Chapter 3: Mystery Man

As it turned out, the man had no memory of who he was, what had happened to him, or anything about his former life. That was more than a bit concerning. The situation kind of felt like a soap opera—a sexy, seemingly rich man with amnesia. Then again, life could be stranger than fiction.

Dad had him checked out at the hospital half an hour away. He passed his physical with flying colors. He was the picture of perfect health aside from some bruising and those two cuts—and inexplicable memory loss.

The hospital hadn’t heard of any accidents or any missing persons for whom authorities were on the lookout. They were usually alerted in case of situations like this, where the person in question showed up.

Dad also notified our local policeman, but our one-man operation didn’t know much or really care.

So, Charlie stayed with us.

I had named him Charlie. He needed a name, and he had no idea of one that might be associated with him. Charlie sounded simple and was the name of a character on one of my favorite TV shows.

This stranger who had washed up into our lives became the focus of my time. For the next few days, we took walks first thing in the morning. The first walk was to help him gain his strength back. He was slow for the first few minutes, but then he improved quickly. The next day, he was walking as fast as I was.

The man was conditioned. Those muscles were built for more than looks.

On the second day, we went to the beach after our work. I led him to the spot where he had washed up in the hopes that something would jog his memory.

“This is where I was found?” he asked that first day.

I pushed the hair from my face as the wind pushed it about. “Yes. You were lying face down.”

Charlie looked around the area. His forehead was creased slightly, and he squinted in the morning sun. Even in the second-hand clothes we had found for him, the man exuded powder, confidence, and a certain masculine beauty. Even I had seen it immediately.

“I have no idea what happened.”

His words brought me out of the trance I had fallen into, considering his appearance. I felt a flush flow over my cheeks. Thank goodness for the wind to blame it on.

“It’ll come to you in time,” I responded.

He gave me a smile that nearly made my knees give way. My heart skipped a small beat. He was something from a dream.

At home, we got into a routine of him helping me around the house. I mean ‘helping’ in the loosest sense of the word. Those rich-looking clothes he wore when we found him were not a disguise. The man didn’t know how to brew coffee.

“Do you need any help?” he asked, later that second morning, as I began breakfast.

I nodded. “Can you start the coffee?” I jerked my head in the direction of the coffee pot behind me on the counter.

“Sure.” He gave me a smile.

I hid my face as a silly grin touched my lips. This man had such an effect on me. One smile from him, and my heart would begin to jump, my skin flush.

It was the silence that drew me out of my nervous state. I looked around to see him just staring at the coffee pot. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

“Uh, how do you make coffee?” He turned and gave me a sheepish grin.

Another flutter of my heart. “You don’t know how to make coffee?” Who didn’t know that?

“It appears so.” He looked embarrassed.

I gave him a reassuring smile as I pulled the skillet of eggs off the burner and went to him. “It’s okay. Maybe that knock on the head took more of your memory than we thought.”

He watched carefully as I put the filter in, measured the grounds, and poured the water into the chamber. His close scrutiny was just cute at first, but, when I felt his breath on my neck, I had to suppress a shiver. What was it about this man?

After breakfast, he volunteered to help with the dishes. What sane woman would say no to that offer? But, as he walked to the sink, I noticed that he hesitated. He looked at the sink for a moment, then looked around as though searching for something.

“Charlie, instead, can you take Dad’s lunch out to him before he leaves?”

I nearly laughed at the relief that flooded his face. He was like a kid who was caught unawares by a test and then told he could wait a day.

As I plugged up the sink and ran the water, I looked out the window where Charlie was helping out my dad. They moved gear from the garage into the back of the truck.

The man was an enigma. He was smart. That was evident when he talked, his conversations with my dad as they watched TV. He was articulate and at ease talking to me.

There was an understated power about him that made me think that he could easily take control of a situation if he had to.

But then there was the coffee pot and other things. He seemed not to know how to do what I considered the basic things for daily life. Yet he was perfectly comfortable moving heavy stuff with my father. He was the biggest enigma I had ever encountered.

I ran to the store later that day for more milk and a few other essentials. When I walked up the path to our door, Charlie rushed out of the door and took the bags from my arms.

“Here, let me get that.”

I shook my head. “I can do it.”

“Nope. That’s what I’m here for,” he replied.

A smile crossed my face. A gentleman. I was loving it.

While putting the groceries away, he held up the butter with a questioning look - the same look he had with the coffee pot. It brought a chuckle to me.

“Put it in the fridge.”

“Oh, of course.” He laughed then. It was a deep laugh that sent shivers down my spine.

The days fell into a loose routine. Charlie got up when we did and saw Dad off to his fishing boat. On the few days I worked in the bait shop, he went with me and talked with the fishermen. Many began lingering just to have a conversation with him about the game the night before, which he had usually watched with my dad, or about which types of fish were best.

Charlie couldn’t remember who he was or his past life, but he remembered what red snapper tasted like. It made me wonder about the coffee pot incident again.

One day, he got an anxious feeling, almost like claustrophobia. He needed to get out for a bit by himself. I watched as he took off for a walk down the beach.

I wondered about my own anxiety that I was feeling at that moment. Worry hounded me. What if he got hurt again? What if he got lost?

I knew they were dramatic questions, as the odds were that all would be fine. But, then again, the chances were also low that I would find a nearly-drowned man on a daily jog.

I had just put the vacuum away when I heard the front door open and close. I looked up to see Charlie with a much more relaxed look on his face and that same smile that had my stomach doing flips.

“Here, I got you these,” he said.

It was then I looked down and saw the wildflowers in his hand. A mix of beebalm and daylilies filled his fist.

Tears pricked my eyes at the sweet gesture. Combined with his boyish smile, I felt my heart melt.

I moved toward him to take them. My emotions must have gotten the better of me, as I tripped over my own feet and began a painful path to the floor.

Flowers scattered around me as two strong arms surrounded me and prevented a nasty fall. It happened so fast. I was walking, then falling, then gripped securely against a hard chest.

The blood pounded in my head, and my breath caught in my chest. What felt like minutes must have been only seconds before I realized Charlie was holding me close.

He whispered something, but I couldn’t hear it. My blood still roared in my ears and my heart raced, but something told me it wasn’t all the fall.

His arms felt so good around me. I felt so safe and secure where I was at that moment.

I pulled back and looked up at him. His face was full of concern, which tugged at my heart even more. He reached out and pushed a strand of hair from my eyes where it had fallen.

“You okay?” he asked.

Was I? That was a good question. I blushed and pulled back.

“Yes, uh, thanks. I’m good.”

But was I?