Chapter 6
Lena's mind was reeling as she absorbed the name: Noah Graves. That Ethan was not who he claimed to be had shattered the delicate reality she had been clinging to. She had to find Noah, but she could not be reckless. Ethan was cunning, and one mistake could provoke him to take notice of her growing awareness.
Ethan's weekend adventure hung in the background, and to Lena, it was a challenge and a possibility. She wanted all the facts before they set out. As Ethan had to work, she had some hours to herself.
She booted up the laptop in Ethan's office, praying that he hadn't put any sort of monitoring on it. The desktop contained no personal files, only standard applications and an empty background. She opened the browser and typed "Noah Graves" into the search box.
There were thousands of hits that covered the screen. She filtered her search to her location, hoping to get more specificity. A few of the entries jumped out at her:
Noah Graves – Local Business Owner: Owner of Graves Antiques, a local downtown store.
Dr. Noah Graves – Psychologist: Working at the Riverbend Mental Health Clinic.
Noah Graves – Journalist: Reporter for the city newspaper.
All were plausible, but Lena was intrigued by the psychologist. If Ethan had been faking her memories, a connection to a mental health professional seemed probable.
She jotted down the address of the Riverbend Mental Health Clinic. Time was running out. She had to do this without Ethan's knowledge.
---
The clinic was a small, nondescript building between a pharmacy and a coffee shop. Lena parked her car a few blocks away so that no one would notice Ethan's car. She walked briskly, her heart pounding with each step.
Inside, the clinic was quiet, the soft hum of fluorescent lights vibrating in the air. A receptionist looked up, offering a polite smile.
"Good morning. Do you have an appointment?" she asked.
Lena hesitated. "No, but I was hoping to see Dr. Noah Graves. It's. personal."
The receptionist's smile faltered slightly. "Dr. Graves is with a patient at the moment. I can check to see if he has any available later today."
"Please," Lena said, struggling to contain the desperation from her voice.
While the receptionist made the call, Lena cast about her eyes, letting them land on a bulletin board filled with pamphlets and flyers. One pamphlet stood out to her:
Memory and Identity: Understanding Amnesia and Recovery – A Seminar by Dr. Noah Graves.
Her heart pounding in her chest. This wasn't an accident.
The receptionist hung up the phone. "Dr. Graves can see you in thirty minutes. You can wait."
"Thank you," Lena said, taking a seat in the waiting room.
Hours passed like minutes as she waited, her imagination running rampant with possibilities. What if this Noah Graves knew something? What if he could make sense of the fragments of her shattered memory?
Finally, the door to the inner offices opened, and a man in his late forties stepped out. He had a kind face, with graying hair and glasses perched on his nose.
"Ms. Reynolds?" he called.
Lena stood, smoothing her hands over her jeans. "Yes, that's me."
"Please, come in," Dr. Graves said, holding the door open for her.
His office was cozy, with bookshelves on the walls and a large window that let in plenty of natural light. He gestured to a chair, and Lena sat, both nervous and optimistic.
"What do you need today?" Dr. Graves asked, taking a seat.
Lena took a big gasp. "I don't know where to start. My husband is not who he seems to be. I just discovered your name in some background information I was writing prior to being in an accident that caused me to lose my memories. I think. I think you might know some things about me."
Dr. Graves's expression shifted to a concerned one. "That is a lot to absorb. Let's go about it in small steps. Can you say more about these notes?"
Lena described the discovery of her journal, the erased pages, and the name she had uncovered. Dr. Graves listened carefully, taking the occasional note.
When she finished, he leaned back, his forehead furrowed. "I have to say, I don't recall meeting you before, Ms. Reynolds. But if what you're saying is true, we may have met professionally, especially if you were experiencing memory issues."
Lena's heart sank. She had hoped for a clear link, a firm path forward.
"But that doesn't mean we can't work together to reach the truth," Dr. Graves said, seeing her dismay. "Loss of memory is complex, but with the proper approach, we can work on your past."
"How?" Lena asked, her voice laced with desperation.
"Through therapy, we can employ cognitive restructuring and memory retrieval exercises. It will be time-consuming and laborious, but lost memories can be recovered."
Lena nodded, hope rising once more. "I want to try."
Dr. Graves smiled encouragingly. "We'll have frequent sessions. Meanwhile, jot down anything that pops into your head or shows up in your dreams. Sometimes memories return to us in the strangest ways."
As Lena left the clinic, she felt determination renewed. She was no longer alone in searching for the truth.
---
Ethan was thrilled for the weekend vacation, planning each hour down to its smallest detail. Lena acted interested, trying to cover over the unrest building within.
They departed to an isolated cabin by a quiet lake, idyllic enough of a location in other circumstances. Lena felt an inescapable sensation of isolation, being shut out of society.
The first evening was uneventful. They ate dinner together, laughed at shared stories, and saw the sun set. To anyone outside looking in, they would have been the perfect couple.
But Lena's mind was elsewhere, replaying her meeting with Dr. Graves, observing Ethan's every move, searching for cracks in his attitude.
That night, as Ethan lay beside her, Lena tossed and turned in bed, staring at the ceiling. She had to be careful, not want to raise suspicion. But she needed answers.
---
The following morning, when Ethan was out gathering firewood, Lena took the opportunity to nose around the cabin. It was rustic but comfortable, with modern amenities blended in very unobtrusively with the natural surroundings.
In the study, she encountered a bookshelf containing novels and travel books. Among them, there was a book that stood out: The Art of Deception. It did not match the other books.
She became interested and pulled out the book from the bookshelf. Leafing through the book, she let a piece of crumpled paper fall out, wafting towards the floor.
Lena opened it, pulling it from where it was on the ground. It was a picture. Her heart froze.
It was of her. But she wasn't by herself.
There was a guy standing beside her that she didn't know-tall, dark-haired, and with piercing eyes. They were close. Close enough to kiss. And scribbled below the picture, in large scrawling letters, was a name.
Noah Graves.
Lena's stomach twisted. This was not a stranger that Ethan had buried in the past. This was a person she knew. Someone important.
She shook her hands as she put the photo in her pocket, her head spinning.
She had been right all along. Ethan had been hiding something, and now she had proof.