Forgetting You, Forgetting Me (Memories from Yesterday Book 1) Read online

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Forgetting You, Forgetting Me

  Copyright © 2017 by Monica James

  ISBN: 978-0-9989769-0-7

  Cover by MGBookCovers and Designs

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Published by Monica James

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Other Books By

  Monica James

  THE I SURRENDER SERIES

  I Surrender

  Surrender to Me

  Surrendered

  White

  SOMETHING LIKE NORMAL SERIES

  Something like Normal

  Something like Redemption

  Something like Love

  A HARD LOVE ROMANCE SERIES

  Dirty Dix

  Wicked Dix

  Dedication

  This is dedicated to my readers…thank you for never forgetting me.

  One

  “There’s been an accident.”

  It’s unimaginable how one simple, ordinary word can change a person’s life forever. One simple word, when merged with other simple, ordinary words can transform the best day of your life into the worst.

  “Lucy? Lucy, can you hear me?” asks my best friend, Piper. The trepidation laces her tone, but I can’t speak. I can’t verbalize that yes, I can hear her, because the moment I do, I’ll have to accept this horrible nightmare as being real.

  “C’mon, Luce, please—talk to me!”

  It’s funny the things you remember and the things that you don’t. But sometimes, those forgotten memories are brought back to life by a simple word, a certain smell, or sometimes, a single moment. Sadly for me, this is a memory, a moment I will never be able to forget.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was supposed to be the best day of my life. The one day that was going to change my life forever. And it has. Just not the way I anticipated.

  “Honey, it’s Mom. Can you hear me? There’s been an accident, and we need to go to the hospital.” I flinch when she uses yet another word I don’t want to hear.

  “Simon, I think she’s gone into shock. Can you lift her up?”

  “Of course, Maggie.” A moment later. “Daddy’s got you.” The world begins spinning around me, but I don’t fight it. I want to tumble into the bleak, perilous vortex and never look back. Never look back on this day, which is the beginning of the end.

  Was I too bossy? Or maybe I was ungrateful? Maybe it’s because I didn’t invite Mrs. Goldstein. Whatever the reason, I’m sorry. I take it back. Please give me a second chance. Please give him a second chance.

  “Just buckling you up, sweetheart.” The term of endearment transports me back to happier times, and I begin skimming back over my twenty-six years on this planet.

  I fondly recall the time when Simon and Maggie Tucker welcomed me into their home. I was five. Although they weren’t my birth parents, I never once felt like anything but their own. They showed me nothing but true kindness, and after being treated like a nobody my entire childhood, only being known as M in my foster homes, their unbending love made me realize I was the luckiest girl in the world. I felt like a somebody. And I was—I was their daughter. I was their daughter who finally had a name.

  I go on to remember the time I met Piper Green in gym class. She had my back when I became the favorite target for dodge ball, and she’s had my back ever since. Piper is my sunshine and without her, my life would be clouded with darkness.

  I recapture snippets, small fractions of my past, slivers that have made me, me. But in this moment, one memory comes crashing to the surface, clearer than any others because it’s my most favorite memory of all. It’s of the day I met the love of my life, Samuel Stone.

  I loved him from the first moment I saw him, and I have ever since. He was the captain of the high school basketball team, while I was just me, little Lucy Tucker. But Samuel saw something in me that not many people did. Not even me. He supported my ideas of wanting to change the world, no matter how farfetched they were. I know what it’s like to be hungry, underprivileged, and unloved, and that’s why I was determined to not allow another child suffer like I did. But if it weren’t for Sam’s constant encouragement, I never would have graduated top of my class with a masters in human rights. He helped me accomplish my dreams because he was my dreams.

  He supported me no matter what, and he loved me regardless of my imperfections and now, it’s my turn to do the same.

  I know where we’re headed, but knowing your final destination doesn’t make what you’re about to face any easier to digest. In this circumstance, I wish I didn’t know. I wish I could wind back the clock by just a few hours because if I knew then what I know now, I would have appreciated and embraced every moment and not let go.

  “You look so beautiful, honey.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” The reflection staring back at me was surely not my own. My long, honey blonde hair was twisted high in an elegant knot. The hairdresser assured me it was the perfect style to support the tiara as she slipped it into my locks. The jewels felt so regal underneath my fingertips, but it all feels so insignificant now.

  “You’ve got stunning green eyes, Lucy, and I’d die for these plump lips,” said the makeup artist as she applied my final coat of mascara and thin layer of peach gloss. It’s all so superficial, so unimportant. I violently scrub any trace of it off my face.

  “Luce, stop it. You’re hurting yourself.” But what Piper doesn’t understand is that it’s the unseen bruising that hurts the most.

  As I slipped into my tight-fitting gown, I remember the crystal beads catching the sunlight and reflecting tiny rainbows across the room. My white heels made me taller, but my small frame could never catch up to Samuel’s towering, imposing six foot four frame.

  The final touch was sitting in my mother’s hands. She fingered the lace, tears pricking her hazel eyes. “I wish your grandmother was here to see this.”

  “She is, Mom,” I replied, reaching out and stroking her arm.

  She nodded and handed over the final piece which would make my outfit complete, which would take me one step closer to being Mrs. Samuel Stone.

  The hairdresser pinned the veil in place and when that thin segment of lace became my view, I knew I was ready. Nothing could stop me now. I should have known something was askew when I didn’t see Samuel. But I walked down that aisle, never feeling more beautiful, never feeling more proud. But I waited and waited, but my time never came. Every bride’s worst nightmare had just happened. I was s
tood up at the altar. And when ten minutes became thirty, I knew something was horribly wrong. But I never foresaw it would have been this—anything but this.

  As it was, my groom-to-be was late because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Samuel never stood a chance when a drunk driver slammed into his car head on. Oh fate, sometimes you can be so cruel. Why, on this day, and at that time? Why did you choose my Sam to suffer at the hand of your callousness?

  So now, all my happy memories are plagued with new ones just formed—ones of my fiancé laying in a coma, his outcome unknown. In a blink of an eye, happiness can be snatched out from under you and all you’re left with is this—this emptiness. You really don’t appreciate what you have until it’s gone.

  As we pull up at St. John Memorial Hospital, I try and refocus on all the pleasant memories, but I can’t. All I can focus on is that beyond those doors lies the man I was supposed to marry. Lies the man who is my reason to live.

  “Lucy, please, for the love of god, say something!” Piper shakes me, begging I speak. But there are simply no words.

  As she continues rocking me, I know it’s time to go.

  Turning slowly, I look at my best friend, staring into her tear-stained eyes. I need to say something, anything, so I say the only thing that I can—the only thing that’ll elucidate how I feel inside.

  With a single tear tracing a path down my cheek, I profess, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  * * * * *

  April 8th 2011

  Dear diary,

  Today has been the best day of my life. Well, one of the best. Samuel and I finally did it— we moved in together! After eight years of dating, Sam has finally made an honest woman out of me!

  Our dream home in Montana is everything I could ever wish for. I still can’t believe I’m sitting in my bedroom, in my new home, writing this. Our property is absolutely amazing, and I can’t wait to venture out on our twenty acres, hand in hand. Or better yet, ride our horses into the sunset. So corny, but true!

  Our ranch, Whispering Willows, has incredible views of the Tobacco Root Mountains, and I look forward to sipping iced tea while enjoying the tranquility from our decks and stone patios, which are surrounded by our beautifully manicured landscapes.

  Cottonwood trees, quiet groves of quaking aspen, and gorgeous willow clusters give us the privacy we need to venture around undisturbed. Mom and Dad are about thirty minutes away, and so are Kellie and Gregory. It’s perfect. It’s my dream come true.

  Every day I wake, grateful for what I have and who I’ve become. I don’t like to separate my life into two parts because bouncing around from foster home to foster home in L.A. is a distant memory, but it’s one I’ll never forget. It made me into the person I am today. It showed me where I belong, and to whom I belong.

  I know we’re going to be happy here. I can feel it in my bones. This is the start of our new life together and I couldn’t be happier.

  I knew Samuel was ‘the one’ and as naïve as that makes me, I do believe in true love and our happily ever after. He is my soul mate, and there is no one for me but him. He’s ingrained into my very existence, and I couldn’t imagine my life without him. Not that I ever have to worry about that.

  I know Sam feels the same way because I saw something which cements our future. I didn’t mean to snoop, but the gleam from his grandmother’s engagement ring caught my eye. The ring was sitting innocently in a box he had half unpacked. I debated with myself for all of three seconds before I quietly, like a thief in the night, slipped my hand inside and pulled out the most stunning ring in the world.

  I felt beyond wicked, as I’ve never been a rule breaker, but the moment I felt the smooth, one carat diamond and imperial white gold band pass under my fingertip, I was completely converted to a life of crime.

  I didn’t dare put it on, but then my newfound rebellion kicked in. I snuck a quick peek at the door before slipping it on my finger. I couldn’t stop the tears—it was perfect. But just as quickly as I found the ring, I swiftly placed it back, not wanting Sam to catch me red-handed.

  We’ve spoken about marriage and kids in passing, but Sam wants to focus on the family business, Stone and Sons, helping his dad on the wheat and barley farm. We’re still young—we’ve got our entire lives ahead of us. But as I think of that beautiful ring and how it looked on my finger, I realize I want that future to come sooner rather than later.

  I want nothing more than to be become Mrs. Samuel Stone. But all good things come to those who wait, so I’ll sit tight, but not so patiently. Patience has never been my strong suit, but I’ll wait forever and a day for Sam.

  So here’s to our new life together…I can’t wait to see what comes next.

  Two

  The stunned, grief-stricken gasps of visitors and patients reveal I look as mad as I feel. But I can’t stop. After I finished throwing up all over my now ruined gown, a sense of urgency passed over me and nothing, not even Satan himself, could stop me from charging into the hospital, desperate to see Sam.

  My heels strike in time with my hammering heart as I pound down the long hallway, frantic to find my fiancé. Piper and my parents trail behind, offering words of encouragement, but nothing will ease the knot of despair eating away at my very existence.

  A pretty blonde nurse sitting behind a large counter raises her head when she hears my stilettos stab at the linoleum. Her horrified reaction confirms that I look like the bride from hell with my smeared makeup, vomit-stained dress, and lopsided bun. But my appearance is the least of my concerns. On any other day, I would make conversation and ask how her morning has been. But not today. I sniff back my torrent of tears. “C-can you p-please tell me where S-Samuel S-Stone is?” My breathless tone is shrill, unlike me; therefore, my sentence is comparable to gibberish.

  “Sorry?” she says, pulling backward as I prop onto the counter, ignoring social etiquette and disregarding her personal bubble.

  “Samuel Stone,” I repeat, tugging at the pearls around my neck, as they’re suddenly cutting off my air supply.

  When she continues staring at me, no doubt thinking I’m completely unhinged, I slam my palm on the counter, tears pricking my eyes. “Samuel Stone! Where is he?” She’s wasting precious time.

  Just as I’m about to very uncharacteristically jump over the desk and strangle her, a warm, familiar hand rests on my arm, reminding me of my manners. “Sweetheart, I’ve got this. Go wait with your mother.” I don’t argue with my father, and nod a quick apology to the startled nurse. I’m appalled at my behavior. This isn’t her fault.

  I wait on the sidelines and watch as my father calmly uncovers the details. When he pales, I cover my mouth, turning into my mother’s side. I know it’s bad, my father’s reaction says it all. “It’s going to be okay, honey.” My mom’s words are empty, but the false assurance is her way of saying there’s always hope.

  But my hope is lost. I know nothing will ever be the same.

  When my father walks over, looking solemn and grave, I hold my breath and internally count to five before I ask, “How is he?”

  “He…” The pause is all the answer I need. “Let’s just go see him, okay? Kellie and Greg are with him.” I nod, my stupid veil practically highlighting what was within reach, but will never be.

  The nurse buzzes us through a sectioned off ward to the left, most likely pleased to see the back of us. When we rush inside, the antiseptic odor burns my nostrils, but I don’t care. I will scramble through heaven and hell to find Sam.

  My heels pinch my feet, slowing me down, so I stop, lean against the wall, and rip them off. Nothing will stop me from seeing my fiancé. My feet sing in relief as I follow my dad with a now quickened step. He’s looking overhead, ensuring we’re going the right way. The moment we see Gregory Stone standing in front of the last door on the left, we know that we are. His downturned face, unfastened tie, and disheveled salt-and-pepper hair reveals that whatever is happening inside that room can’t be good.


  “Greg!” my father calls out. Our footsteps are in sync, reflecting our urgency to reach him.

  As Greg raises his head, his grim expression brings on a fresh set of tears. His greenish-gray eyes—eyes so similar to that of his son’s—meet mine, while his lower lip trembles. “I’m so sorry, Lucy.”

  I can’t stop the avalanche of tears. Will I ever stop crying? “Is he okay?” I manage to choke out.

  Greg sighs, placing his hands into his expensive suit pockets. “We don’t know the extent of his injuries. He’s in a coma. The doctors say the swelling around his brain is—” He halts, shaking his head. He clears his throat, fighting back tears. “It’s too early to tell.”

  Why did he pause? What was he going to say?

  I don’t have time to question him however because Kellie emerges from Sam’s room, still wearing her navy Chanel dress, her long blonde hair snarled. When she sees us, she bursts into tears. Her onset sets me off once again.

  “Can we see him?” my mother asks, filling in the blanks for me.

  Kellie dabs at her blue eyes with a tissue. “Of course, but only two people are allowed at a time. Doctor’s orders.”

  My father looks over his shoulder and nods. “You girls go in. Piper and I will wait outside.” I don’t need to be told twice as I hike up my dress, the wretched long train a hindrance as I almost trip over it.

  Once we sterilize our hands, my mother pushes open the door while I take three calming breaths.

  One…

  Two…

  Three.

  I take one step, then two, and enter the room which seals this awful nightmare as truth. Lying in a single bed is the man I was going to marry. But that man, no, that can’t be Samuel. That man is barely recognizable as that person is more machine than man.

  A loud beeping pervades the otherwise still air in concert with my breaking heart. My gaze takes in the unfathomable sight of my fiancé hooked up to endless machines. Tubes and cords are coming from his nose, mouth, head, and out from under his gown. An IV drip is inserted into the back of his hand, the saline solution feeding his wounded body.