Unforgettable by Meryl Sawyer

He stared at the bushy ponytail. Evidently she had no idea what he’d risked to help her. All she offered him was the back of her head.
    What did he expect? Gratitude. No way. Like Jessica, women were users. Or, like Aunt Sis, they hated men. Hell, Lucky was happier to see Dodger than she was to see him. He’d let her get to him. Again.
    He gazed through the windshield up at Haleakala. The dormant volcano was sporting its usual troop of clouds, shielding the top of the peak from view. It was raining on the upper slopes, making the hiking trails along “house of the sun” treacherous. He looked down and checked his beeper; search and rescue was on twenty-four-hour call.
    When he’d posted Lucky’s bail, he hadn’t stopped to consider what would happen if he had to leave her for a rescue operation. Could he trust her not to take off? He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like him to waffle, but she had him confused as hell. One minute he believed her, the next he wasn’t so sure.
    “Where are we going?” she asked, but she didn’t look at him.
    “To Kmart. You need some clothes.”
    There was a moment of silence, then Lucky spoke, still turned away from him. “Attention Kmart shoppers! Attention Kmart shoppers!” She finally faced him and beamed a smile that could melt your heart. “I’ve been in Kmart. I know I have.”
    He grinned at her childlike enthusiasm. Okay, so she’d been in a Kmart and relished the memory. How many times could she have heard that Kmart slogan? Surely not more times than she’d heard her own name. Then why couldn’t she remember it?
    Was he risking everything he had for a woman who could be a talented liar? A thief? A woman who would disappear—like Pele’s ghost—as unexpectedly as she had appeared?
     

 
     
    6
     
     
    H e was smiling—or trying to—but Lucky knew that he was thinking she was a thief. That she really knew her name. Her own smile crumpled. Why had he bailed her out if he didn’t believe her?
    “Let me tell you. I’m a real college of knowledge,” she said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “I know Jupiter is the fifth planet out from the sun. Khartoum is the capital of the Sudan. There are two varieties of Scotch: Highland malts and island malts. Why, I can even spell verisimilitude. But I don’t know my own name.”
    Greg stared at her in that disturbing, intense way of his. “Your name will come to you… probably when you least expect it.”
    “That’s what the doctors told me,” she said as he drove into the Kmart lot. “Someone will ask me my name, and without thinking, I’ll say it. The name will just pop out from wherever it’s been hiding.”
    He pulled into a parking place. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking now. He had a way of closing himself off that upset her.
    “Why didn’t you just leave me in jail?”
    Greg turned off the engine and yanked the keys out of the ignition, then he gripped the steering wheel with both hands, staring straight ahead. “Everyone deserves a break. They were ganging up on you, not giving you a fair chance.”
    So, he had fought for the underdog. That explained a lot. To her, he was special, the only person she really knew. The best man in the world, someone who had saved her life. To him she was a cause. There was nothing personal in this. She might be an endang ered species or a rain forest.
    She closed her eyes for a second. Right now she wished she were a rain forest. It sounded cool and green and quiet. And very far away. She let her mind drift for a moment, pretending she were somewhere else.
    A rush of warm air enveloped her and she opened her eyes, realizing they’d been closed for a few moments. Greg had opened her door and was waiting for her to get out, Dodger at his side.
    Inside Kmart it was cool, the smell of new clothes and popcorn in the air. Children were laughing, running up and down the aisles. It was comfortingly familiar. She had been in Kmart before, but she had never