The Fake Wife

Nothing But the Truth

Jake

When I got inside the diner, the place was half full. People were paying their bills and leaving after having lunch.

Like a magneto, my eyes spotted Alison's tiny frame pretty quickly. She sat near the window in the same spot she did when she carried Jamie that day. The temperatures had dropped, and she was wearing only a long-sleeve white shirt that would not protect her from the wind.

Mum said she ran away. That would explain what she was wearing, but how did she get here so fast like that?

I looked around, wondering if someone had recognised her. Her former boss was at the cashier the same as that day, but I could not tell if they had spoken. Alison looks very different now than before. Perhaps he thought she was only a customer.

I sat across from her in the booth. Alison's face was red from crying and her cheeks stained with fresh tears. She did not move from her position; she kept staring outside the window. Was she expecting some?

"Baby?" I said, as soothing as I could with the way my heart was pounding, looking at all the damage Gracie had caused in front of me.

She flinched but did not look at me. "How did you find me?" Her voice was hoarse from crying.

"You are my wife, Alison. I will always find you."

With her red-rimmed eyes, she looked at me. "Am I?"

"Yes, of course you are!" I made sure my voice did not wave. She needed to feel the certainty in those words. Alison was indeed my wife. There was no doubt.

I tried to hold her hand, but she pulled it away.

"Sweetheart, did someone say otherwise? Did someone say you aren't my wife?" She just shook her head and returned her eyes to the traffic lights outside.

A girl came with a menu and told the specials. I had not had lunch yet, but I could not care for it right now. And I was sure anything that I offered Alison she would not accept right now. I took three 100-dollar bills and slid them to her on the table. "Thanks. We just need some privacy now. I will call if we need anything else."

Smiling, the girl took the money and was happy to leave us alone.

"Alison, how did you find this place?" Was that Gracie's doing too, or Alison's memories?

A longing smile formed on her lips. "I have been here a few times. I wanted to see if I would remember the day we met. If I would remember the first time, I saw you when I was folding those napkins. The scene you described to me that night in England."

She looked down at her hands that she was fisting so hard. "When we returned from England. I called the hospital and asked when I was first admitted there, then I checked on your credit card statement and found the name of this place."

That is what happens when you do not answer questions. The person becomes smarter and looks for it. That day I gave her a big tip in cash, but I paid our bill by card.

I moved my hand across the table and rested it on top of hers to make her stop clenching it. This time, she did not move them. "Let's go home, baby, please. We will talk where I feel you are safe."

Alison lifted her face to look at me and narrowed her eyes. "Why? Isn't here that I belong to?"

I shook my head. "Not anymore. Please, darling."

"Let me take you to our home." My voice strained. I needed her to come with me. I moved my thumb in circles over her hands. "Please, come home with me so we can talk properly. Here isn't a place to do it. I will answer all those questions in your diary if you like. But not here."