Joe woke up to the sound of birds chirrping out the bedroom window. He sat up slowly and shoved aside the sheet with which he had been covered. He swung his legs off the side of the bed, his hands grasping the mattress on each side.
The pounding in his head had subsided to a dull ache but he felt queasy and really didn't want to get up. 'No pain, no gain,' he thought silently, so he used his hands to help propel him to his feet. He stood motionless for a moment, then slowly made his way across the room to where the dresser stood, it's mirror arched near the ceiling.
He placed both hands on the dresser's edge and stared at the stranger in the mirror. He saw at once he wasn't bad looking. But he didn't look at all like his father with his black hair and green eyes. He did favor his Uncle Darryl though.
He moved away from the mirror and walked to a door on his left. Opening it, he saw a closet filled with jeans, shirts, and even two dress suits. He reached in and removed a pair of jeans and a black tee shirt advertising a heavy-metal band.
Going back to the dresser, he opened each drawer until he came to one containing underwear. He removed a pair of socks and a pair of briefs, closed the drawer and headed toward the bathroom where the door stood open revealing a large sunken-in bathtub in the center of the room.
He closed the door, walked over to the shower stall in the corner and turned on the water. Half an hour later, Joe walked out of the bathroom, his wet hair dampening the neck of his tee shirt.
He headed toward the bedroom door, pausing when he saw a framed picture setting on the desk. He picked it up and looked at it. "The Bayport Raiders," Joe read out loud. "To Joe, one of our biggest fans." He smiled as he set it back down, not bothering to read the individual signatures.
He left his room and went downstairs, following his nose as his stomach roared. The smell of bacon wafted into his nostrils as he strode through the living room and into the kitchen.
"What are you doing out of bed?" Dobson demanded gruffly as Joe came into the kitchen.
"I'm okay, Dad," Joe told him with a grin. "My head hardly hurts at all. But I am starving," he added, staring hungrily at the plate of biscuits Darryl held.
"Well, sit down boy," Billy told him, coming up beside Joe and taking his arm and leading him to a chair.
"Uncle Billy?" Joe asked, remembering his dad mentioning his mother's brother.
"See," Billy told him jovially. "Your memory's coming back already."
"Not really," Joe apologized. "I just remember Dad mentioning you last night."
"It doesn't make no never mind," Billy told him, sitting down beside Joe as Dobson and Darryl put plates of food on the table. "You'll be right as rain in no time," he promised. "And I'll help you remember."
"How?" Joe asked, grinning as Billy picked up the plate of scrambled eggs and scooped some onto Joe's plate.
"I'll show you pictures," he said and pulled out his wallet. "You see this kid with the curly blond hair?" he asked Joe.
"Yeah," Joe replied, taking a couple of biscuits and putting them on his plate as his dad laid some bacon and sausage beside the eggs.
"That's your mom when she was eight. And that's me standing beside her," Billy added. "I was six."
"So mom was your big sister," Joe observed, opening a biscuit and putting a piece of sausage on it.
"Yep," Billy admitted, smiling brightly. "And that's why when your mom was killed, I moved in with your dad to help raise you. She took care of me after our mom died. It's what she would have wanted."
"Tell me about her," Joe begged.
"A better sister a boy could never have," Billy told Joe. "She always chased away the guys at school who picked on me," he said, his eyes taking on a kind of dazed look as he remembered his childhood. "You know, she even taught me to ride a bike and skate."
"Your mother was a wonderful woman," Dobson broke in. Joe looked over at his dad. "She was a voulunteer with the Red Cross for ten years before she died. He gave a sad smile. "I remember when we met," he said. "We were in the Peace Corps in Honduras," Dobson told Joe. "We got married two weeks later. After our time was up, we came back to the states, bought this house and settled down."
"Was she happy?" Joe asked.
"Very," Dobson assured him. "Especially when she found out she was pregnant. A prouder mother could never exist."
Joe's eyes started to water and he rapidly blinked them away, concentrating on his breakfast. Not another word was said until breakfast was over.
"You sure you're feeling better?" Darryl asked Joe when he had finished his orange juice. Joe nodded. "Good," Darryl said with a sly grin. "Cause it's your turn to do the dishes."
Joe groaned but stood up and began removing the dishes from the table. "I'll help," Dobson offered, standing up.
"That's okay Dad," Joe said, smiling over at his father. "I can do them."
The three men left the room and Joe finished clearing the table. He started the water in the sink, adding a squirt of dish detergent. As he submerged his hands into the soapy mix, an image of a tall, thin woman with dark brown hair with a few strands of gray flashed through his mind.
Joe closed his eyes, trying to bring back the image, but it was gone. He wondered who the stern faced woman could be as he turned off the water and began washing the dishes.
****************************************************************************
"Breakfast is ready," Fenton said, tapping on Frank's bedroom door and pushing it open. "You look terrible," he added, seeing the dark circles beneath Frank's eyes.
"Have you looked in the mirror lately?" Frank retorted with a wan smile.
"The wind has died down and the sun is shining," Fenton told Frank. "If they're going to take Joe aboard the Gallena, it's the perfect day for it."
"Chief Collig still has someone watching the boat then?" Frank asked.
"Of course," Fenton replied. "I'm going over to Dobson's house after breakfast. He may have left a clue to his whereabouts. What are you planning?"
"Chet and I had to break a window last night so I'm going to hit the hardware store and replace it," he told his dad. "Then, I'm going to swing by the police station and see if Forensics came up with anything on the paper or brick." He paused, thinking. "I'm also going to get the gang together and have them on the lookout for the Corolla and the Cadillac."
"Sounds like you'll keep busy," Fenton said approvingly. "Keep in touch. Your mom's going to be waiting by the phone until we find Joe," he added worriedly.
"I know," Franks said softly. "It must be worse for her. At least we get to do something," he added, following his father down the stairs.
************************************************************************
"Here you go," Dobson said, handing Joe some nails and a hammer. They were outside, boarding up a bedroom window. A tree had blown down during the night and some of the branches had knocked out the window. Darryl and Billy were chopping the tree to use for firewood.
"Listen Son," Dobson said to Joe after a few minutes. "I want you to stay around the house until your memory returns."
"What if it doesn't?" Joe asked, a little fearfully.
"It will, it will," Dobson said soothingly. "But it may take some time. So, until it does, I don't want you wandering off by yourself. You stay here unless I or one of your uncles takes you somewhere. Okay?"
"All right, Dad," Joe promised. "There's more to it than my memory though," he guessed shrewdly. "What is it?"
"It's Hardy," Dobson admitted. "You, well, you kind of dogged him and his son after Hardy got away with killing your mom. I'm afraid if they get near you, in your present state, they may try and get back at you."
"How?" Joe demanded.
"They could try and brainwash you or maybe trump up some charge to have you arrested on," Dobson said, his voice breaking. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too."
"Don't worry Dad," Joe said, puting an arm around his dad's shoulders. "Tell me what they look like and I swear I'll run the other way if I see them."
"And you won't listen to their lies?" Dobson demanded.
"I won't even give them a chance to speak it they get that close," Joe promised. "If they get close enough to speak, I'll break their jaws so they can't," he vowed heatedly.
The pounding in his head had subsided to a dull ache but he felt queasy and really didn't want to get up. 'No pain, no gain,' he thought silently, so he used his hands to help propel him to his feet. He stood motionless for a moment, then slowly made his way across the room to where the dresser stood, it's mirror arched near the ceiling.
He placed both hands on the dresser's edge and stared at the stranger in the mirror. He saw at once he wasn't bad looking. But he didn't look at all like his father with his black hair and green eyes. He did favor his Uncle Darryl though.
He moved away from the mirror and walked to a door on his left. Opening it, he saw a closet filled with jeans, shirts, and even two dress suits. He reached in and removed a pair of jeans and a black tee shirt advertising a heavy-metal band.
Going back to the dresser, he opened each drawer until he came to one containing underwear. He removed a pair of socks and a pair of briefs, closed the drawer and headed toward the bathroom where the door stood open revealing a large sunken-in bathtub in the center of the room.
He closed the door, walked over to the shower stall in the corner and turned on the water. Half an hour later, Joe walked out of the bathroom, his wet hair dampening the neck of his tee shirt.
He headed toward the bedroom door, pausing when he saw a framed picture setting on the desk. He picked it up and looked at it. "The Bayport Raiders," Joe read out loud. "To Joe, one of our biggest fans." He smiled as he set it back down, not bothering to read the individual signatures.
He left his room and went downstairs, following his nose as his stomach roared. The smell of bacon wafted into his nostrils as he strode through the living room and into the kitchen.
"What are you doing out of bed?" Dobson demanded gruffly as Joe came into the kitchen.
"I'm okay, Dad," Joe told him with a grin. "My head hardly hurts at all. But I am starving," he added, staring hungrily at the plate of biscuits Darryl held.
"Well, sit down boy," Billy told him, coming up beside Joe and taking his arm and leading him to a chair.
"Uncle Billy?" Joe asked, remembering his dad mentioning his mother's brother.
"See," Billy told him jovially. "Your memory's coming back already."
"Not really," Joe apologized. "I just remember Dad mentioning you last night."
"It doesn't make no never mind," Billy told him, sitting down beside Joe as Dobson and Darryl put plates of food on the table. "You'll be right as rain in no time," he promised. "And I'll help you remember."
"How?" Joe asked, grinning as Billy picked up the plate of scrambled eggs and scooped some onto Joe's plate.
"I'll show you pictures," he said and pulled out his wallet. "You see this kid with the curly blond hair?" he asked Joe.
"Yeah," Joe replied, taking a couple of biscuits and putting them on his plate as his dad laid some bacon and sausage beside the eggs.
"That's your mom when she was eight. And that's me standing beside her," Billy added. "I was six."
"So mom was your big sister," Joe observed, opening a biscuit and putting a piece of sausage on it.
"Yep," Billy admitted, smiling brightly. "And that's why when your mom was killed, I moved in with your dad to help raise you. She took care of me after our mom died. It's what she would have wanted."
"Tell me about her," Joe begged.
"A better sister a boy could never have," Billy told Joe. "She always chased away the guys at school who picked on me," he said, his eyes taking on a kind of dazed look as he remembered his childhood. "You know, she even taught me to ride a bike and skate."
"Your mother was a wonderful woman," Dobson broke in. Joe looked over at his dad. "She was a voulunteer with the Red Cross for ten years before she died. He gave a sad smile. "I remember when we met," he said. "We were in the Peace Corps in Honduras," Dobson told Joe. "We got married two weeks later. After our time was up, we came back to the states, bought this house and settled down."
"Was she happy?" Joe asked.
"Very," Dobson assured him. "Especially when she found out she was pregnant. A prouder mother could never exist."
Joe's eyes started to water and he rapidly blinked them away, concentrating on his breakfast. Not another word was said until breakfast was over.
"You sure you're feeling better?" Darryl asked Joe when he had finished his orange juice. Joe nodded. "Good," Darryl said with a sly grin. "Cause it's your turn to do the dishes."
Joe groaned but stood up and began removing the dishes from the table. "I'll help," Dobson offered, standing up.
"That's okay Dad," Joe said, smiling over at his father. "I can do them."
The three men left the room and Joe finished clearing the table. He started the water in the sink, adding a squirt of dish detergent. As he submerged his hands into the soapy mix, an image of a tall, thin woman with dark brown hair with a few strands of gray flashed through his mind.
Joe closed his eyes, trying to bring back the image, but it was gone. He wondered who the stern faced woman could be as he turned off the water and began washing the dishes.
****************************************************************************
"Breakfast is ready," Fenton said, tapping on Frank's bedroom door and pushing it open. "You look terrible," he added, seeing the dark circles beneath Frank's eyes.
"Have you looked in the mirror lately?" Frank retorted with a wan smile.
"The wind has died down and the sun is shining," Fenton told Frank. "If they're going to take Joe aboard the Gallena, it's the perfect day for it."
"Chief Collig still has someone watching the boat then?" Frank asked.
"Of course," Fenton replied. "I'm going over to Dobson's house after breakfast. He may have left a clue to his whereabouts. What are you planning?"
"Chet and I had to break a window last night so I'm going to hit the hardware store and replace it," he told his dad. "Then, I'm going to swing by the police station and see if Forensics came up with anything on the paper or brick." He paused, thinking. "I'm also going to get the gang together and have them on the lookout for the Corolla and the Cadillac."
"Sounds like you'll keep busy," Fenton said approvingly. "Keep in touch. Your mom's going to be waiting by the phone until we find Joe," he added worriedly.
"I know," Franks said softly. "It must be worse for her. At least we get to do something," he added, following his father down the stairs.
************************************************************************
"Here you go," Dobson said, handing Joe some nails and a hammer. They were outside, boarding up a bedroom window. A tree had blown down during the night and some of the branches had knocked out the window. Darryl and Billy were chopping the tree to use for firewood.
"Listen Son," Dobson said to Joe after a few minutes. "I want you to stay around the house until your memory returns."
"What if it doesn't?" Joe asked, a little fearfully.
"It will, it will," Dobson said soothingly. "But it may take some time. So, until it does, I don't want you wandering off by yourself. You stay here unless I or one of your uncles takes you somewhere. Okay?"
"All right, Dad," Joe promised. "There's more to it than my memory though," he guessed shrewdly. "What is it?"
"It's Hardy," Dobson admitted. "You, well, you kind of dogged him and his son after Hardy got away with killing your mom. I'm afraid if they get near you, in your present state, they may try and get back at you."
"How?" Joe demanded.
"They could try and brainwash you or maybe trump up some charge to have you arrested on," Dobson said, his voice breaking. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too."
"Don't worry Dad," Joe said, puting an arm around his dad's shoulders. "Tell me what they look like and I swear I'll run the other way if I see them."
"And you won't listen to their lies?" Dobson demanded.
"I won't even give them a chance to speak it they get that close," Joe promised. "If they get close enough to speak, I'll break their jaws so they can't," he vowed heatedly.