“You have a most generous benefactor. A trustee on the hospital board that has taken a special interest in your . . . uh . . . unusual dilemma. It is my understanding that all your medical bills are taken care of.” He rocked back on his heels and smiled as if he were pleased to share the news. “But I’ve said too much. I’m sure he wants to meet and talk with you himself.” The click of his pen signaled not only the end of the exam, but also the end of the conversation. He turned to leave, almost colliding with Boomer as he turned the corner into my room.
“There you are, young man. I’ve been explaining to our patient the possibility of her release today. Your timing is perfect. Is your grandfather with you?”
“No, sir. He couldn’t make it.” Boomer shook his head and looked sheepishly from me to the doctor.
“Well, give him my regards.” Dr. Hoskins shook his hand and then disappeared into the hallway.
Boomer turned his warm gaze on me and smiled. There was an awkwardness to his normal confident stance. He wiped his hands on his pant leg and extended a bouquet of colorful wildflowers toward me. “I wanted to tell you myself, but I got held up.”
“Tell me what? What’s going on—I don’t understand.”
In a gangly lunge, that I found both charming and endearing, he swung his tall figure into the chair nearest the bed. It made a loud protest as he scooted closer and took hold of my hand. The scent of his freshly shaven face was intoxicating, so different from the strong cologne the doctor favored. I focused on the smooth shine of his face, wondering what it would feel like to run my hand along the strong jaw line.
“Janie,” he said. He hated Jane Doe, the label the hospital had pinned on me, and had taken to calling me his Janie. “Sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, but my grandfather is sort of a big deal around this hospital. I told him about you and your situation, and he’s agreed to help. In the absence of your own family, we—that is my grandfather—hired a private detective to see if we could locate anyone that may be looking for you. So far we haven’t come up with anything.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry.”
I nodded for him to continue.
“You’re well enough to be released, all except your memory . . . and I’m sure you don’t enjoy being kept here on the psych ward. I talked with Grandfather. He’s looked at your charts, and he agrees that you might feel more comfortable in a home environment. Janie, he’s a highly respected doctor, and is quite interested in your case.” Enthusiasm brightened his face. “Please don’t feel as if he sees you as some oddity, but amnesia is rare. He says he’d like to work with you—it would be very proper,” he rushed to say. “Grandfather lives in a huge house, and he’s already interviewed several private nurses to stay with you. We want to do whatever it takes to get you back on your feet—you’d have the best care money can buy. Please say you’ll think about it.”
My mind had trouble processing the barrage of information. I wrestled with conflicting thoughts, knowing the right course, yet too afraid to sever ties holding me. He was my friend, the only one who cared for me. And doesn’t he deserve more? For that reason, I needed to put distance between us.
“I appreciate everything that you and your grandfather want to do for me, but I can’t. I just can’t. You already saved my life, brought me to the hospital. I’m forever in your debt, but I can’t continue to be a burden. I may never remember who I am.”
“Burden?” Hurt colored his expression. “Is that what you think, that I see you as a charity case? Janie, I care about you. It doesn’t matter to me that you don’t remember your past. I want to help you. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought you felt that, too.”
I shook my head. “It isn’t that I don’t care, it’s because I care. How selfish would I be to drag you into my crazy, mixed-up world? I have no idea who I am, no memories of the past. How can I think of a future with someone, when I don’t remember what I’ve left behind? It isn’t fair to you not knowing who I am . . . what I am. Maybe I deserve to be here, locked away in a sanitarium.” Tears scratched the back of my eyes and choked me. I had to make him understand.
Cupping my face, he brushed away a tear with the rough part of his thumb. “I’ve seen enough to recognize that you’re not crazy. You have a good soul . . . Janie-who-ever-you-are. When I look at you, I don’t care about anything else. You didn’t drag me in. I’m coming of my own free will. We’ve spent every day together for the last two weeks. I know you are a good person. I love the way I feel when I’m with you. Don’t you know what a remarkable creature you are?” His eyes pleaded with me, and I had to turn away.
“You don’t know me,” I insisted. “I don’t know me . . . and there is something else.” The words came out in a mere whisper. My heart pounded as if trying to escape through my chest, bracing myself to speak the words that would forever drive him away. “It isn’t just me to consider,” I began. “I—I need to tell you that I’m . . . I’m…” Oh, how my face burned with shame. “I’m pregnant.”
Chapter 14
Hunsdon did not come the following morning, nor the morning that followed. It wasn’t until the third day that Jewel heard the key rattle in the lock. Her stomach did somersaults, a mixture of relief and fear. She fought the nausea that rose in her throat.
Except for a little water she’d gathered by melting icicles from outside her window, her insides were empty. Even worse, she had a hollow ache in her heart and dread that weighed her down. Even Jack’s letters had failed to lift her spirits. In fact, she had found sections of them odd, puzzling, and left questions with an ominous foreboding.
The door swung open. Hunsdon's menacing figure drove all other thoughts from her head. He stood, filling the framework. His eyes flickered from her to the pile of scraps that had once been her dress.
A satisfied smiled curled the corners of his mouth. “I see solitude brings perspective.”
Jewel stared with tired, sad eyes, too numb to acknowledge him. She took a deep breath, allowing it to slide from her lungs in a slow, deliberate manner. The minutes stretched before them.
“Come, my dear, don’t look at me that way. I’m not a monster. I don’t wish to be harsh with you, but you left me with little choice.”
“There is always a choice,” she croaked.
“I’m pleased you agree.” Oblivious to her reference of choice, he accepted her comment as an admission of guilt. “You chose disobedience and had to suffer the consequences. Now let’s put the matter behind us. You must be hungry. Shall I have Addie send something up to you?”
“What did you tell them? They had to wonder at my absence.”
He frowned and shook his head. “I don’t relish making excuses for you, but it is my job to protect you. I assured them you had taken to your room with a nasty virus. Addie was kind enough to fix several trays of food for you, but of course you were far too sick, and they were all returned untouched. You see, Jewel, you are at my mercy. The sooner you learn that, and allow me to take care of you, the happier you will be. Just in case you have any thought about dragging Addie or Culpeper into this, they will never intervene on your behalf. They are loyal to me. They are old and have no family to turn to. It would be tragic if they found themselves turned out in the streets, don’t you agree?”
Jewel drew in a ragged breath, horrified that he could be so callous, speaking of their lives as if they were pawns in a chess game. Had he no empathy for anyone? A cold fear caused by his obviously demented mind made her go white.
“Really, my dear, you look dreadful. As your physician and husband, I must insist you take better care of yourself. I’ll go to the kitchen myself and bring you up some broth. Best to go slow and build up to solid food. You don’t want to make yourself sick.”
Without another word he was off on a mission to restore order to their horribly skewed world. He returned moments later, laden down with a dish of beef broth, a crusty loaf of bread, and what appeared to be yet another gift. “Here, my d
ear. I bought this for you. It’s to cheer you up.”
Genuine tears gathered on her thick lashes, not due to his thoughtfulness, rather from the absurdity of their lives together. The simple, surreal quality of her existence. How had she ever thought she could live the rest of her life like this . . . that she would one day change him?
Through the appearance of Jack, his letters, and the images of the future he had implanted in her mind, he had brought a glimpse of the outside world. They opened her eyes to what she already knew, but amid the fear and abuse, had forgotten. No longer could she hope Hunsdon would change, he was much too ill. Somehow she must escape, but for now she would bide her time and play his game to her advantage.
She gave him a watery smile and swallowed hard. “Hunsdon, you shouldn’t have.”
“Of course I should—it’s my job to spoil you.” He cupped her chin, turning her face to meet his. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, Jewel—my Jewel. You know that, don’t you?”
Her body trembled with revulsion as she gave a wobbly nod. She prayed he wouldn’t read the deception as she cast her eyes to the gift. “Well, let’s see what wonderful present you have brought me.”
Hunsdon seemed not to notice the way the box shook as she unwound the ribbon and lifted the lid. His gaze intense upon her face measuring her reaction. She ignored him as she pulled out a gorgeous sapphire necklace, encrusted with tiny diamonds. The jewel sparkled in the light as it dripped off the delicate chain in her hands. “Hunsdon, it’s exquisite!”
“Only the best. A rare jewel for my rare Jewel.”
Her skin crawled at the familiar way he leaned in and stole a kiss. His icy lips nuzzled her neck.
“Here, let me.” He took the necklace, fastening it, while allowing his hands to linger on her shoulder and eased his hands down her bare arms.
The weight of the gem fell between her breasts, cold and stark. She saw no beauty in the pendent. It might well have been a manacle hanging about her neck, enslaving her to live out this strange, twisted farce.
His lips claimed hers as he pressed her back against the pillow. Her body stiffened, even as she willed it not to. Father, please . . .
A sudden knock at the door made Hunsdon pull back, upsetting the cup of broth. He vaulted upward, brushing hot liquid from his trousers. “What is it?” His words were like bullets fired at the closed door.
A muffled and rather alarmed voice responded from the other side. “I’ve run the bath for Miss Jewel, as you requested, sir. I’m here to assist her.”
Hunsdon’s jaw flinched, but he gave no other outward sign of anger as he opened the door for Addie. “Mrs. Wiltshire was just finishing her meal. You will please see to her while I go and change.”
“As you wish, sir.” The older woman nodded and managed what might have been a curtsy. She allowed Hunsdon to exit the room before stepping in and closing the door behind her. She remained quiet, eyeing Jewel from across the room as if making certain for herself the young woman was all in one piece. “Are you all right, miss?”
Jewel shifted the items around on her tray, busying herself until she could get her emotions under control. When she looked up, she focused on the bright, ruffled cap perched atop the housekeeper’s head instead of straight into those all-knowing eyes. “I’m fine, Addie. Thank you for asking.”
A noise akin to a grunt emanated from the astute woman. After several seconds passed, she removed a cloth from her apron and with methodical precision, dusted the dresser. “You must have been quite sick to go without food for two days.”
“Yes, I guess I was.” Jewel picked up the spoon and dipped it into the remaining broth. The smell made her belly knot with hunger. Her mouth watered.
“I wish you had called for me.” Addie’s words were soft, motherly. “You should eat a little of that bread to coat your stomach first. It’s an old trick, my momma used to tell me.”
Despite her hunger, Jewel wasn’t sure she could get anything past the emotions that tightened her throat. The older woman’s kindness threatened to breach the fragile wall she had forged around herself. She couldn’t stand it if something happened to Addie or Culpeper. With determination, she broke off a hunk of bread and crammed it in her mouth, forcing the piece down. For all their sakes, she had to carry on as if nothing was amiss. She prayed with all her might that Jack could uncover information that would help her, but if not, she would have to escape all on her own.
*****
Samantha Rose threaded her arm through Jack’s, her teeth chattering as they strolled up the ramp to the entrance of the Depot Grille. She loved everything about the downtown area; it was like stepping back in time.
Once the main train depot for Lynchburg, the timeworn station was one of many old buildings that benefited from revitalization with its conversion to a popular restaurant. It had become a favorite dining spot for the locals. Patrons enjoyed the charm of the N&W trains as they ran parallel with the building.
Despite the frigid air, the couple stopped to watch a train chug past, a mere fifty feet from the door. A blend of diesel and aftershave wafted toward Sam on the breeze. Unconsciously, she snuggled closer, shivering in the chilled air.
A congenial looking group of college age kids opened the door and held it for Jack and Samantha. Inside, fragments of conversation drifted to the waiting couple, amid the clatter of plates, and tinkling sounds of laughter. Sam loved the atmosphere. This was a place for families to bond and businessmen to unwind after work.
A trim, twentyish woman with straight blonde hair greeted them. She wore black jeans that showed off her figure and a T-shirt with the Depot Grille embossed on the front. She flashed them a warm smile. Although the hostess probably greeted hundreds of customers a day, Samantha got the distinct impression she didn’t tire of welcoming people. Tossing her hair back, she informed them it would be a few moments and hurried off to help one of the young men bus a table. She returned a few minutes later, still smiling. “Two?”
“Yes, nonsmoking, please!”
“Certainly, right this way.”
They followed the young woman back to a booth. A large antique quilt hung above them. Quite old and threadbare in many spots, Sam never tired of studying its colors and elaborate needlework. By far her favorite table. She slid into the bench, wondering if Jack knew the benches had once been church pews. Even the racks that held the condiments were old hymnal frames. She caught the hostess giving Jack an appreciative glance, pleased that he didn’t seem to take the slightest interest.
“Your waitress will be with you in a moment.” She waited until they were settled before rushing off to greet the next customers.
While Jack removed his coat, Sam took advantage to study his boyish good looks. The smooth jawline and thick, dark hair that tended to stand on end. She wondered if he had always had that rakish habit of running his hands through his hair. It was a charming quirk she found appealing.
“Hungry?” He asked.
“Starved.” She looked down, not wanting him to think she’d been watching him. “I know just what I want to order.”
Jack smiled and raised a brow. “Me, too.”
“Chicken tenders,” they said in unison, and then laughed.
“Jinx, you owe me a soda.” Samantha tossed at him.
Sam liked his easy smile. It wasn’t polished or smooth like many of the other guys that tried to dazzle her with their good looks. His seemed genuine and made the corners of his eyes crinkle, to say nothing of those disarming dimples. Mercy! Now if she could keep from saying something stupid like she normally did. She could talk a blue streak when she was excited, and she very much wanted to know more about this man and his house. All the information they had unearthed today piqued her curiosity. Too many questions and the poor man would feel interrogated. That would never do. “I’d love to hear more about the work you’re doing on the house,” she said, doing her best to curb the enthusiasm in her voice.
“Hi, I’m Tanya. You guy
s ready to order?" The conversation came to a halt as the waitress appeared at the side of the table, pencil poised and paper in hand. She took their orders and hustled back to the kitchen.
“Sorry, you were saying?” Jack smiled.
“Your house. I’m curious about the process.”
Jack fingered the white napkin folded around the silverware. “Not much work going on there at the moment. A little short on funds, but I’m hoping that will change soon.”
“I’d imagine that restoring those places takes a lot of time and money,” Samantha ventured. “I’d love to see it some time. You can’t imagine the number of times I’ve driven by those gorgeous houses on Rivermont—I’m so tempted to pull over, knock on the door, and say, ‘Hi, I’m Sam. May I see your beautiful house?’” She laughed, hearing how foolish that sounded.
His eyes twinkled, yes twinkled, in response. He looked at her and smiled. “I could see you doing that.”
The depth of those incredible eyes staring at her singed her cheeks with warmth. Wow, Sam don’t blow this!
Their soft drinks arrived. “Anything else I can get you?”
Jack never took his eyes off Samantha. “I think we’re good.” He waited until the waitress was out of earshot. “Maybe you’d like to come by this evening?”
Samantha hedged, taken aback by the sudden offer. Had she given him the wrong idea? As much as she longed to see the house, she wasn’t sure that his unexpected offer was a good idea. What did she really know about him, other than the undeniable attraction?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position. You’ve every right to be cautious. We just met.” Jack seemed to sense her hesitancy.
“No. No . . . it’s—”
“Samantha, it’s okay. Honest. The offer still stands whenever you feel comfortable.” He smiled and gave her hand a reassuring pat.
His fingers brushed against hers, and the current that passed through her was like grabbing hold of a live wire. For goodness sake, Sam, this isn’t some romance novel. “Thank you, Jack.”
Timeless Moments Page 9
