Page 27 of Saving Grace

Still, we were getting off topic.

“I don’t want to hide from whoever is after me, and I really want my phone back.”

My statement didn’t make him happy if his scowl was anything to go by.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Matt said.

“The clock is ticking, Matt. The doctor said I need to surround myself with anything that could trigger a memory and that would never happen if I lock myself away here in your loft.”

“You won’t need your memory if you’re dead,” he retorted.

“True,” I said slowly and sighed. “Look, we can go through my contacts together, and you can give me your opinion of who’s safe to call and who’s not. Sounds good?”

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed grudgingly.

“Definitely start with mom. You didn’t happen to call her yet, did you?”

He shot me an exasperated look.

I guess that was a no. I shrugged and continued eating.

*****

“Mom?”

“Oh my God, Grace? I was so sick with worry.”

After breakfast, Matt went directly to his office, retrieved my phone, and handed it to me. He had verified the number belonging to “Mom” was indeed Theresa Levinson and not some code name I had for someone else. I didn’t even know how to begin to talk to a complete stranger. Her voice, though, held a familiar tone. I struggled with what to say next.

“Grace? Are you there?”

“I’m here,” I choked out. My courage was deserting me. I should have been more prepared. I should have asked Matt to get me my background. How did I tell this complete stranger to whom I wasn’t a stranger that I didn’t remember her? Did I have a good relationship with her? Was she a doting mom? Did I have a complicated or smooth relationship with her?

“What’s wrong, ladybug?” There was fear in her voice. “Are you hurt?”

Echoes sounded in my head followed by a terrible, terrible blinding headache.

What’s wrong, ladybug? Are you hurt?

Memories of scraped knees and palms. A beautiful dark-haired woman in a summer dress stood above me with concern on her face.

Mom.

Broken pieces of time long ago scrolled through my head like a film spool.

“I need to call you back.” Overwhelmed by the onslaught of memories, I thumbed the phone off and let it clatter to the floor. My mind struggled to reorder the segments it had recollected. My brain was ready to explode from my skull. When I finally crested the wave, I realized my phone was ringing, someone was shaking me and calling my name, and I was on my ass on the floor.

Matt was crouched in front of me, his hand on my shoulder with his gaze searching. “What is it? Did you remember?”

A broken sob escaped me as I nodded. “Mom. She was a good mom.”

The warmth in Matt’s eyes told me he understood the depth of those simple words. Because more than a mom who would tend to my childhood scrapes, I remembered a single mom who sacrificed the best years of her life to give me everything. I remembered a mom whom I knew would give her life for her child, and just as I was sure right then that mom was panicking.

“I need to get that,” I croaked as I watched “Mom” flashing on my phone.

“Yes, you do,” Matt said softly as he picked up the pealing device and, for the third time that day, handed my phone to me.

The second I answered, my mom’s sobbing voice greeted me. “Gracie, what’s going on?”