“Well, one man I read about revealed a clue to his past while doodling.” Remy considered him. “Maybe, if you let your mind go while sketching, you’ll draw something that will give us insight into your past.”
“I’m willing to doodle.”
“Other amnesia patients have had success with hypnotherapy,” Remy said.
“Maureen does hypnosis,” Leigh suggested.
“Is Maureen also the mayor here and the tax collector?” Jonah asked. He’d learned a few things about island life.
“Something like that,” Remy confirmed.
“If I don’t have to do anything except lie on a couch, then I’m fine with hypnotherapy. Does she do house calls?”
The deck creaked as Leigh crossed her rubber boots. “Nah. You’ll need to go see her.”
“Getting there will be an issue,” he said.
“She’s only twenty minutes away,” Remy told him, “and the drive’s not terribly bumpy.”
“What type of car do you have?” he asked.
“Chevy Silverado truck.”
“How good are its shock absorbers?”
“Just good enough to transport a duke.”
“I’ve been on the same tank of gas,” Leigh said to Remy, “for a month. You?”
“Three months,” she said proudly.
“You people are barely civilized,” Jonah stated.
“When should I schedule a trip to Maureen’s for hypnotherapy?” Remy asked him.
“A week from now? I might be able to make it if I take medicine thirty minutes before we go and if I drive.”
“You can’t drive if you’ve taken pain medicine thirty minutes before we go,” Remy pointed out.
“If it takes you two months to go through a tank of gas, who am I going to hit?”
“Ayuh.” Leigh grinned. “Good point.”
Leigh was smart enough to have a soft spot for him.
“I’ll call Maureen,” Remy said, “and set up an appointment for three days from now.”
“I said a week.”
“Three days. We need to do everything we can to figure out who you are.”
“The people who love you must be worried sick,” Leigh added. “Remy and I have both been checking online daily, trying to find missing-persons postings or news stories about an emergency at sea. We haven’t found anything yet.”
“Maybe there aren’t any people who love me.” He scratched the scruff near the hinge of his jaw. “It could be I’m disconnected from other humans. Or hated.”
“Yep. That’s probably it.” Remy’s eyes glittered mischievously.
“That’s not it.” Leigh’s boots hit the deck. She leaned toward him, planting her elbows on her knees. “Of course people love you. You’re married and charming—”
