shell of the man he’d become.
“Hamish?” His mother touched his arm. “Are you all right? I wish we’d said no to the party, but they all insisted... I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He’d known it was coming—meeting his old family and friends, answering the millions of questions about his leg and his memory. Best he get it over with so he could get on with his life.
“Nearly there,” his father said. He indicated at a roundabout Hamish was sure hadn’t been there before and headed toward town.
“I wonder whether seeing the house will help you remember,” Sarah said.
“Maybe.” Hamish doubted it though. His parents had apparently moved there only two years before.
She smiled. “Brandon will be pleased to see you.”
They’d told him about the boxer dog that lived with them while he was away. Hamish couldn’t remember getting him, but apparently when he was on leave they were inseparable. “I wonder if he’ll recognize me?”
“He goes nuts whenever you come home,” Eamon said. “He won’t have forgotten you, don’t worry.”
Robert slowed as they approached a turn-off for an estate new to Hamish, although the trees looked well-established and the sun had bleached the painted fences.
His father pulled up outside a large house surrounded by half an acre of land. Lilac-colored petals from the bordering jacaranda trees scattered the carefully tended lawn. Parked cars indicated the waiting welcoming party, and he sighed as Robert turned off the engine.
“I’ll get your crutches,” Eamon said, and he got out and retrieved them from the trunk. He brought them to Hamish and offered his hand. Hamish studied it for a moment. This was how it was going to be from now on—people offering him aid even though he was determined to manage on his own. He didn’t have the heart to refuse his brother, however, so he accepted Eamon’s hand.
At that moment, a brown blur appeared around the corner of the house and flew toward them. The boxer dog covered the grass in a matter of seconds, leapt up from the ground, and landed in Hamish’s arms. He fell backward onto the car seat, laughing as a warm, wet tongue washed his face. “You must be Brandon, I presume.”
Brandon replied with another huge lick.
“Yeuch.” He pushed the dog away, then stroked his ears and kissed the top of his head. “I know we were close, but sticking your tongue down my throat is taking it a step too far.”
Eamon hauled Brandon off. “Told you he’d remember you.”
Hamish got to his feet again. Eamon was tall, dark-haired, muscular, and good-looking in a rough, boy-next-door kind of way. Until recently, Hamish had had twenty pounds on his brother, but he’d lost weight since the accident, and he suspected they looked even more similar now.
“You okay?” Eamon frowned. “If this is too much for you, just say. We can get back in the car and I’ll take you over to the beach house.”
Hamish slipped his hands through the arm rests and steadied himself on the crutches. “Nah, I’m good. Let’s get it done.”
Eamon rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, bro.”
“Thanks. It’s good to be back.”
***
It’s good to be back. He repeated those words throughout the afternoon until they rang in his head. By six o’clock, he no longer had any sense of their meaning. He felt no relief at being home, because it wasn’t home—not a home he could remember, anyway. Although he appreciated everyone coming to welcome him, so many unfamiliar faces unsettled him. Luckily, Eamon remained at his side, reminding him who they were in a low murmur before they introduced themselves.
Thank God for Eamon —four more words that circled in his head like a hamster on a wheel. His brother made sure a drink was always to hand, brought him a chair when his arms started to ache from steadying himself on the crutches, distracted those relatives who demanded too much of his attention, and eventually
“Hamish?” His mother touched his arm. “Are you all right? I wish we’d said no to the party, but they all insisted... I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He’d known it was coming—meeting his old family and friends, answering the millions of questions about his leg and his memory. Best he get it over with so he could get on with his life.
“Nearly there,” his father said. He indicated at a roundabout Hamish was sure hadn’t been there before and headed toward town.
“I wonder whether seeing the house will help you remember,” Sarah said.
“Maybe.” Hamish doubted it though. His parents had apparently moved there only two years before.
She smiled. “Brandon will be pleased to see you.”
They’d told him about the boxer dog that lived with them while he was away. Hamish couldn’t remember getting him, but apparently when he was on leave they were inseparable. “I wonder if he’ll recognize me?”
“He goes nuts whenever you come home,” Eamon said. “He won’t have forgotten you, don’t worry.”
Robert slowed as they approached a turn-off for an estate new to Hamish, although the trees looked well-established and the sun had bleached the painted fences.
His father pulled up outside a large house surrounded by half an acre of land. Lilac-colored petals from the bordering jacaranda trees scattered the carefully tended lawn. Parked cars indicated the waiting welcoming party, and he sighed as Robert turned off the engine.
“I’ll get your crutches,” Eamon said, and he got out and retrieved them from the trunk. He brought them to Hamish and offered his hand. Hamish studied it for a moment. This was how it was going to be from now on—people offering him aid even though he was determined to manage on his own. He didn’t have the heart to refuse his brother, however, so he accepted Eamon’s hand.
At that moment, a brown blur appeared around the corner of the house and flew toward them. The boxer dog covered the grass in a matter of seconds, leapt up from the ground, and landed in Hamish’s arms. He fell backward onto the car seat, laughing as a warm, wet tongue washed his face. “You must be Brandon, I presume.”
Brandon replied with another huge lick.
“Yeuch.” He pushed the dog away, then stroked his ears and kissed the top of his head. “I know we were close, but sticking your tongue down my throat is taking it a step too far.”
Eamon hauled Brandon off. “Told you he’d remember you.”
Hamish got to his feet again. Eamon was tall, dark-haired, muscular, and good-looking in a rough, boy-next-door kind of way. Until recently, Hamish had had twenty pounds on his brother, but he’d lost weight since the accident, and he suspected they looked even more similar now.
“You okay?” Eamon frowned. “If this is too much for you, just say. We can get back in the car and I’ll take you over to the beach house.”
Hamish slipped his hands through the arm rests and steadied himself on the crutches. “Nah, I’m good. Let’s get it done.”
Eamon rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, bro.”
“Thanks. It’s good to be back.”
***
It’s good to be back. He repeated those words throughout the afternoon until they rang in his head. By six o’clock, he no longer had any sense of their meaning. He felt no relief at being home, because it wasn’t home—not a home he could remember, anyway. Although he appreciated everyone coming to welcome him, so many unfamiliar faces unsettled him. Luckily, Eamon remained at his side, reminding him who they were in a low murmur before they introduced themselves.
Thank God for Eamon —four more words that circled in his head like a hamster on a wheel. His brother made sure a drink was always to hand, brought him a chair when his arms started to ache from steadying himself on the crutches, distracted those relatives who demanded too much of his attention, and eventually
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