For years he’d lived with the scars. But now the ones on the outside were gone, thanks to the surgeons who’d put him back together. He no longer had the limp, either, after surgery on his leg. Even his voice had changed after more surgeries on his throat and face. It had taken months and months, but he was a new person—completely unrecognizable to himself or to anyone else from the man he’d been.
He had to admit, even the scars on the inside seemed to have healed. For all these long, painful months, Earl Ray had been calling him. Each time, he would ask his old friend to tell him about Katie. He loved hearing the stories. Some he thought he could remember. Some of his memory about what had happened had come back. The rest was a muddle of darkness. Except for his nightmares, which were filled with explosions and fire and pain.
But the nightmares had become fewer and farther between. He had been working out every other day, running on the days in between. After months of physicians and surgeries, he felt like a new man. He’d been put back together better than he’d ever been. Now he’d finally been told he was ready.
He hadn’t seen Earl Ray for months and was delighted when the man had walked into the room. They hugged, his old friend then holding him at arm’s length and nodding his approval.
Nick touched his face. “It’s going to take some getting used to.”
Earl Ray handed him a large manila envelope. “It’s official. You’re Nicholas Ross.”
“Nick Ross,” he said, trying out the name. Then he saw the white business envelope his friend held. “What is that?” he asked, having a bad feeling. All that was on the outside of it was Earl Ray’s neatly printed Nick.
“Is this what I think it is?” he’d asked, feeling that now-familiar flutter in his chest at even the mention of Kate Jackson.
Earl Ray nodded. “Entirely up to you to decide what you want to do with the information in that envelope.” He turned away and changed the subject as Nick took the envelope but didn’t open it. “You should have seen your funeral,” his old friend said, his back to him. “The entire town turned out for it. Dave even bought a round of drinks.” He’d chuckled at that as he tried to breathe. “Axel said such nice things about you. So did a whole bunch of other people.”
Nick’s gaze rose from the envelope. “The brunette with the green eyes? Was she—”
“Kate was there. She also said some nice things about you.”
He smiled. It felt odd, as if he hadn’t spent much of his life smiling.
Earl Ray turned to look at him. “All the information on where you can find her is in there.”
Nick looked down at the envelope again but didn’t open it. “Let’s say I find this woman... She won’t know me. I hardly know me.”
Earl Ray laughed. “You’ll find a way. Trust me. She found you after all those years. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding her—and the two of you finding your way back.” His friend hesitated. “Also, there’s a DNA report in there—in case you want to know. Entirely up to you. It’s your new life.”
“I’m not sure where to begin.”
“Aren’t you?” Earl Ray said.
Nick thought about it as Earl Ray left. He had money that he’d been saving for years. He had been given another chance to start all over again. A new name. A brand-new life at forty-one.
But it was his past that haunted him. A whole hell of a lot had happened to him, most of it he still couldn’t remember. Earl Ray had told him not to worry about the man he’d been. That man was dead and buried, his past gone as if it had never happened. Except for the memories of the brunette with the green eyes. Kate. Katie. And now whatever was in this envelope.
He looked down at it, knowing he wasn’t all that sure he wanted to face it. If he had been Daniel Jackson, then he’d walked away from his wife and family. How could a man do that?
The doctors had tried to assure him that the refinery explosion had taken all memories of that life from him. He couldn’t blame himself. Yet he did. When he thought about Kate, he couldn’t imagine walking away from her and two babies. Only a coward would do that. Why would she want that man back?
She wouldn’t, he told himself. She just didn’t know that. She’d hung on to the memories, romanticizing them, fantasizing about a man named Danny Jackson. No man could live up to that. A man would be crazy to try.
He turned the envelope over in his fingers. Did it matter what was inside? He wasn’t her Danny. He probably never had been, no matter what this document said.
Slowly he lifted the flap on the envelope. His heart was racing. What did he want it to say? That he wasn’t Daniel Jackson, never had been? He thought of the way Kate had looked into his eyes in his dreams. She’d been so positive that the truth was right there, according to Earl Ray. Those brown eyes that looked back at him each morning from the mirror?
What if she was wrong? What if whatever was in this envelope proved it? He couldn’t bear the thought of breaking her heart. He knew there had been other men who had reminded her of her lost husband. But in those cases she’d always been wrong. He didn’t want her to be disappointed again.
The thought made him laugh. He was capable of disappointing her on so many levels if he was Daniel Jackson.
He swore and pulled out the sheet, unfolding it with trembling fingers. The words blurred in front of his eyes for a moment. Then the truth surfaced. He stared at the sheet of paper for a long time and smiled. He should have trusted her. Kate had been right. But what did that say about him?
All he had of that time after the explosion were weird memories of waking up in the hospital in Houston with no memory of what had happened or who he was. He’d pieced it together as more patients had been brought in, as nurses scurried around, as families of patients arrived and the story of the explosion came together. He hadn’t known his name. It was as if he hadn’t lived before that day. No, he didn’t know of anyone they could call to let them know where he was.
There were patients who needed medical assistance more than he did. He’d been moved. That’s when a fellow patient had said he recognized him as the new guy at the refinery, Justin Brown. He’d been given some clothing and been released from the hospital because they’d needed the bed. He wore a dead man’s clothing out of the hospital as he had walked into that new life.
He hadn’t known anything about himself. But when he’d looked down at his calloused hands, he’d known he was a laborer in whatever life he had lived. He had no idea of his exact age. He didn’t think he was even twenty-one at the time. He hadn’t been. After he’d walked out of the hospital, he’d done what he’d assumed he’d always done. He got a job working on a construction site and saved his money. He had no purpose other than to clothe and feed himself, until one day a friend had suggested he apply to the law-enforcement academy.