“No one on the island recognized you?” Felix asked Jeremiah.
“I was laid up with fractured ribs. I only saw three people on the island.”
Felix looked at Remy with a polite expression, yet she could feel his disbelief percolating under the veneer.
“None of the three of us are Formula One fans,” Remy explained. “I’m into art and fantasy novels. Leigh’s a lobsterwoman. And Maureen’s into chickens and hypnosis.”
Felix and Fiona were peering at her as if she was an oddity—which she knew she somewhat was—Jeremiah was scowling, and Remy was wondering how she’d landed in the epicenter of these grandiose people. The journey from her cottage to the hospital suddenly felt like a journey of a million miles.
“Are you two married?” Jeremiah asked Felix and Fiona.
Surprise stamped their faces. “No,” Felix said.
“We were married for sixteen years,” Fiona added. “But we’ve been divorced now for eighteen.”
“How old am I?”
Felix appeared bemused but Fiona appeared dumbstruck. Her expression said,You really don’t know the answers to these questions?
“Look, I understand this must be weird for you,” Jeremiah told them. “The fact that you know me well but that I don’t know you or anything about myself. But that’s the deal. My memories begin ten days ago.”
Fiona was clearly struggling to process that bitter fact. What must it be like to learn your child’s experience of you had been wiped away? Upsetting. Disorienting. Incredibly sad.
“No memories of me from your childhood at all?” Fiona asked. “No memories of the things we’ve done together in recent years?”
“No.”
“Your memories will come back,” Felix stated with conviction. He was a cool customer, the type of man who believed he could go to battle with his son’s amnesia and win. “We’ll do everything we can to facilitate that.”
“To—to answer your earlier question,” Fiona said, “you’re thirty-four years old.”
“Do I have siblings?”
Fiona dipped her chin. “You have a younger brother, Jude.”
“And another brother, Max,” Felix tacked on.
Jeremiah’s forehead lined. “How come you didn’t mention Max?” he asked Fiona.
“You and Jude are my sons. Max is your father’s child with another woman.” Fiona was dignified. Even so, a light blush rose on her cheeks.
The family dynamics here were very dangerous, like a plot of land with patches of quicksand.
“Apparently, I see a doctor and physical therapist in Groomsport,” Jeremiah said. “Is that where I live?”
“Yes,” Felix said. “Groomsport is where both you and I were born and raised. It’s about fifteen minutes up the coast.”
“I didn’t grow up there, but I live there now, too.” Fiona’s manicured hands balled around the strap of her purse. “The three of us all have houses there.”
A tense gap opened in the conversation.
“Do either of you,” Jeremiah said, “have any idea why I was floating in the water off the coast of Islehaven Island on Tuesday, September thirteenth?”
“You left on your boat trip that day.” Felix slid his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “You sent me your itinerary, so I know your course would’ve taken you past Islehaven.”
“Can I get a copy of my itinerary from you?”
“Absolutely.”
