Amnesia Read online

  Her entire body stilled. “Did the little boy have red hair?”

  Ryan’s eyes widened. “Yes. He did. How did you…?”

  Gaia quickly told him about the dream she’d had while napping. To her befuddlement, he didn’t seem to be as excited at the prospect of her regaining her memories as she was. When she questioned him about that fact, he frowned.

  “Of course I’m thrilled for you,” he snapped. “How could you think otherwise?”

  “You don’t look thrilled.”

  He snorted at that. “Baby, I always look like this.”

  Right. A general. Military discipline. Poker face. She wondered how many times she’d apologize before the day ended. “It’s been a long day,” she hedged. “Too much new information all at once.”

  “I understand in as much as I can.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, the day is just beginning. I came back to inform you that we won. It isn’t official yet in that the race hasn’t been called, but there is no path to victory left for my opponent.”

  Gaia didn’t know how to feel. While a part of her was happy for him, another part—the bigger part—just wanted to go home to Atlanta and hopefully regain some lost memories. She was honest and told Ryan as much. He pulled her in for a hug.

  “Now that I do understand,” he said in a sympathetic tone. He kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry. I promise we’ll visit home soon.”

  A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Gaia frowned, having still not gotten the chance to ask about the weird TV programming and the women all wearing some manner of head coverings.

  “That is probably your stylist,” Ryan said, standing up. He checked his watch.

  “I have a stylist?”

  “You’re about to become the UCA’s premier First Lady. You do now.”

  “I see.”

  “I’ll leave you to get acquainted,” Ryan said, heading for the double doors. “Call if you need me.”

  Out walked Ryan and in walked a trio of women. All of them had the tops of their heads covered, though more flamboyantly than what she’d seen on the television earlier in the day. The apparent leader of the trio stepped forward and smiled.

  Gaia wasn’t certain who if anyone she was expecting the stylist to look like, but it most definitely was not the doppelganger of Effie from The Hunger Games. She grimaced at the woman’s couture. Clearly fashion had changed drastically while she’d been asleep. Her dress wasn’t so puffy and her shoes so unwearable as Effie’s character, but the comparison between the two women couldn’t be denied. Worse, she had the same bubbly, effervescent demeanor as her fictional counterpart.

  “Gaia,” she breathed out. “So lovely to finally meet you, darling.”

  Gaia forced a small smile. “And you are?”

  “Oh! So sorry! My name is Chastity. Me and the girls are here to get you ready for the general’s victory speech tonight!” She introduced the two females standing behind her. “This is Honor and that is Faith.”

  “Chastity, Honor, and Faith?” Gaia repeated before thinking better of it.

  “That’s us!” Effie—Chastity—bubbled out. “Will you be taking a Christian name or retaining your old one?”

  So they had changed their names. “I think my name is Christian enough,” she reasoned. “Gaia represents the earth and God created the earth.” Not a bad rationalization on a whim, she decided.

  Fortunately, the three women agreed. “It is quite a beautiful name!” Chastity enthused. “Now then!” She clapped her hands together. “Let’s get started on you and your wardrobe!”

  Four hours later, Gaia was exhausted. She’d been bathed, waxed, plucked, moisturized, oiled down, and made over into a Cleopatra lookalike. Sitting in a towel, Honor and Faith finished her last two cornrows as Chastity walked into the master bathroom. The girls moved three braids on each side forward so they fell past Gaia’s breasts then looked to their leader for approval.

  “Stunning,” Chastity complimented. “A vision. Praise Jesus!”

  “Praise Jesus,” Honor and Faith returned.

  When all eyes looked to Gaia, she swallowed. “Praise Jesus,” she said dutifully, wondering how Jesus figured into any of this.

  Apparently appeased, Chastity held up the dress Gaia presumed she was to wear. It reminded her of futuristic chainmail, but she wisely held her tongue. Standing up, she removed her robe, letting it fall to the ground. Chastity held the dress open for her to step into. Unfortunately, the thing was as uncomfortable as it looked.

  Notwithstanding the silky inner lining, the linked metallic chains made movement a chore. The heavy dress was formfitting despite its weight. It started at mid-shoulder and cascaded to the floor. Its only openings were at her left thigh—the split seemed a bit high for the land of religiosity—and a dramatic, round opening at her chest which served to highlight her cleavage. A crucifix dangled just above her bosom.

  She inwardly sighed. Women covered their hair and showcased their breasts in this crazy place? She prayed her memories came back soon. Hopefully once she had them she’d understand the natural progression that had led to this moment. As is, reality was jarringly unreal.

  “Your husband will be so proud to have you at his side,” Chastity breathed out. “The beautiful, dutiful wife standing next to her dashing general of a husband.”

  Gaia blinked. Beautiful, dutiful wife? She glanced in a mirror and gave herself the once-over. She wished any of this made a lick of sense.

  The sound of bells softly chiming caused Gaia to look at Chastity—the source of said bells. Chastity held up a finger as she answered what Gaia could only assume was an earpiece she couldn’t see to a phone that was just as invisible.

  “Is that so?” Chastity inquired. She grinned like the Cheshire cat. “We’re five minutes out from being ready on this end,” she told whoever was on the phone. “Let the general know we’ll be there in ten minutes.” After presumably ending the connection, Chastity giggled and clapped her hands together. “Your husband’s opponent has conceded. He’s delivering his concession speech as we speak!”

  Gaia feigned happiness she didn’t feel. “That’s great,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could fake. “It’s really… just… great.”

  “Honor, get Gaia’s shoes. Faith, her headpiece.”

  Gaia wanted to sit, but doubted she could in the dress. Apparently there was no time for a break anyway, as Honor and Faith quickly reemerged with their pieces in hand. Honor bent down and helped Gaia slip into a pair of metallic high heels. Faith came at her next, standing on tiptoe while she placed a chain linked hair covering of some sort on the crown of her head.

  “Oh,” Chastity whispered. “So breathtaking.”

  “Quite,” Faith agreed.

  “The perfect tribute to our Lord and Savior,” Honor said dreamily.

  Perplexed, Gaia turned and looked at herself once again in the full length mirror. Other than the crucifix dangling above her cleavage, she wasn’t certain how the dystopian-queen-from-a-science-fiction-movie look paid an homage to God.

  “The symbolism in your wardrobe is hauntingly beautiful,” Chastity assured her as she came to stand behind Gaia. Their gazes met in the mirror. “Your headpiece is a modern day crown of thorns, your dress a reminder that only a husband holds the key to undressing his wife.” At Gaia’s puzzled expression, Chastity instructed her to turn around. She pointed to the back of her dress—the missing back that didn’t start until just above her derriere—and to the symbolic lock that held the attire together.

  Gaia swallowed nervously. This was getting weirder by the second. She was afraid of finding out just how deep this rabbit hole went.

  Chapter Eight

  Gaia was escorted by Chastity, Honor, and Faith—and two Secret Service agents—down a long hall. The dress, while heavy, was thankfully easier to move in than she’d assumed it would be. She supposed the long slit up her left thigh was what made movement possible.

  Their party came to anothe
r corridor and turned left. They continued to walk, servants bowing and curtseying to Gaia as she made her way past them. Perhaps she should have acknowledged them in some manner—a smile, a nod, anything—but she felt too much like a deer caught in headlights to do much beyond stare straight ahead. Finally, after what felt an eternity, they reached their destination. One of the Secret Service agents—Frank she was fairly confident was his name—rapped on the double doors to let the occupants on the other side know they’d arrived.

  Gaia inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled. She had no idea what to expect. The double doors opened.

  As she was escorted into the room, all eyes turned to her. She hesitated, feeling much like an exotic creature on display at the zoo. Glancing around, she tried not to make eye contact with anyone in attendance lest they speak to her. She just wanted Ryan’s victory speech over and done with so she could go to bed and sleep away all the craziness surrounding her.

  “So beautiful,” she heard one woman gasp. “And I love her dress.”

  “Such a tribute of devotion to her husband,” her male companion murmured. “And to her lord.”

  “Praise Jesus.”

  “Praise Jesus.”

  Gaia forced a smile to her lips and braved a glance at the couple admiring her and her wardrobe. Just like everyone else in attendance at what appeared to be a private victory party of sorts, they were outfitted in Barbarella meets The Hunger Games attire. “Praise Jesus,” she said quietly to her admirers, not knowing what else to say. She noticed that the woman wore a gold belt around her hips with a lock in the middle. The man who stood beside her, presumably her husband, wore a gold key on his jacket much like one would sport a corsage.

  “Praise Jesus,” the couple returned in unison.

  Gaia continued walking, Chastity nudging her along. “I can’t wait for General Evans to see you,” she whispered. “I’ve outdone myself with your wardrobe if I do say so myself!”

  The rest of the walk felt like it took forever. “Praise Jesus” was exchanged more times than Gaia could count. She noticed that there were four other people of color in attendance. One black man—Frank—and three female guests. All of the women, like Gaia, were married to men of European descent. All of them wore a lock of varying colors around their waists or hips, their husbands’ jackets sporting the matching keys.

  Gaia mentally sighed. The lock and key thing was getting to her. It was too outlandish for words.

  Chastity guided her through another throng of attendees and off to the right. Ryan stood by a table talking it up with two other men, oblivious to her presence. His companions, however, noticed her right away. “Lucky man,” she heard one of them intone.

  Ryan turned his head to see who they were talking about. His eyes rounded a bit when he saw Gaia coming toward him. She painted on a smile, her nerves damn near shot. “Gaia,” he said as she came to stand in front of him. “You look incredible.” His smile wavered as he took in her dress from head to toe. “Where is her lock?” he asked Chastity. He sounded rather irritated. “A married woman should always have—”

  “It’s on the back of her dress,” Chastity cut in. She nudged Gaia to twirl around. “See? I thought my design was quite clever.”

  Ryan’s tone returned to normal. “Ahh okay, now I see it. Excellent work, Chastity. Very clever indeed. Thank you.”

  “So you like it?”

  “I love it,” he assured her. “My wife looks stunning.”

  Gaia was back to feeling like a thing rather than a person. She let her irritation show. Obviously intent on avoiding a scene, Ryan asked everyone to excuse them for a few minutes of alone time. He led her into an empty room and closed the door.

  “Are you okay, baby?” he immediately asked. “I’d hug you, but I don’t want to mess up your dress or makeup.”

  “God forbid such a travesty as that should happen,” she sarcastically returned. At his raised eyebrow, Gaia admitted, “These people make me feel like your pet instead of your wife!” She was wearing four-inch heels, giving her the height of a woman who stood five foot nine, but she still only came up to his jawline. He was easily six and a half feet. “All this talk about my dress being a tribute to my husband—and to God somehow!—is utterly insane.”

  His jaw tensed. “It is a tribute to me,” he said, his voice and demeanor territorial. “Just as my attire is a tribute to you.” He pointed to the key pinned to the chest of his gray suit.

  Gaia sighed. “Do you have any idea whatsoever how weird this lock and key thing comes across to a person who’s lost the past five years of her life?” She shook her head. “That wasn’t a thing five years ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ryan offered, gently nudging her chin up. “You’ve only been home one day. I know this is a lot, but you’re handling it like a trooper.”

  “Yeah?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He smiled. “A beautiful, sexy trooper.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

  “Careful,” she murmured, her timbre more lighthearted, “you might mess up my makeup.”

  “I’ll chance it.”

  He looked like he was about to kiss her and she felt too overwrought to deny him, but a knock at the door jarred them both back to the here and now. “Yes?” Ryan barked. “What is it?”

  “The Chief Justice has arrived, sir,” a male voice called out. “We’re ready.”

  “Chief Justice?” Gaia whispered. She shook her head. “Why?”

  “The inauguration will take place directly after my victory speech,” Ryan informed her. “Future elections will work the old way, but right now we need solid, steady leadership the people trust.”

  “An incumbent president.”

  “Yeah. I mean, I’m already doing the job so this is largely symbolic, but sometimes people need that.”

  She supposed that made sense. Still, she was feeling overwhelmed on a massive scale. She should have taken Sheila’s advice a long time ago and allowed Ryan to visit with her. Perhaps then she would have learned everything in bits and pieces and it wouldn’t have felt like the entire world was crashing down on her head during one long night. “I just want this evening over and done with,” Gaia admitted.

  “I know.” Ryan’s smile was self-effacing. “Me too. My aides know I’ll be spending the next couple of weeks largely with you. They realize how important it is for you to get your bearings.”

  “Will the vice president fill in or…? I don’t know how this works.”

  “There is no vice president. Don’t worry. Let’s just get through tonight and then we’ll have plenty of time for me to bring you up to speed. Okay?”

  There wasn’t a vice president? Yeah. She definitely needed brought up to speed. “Sure. Okay.”

  Gaia followed Ryan out of the room and back into the larger chamber it was a part of. The guests clapped and cheered as her husband made his way toward the balcony. When Gaia made to follow him, Chastity held her back.

  “Not yet,” the stylist whispered conspiratorially. “You’ll know to walk out when you are announced.”

  “Announced?”

  As if on cue, a disembodied male voice broadcasted Ryan’s imminent appearance over what sounded like an intercom system. It was quite loud, reverberated, and carried out for likely blocks and blocks. “Ladies and gentlemen, the president-elect of United Christian America, General Ryan David Evans.”

  David, she thought. Well at least I now know his middle name.

  Ryan strolled out onto the balcony to a roaring, cheering crowd below. Was it not for the television consuls in the antechamber showing the scene play out, Gaia wouldn’t have known there was an audience outside for him to speak in front of. Audience, she decided, was a modest word for the crush of applauding, elated faces greeting her husband. Good grief. They were staring up at him as if he was the second coming. A knot of tension coiled in her belly.

  “My fellow, Christian Americans…” Ryan began.

  A chorus of loud booing erupted from three people holding
megaphones. Two men and one woman, obviously displeased with the election results, made their displeasure publicly known. Gaia winced, feeling sorry for her husband, then shuddered again when the TV showed the protesters being beaten and cuffed. She froze, her hazel eyes wide, unable to believe the brazenness of the police… and the fact that Ryan said nothing to dissuade them.

  Maybe he can’t see what’s going on, she told herself. All those lights and flashing cameras have to be disorienting.

  The knot in her stomach grew. She had always abhorred violence, but state sanctioned brutality took things to a new, horrific level. She had no time to process her emotions as the beaten and handcuffed protestors were taken away and out of sight. Gaia’s breathing grew a bit labored. She was starting to feel physically ill.

  “Damned rebels,” Chastity hissed into her ear. “I shouldn’t curse, but that’s what they are… damned rebels.”

  What, Gaia wondered, constituted a rebel these days? Did Chastity recognize those three in particular as wanted persons from the days of war or did merely disagreeing with the power in charge—Ryan in this case—make one a rebel? She almost put the question to the stylist then thought better of it. She’d been taken through enough today, though arguably not as much as the protestors had been, and wasn’t altogether certain she could handle an answer she didn’t want to hear.

  Gaia stood in stunned silence as Ryan delivered his victory speech. She paid half-hearted attention to his words, especially once she realized they merely consisted of the same promises all politicians made. Make the country a better place for our children? Check. A stronger military? Check. Create new jobs? Check. Check. Check. Check.

  Still, she didn’t want to rain on Ryan’s parade so she was careful to keep a poised expression on her face. She had no idea how she was expected to behave so she thought back on First Ladies past of her former country and went with that. Back straight, smile serene, hands clasped almost demurely in front of her. Unfortunately, the harder she tried to look the part the less the part she felt. This—none of this—would have been wanted by the Gaia she once knew. It definitely wasn’t wanted by the Gaia she was now.