The Passenger by Jacqueline Druga (the giving tree read aloud TXT) 📗

for what I didn’t do for Marge and Joe’s kid. I didn’t look hard enough. I didn’t put forth the effort I should have because I thought he’d show up after another binge. But he didn’t. I have to live with that. So, in some way, if I could help you, it would be my atonement. Then, it turned into more because I really saw a good kid in you.”

“Thank you. Did you learn anything? Anything I don’t know?”

“A lot. Not sure if you know it or now. I have dug deep. I can tell you that much.”

“Please,” Jonas said.

“That night of the accident, you got into an argument with a guy named Lance over his girlfriend. According to witnesses, you egged him on. It got physical, some shoving, he decked you, fight broke up. He tried to apologize but you had him kicked out. After your last set his buddy Doug gave you a bygone be bygones drink.”

“It was spiked.”

Russ nodded. “Yep. He didn’t know you weren’t driving with your friends. State Police have been waiting for you to get your memory back to see if you want to press charges. They’ve charged him anyhow, but if you jump on it, they’re gonna up the charge to attempted murder.”

Jonas slumped back. “What is he saying about it? This Doug.”

“Oh, he’s tore up. Wracked with guilt. I thought he was the passenger at first. Or followed you, saw the accident and pulled you out. But he wasn’t. I couldn’t find anything about the passenger. Not saying I didn’t try.”

“I appreciate it.”

“You had all your gear in that car. The car caught fire. But you had said something to me …” Russ reached down, grabbed his travel mug and set it on the desk.

Jonas looked at it. “The design. I told you it looked familiar.”

“Because of your guitar.”

Jonas nodded. ‘Yes. The same design.”

“Everyone thought I was nuts. But I saw it at Guitar World in Fremont. An eighteen year old kid named Kevin McConnel hocked it for two-hundred and twenty-five bucks.”

“It’s worth way more than that, monetarily and to me.”

“Yes, it is. Kevin swore he found it on the highway. Probably thrown from the car. That’s what he said.”

“You don’t believe him.”

Russ lifted his hands. “Nothing I can do. I thought whoever pawned your guitar was your passenger. I thought maybe this passenger survived the crash, took off with your guitar. But I was wrong. I’m probably out of practice because to be honest, this is the first case in a while I really had to solve.”

“I appreciate it. You said my guitar was at Guitar World?”

“It was.”

“Was? So, it’s been sold?”

“Yep.” Russ stood up. “Can you excuse me for a second?” He walked over to the closet near his desk and opened it. He pulled out a guitar case. “I know how much finding out who the passenger was means to you. Answers, I can’t give you. But I can give you this.” He put the case on a table. “I knew you’d get your memory back.”

Almost awestruck, Jonas walked to the table. He slowly undid the latches and lifted the lid to the case. When his eyes cast upon it, an ache of a moan flowed from him. He turned his head to Russ with glossed over eyes. “You did this? You got my guitar for me? I can’t thank you enough. How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t insult me. You owe me nothing. I got that for you. My thank you.”

“Thank me?” Jonas asked shocked. “Why are you even thanking me?”

“You helped me heal. After Matthew, I doubted everything I stood for. Helping you got me to believe in myself again. I didn’t think that would ever happen.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

“Yes, you do. Now take that guitar. Believe in yourself,” Russ said. “Because I believe in you.”

◆◆◆

It was one of those days, they happened every so often, when Pastor Rick would think he wanted to get a dog.

He took a walk, thinking about how nice of a summer evening it was, and if he had a dog, he wouldn’t be so bored on a walk.

It was on his way back to the house that he heard it. A sound of guitar playing coming from the church.

He thought he had locked up, maybe he was wrong. Then again, the guitar playing sounded familiar and it could only be one person.

Pastor Rick walked into the church through the side door and onto the stage, where he saw Jonas sitting in the first row. He had an electric guitar on his lap. A cord ran from the guitar to an amp.

It looked like a new guitar. It was semi dark in the church, but he swore the guitar looked like the Chief’s travel mug.

Jonas stopped playing when he saw the pastor.

“Don’t stop because of me,” Pastor Rick said.

“It’s okay.”

“That sounded beautiful.”

“I’m writing a song. Thought I’d process things by putting it to music. My journey and stuff.”

“Well, that might be an opus.”

Jonas laughed.

“I’m very happy you got your memory back.”

“Thank you. And thank you so much for all you’ve done.”

“I have to tell you, I was a little concerned. Haley told me you were upset.”

“I was. I was mad. I wasn’t nice.”

“Haley told me that, too,”

“Yep, and she told me I needed to find answers. I went to the Chief. He gave me some answers.”

“Enough to help?” Pastor Rick asked.

“Enough to start.”

“What’s troubling you?” Pastor Rick looked up and smiled. “Wait. That was so pastor like of me to ask that.”

Jonas smiled. “I’m sitting here and holding my guitar. It feels good, right. But playing in here also feels right. In my mind those two things should not feel right together.”

“What about in your heart?”

“My heart says, I know who I am, it’s time to get back to that life. To that crappy apartment on seventh, cutting grass and playing music.”

“Hmm. Sounds kind of like what you do now. Although, I think your room at the house is nice.”

“It is.”

“Seems to