by Judy Duarte
“No need. I can do it.”
“This is crazy, Sam. Call your wife and have her drive you to the hospital. Manny and I’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone.”
“It’s probably something I ate,” the stubborn man said.
Clay had his doubts. Before he could object, a memory crept into his consciousness.
* * *
A summer day. The smell of alfalfa growing in the field. The whinny of horses out in the pasture.
A man walking out to a big white barn, with three boys tagging along behind him.
The smallest kid, barely twelve or thirteen, was bringing up the rear, his face contorted. Dad, I hate to complain. But I got a real bad stomachache.
His father didn’t slow down. Nor did he look back. He just continued toward the barn. I’ve been trying to cut you some slack, Clayton. I know you’re still grieving, but you need to shake it off. And toughen up. We’ve got work to do.
How do you expect him to get tough? the older of the two other boys said. He’d rather be wearing baggy pants and playin’ around at the skate park in Dallas.
At that, both of the teenage boys—Clay’s half brothers, he was sure of it—snickered.
But no one was laughing when the paramedics placed Clay on a gurney and rushed him to the hospital.
They’d been at a ranch in Texas, although he wasn’t sure in which part it was actually located. All he knew for certain was that his appendix had burst sometime that day and he’d spent nearly a week in the hospital.
His heart stopped as he realized something: it was the same hospital where his mom had died.
“Oh, wow.” As the pieces of a puzzling memory began to fall in place, Clay’s feet froze like two big blocks of ice on the feed store floor. His mother had died. An accidental prescription-drug overdose.
Oh, crap. And Clay had been the one to find her. The scene roared back to him like punches to the gut. The ambulance. He’d ridden in it, too. Flashing lights. The siren screaming out into the night.
DOA. DOA!
He’d clutched the note she’d left on the nightstand that had indicated it hadn’t been an accident at all. After reading it, he’d shoved it into his pocket—a dark family secret from that day on.
I’m sorry, honey. I can’t do this anymore. And I’m no good to you like this. Call your daddy. He’ll take care of everything.
After talking to a social worker at the hospital, who’d tried to make things better but hadn’t, he’d made the call to his father, a man he’d seen sparingly. He couldn’t remember a thing that woman had said to him, but he remembered every red-hot word he’d cried into the pay phone’s receiver. It’s all your fault, you son of a bitch. Right after she lost the baby, you left her. Again! And it broke her heart and messed her up. That’s why she stayed in bed all the time with the curtains closed.
I’m coming to get you, Clayton. You’re going to come live with me and your older brothers on the ranch.
And he had. Right? Hadn’t he?
The rest faded back into the shadowy holes of his memory, which wasn’t much more than a block of Swiss cheese.
He wished the rest of it would come back to him, but the memory seemed to freeze up like a frame in a damaged DVD.
Clay sucked in a deep breath, then approached his boss. “Sam, I’m no doctor, but the pain is clearly getting worse. You need to have it checked out.”
Sam grimaced, then shook his head. “I’m not going to close the store early for something that’s bound to pass.”
“If it’s appendicitis and you wait too long, you could end up closing the store for weeks. Don’t ask me how I know. I just do.”
An hour later, Sam finally relented. After leaving Manny to hold down the fort, he climbed into the passenger seat of his late-model Dodge Ram pickup. Clay got behind the wheel, then he drove to the hospital, where Sam’s wife would meet them.
Twenty minutes later, with Sam slumped against the passenger window, Clay turned into the driveway and followed the signs pointing to the emergency department. A dark sense of foreboding smacked him, much like the one he’d experienced when he’d taken Alana to check on Callie.
His gut twisted into a knot, and he clutched the steering wheel with cold, clammy hands.
Again, he was struck with the same, childlike conclusion. Bad things happened at hospitals. People died. Kids were left alone and confused... Scared. Heartbroken.
And dads didn’t always come through like they should.
Only trouble was, he couldn’t quite get a bead on his father’s face. Or his mother’s. But he was certain of one thing, even if he couldn’t explain just how he knew it—his parents had never been married. They’d broken up right after he was born, and his dad hadn’t come around very much. Then his parents started seeing each other again.
He blew out a frustrated sigh. He’d give anything to have his memory come back all at once, but that didn’t appear to be happening. At least, not anytime soon.
As he stopped in front of the emergency entrance, he shut off the engine. “Wait here, Sam. I’ll get a wheelchair.”
Before he could enter the emergency department and ask for one, the automatic door swung open, and a woman rushed out, worry and concern stretched across her face. She smacked her hand against the truck’s window. “Sam, I swear you’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met. I told you to stay home today.”
Sam grimaced. “The boss doesn’t call in sick, honey.”
Mrs. Willis turned to Clay. “Thank you for bringing him here. I’ll take over now.”
“All right. I’ll drive the truck back. The keys will be in Sam’s desk.”
He watched the hospital staff take over, put Sam in a wheelchair and parade inside. Then Clay climbed behind the wheel and headed to the feed store, hoping Sam would be okay.
As he drove, he tried to make better sense of his feelings and the memories he’d just experienced, as brief and fleeting as they’d been.
Then another memory wormed its way to the surface.
I’ve got bad news, a doctor had said. Your mom’s going to be okay in time, but the baby didn’t make it. We had to sedate her, so we’re going to keep her overnight. Do you have anyone you can call? Someone who can take you home and stay with you?
He must have called someone, although he had no idea who. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to dig up any more than that.
Damn. Why couldn’t he remember the rest?
By the time he returned to the feed store, he’d done his best to put it behind him. There was no need to beat himself up about it. Besides, he needed to get to work.
A couple of hours later, his cell phone rang. It was Sam.
“What’d the doctor say?” Clay asked.
“I got a dad-blasted bleeding ulcer. Can you believe that? And they want to keep me overnight. Hell, I can’t do that. I’ve got a store to run.”
“Between Manny and me, we can keep things going until you’re back. Just follow the doctor’s orders and get well.”
“But I told Manny he could have a few days off,” Sam said. “His aunt has a large spread to run, and she can’t do it on her own. She and her husband damn near raised him. He ought to spend some time at home with her.”
“It might help if he kept busy. Besides, the kid thinks the world of you.”
Sam didn’t respond at first, then he sighed. “I guess you’re right. But give him whatever time he needs to help her out. He’s a good kid, he’ll make it up as he’s able to.”
It was, Clay supposed, difficult for some men to share their feelings. Was he one of them? No, that couldn’t be. He had come here to Montana, looking for Alana to tell her...what? I love you? That didn’t seem quite right, either.
Why was it so damned easy for him to remember some of the crappy times in his life?
Surely he
’d had some good times, too.
Tamping down his frustration, Clay got busy helping customers and loading vehicles with their supplies until finally, at six o’clock, he and Manny closed up the feed store and locked the door.
Then Clay drove to the ranch where Manny lived with his aunt.
“Thanks,” Manny said, as he climbed out of the passenger seat of the pickup.
“Take all the time you need in the morning. I can open the store on my own.”
“You got it.”
As Manny walked toward the white, two-story clapboard house, Clay pulled back onto the road and drove home.
No, not home. Back to the ranch.
And back to Alana.
For the first time all day, warmth filled his chest and a smile stretched across his face.
Rancho Esperanza might be a temporary place for him to stay, but damn. Wherever he really lived, be it a rustic mountain cabin, a high-rise loft in the city or a sprawling estate in the foothills, he had reason to believe he’d never really looked forward to going home.
Not like he did tonight.
Chapter Nine
Alana expected Clay to get off around noon and head back to the ranch for lunch, just like he’d done the past few days. Assuming they’d eat together again today, she made two turkey sandwiches, cut a couple wedges of cheddar cheese and sliced an apple.
When he hadn’t shown up by two, she covered his plate with plastic wrap, placed it in the fridge and then ate by herself.
For the rest of the afternoon, she kept busy by giving the kitchen a thorough cleaning, peeling carrots and potatoes and fixing a pot roast for dinner. But with each passing hour, she’d grown more and more worried about him.
If he’d had a cell phone, she would have called or sent him a text earlier. She’d even thought about calling the feed store and asking Sam if Clay had mentioned anything about having to run some errands in town, but she’d opted not to do that. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was to give Clay a reason to believe that she was pushing boundaries, even if they hadn’t yet established any. So she’d decided against that, too. But now, as the six o’clock hour approached, Clay still hadn’t come home.
Uneasy, Alana made a tossed salad, using cucumbers and tomatoes from the garden, and placed the bowl on the table. Then she returned to the stove, where the roast was cooking in a Dutch oven. With a frayed red pot holder, she lifted the lid to check the meat. Nicely browned and juicy, it certainly looked like it was done. And it smelled delicious.
She reached into the drawer, pulled out a fork and poked it into the biggest carrot. Yes. Dinner was ready.
Katie and the boys would be coming home any minute, but where was Clay? She shut off the flame under the pot and then glanced at the clock yet again. It was now well after six. The feed store had closed fifteen minutes ago.
Something must have happened. Something bad, like a car accident. Or maybe Clay had suffered some kind of relapse, and his amnesia had gotten worse. What if he’d made a wrong turn and gotten lost?
Then again, he could’ve had engine trouble. That old pickup wasn’t very dependable. If it broke down along the road, Clay wouldn’t have any way to contact her.
Okay, Alana. Stop already. You’re not his nanny or mother. Back off. It’s not like we have a commitment.
Besides, he wasn’t an invalid or a kid. He was a grown man, and his whereabouts weren’t any of her business.
That might be true, but tell that to her troubled heart. She checked the time once more. The minute hand was moving toward the half hour.
Okay, so Clay didn’t need a caretaker. But over a short period of time, he and Alana had become friends. And friends cared about each other, checked in on them, made sure they were doing okay.
So, that being the case, Alana had every right to be concerned about his safety and well-being. She stole another peek at the clock. Maybe there’d been a problem at the feed store, and he had to work late. That made sense.
So even if it was after closing time, someone might still be there and could answer the phone. What would it hurt to call?
Not a blasted thing. She strode across the kitchen, snatched her cell from its charger and, after checking the list of commonly dialed numbers Grandpa had tacked to the wall, she called the feed store.
No answer.
Darn it. She should have phoned sooner.
Just as she was about to call Katie and ask to borrow her car, the familiar rumble of the old truck’s engine sounded in the side yard.
She let out a weary sigh and muttered, “Thank goodness.”
Moments later, the back door squeaked open. It took every ounce of her self-control not to hurry to the service porch to greet him, to ask where he’d been and why he was late. Instead, she pretended as if she hadn’t given his tardiness any thought at all.
“I’m back,” Clay called out.
“Oh, good. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“It smells great,” he said. “Katie and the boys just got home. She’s getting something out of her trunk, but the boys ran to the barn.”
“They’re probably checking on the horses.”
“That’s my guess,” Clay said. “Do I have time to take a shower before dinner?”
“Sure. But...” Unable to help herself, Alana placed her hands on her hips and asked, “Where’ve you been? I was getting worried.”
Oh, crap. She hadn’t meant to blurt that out. Would he think she was getting too attached? Would he accuse her of smothering him, the way her ex-boyfriend Bradley once had?
Damn, Alana. I don’t have to account to you for every minute I’m away. Can’t a guy have a weekend to himself?
A look of surprise crossed his face. “I’m sorry,” he said, his tone contrite. “I should’ve called to let you know I had to work late. Sam was having some health issues and had to cut out early, so Manny and I took over for him. It turns out he has a bleeding ulcer. Then we got slammed with customers this afternoon. I’m sorry if I made you worry.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she said. “But what about Sam? My grandfather said he never takes a day off. That can’t be good for him.”
“He’s in the hospital, but they’ll probably release him soon. In the meantime, I told him I’d cover for him.”
“I’m sure he was relieved to hear that.”
“So was his wife. I talked to her right before closing time. The doctor thinks Sam has been under too much stress, and that he ought to take some time off. She’s hopeful that he’ll agree to a vacation, although she admitted he can be stubborn at times.”
“I’m glad you’re able to help out,” Alana said. Not that she was happy Clay would be gone more. But it was nice to know that Sam and his wife thought he was dependable, responsible and trustworthy.
Her gaze locked on his, and the room seemed to close in on them. He’d charmed her back in Colorado when he’d been dressed in a designer sports jacket, but there was something more appealing about him now. Even the smell of dust and straw couldn’t drown out his usual, alluring scent of soap and man.
But she’d be darned if she was going to fawn over him like a lovesick adolescent. So she tore her eyes away from him, turned her back and reached for the pot holder she’d left on the counter near the stove.
“I’ll put dinner on the table,” she said. “But you have time for a quick shower.”
“Good. I’d like that. I won’t be long.”
As he left the room, she tried not to think about him in the bathroom, removing his shirt, slipping out of his pants. Standing under the spray of warm water, running a bar of soap over his slick skin.
Oh, for Pete’s sake. Get a grip, girl.
Instead of imagining herself climbing into the shower with him, she reminded herself she had bigger problems than getting lathered up with her former lover.
There was a court date looming on the horizon, and she stood to lose the ranch.
She let out a sigh as she removed the carrots and potatoes from the Dutch oven. She’d been disappointed many times in life and had learned how to adapt to a loss, but never one like this. Rancho Esperanza had become a haven, not only for her and the stray dogs she’d rescued but for so many others. What would happen to Katie and the boys if Alana lost the ranch? Living rent-free allowed the young woman to remain in college while she raised her young brothers.
Earlier this morning, at Ramon’s suggestion, she’d called an attorney in Kalispell. The woman had a great reputation, had her own practice and didn’t work in the same firm as the guy Olivia had hired. But Alana couldn’t get an appointment until Monday afternoon, which seemed like a long time away.
If Clay actually was an attorney, like he’d claimed to be when they’d met, he might be able to put her heart and mind at ease. He certainly seemed to understand eminent domain.
Could he offer her legal advice? She was sorely tempted to share her dilemma, but the doctor had told her not to force him to remember, and she hated to put any additional pressure on him.
Besides, if he finally remembered who he was, he’d undoubtedly return to Texas and to the life he’d had there.
And if truth be told, Alana wasn’t ready to see him go.
* * *
Clay would have preferred to stand under the spray of hot water for hours, but he’d promised to take a quick shower, and he was a man of his word. He paused as that thought took hold. He had integrity. That was good to know. Especially when he’d been told to close a deal of some kind that he sensed had left him a little uneasy.
When he returned to the kitchen, he found Katie setting the table and Alana slicing a big, juicy roast. Before he could ask if there was something he could do to help, the back door squeaked open and one of the boys rushed inside.
“I think you’d better come quick,” Jesse said. “There’s something wrong with one of the horses. I mean Bailey. She’s acting really weird.”
