September's Song

By Ryan Jo Summers

Ivey London buried her husband as a war hero and moved on with her life. Five years pass and she learns of a secret chamber were special soldiers are imprisoned to recover. Further, one amnesiac soldier managed to escape. When her son begins to display unusual behaviors, she goes to investigate. All evidence points to finding her late husband. If it is him, back from the dead, she refuses to give him up again.

Keegan London awoke in a hospital cell with no memories. Fleeing, he finds himself in a strange, unknown world, with no one to turn to. Until he finds a friendly Priest who runs a homeless shelter and he stumbles across the woman who claims to be his wife. While she can fill some gaps in his lost memories, she cannot explain his curious abilities. Pursued by someone determined to get him back, Keegan has few options but to trust the woman who makes his heart fire like a cannon. Ivey has dibs on him, but first they have to uncover who—and what--Keegan really is before they can recover what they had.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9780359111190

Ryan Jo Summers

Ryan Jo Summers is an author who writes across the genres. She pens romance novels blending elements of Inspirational, suspense, mystery, paranormal and time travel in any combination. She covers non-fiction as well as fictional short stories and poetry. In her spare time, she likes to hang out with her pets, go to the nearby forest and river or gather with friends. She collects wicker baskets, lighthouse figurines and houseplants. She also likes to cook, creating new recipes from old favorites. If she has any time left over, she paints ceramics and acrylics on canvas. She makes her home in the beautiful mountains of Western North Carolina.

Book preview

September's Song

September’s Song

By

Ryan Jo Summers

Copyright © 2018 by Ryan Jo Summers

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: September 2018

ISBN 978-0-359-1111-9-0

Ryan Jo Summers: Author

Hendersonville NC 28791

www.ryanjosummers.com

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all the brave soldiers who sacrificed everything for our benefit. It’s dedicated to all the families who cope with Alzheimer’s and dementia on a daily basis. It’s dedicated to my dear friend, Pat, who gave me the seed that this story came from and to the memory of her mother.

Lastly, it is dedicated to God. Thank You for bringing me this far.

Prologue

He jerked awake, as though someone had called his name. Except he didn’t hear anyone. Dragging in a ragged breath, he blinked against the bright light. Pulse racing, he wondered what was happening. Silence greeted him. He sensed he was alone. Blinking a couple more times, he realized the blinding light was really just a dim glow from the corner. It seemed much brighter a moment ago.

Sucking in a few extra deep, calming breaths, he slowly took stock. He was weak. Even without attempting to rise, the room was unsteady and tilting. But beyond that, he seemed to have all the required appendages. He wore a grey t-shirt and solid green boxers.

Okay, step two. Who was he? What woke him up? Where was he? Why was he alone?

Searching the darkness in his mind, he found nothing. No words, no names, no clues, and no faces. It was as dark and empty inside his mind as it was inside the room. A couple of scattered gray images floated through like eerie ghosts, unidentifiable and elusive.

He tried shaking his head, to force the answers to release, but gave up as the action hurt. Was he in a hospital? He felt like he should be. He didn’t feel right, whatever right might feel like. Instinctively, he knew this wasn’t right. Further searching revealed an IV tube secured to his arm. Tugging it gently, he pulled it free. Clear liquid steadily dripped to the floor.

Pushing past the pain and weakness, he brought himself to the edge of the bed. Now he realized what a hard mattress it was. He thoughtfully fingered the light blanket. His room was four solid, dark gray walls, and one steel brown door with a tiny security glass window in the center. No pictures lined the walls. No chairs. A single sink sat lonely in the corner. Wherever he was, it didn’t look like he received many visitors. And it seemed like he had been here for a while. Apparently the IV had been used to keep him alive and nourished. And what else?

Steeling himself, determined to find answers, he wobbled unsteadily to the shelf beside the stainless steel sink, bracing himself along the wall for support. A dark green canvas duffle bag sat on top and he brought it down. Returning to the bed, he pulled the zipper open, wincing at the loud noise in the stillness of the room.

Two black t-shirts, black sweatpants, socks, and a wallet. Opening the wallet, he felt a cold splash of disappointment. Inside were two dollars, a folded over photo of a young happy couple and an identification card expiring 2014 belonging to Keegan Zachary London. It was the same guy as in the photo with the pretty brunette woman. It described him as six-foot-two, with dark brown hair, and brown eyes. There was an address listed for the state of Illinois.

Was he this London guy? Looking around, he found no mirror in the room. Was he even in Illinois? He touched his face, exploring the shape and contours. Was it him in the picture? That guy was clean shaven and wore his hair close-cropped. He felt the moderate growth of a stubbly beard and a couple inches of hair, longer on top and shorter on the sides. Roving on, he traced the shape of his jawbone, nose, cheeks and eyebrows. Nothing felt familiar. Nor could he say it matched the guy in the picture. This was getting frustrating.

Well, he needed to find out what was going on and he was positive that wasn’t going to happen here. A pair of mud-stained boots sat under the sink and once he was dressed and he slipped them on, they fit well. Lacing them up, he knew at least these were his clothes. Everything fit. So was it his wallet and two bucks? Was he Keegan Zachary London?

Throwing the duffle over his shoulder, he tried the door. For some unexplainable reason, he wasn’t surprised to find it locked. Nor was he unduly worried by it. So he was a prisoner. He supposed he should be feeling a sense of panic to learn that. Instead he was more curious to know who held him. Where? And why?

Again, searching his mind for answers or pictures only produced disjointed images that defied positive ID.

Looking around, he sought another means of escape. Looking up, he studied the ceiling. In the corner was an air duct. With no chair to reach up there, it would be tricky, but he didn’t once hesitate. Feeling a strength surging through him, he mentally measured the steps and moves required to gain access. He’d found his escape route.

Chapter 1

It was going to be cold out. Ivey snapped off the weather report on the television. Jory needed to wear his heavier jacket. The clock in the hall chimed, alerting her of the time.

Jory, she called upstairs, hand resting on the smooth banister. It’s almost time for Becca. Are you ready yet?

Listening, she heard only dull thumps to tell her he was moving around. Soon he came bounding down the stairs, followed closely by his oversized, shaggy black and white dog, Bismark.

Waffles again, Jory complained, sliding into his chair. The dog took up his customary residence at Jory’s right under the kitchen table.

You like waffles, Ivey reminded patiently, forking two onto her son’s plate. And don’t you feed any to Bismark either, young man.

Never, Jory exclaimed, eyes rounding in mock horror. Grinning widely, he reached for the syrup container, pouring a generous amount out.

Ivey sighed, setting out the platter of fresh, washed fruit conveniently, and pointedly, near his elbow. She knew he got the hint when he cut a glance at the platter, moaned softly, and shot her another wide grin.

So much like his father, she thought wistfully, as she had for countless other times. So many little things Jory did reminded her of his father. But the boy had barely known the man who helped create him. He admitted to having only one or two fragmented memories. She sat down at her own plate, automatically reaching for the food as her mind traveled backward. The doorbell’s timely chime saved her from getting too far down that path. That was probably a good thing.

Finish up, sweetie, she instructed, taking a final bite and rising to get the door. That should be Becca. Stepping away from the table, she knew he would pass a section of waffle to his dog, because his father always had.

Morning, Missus Ivey, Becca greeted as she bustled inside, bringing in a blast of cold air. Going to be a cold one out there today.

Yes. Jory’s warmer coat is already out for him.

Becca, Jory’s nanny, was the dedicated soul who got him safely to school and home again and who helped him whenever Ivey’s work kept her away. While Ivey liked her work, she always despaired any extra time that required her to be away from her son.

Mind you keep yours out and on as well, Missus Ivey.

Ivey smiled, closing the door, turning away the chill. Of course I will. Thank you, Becca.

The nanny had initially reminded Ivey a little of Mary Poppins when she first interviewed her five years ago. Now she was more like extended family. She did wish Becca would drop the Missus part from her title but Becca was nothing if not proper and punctual. It had to be from her British upbringing she had spoken briefly of.

Strolling into the kitchen, the two women were just in time to see Jory’s hand return from beneath the table and hear giant jaws chomping through the waffle. They shared a knowing smile.

It fell, honest, Jory said defensively.

Slid right off your plate, did it now? Becca asked, removing her coat. She would tidy the house up and take Jory off to school.

Ivey slipped upstairs to finish getting ready for work. For all of them, it was just another typical day. Moments later she went downstairs, donned her coat and picked up her purse. Jory was slowly packing his backpack and Becca made sure he didn’t forget anything.

Good luck on your math test today, kiddo, she said, ruffling Jory’s dark brown hair. She loved his hair, it was just like his father’s had been. Thick, soft and dark as chocolate cake. His soft brown eyes were his dad’s too. Ditto for his chin, jaw, lips and ears. Jory was a carbon copy of the man she had loved and married. And lost. Far too soon.

She dropped a kiss to the top of his head and quickly pulled away before he spotted her tears. I’ll see you tonight, I love you, son.

Nodding to Becca, she made her exit out into the cold and stood on the stoop of her apartment steps. She breathed in the cold air, adjusted her scarf and studied the morning pedestrians. Just average people like her on their way to start their work day, or third shift workers ending theirs. It was sometimes amazing to her how easy it was to spot the difference.

Hands going to her pockets, she started for the corner bus stop. The bus would take her to the subway, the subway would take her to the hospital. By the time she got to the subway, Becca and Jory would be taking Bismark for his walk. Jory will stay at his school and Becca would take Bismark back home. Hours later, the routes were all repeated in reverse.

Life was a predictable, stable pattern. Now. Finally.

Half an hour later Ivey left the subway platform, climbed the steps up and braved the howling wind for the three blocks to where Grace Memorial Hospital stood like a concrete sentinel. Flags, marking the helicopter landing pad high on top of the tenth floor, whipped wildly in the wind. Shoulders hunched to the early cold, she rushed through the sliding glass doors.

Making her way along the winding corridors, riding the elevator to her destination, she finally reached the sixth floor women’s unit, post-surgery and rehab. Entering the locker room, she removed her coat, donned her scrub jacket and necessary equipment for a long day of nursing. Stethoscope, bandage tape, pencil, pen, and on down the list she went. Her hands busy with routine chores, her mind played over the day’s expected, and usually unexpected, activities. She pulled her long hair into a pony tail, securing it with an elastic band, yellow to match her buttercream scrub top. She kept a small bucket of assorted colors on the shelf to coordinate with her outfit of the day.

Ivey, glad I caught you.

The voice brought her up short. Spinning, she faced her supervisor.

What can I do for you?

Dr. Gregory Hines, floor supervisor, favored her with a sympathetic smile. The new rotation schedule for the VA came out today. You have next week.

Ivey felt her shoulders slump. Already? Hadn’t she just done her week of rotation?

Greg chuckled and swept his arm around her shoulders in a friendly gesture. Now, Ivey, you know I don’t make out the schedule for them. I’m sorry, but it has been six weeks since you were last over there.

She tried for a small laugh, barely succeeding, as she closed her locker. You know me so well.

His laugh was fuller, louder. Only because you are so transparent, my dear. Now don’t fret. It’s only one week and that will be it for you until sometime next year. He started walking with her down the hallway, his arm gently brushing hers as they walked in tandem. Now, doesn’t that make it sound sweeter when put that way?

Not really.

He laughed again, full and rich. Reaching his destination, he stopped, pulling his arm away. I know it means longer days for you, Ivey, but it’s only for one week. Giving her a wink, he stepped into the elevator. It will be here and gone before you know it.

Watching the shiny doors slide shut, her heart sank. The rotation wasn’t the issue, she just loathed anything that took her away from Jory. And going to the VA kept her away an extra three hours a day. And next week he had a special projects assembly at school and now she would have to miss it. She hated asking Becca to attend in her place. Both she and Jory said they understood when her duties called her away, but she could never make it right within her own heart and mind.

Even though it meant a little bit of extra money, and she felt good about helping to make up for the shortage of nurses at the VA, she had come to dread her week of rotation. It was too much of a reminder of her loss.

Initially, she welcomed the chance to go, to listen, hungry for any tiny slice of information that might lead her to him. Any whispered rumor would have her undivided attention. But over time all the false leads proved to be just that—false. Eventually there was no more news. Time marched on, Jory grew and she moved on with her life. So now, going to the VA just served to remind her of what she had lost—her husband and soulmate.

The sudden, childish impulse to pound her fists on the wall rose up within her. A frustrated cry burned in her throat as hot tears filled her eyes. Something in her chest lurched painfully. Was it still supposed to hurt so much after five years?

The urge passed and she collected herself, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her scrub jacket. She may not like the requirement to go do this extra assignment, but it was part of her job description. And in all honestly, she could sometimes find it rewarding, and humbling. And sometimes scary.

Resigned to the fact she would miss Jory’s assembly, she mentally promised to take him out for another special treat to compensate him, and something nice for Becca at well. She passed the double glass doors to her station, ready for the day.

Hey, Ivey, have you heard the news? Janice greeted, looking up from her computer screen and waving.

Janice had been a good friend to Ivey over the past four years, and the head nurse on her shift. Gray-haired and plump, she was also one of the most patient and capable nurses on the floor. She could out-run the newest young graduate.

You mean about the rotation? Yes, I ran into Doctor Hines. She flipped through charts, scrolling down the screen at the station, already making notes in her mind.

Janice leaned back in her chair, pulling her glasses off, clicking them to hang under her chin. When are you going to let him ask you out, honey?

Hand stilling over the mouse, Ivey blew out a breath, ruffling her bangs as heat rushed into her cheeks. What makes you so sure Doctor Hines wants to ask me out, Janice?

I see the way he looks at you.

She hesitated, wondering if it was worth having this conversation—again. Okay, how does he look at me?

Like he wants to eat you for lunch.

Ivey frowned. That hardly sounds flattering. You make me sound like a salad or the special of the day from downstairs.

Janice scoffed at her words, flapping a hand at Ivey. Honey, you know what I mean. He wants to take you to lunch, and probably a few other places. Why don’t you catch lunch together? Just once? See what he’s like? Hard telling where it could lead to?

I know what he’s like. I see him here every day. And she didn’t want to think where it might lead to. How could she get Janice to understand? She could not take the time away from Jory and give it to someone else. And at a deeper level, she still felt married, even though there was nothing left to say she was. Only her heart.

You’re hopeless, Janice said, heaving a sigh as she clicked her glasses back into place. Have it your way. But one day he will lose interest and quit trying. Try to enjoy your rotation.

She could only hope he would one day lose interest, assuming he was as interested as Janice seemed to believe. What did Janice see that she didn’t? Had she been out of the game for too long to even recognize the moves?

Chapter 2

In time Ivey forgot about Janice’s prediction and fell into the routine of her work. Her job of assisting post-surgical patients in regaining full function and mobility was a satisfying one. To be able to watch patients come in, most not able to walk or pick up simple objects, and then leave wearing huge smiles of triumph always gave her a glow of joy. To be a part of their success fueled her for helping other patients down the hard roads that always lay before them.

Later, boarding the subway that would take her back home, her mind turned back to Jory. What could she do as a special treat for him? They could go visit the zoo again. He was always up for that. A pre-set dollar limit shopping trip at one of his favorite stores might give him a thrill, as well as work on his money management skills. His father had admitted in their early years that he sometimes had a hard time creating a budget and a harder time sticking to it. Based on all their other similarities, Ivey feared it might be the same for Jory and worked steady and early to teach him how to successfully manage his allowance.

A business man was seated across from her, head buried in the newspaper. An ad on the page facing her caught her eye and she leaned over for a closer look. An exhibit was opening at the Field Museum of Natural History that featured a hands-on, lighted display geared for students between eight and twelve years old. And there were interactive dinosaurs included.

She smiled. That was perfect. Jory liked science, loved anything interactive and this was something he could really get his hands on, no pun intended. Because they charged a nominal entrance fee, she could still work on his budget skills while enjoying a pleasant experience with him. Maybe they could top it off with dessert somewhere afterward.

Leaning back in her seat, she smiled as the images rolled around in her mind. A couple hours at the exhibit, followed by dessert and she could spend it all with her best buddy. Forget what Janice said about dating Greg Hines, a few hours out with Jory was all she needed to feel complete.

When she arrived home, Jory immediately informed her that he’d aced the math test. After dinner, once the homework was completed and kitchen tidied, Ivey popped the popcorn and dumped it into the big blue bowl they always used. In the living room she could hear Jory as he scrolled through the options, picking out a movie. She had suggested a movie and popcorn as a congratulatory treat for him.

Shaking the bowl, rattling the kernels, she inhaled the aroma. It was nights like this she lived for.

Extra butter? Jory asked as she entered the room, not looking up from the television screen.

Of course. Just the way they both liked it. And Bismark too, because he would surely get a few pieces that would invariably ‘accidently fall’. He knew it too, because he was posted in the choice spot next to Jory’s side. Okay, buddy, so what’s it going to be tonight? she asked, crossing her legs under her as she settled down next to him on the sofa, ceramic bowl balanced on her lap.

"Born to Run. It’s about a kid whose parents were track star parents, but they gave him up and he’s raised by strangers. They try to get him into intellectual stuff but he just wants to run."

She paused, thinking it over. Is this based on any kind of true story?

He shrugged. Don’t know. Just thought it sounded kind of neat. He raised up the remote. I can find something else—.

No, this is okay, she said quickly. You are the one who aced the test, you get to pick. Let’s see it. She dimmed the light next to the sofa.

As the opening credits began, she smiled as he leaned into her shoulder, hand dipping for the popcorn, scooping it up like a shovel.

So I noticed this ad today, she began, about a science exhibit opening at the Field Museum. I have rotation next week so I was thinking we could take in the exhibit over the weekend.

"What’s in it?’ he asked around a mouthful of popcorn.

Ivey listed what she remembered from the ad, body cued to any reaction from him. He really perked up at the dinosaur part. A piece of popcorn ‘fell’ and was instantly scarfed up by Bismark. She smiled and continued on. So I’ll treat dessert afterwards if you have the money for your ticket. It’s three dollars.

She could almost hear his mental wheels grinding as he contemplated his bank account. Yeah, he finally decided. How about we go Wednesday night instead?

Sure, we can try. Why then?

I have a big vocabulary test in English class. I’ll ace that one too.

She felt his smile in the darkened room. She chuckled, resting her arm over his shoulder. Sure thing, buddy.  Despite her pleasure at sharing a movie with her son, only one thing would have made it perfect; if his father would have been able to join them.

When it was just her and him, and then when she was pregnant, and finally when Jory was a baby, a traditional date