask.
I could say, ‘just browsing’, but I find it impossible to lie to him. He’s been so completely honest so far, and gentle and helpful and supportive all in the few gestures he displayed.
Plus, he’s supposed to be my best friend, and I don’t want to start off my relationship with him dishonest.
“Um, I was hoping to find something on hypnosis.” I see the understanding in his eyes but all he says is, “I think we have a spiritual medicine section. We could start there.”
I can almost see the questions swimming around in his head, but he’s so good about the whole thing I want to hug him. He didn’t ignore or deny my problem, nor my request, and he approached it with just the right amounts of boldness and gentleness that it’s the exact amount needed for me to be slowly accustomed to it.
“Okay, I’ll just go get my stuff.” I say and quickly go up to my room where I grab my purse and my suitcase. Grady is waiting for me at the front door when I come down stairs. He eye-balls the suitcase in my hands and then looks at me. I think for sure that he’s going to say something, but he just holds the door open for me as we leave the house.
Thank you!
We sit in silence for most of the ride to town. I stare out the window at the passing scenery and realize how different it is from home. There is so much land that’s seemingly untouched. Mostly woods and farmland. We pass several patches of woods that consist of extremely tall, skinny trees that are amazingly aligned and as we drive past I can see all the way down each row. The rows are so close together, and as we go by it becomes mesmerizing and almost hypnotic, which makes me think about finally getting to find a book on the subject. I have attempted to look up hypnosis on the internet but was never left alone long enough to do a thorough search. And I wasn’t about to let Mom know what I was up to. So, of course I take advantage of the opportunity that Grady provides and secretly hope that he’s not only going to help me find a book, but also help me with the process.
We pass a big field that’s growing some tall green something, and there’s a sign on the side of the road that reads Derk’s Famous Corn Maze, Summer Harvest Festival, Open all Summer.
“What’s that?” I ask a little intrigued. Grady glances at the sign and replies, “Oh, that’s the corn maze. The Derk family owns half the land here. They farm all kinds of stuff from cotton to corn, soybeans to tobacco. Every summer they make a corn maze in their corn fields for the annual Summer Harvest Festival.”
“A maze? Like a labyrinth?” I’m having a hard time picturing it.
“Yeah, you have to find your way through it. It’s really fun.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Would you…like to go sometime?” He sounds almost nervous and it kind of feels like he’s asking me out on a date. But he couldn’t have been, he’s my friend, nothing more. Maybe he’s just nervous to hear my answer. Maybe I used to not like to go and he thinks I’m going to say no, and he really wants to go. Or, maybe I did like to go and he thinks I’m going to say yes when he doesn’t really want to take me. UGH! How am I supposed to answer when I don’t know how Josie would answer?
Since I am so confused about the whole thing I decide to just go for what I want at this very moment. And I am curious to see what this corn maze thing is all about. “Sure,” I answer. “It sounds interesting.”
He smiles, apparently satisfied or relieved. Then without looking at me he adds “ ‘Course, It’s best at night.”
“Really?”
“Sure. It makes it harder.” He shrugs, then peaks at me again.
“Okay, it sounds fun.”
Feeling pleased with the whole day, I decide to occupy my time with the combination on my suitcase, so I discreetly pull out the ragged piece of paper from my purse that has all the numbers written on it. I pull the small suitcase onto my lap and turn the first dial to 8, the second dial to 6, and the third to 1. I close my eyes, like I always do, and push the two clips that are meant to open it.
Nothing.
I sigh.
This is what it’s like every time I try a new number. And every time, I’m equally disappointed. I scratch out 8-6-1 on my paper, and then start the next number. I can see Grady out of the corner of my eye sneaking peeks at me. Obviously curious about what I’m doing. I’m sure that Mom would have warned his whole family about my crazy insistence on carrying around a strange little suitcase, but I’m not self-conscious of it. I know without a doubt that there will be answers inside, and I don’t care how insane I look carrying it around. I want-need every opportunity possible to work on the combination. If people think I’m weird, oh well.
I push the clips once more.
Nothing.
Again.
I sigh.
Again.
This time Grady can’t help himself, “Um, Josie, what are you doing?”
I scratch out 8-6-2 on the paper and without hesitation, I answer him. “I’m trying to open it.” I look at him to see his reaction. I don’t know what I’m expecting, but he just nods and looks at the suitcase, then at me before turning his attention back to the road.

The bookstore is just what I expected, cozy and warm and filled with possible adventure, mystery, love and suspense. I love to read. I think maybe because I’m at home in a book. In someone else’s story, far away from my own. I run my finger along the spines as I walk down an aisle while Grady busies himself with opening the shop. I watch him turn on the flashing ‘open’ sign, unlock the door, and prepare the cash register. His motions are rote, evidence that he has worked here for a long time.
I wonder why he won’t be working here anymore.
“Now,” he says as he approaches me. “I think that we should look over here.” He guides me over to a very small section that’s labeled ‘Spiritual Medicine’. “I don’t remember ever seeing a book on hypnosis, but for a small store, we have an awful lot of books. This section isn’t visited frequently.” He leans down examining the books, “Let’s see what we have here.” He skims a few shelves mumbling titles until he comes up with three books, Everything Hypnosis, Hypnosis How to, and So you want to learn hypnosis?
“This is all we have, it looks like. I think it will get you started anyway.” Just then the front door bell dings, letting him know that a customer has arrived. He turns in the direction of the sound with an annoyed look. “I’m gonna go help them, hopefully I won’t be long. There is a couch over in the corner if you want to start looking through these,” he says handing me the books.
The couch is tucked into a nook in the corner of the shop, looking cozy and private even though it overlooks most of the space including the register area where Grady is helping a really cute, perky blonde. I make myself comfortable and open one of the books, setting it in my lap to make it look like I’m not watching him. Which, okay, is totally what I’m doing. What can I say? I’m curious about him. I mean, he obviously knows everything about me, and I needed to do some major observation in order to find out more about him.
The cute little blonde is leaning across the counter in a very uncomfortable looking attempt at being flirtatious. She can’t be more than fourteen or fifteen and obviously smitten. Grady is reaching up to a shelf, pulling down a bundle of books. “Your order came in yesterday, Deanne,” he says, placing the bundle on the counter.
“Thanks, Grady. You’re the best!” she says as if it didn’t take several people and a postman to make her order happen. She twirls her blonde hair around one finger and leans in a bit closer causing her to have to go on tiptoes. If I could see her face she would be slanting her eyes at him, cheeks all rosy. But Grady doesn’t seem to realize her efforts, or maybe he pretends not to. He just smiles at her, which is probably melting the young girl's heart (I know it did something funny to mine), and makes all her attempts worth her while.
As Grady scans her stack of books she says, “My mom says that you aren’t going to be workin’ here anymore. Why’s that? Are you starting college this summer?” I keep my eyes low but perk up my ears waiting for his response. This could be good insight.
“Deanne,” he scolds. “Are you listening to gossip again?” The girl ducks her head in embarrassment. “I just heard you were leaving the bookstore. I thought maybe…” she trails off.
“No, I am not starting this summer, but I do have some things I have to do for college before the fall. I’m not going anywhere yet,” He reassures her. I’m distracted by thoughts of where he might be going to college, what he’s going for, that I don’t realize he’s finished until the door dings again. When I look up he’s walking towards me.
“Find anything yet?” he asks, gesturing toward the books in my lap.
“No, nothing yet,” I reply. Because I was too busy watching you. He sits down next to me pulling a book from my lap and starts to skim through it.
“You know you don’t have to do this, right?”
I just simply look at him.
“I mean, there are other ways…” Again, I just stare. I can feel the frustration and anger building, but I don’t want to say anything to hurt his feelings or to jeopardize what progress we have made, so I continue to stare hoping it conveys the desperation I feel inside.
“Alright,” he finally says. “I think I get it. Just know that I don’t completely agree with this method. But, I will help you in any way I can.” Then he dives back into skimming the book.
Relief floods me. Without officially having the conversation he has agreed to help me. He knows what I want, I think he must also know that what my Mom has been doing was not effective. I knew it the minute he called me ‘Josie’.
We sit and research until our Moms text to tell us they are on their way. Grady takes pictures of a few pages with his phone and then puts the books back on the shelf knowing it wouldn’t be good if my Mom found out.
He wiggles his phone at me. “You got a number I can text these to?”
“Oh, yeah,” I say reaching in my purse for my phone. I hand it over to him so he can put his number in as he asks, “what happened to your old one?” I take his offered phone and reply, “Death by hammer”. His hands are still on my phone and he looks up at me. I can see the questions running through his mind, but I am not ready to tell him that I smashed the phone in a rage of anger after all the texts and phone calls from people I didn’t even know. Total strangers calling to see how I was, wish me well, or just to satisfy their sick curiosity about the Amnesiac. I didn’t want to tell him that after I threw it across the room, stomped on it, and slammed it against the dresser it wasn’t enough. No, I had to go to the garage and smash the thing to smithereens with a hammer. Which only fueled my anger because I couldn’t find the stupid hammer! After tearing the garage apart, I finally found it. Let’s just say that you couldn’t tell it was a phone when I got through with it. Not my finest hour.
“You’ll have to tell me about that sometime.”
Um, no! I am not proud of those early moments. The anger, frustration, and…fear. Oh, the fear. The cause of all the outbursts and sarcasm. It has gotten easier. But everyday seems to bring new things, which brings fear.
I finish entering my name and number into his phone ignoring his statement, then hand it back.