Falling for the Stranger by Debra Salonen

Author:Debra Salonen
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781944300470
Publisher: Loner Llama Press

CHAPTER 20

Who knew jail would be such a great place to think?

Ever since his arrest, Harley had nothing but time to “find himself.” Literally.

He’d made good use of the notepad Andi included in the care package she’d brought. Each and every factoid about his old life he picked up went into it, starting with: Mom dead. Car accident.

Even though he couldn’t grab onto a single clear image of the woman, his dream the night before had been real enough to wake him.

He’d seen a transcript of his high school record, which included scholastic highs like National Honor Society and editor of his school newspaper, and one ignoble low: misdemeanor arrest, all records sealed.

“A rebellious teen acting out after a life-changing loss,” his lawyer had termed it.

The usual family stuff. Dad’s second marriage. The sale of the family business—a newspaper that Jonathan’s great-grandfather had started.

Like acid eating its way through steel, the past crept into his awareness. It started in his dreams, then exploded in fragmented bursts into his consciousness, accompanied each time by blinding headaches.

Dr. Franklin, who’d been consulted at his lawyer’s behest, had given him new insights on frontal lobe amnesia. “The brain operates in two hemispheres: the left and the right. To put it simply, the left side deals with facts; the right is more creative. Since your injury took place on the right side—which controls the left hemisphere—your mind is going to rely on the right half to fill in the details that it finds hazy,” she’d told him. “You may recall certain things, but you may never completely recover the participatory memory of your life before your accident.”

Her explanation seemed to make sense. Since the crash, he’d slowed down, found joy in nature and the world around him, instead of rushing through life at a breakneck pace to get the jump on the next story as JJ Newhall apparently had. Her theory also explained why headaches hit when he tried to push for “perfect” recall.

“Your mind is integrating what was lost with the new way you’ve learned to look at life, Harley. Try relaxing when the old memories start to surface. Breathe slowly and deeply. Concentrate on the images without trying to make sense of them. Eventually, they won’t feel as foreign and obtrusive.”

He’d taken her suggestion, and quickly discovered he could bring to mind a collage of images from the past—stills, as they said in the newspaper biz. Gradually, he started to assemble them in chronological order, creating a moving picture that made sense, more or less.

Arguing with his father. Packing a few of his favorite things into the saddlebag of a shiny new motorcycle. The blur of landscapes flying past the windscreen of his helmet.

But he still didn’t know why California? Or how he’d wound up on the road to the Blue Lupine mine.

And, although he’d finally come to accept the fact his legal name was Jonathan Newhall, to the friends he’d made in Coyote Springs—the caring souls working diligently to secure his release from jail—he was Harley.

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