Facing Reality

Chapter 3

    I knew I shouldn't have been as comfortable as I was with allowing John to bed down in the guest bedroom, but I couldn't help but trust him. Even though he had lost his memory, he was still the man who was running in the state election. I made sure he had everything he needed, including towels, clothes that Luke had dropped off for him, and clean sheets.

    When John disappeared into the room, I went down to my living room and slumped onto the couch. I brought my phone out and checked my messages, finding ten. Nine were from Riley, telling me about Luke's proposal to her, and one was from Luke telling me yet again to call him if something happened.

    After I made sure to talk Riley to sleep about the proposal and now upcoming wedding, I grabbed a book and curled up on the couch with a blanket. I knew it was probably passed midnight, but I didn't want to go to bed yet. Reading was my way of winding down after a long day, and today had definitely been stressful.

    My eyelids drooped. Next thing I knew, there was a crash, and the sound of broken glass was jerking me awake. I jumped to my feet and ran to the kitchen to find John in the middle of the room, staring down at a shattered mug on the ground.

    "John?" I mumbled, yawning. "What are you doing?"

    He glanced up at me and back at the mug. "I-I don't know. I think I'm thirst." He said it more like a question than a statement.

    I blinked and let out a sigh. "Mkay. Let me grab you some water. I'll clean the mess up later." I couldn't help but notice how lost he looked, standing rooted to the spot where I had found him and biting his lip.

    "How long have you been up?" I asked, trying to break the silence as I grabbed another cup, filled it with water, and gave it to him.

    "I don't know," he admitted, smiling weakly at me. "I think I was sleep walking. I don't remember coming down here."

    I raised an eyebrow. "Have you done that before?" I winced as soon as the words left my mouth. It wasn't like he would have remembered if he hadn't even remembered his name when we found him. "Sorry. Forgot."

    John nodded understandingly. "It's alright. It's not like amnesia is normal."

    I let him finish the water in silence.

    When he finally set the cup aside, he glanced down at the broken glass on the ground. "I'm really sorry about the mug."

    I shrugged it off. "Don't worry about it. I own a cafe. I don't even know how many dishes I've broken since I opened it."

    "When did you open it?" he asked.

    I swallowed. "I actually kind of inherited it from a friend. He died a few years ago with no family to leave the cafe to."

    "I'm sorry for your loss."

    It was funny. Whenever I had heard those words or some type of 'I'm sorry', I couldn't imagine how those words could ever hold any type of sincerity. It seems as if they just didn't really mean anything after hearing them so many time. But, coming from John, I didn't doubt the sincerity behind those words. I could tell he really truly meant them.

    "Thank you."

    There was another moment of silence until John cleared his throat and nodded toward the stairs. "I should probably head back to bed."

    I nodded and watched him leave. I wasn't sure what kind of man John had been before the amnesia, but he seemed nice enough.

***

    "Sarah."

    I twirled around at the sound of my voice and nodded at the sheriff. "George. What can I get you?" I asked, smiling brightly. He was one of my regulars, and I was always happy when he came by to get his usual.

    A stormy look crossed his face. "Luke tells me you have... someone staying here?"

    I glanced around the cafe and quickly pulled George into the kitchen. "Yeah, John Knot."

    George huffed and pursed his lips. "I'm sorry to do this to you, but I need to take him in."

    I tilted my head to the side. "Is it because of his amnesia. Because, if it is, I can tell you Gee that I don't approve." I put my hands on my hips. "He should be somewhere stress free, and I feel like the cafe is the perfect place."

    "Sarah," George said slowly, a pleading look in his eyes. "That's not why I need to take him in... There was a murder last night, and a witness described a man matching John's description at the crime scene."