“You’ll call me or text me if you feel overwhelmed or want to go home?” he asked. “I’ll come get you right away.”
She nodded, scrolling through her contacts on her phone. “Yup, there you are. Sawyer—cell and work.” Her family was in there too. And a bunch of other people whose names she didn’t recognize.
“I’ll drop you there, then go check in at the station for a bit,” he said. “We can meet up when you’re ready to go home.”
“Sounds good,” she said.
They headed back downstairs, and he handed Maddie her down jacket and scarf and put on a heavy brown leather jacket. He stood in front of the door, and Maddie had the feeling he almost didn’t want to let her go, that he liked having her in the house, their house. She wondered if he was worried about their marriage, if their impasse had gotten even bigger than their shared history, their love.
And she wondered if, when her memory did return, they’d be right back in that snowy moment outside the mediator’s office.
* * *
According to Sawyer, thirty-eight degrees in Wyoming in December was practically springlike, so they decided to walk the couple of blocks into town. He’d mentioned that the police station was just another half mile down. Wedlock Creek was bustling, people going in and out of stores, carrying bright bags with wrapped gifts poking out. The moment they arrived on the corner of Main Street, they were mobbed by well-wishers.
“It’s so wonderful to see you out and about!” one woman said, reaching for Maddie’s mittened hand. “We were all so worried. No one more than Sawyer, of course. And maybe your mom and dad.”
Sawyer smiled. “You’re right, Brenna,” he said, making a point of her name.
Maddie caught on quickly that, after the third such back-and-forth, Sawyer was covering for her lack of memory, and luckily, acquaintances were giving something of a wide berth since she’d gotten out of the hospital only that afternoon. “Do I know everyone?” she asked as they finally headed across the street toward MacLeod’s Multiples Emporium.
“Yup. Both of us do. Wedlock Creek is a small town, and we’ve lived here our entire lives. And I’m the chief of police, so everyone knows me. We knew everyone without that added to the mix.”
Maddie looked up at the pastel painted sign atop the length of her family’s business. A family walked past—with two red-haired identical twin girls. A woman wheeling a triple stroller was across the street. Multiples everywhere. Including right here—me, she thought.
“Your dad made the sign and painted it,” Sawyer said. “He’s quite a craftsman. He hand makes all the furniture MacLeod’s sells, cribs and bassinets and other wood items. He has a big following.”
“How wonderful,” she said, admiring the sign and the easel out front listing a colorful array of items in someone’s excellent handwriting. Everything from personalization to layettes to baby paraphernalia to children’s clothing. She watched two women wheeling twin strollers go inside the shop; two more came out carrying big yellow shopping bags with the MacLeod’s logo.
“I’ll probably be thirty minutes or so,” she said to Sawyer. “I’ll just visit the store and say hi to my family if they’re there. I don’t think I’ll walk around town just yet on my own in case I run into someone who knows me and I have no idea who they are. Seems so complicated to explain about my memory.”
He nodded. “I’ll pick you up here in thirty minutes.”
She smiled, and he leaned over awkwardly and kissed her on the cheek. He hesitated before pulling back, and she had the feeling he’d wanted to embrace her. More than embrace—hold her, tightly. Frankly, she could use a hug.
“See you in a bit,” she said, those flutters in her belly again, and darted into the shop. She turned back to see Sawyer watching her as if to make sure she was okay. She gave a wave and walked in farther. When she looked back, he was finally heading up the street.
The shop was both elegant and folksy at the same time and separated into sections for clothing and furniture and baby paraphernalia. The place was pretty crowded too; Maddie could see two saleswomen with MacLeod’s name tags helping shoppers.
“Maddie!”
She turned to find her twin, Jenna, smiling and rushing up to her. She and Jenna really did look a lot alike. They both had the same blue eyes and slightly long nose, wavy light brown hair past their shoulders. Jenna wore a dark purple maternity wrap dress and gray suede knee-high boots, lots of gold bangles on her arm. And a gold wedding band and solitaire diamond ring.
“I’m surprised to see you,” Jenna said, straightening a huge stuffed giraffe. “Feeling all right?”
“I feel pretty good. A little weird not knowing anything about myself—okay, a lot weird. I figured I’d come check out the family business. Do you work here too?”
Jenna nodded. “I’m a saleswoman, and let me tell you, the huge belly helps. Five minutes ago, I sold three personalized cribs—the ones our dad famously hand makes—and then the mom and her mom came back a minute later and added the triple bassinets they were waffling on. And then the mom bought three of these,” she said, pointing to three big stuffed bear chairs with pink or blue bow ties around their necks.
“Ooh, you are good. Did I work on the floor too?”
“Nah, you’re more a back-office type. You’re not a pushy schmoozer like me.”
Maddie laughed. “Speaking of pushy, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
She leaned a bit closer to whisper. “Was I pushing Sawyer to have a baby?”
Jenna’s smile faltered. “Maddie, I love you. You’re my sister, my twin. But you don’t remember anything about your life, and I’m not sure I should fill in details that are personal between you and your husband.”
Maddie thought about that. “I get it. How about details about my husband. He said we grew up next door to each other.”
“More like Sawyer grew up in our house. He’s been an honorary MacLeod since he was five, when he and his dad moved into the in-law apartment of our neighbors’ house. The Wolfe door opened very close to our side porch, so that’s how you and Sawyer became such good friends. Apparently I was anti boy, but you adored Sawyer from the get-go.”
“He and his dad lived in an in-law apartment? With his dad’s in-laws?”
Jenna shook her head. “No. That’s just what one-or two-bedroom apartments attached to private homes are called. They were usually meant for parents or in-laws as they aged. The neighbors back then were friendly with Sawyer’s mom, so they felt terrible about the situation and gave his dad a big break on rent.”
“What situation?” Maddie asked.
A shopper walked up to them. “Excuse me, is it possible to get those adorable little cowboy hats personalized for my impending triplet nephews?”
Jenna nodded at the woman. “Personalization is MacLeod’s specialty. I set aside two of those hats for my little babies-to-be—a girl and boy. My husband and I still can’t agree on names, so the personalization will have to wait.”
The woman laughed. “Names are the one thing my husband and I do agree on.” She put three impossibly tiny leather cowboy hats in her basket and continued on in the stuffed animal area.
Jenna led Maddie over near the checkout desk away from the shoppers. “Sawyer’s mom died from complications after his birth. His dad raised him alone. Well, he tried, I guess. But he really wasn’t cut out for fatherhood. I think the landlords let him stay to make sure Sawyer would have a safe place to live next to caring neighbors. They were traveling a lot, but between them and us looking out for Sawyer, he had what he needed.”
Maddie frowned. “Sounds rough.”
“I’m sure it was. No mom. A father who wasn’t really present—and lots of girlfriends in and out. To be honest, if he hadn’t lived next door to us and slept over so often, there’s a good chance he would have been taken away an
d put in the foster-care system. His father was that neglectful. But no one wanted to see that happen.”
Maddie thought about how Sawyer had said he’d always known he hadn’t wanted kids. That made a little more sense to her now.
She imagined a little Sawyer, three, five, eight, ten. No mother. A father with issues. Alone, hungry, no guidance. Slipping next door to the warm, welcoming MacLeods. She was glad her family had been there for him. That she’d been there for him. They’d been best friends their whole lives.
She could also imagine wanting to start a family. Being thirty-two and the ole biological clock ticking away. “I must have figured he’d change his mind about wanting kids,” Maddie said. “But he never did, huh?”
Jenna bit her lip and seemed unsure if she should say anything. “No. This is all secondhand from you, so I guess it’s okay for me to tell you.” She shook her head. “How crazy is this situation? Anyway, yes. In fact, he put off proposing because of it. Because he knew you wanted a houseful of kids, and he just wanted you and a good dog.”
“But he did propose. He told me he bought my dream house and then proposed.”
Jenna smiled. “He asked Mom and Dad what to do. He told them he loved you more than anything, but he didn’t want kids and you did, and how could he propose when he couldn’t promise the one thing you really wanted. They said he’d change his mind. I said he’d change his mind. You said he’d change his mind. And finally, Sawyer got to a place where he could imagine changing his mind—one day. Maybe. I think because he loved you so much he could imagine it, you know, even if he didn’t want it for himself. You told me he made it very clear he couldn’t promise he’d ever want kids and that there was a very good chance he wouldn’t.”
Yikes. “I feel awful,” Maddie said, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. “He was so honest about it. It’s not fair to him.”
“And it’s not fair to you either, Maddie,” Jenna said gently. “You were both always honest with each other. But suddenly time stopped being on your side. And let me tell you, having a pregnant twin sister didn’t help.”
Maddie eyed her twin’s big, lovely belly. “I bet.” She sucked in a breath. “All I want now is my memory back. My life back. I don’t even remember wanting a baby. I don’t really know what that would even feel like.”
“Well, maybe you and Sawyer can use this time to get to know each other all over again without that stalemate pressing on you. It’s always been there the past few years, worse this past year. But now the two of you can just be Maddie and Sawyer again. For a time anyway.”
Maddie nodded. “Because my memory will come back. Dr. Addison said it could be a week, three weeks, possibly longer, but she thinks just a few weeks.”
“It’ll all come back. With these new memories you’re making every moment now.”
“Do you think we were headed for a separation?” Maddie asked.
Jenna frowned. “I can’t even imagine it. You were class BFFs every year since first grade. You were MadSaw—your own celebrity nickname. You guys love each other.”
“He said he made all kinds of bargains while I was unconscious. That if I woke up, he’d give me ten kids.”
“He told you that?” Jenna asked, touching a hand to her heart.
Maddie nodded. “That’s not how I want to start my family off. I’d want to have a baby with a man who wanted that baby. Not because of a harrowing bargain he made skyward.”
“Oh, Maddie. It’s complicated, right? Just get to know your husband during this time. You’ll be getting to know yourself too. You’re still you.”
“Excuse me?” a very pregnant woman said. “Do you make programmable lullaby players? My husband is a budding country singer, and we want a player that has those stars-and-moons lights for the ceiling while playing my husband singing.”
“Absolutely,” Jenna said. “I just ordered my version of that. Little cows jumping over the moon to the tune of lullabies sung by one of my favorite singers. Let me show you our catalog.”
The woman’s face lit up. Suddenly Maddie realized that she may have been more a back-office type because all the moms-to-be buying such fun stuff must have made Maddie feel very left out.
The door jangled and there was Sawyer. Maddie wrapped her sister in a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You helped a lot.”
Jenna hugged her back and waved at Sawyer. “I’m always here for you.”
Maddie smiled and left Jenna to her customer. Suddenly she felt a lot better and a little heavyhearted about what was to come.
But as she walked over to Sawyer, the handsome, green-eyed man in the brown leather jacket, she wanted to wrap her arms around him—tight. That much she knew for sure.
Chapter Three
They walked home from town, Maddie linking her arm through his, which buoyed him like nothing else. There was affection in that gesture, a degree of trust, and that meant a great deal to him since he’d lost that over the past several months. Once, for a very long time, she’d believed he’d never hurt her. Then he’d started outwardly denying her what she wanted most. And the bond began fraying.
Now, in the simplest way, he felt her saying yes to him, to them.
“How about lasagna for dinner?” he asked. “Your mother really did stock the freezer after your accident. She said all that cooking gave her something to do with her mind and hands or she’d have gone nuts. There are five containers of lasagna alone.”
Then again, Sawyer thought he should be doing more for Maddie than just heating up her very kind mother’s bounty of food. But April MacLeod was a great cook and he a mediocre one, and she’d made their favorites. Lasagna. Shepherd’s pie. Fettuccini carbonara. Her amazing chili and three pans of corn bread, which Sawyer could polish off in one sitting. He felt like he should be cooking for her, figuring out how to make some of her favorite dishes, such as blackened salmon, without burning it, and risotto.
“Do I love lasagna?” she asked.
“It’s only your very favorite food on earth. Mine too. We used to make it as teenagers. I did a layer, you did a layer and then we’d stuff our faces.”
She smiled. “What else do I love?”
“Blackened everything. Also, fish tacos. Caesar salad. Cheeseburgers. The Pie Diner’s chili potpie. Your mother’s brisket. Coffee chip ice cream.”
“What don’t I like?” she asked. “In general, I mean.”
“That you can’t figure out yoga. You don’t like corn. You don’t like horror movies.”
She smiled. “What did I do when I wasn’t working?”
“Well, the past few months you started volunteering for the town’s Holiday Happymakers program. You devoted quite a few hours a day to it.”
“Holiday Happymakers? What’s that?”
“A group that plans ways the town can help those who can’t afford Christmas or can’t do much in the way of celebrating because of illness or other issues. You started an adopt-a-family program to provide holiday decorations and gifts for each family member. Anyone can leave a letter on the Christmas tree in the community center with a wish list for the family or a relative.”
“I sound kind!” she said. “Glad to hear it.”
“You are. Very.”
“What was Christmas like when you were growing up?” she asked.
He frowned at the thought. “I spent every Christmas at your house. My dad didn’t always have his act together, or he disappeared to a girlfriend’s. Your parents always hung a stocking for me—stuffed it too. And there were always presents for me under the tree. I got them gifts, too, and always wished I could have afforded better than a scented candle for your parents. But that’s what I got them every year.”
“Aw,” she said. “I’ll bet they loved it.”
“Your mom always made a show of sniffing it and lighting it and setting it right on the mantel.�
� He’d never forget her mother’s kindness. Ever.
“My sister told me the basics of your childhood,” she said. “I hope that’s all right. She figured because it was something we all knew, it wasn’t telling tales or talking about your personal business, which she refused to do.”
“I don’t mind your family filling in holes,” he said. “The truth is the truth. And I’m not interested in hiding anything from you. Our marriage was rocky two days ago when you got into the accident and months before that. Very rocky.”
“I’m glad I don’t remember,” she said, tears poking again. “I guess that’s wrong. But all I know is that I’m not unhappy or sad or anxious or wanting anything. I don’t know who I am, but I feel safe because of you and the MacLeods. So if I’m in limbo, at least it’s a nice limbo. A Christmas limbo, at that.”
He smiled. “That’s a nice way to look at it.”
She tightened her hold on his arm, and again he felt like they had a chance. Even if it was just this limbo chance. This Christmas limbo chance. Right now, she was his again.
At the house, Sawyer let out Moose, who raced around the yard, which still held a good covering of snow. Maddie threw his favorite squeaky ball at least twenty times, and he chased it over and over, dropping it by her foot.
“Sorry, Moose, I think my arm is going to give out,” she said, kneeling down to give the German shepherd a rub and a pat.
The phone was ringing, so they headed inside, Moose going over to his big red fluffy dog bed by the fireplace in the living room. They missed the call, and about twenty others, from Maddie’s parents and sister, checking in, and friends and fellow volunteers on the Holiday Happymakers committee.
“That’s really nice,” Maddie said after she listened to all the messages.
A Wyoming Christmas to Remember Page 3
