There are two sides to every story.
His side:
"A few months ago, she was hiking by the river, and I wandered into her path, drenched and confused, and... unclothed. I had no memory. She said... God wanted her to find me."
"She found me and cared for me."
Her side:
He says that He wandered into her path. But, she never had a path. Instead, it was a Where's Waldo mystery hunt with a Cracker Jack prize.
A scrambled dream left hazy clues. River rapids churned beside her. A sign for Goshen Trails C 2.4 mi spun in and out of focus. Lastly, there was a man. He stood before her drenched and pale.
She heard her footsteps on the bank of the river offset by a strange thrumming that grew louder and louder as he drew closer. The thrumming grew more insistent turning into screams that vibrated on the edge of her hearing, as she met His eyes. Blue glowing eyes stole her vision away and as a heartbeat quaked through the soles of her feet.
She doubts the dream, though that doubt erodes with each repetition. On the morning of the seventh day, she decides to investigate, if only to sleep peacefully once more. In her dream, He is soaked. So, she stuffs a towel, the largest and warmest pair of pajamas bottoms she owns, and extra socks in a plastic shopping bag. Suspending her disbelief, she throws a few sandwiches together and two bottles of water. Before pulling out of the driveway, the police are programmed to speed-dial. Then she drives half a day to the State Park of her dreams.
She followed her dream to the river and waited. It was the right place, the same fallen log, the same trail sign. She followed an off-shoot of the trail down to the riverbank. She turned to glance behind her and when she looked back He was there. He stumbled on the slippery rocks, zigzagging like a drunken bumblebee. In her dream, she saw only His upper half. In life, she saw Him naked as a blue-jay.
As soon as she met His eyes, she cared.
Neither one spoke. Her hand extended, He took it. She led him away from the water and out of the woods. With a towel wrapped around His shoulders and baggy pajamas cinched around his hips, he climbed into her car.
She was watching television when a commercial for mouthwash comes on. Emmanuel was leafing through random trivia on the laptop.
"Rabbits and parrots can see behind them without moving their head." He sits cross-legged on the floor before her, just the right height for her to absently run fingers through His hair. "Onions contain a gas that released when the skin is broken or sliced..." He trails off staring at the screen in fascination. The commercial shows a close-up of a couple kissing in slow-motion. "For minty fresh breath, when you need it the most. Try: Lightening Fresh! Don't just cover up bad breath, zap it clean!"
Suddenly, Emmanuel is leaning over her. One hand cradling her face, urging her closer.
Then His lips are on hers, warm and tingling. Her eyes flutter close and she surges forward, halfway off the couch. He responds, pressing her back down as His hand trails down her sensitive throat to her neckline. It's been so long, she's forgotten the potential of a kiss. His fingertips barely dip under her shirt. She jerks back shocked. "Stop!"
He freezes, braced above her by one arm. His fingers don't move. "Why?"
"This is wrong. You don't know who you are. What if you already have a family, a girl waiting for you?"
"All the information we located points to a deceased divorcee."
She switches gears. "I don't know who you are.
"No one really knows anyone." He repeated her own words back. "That is insufficient reason to cease."
"One day you're going to regain your memory. It wouldn't be honorable to do anything." She gestured back and forth between them. "You aren't yourself, this isn't right." She sighs, hiding her face behind her hands. "Tomorrow, I'll take you to a hotel. You can't stay here anymore."
The room goes dead-quiet. The TV is silent, she can't even hear Emmanuel breathe. She peeks over her hands. He is glaring down at her, furious. His hand fists in her shirt.
"NO." The word echoes through her bones. Terror freezes her in place.
"Does a body enter into a contract? Would you hold a corpse responsible for debt? It is the mind, the soul that is ethically liable. There is no guarantee that I shall regain any memories of the past. Why should I be constrained by the theoretical? If I receive new information that makes this morally ambiguous, then I shall pay atonement. However, we have searched for a family, for my true identity. What more must I do? Until I receive evidence to the contrary, I am Emmanuel."
Then he kisses her again, his lips a burning brand. He shackles his body to hers with his touch, refusing to leave, ignoring her reasons and misgivings. As abruptly as he started, he withdraws. He sits once more on the floor in front of her, browsing through facts and statistics.
She refuses to touch him, kiss him, or talk to him anymore that night. She darts out of the living room as soon as possible, races upstairs to her bedroom. She slams the door shut and locks it. She slides down to the floor and cries. He appears inside her room, touches two fingers to her forehead and she abandons all resistance.
"You are all I have. You shall not forsake me."
She forgets the fight, forgets her misgivings. All she remembers is a sappy commercial and a first kiss with a man she cares for.
"You've done more than enough for me, let me help you." She states, sitting next to him.
"You are my Helper?"
"… Yes. I am your helper. I will help you help others." She lays out several sheets of paper on the table before them. She likes the symmetry of that. "You have a great gift."
Her biggest mistake was leading him out of the wilderness.
Her second mistake was the day of the big storm.
He took her fear away.
"I don't want to be afraid anymore." She says as thunder crashed and tree branches slammed against the side of the house.
"FEAR NOT." His voice is encompasses the entire room, rings in her ears as the windows shatter and the TV explodes. It doesn't faze her. She sweeps up the shards.
"We'll get new windows tomorrow." She states. "I'm glad you weren't hurt."
The next time it storms, she isn't bothered in the slightest.
Nothing scares her anymore. The only time her heart quickens in fear is when the Demon whispers all the excruciating details of his plan for her husband or when Emmanuel glares down at her.
She only fears for him and of him.
If The Stranger is not staring at her, then he's staring at Emmanuel with an odd mix of disbelief and relief on his face. She's seen that look before, on several faces, but only after a miracle happens. Emmanuel worries since she was tied up during lunch, so she eats and offers The Stranger food and drink.
"Quite a gal, you've got there… Emmanuel."
"Yes. Daphne is quite a gal." He smiles proudly as she takes another bite.
"Most people would be shaken up after being trussed up and taken hostage by a demon."
"Not my wife." Her husband pats her head then kisses her cheek. "Daphne is afraid nevermore."
Her eyes are sad as she smiles up at her Beloved.
Her third mistake was in letting Him leave with The Stranger with the sad eyes and curious blade. She is lost without him.
He doesn't come back.
All she feels is the vacuum of his absence. She know she ought to worry, ought to fear how dependent on Him she has become, but she no longer knows how to.
She found him. She cared for him.
She will find him, again. She doesn't care what it takes.
