I Remembered a Storm-tossed Night

Chapter 4

It was night again. Was the rain still on-going? I did not know for my sight could not pierce the darkness. But what I did know was that it was cold. What I did know was that I wanted my sunshine when I woke up tomorrow.-Jolly

HBHBHB

I was dreaming again of that storm-tossed night. The waves threw me back and forth, and the current threatened to drag me under. The current did drag me under, and I was fighting to get back to the surface again. I kicked and pushed and struggled against the current, trying to reach the surface for the air I desperately needed. But the surface still seemed so far away. I was not going to make it, I thought in despair. And slowly but surely, panic began to set in…

"Calm down, son… you'll be okay… take it slow …take a deep breath… "

The voice continued to soothe me. It calmed me down, gave me hope. It was such a familiar voice. I knew I've heard it before somewhere…

I broke through the dark roiling waves and gasped for air…

I opened my eyes, and saw white.

Where was I? How did I get here?

Then, as more memories returned, I started to panic again. Where was my wife? Was she alright?

I forced myself to look around the room I was in despite the nausea it caused, and my eyes settled on…

"Dad?" I croaked out through dry lips.

It could not be. He died three months ago in that boating accident. Didn't he? Then I remembered the two detectives. They were apparently right about potential foul play after all. What was going on here?

"Just lay back for a little while more, son. It will take a while for the drugs to wear off…" my dad told me soothingly.

I relaxed and lay back down.

And started thinking back on what happened.

I and my wife had just arrived at the JFK International Airport. We had decided to come over to join Grandpa Reg and helped him, since he was getting on the years and the death of his son must have impacted him tremendously. Grandpa had sent his chauffeur and limousine to pick us up. We went straight to his penthouse and settled into one of the guest rooms. Then we came down to join him for dinner, after which we retired to the cozy living room for a chat. We had some drinks and …

Those drinks were drugged! I now realized. I remember now the surprise I felt when I saw my wife dropping her glass and nodding off. I tried to reach her, but had started to feel rather woozy myself, and I turned my accusing gaze on Grandpa Reg, only to see several men reaching down to haul me up. I faded off soon after that.

Why? Why would he do that? It doesn't make any sense at all.

I opened my eyes and looked at my father pleadingly. Did he have any answers at all?

Only then I realized his eyes were bloodshot, and that there were deep dark sags beneath them. My dad looked like he aged a decade since I last saw him … just over three months ago. And he had lost a lot of weight. What on earth happened? I wondered again.

"Why, dad? Why? Why did grandpa do this?" I asked of him.

Then I took another look around the room. "Dad, where's Ehlana?"

My father shook his head, "I don't know, son. I don't know."

Then the door opened, and grandpa walked in with two others. They looked like professional military men and that did not bode well at all. I felt anger well up in me, and I wanted to reach out and grab his neck and demand he tell me where my wife was and why he was doing these to all of us.

But I did none of those. They had the upper hand at the moment, and I would need to watch for opportunities. Instead, I snapped a single word at him.

"Why."

Reg chuckled. "It seems you have learnt to control your impulsiveness after all."

"I was never impulsive," I shot back.

He laughed. "Of course you were, Joseph. It's all here on your dossier."

Was he crazy? Who was that Joseph fellow? Is this what that was all about?

"My name is Paul, grandpapa. If I may add that you're still too young to be senile." I said sarcastically.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dad went pale.

"Please, father, let him go, he didn't know. Please!" he pleaded.

"Don't you think you owed young Joseph here the truth?" that crazy old man said to my dad.

I was starting to get a lot of bad vibes from this. The walls of the dark stormy night again loomed forbiddingly before me. I was suddenly afraid.

"Dad…?" I asked in a soft voice. "What is he talking about?"

My dad looked at me, his eyes so full of guilt and pain. And love too.

"I really love you, son. So did your mom. We loved you like our own son… "He started.

I could feel my heart pounding wildly in my chest. I wasn't quite sure I was ready to hear that. What did one do when one knows the world around him was going to collapse on him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it?

"Our son, Paul, died a just over six years ago. We were grieving, and went on a sailing trip, and sailed quite deliberately into a storm. We were raging against god and nature for taking him from us. Then we found you hanging on to a piece of wood in the churning waves and pulled you on board. You had a bad head injury, and we could not do much for you until the storm subsided. We had planned to return you to your family, but you looked so much like Paul…"

I wasn't me.

Who am I? Reg called me Joseph, didn't he? What kind of a person was he? Was I? Was he a good person? Was I?

It was such a strange feeling, to know that you have been living a lie. That you have not been you but have been someone else.

"…and when we realized that you couldn't remember, we took it that you were god's gift for us." My dad continued.

No, not my dad. Paul's dad. But my dad for the last six years.

"We took you back to England with us, so that there was no chance that your family might accidentally meet you. We cut contact with all our American friends and made new ones. But you're worth all of that. You're the son we always wanted. You did well, went to Oxford and graduated with a double degree in psychology and marketing. You joined us in our adventures. You found a wonderful girl for a wife. We are both so proud of you. We're sorry for the pain we caused your family when we made that choice. But we never regretted it. Not then, certainly and not now."

He reached for me.

I stared at his hand on my arm and gently removed it. I could see the pain in his eyes, but I was not ready for that contact. I had loved and trusted them, and they had lied to me for the last six years. And my real family must have suffered when I was happily living my life of lies.

"Who… Who am I and who are my real family?" I demanded of the man I knew as my dad.

"Your name is Joseph Hardy. Your father is Fenton Hardy, a very well-known private investigator. Your mother's name is Laura. You have an elder brother, Frank." He said resignation clear in his tone.

'Joseph,' I repeated the name to myself.

Somehow it didn't feel right.

'Joe?'

That felt sort of familiar.

I tried the same thing with the other names. And felt nothing. It was disappointing.

"Father, I'm sorry for lying to you. But please let Joseph go. He's really innocent in all these…" I could hear my dad begged Reg.

No, not my dad. Nigel. His name was Nigel. And her name was Sarah.

But he loved me. She loved me. They loved me.

And I loved them too.

Reg laughed. I turned and glared at him, and waited. That old man was up to something else. I knew it with every bit of my soul. And it would not be anything good.

"Ah, but I can't do that, my son." Reg said. "You see, after all these years, you did finally gave me a grandson worthy of taking over all I have."

Nigel turned even paler.

"Young Joseph here has matured very well, like fine wine, over the last six years, under yours and Sarah's guidance."

He turned and looked at me. "The only problem is your loyalty. I needed you to be totally devoted to my cause."

"Loyalty is to be earned," I retorted. "But this is not simply about taking over your shipping business, is it?"

Reg laughed. "I knew you are worthy of the honor that was about to be bestowed on you! You'll be taking over my position as one of the board members of the Consortium. You'll get to know more about it and all it entails when you are ready."

Then I realized with a sudden clarity … "You killed Sarah didn't you. You killed her because she didn't agree with your 'cause'."

He smiled a strange smile but did not respond.

"And my wife? Where's Ehlana?"

"She is currently being processed, as you will be. Do not worry; she'll be a perfect wife to you. As your dad just said, you chose well for a wife. I approve of your choice."

"You bastard!" I gritted out and leapt at him.

But the two men with him were faster and grabbed hold of me, forcing me back against the wall. Nigel, no my dad, tried to help me, but was quickly knocked out by one of those goons.

"Don't worry, my boy, when this is all over, you'll be Paul, and you'll take over all that I have to offer."

One of the men had drawn a syringe from his pocket and swiftly emptied its contents into my arm.

I forced myself to stare Reg in the eye, "I will remember. I swear I will remember, and you'll be sorry."

Even then, I knew I was deluding myself. If I could not remember who I was now, I certainly could not hope to remember later. After whatever those crazy bastards were planning to do to me.

Then as I was fading off, I thought: 'But I'll remember a storm-tossed night. And from there, I'll breach the walls and remember it all…'