Angus's Lost Lady

by Marie Ferrarella

  Angus tried diplomacy. “We’ll flip for it,” he proposed.

  Vikki rose on her toes, tugging on Rebecca’s arm. Securing her attention, she announced matter-of-factly, “He cheats.”

  “Not this time,” Angus promised, raising one hand as if he were taking an oath. The significance of his daughter’s statement hit him belatedly. He looked down at Vikki. “And how would you know if I cheated—not saying that I do, mind you.”

  It was all too obvious for Vikki. She sighed and recited in a singsong voice, “Because when you want me to win, I do.”

  Leave it to a kid to take all the complications out. “That could just be luck.”

  Vikki was unconvinced. “Mom said people make their own luck. Especially you.”

  He had already discovered that Jane had talked a lot about him to Vikki, telling her stories about him to fill a void and make up for the lack of his physical presence in the little girl’s life. A fact, he thought with a touch of bitterness, that Jane had been responsible for. The upshot was that the little girl had come to him knowing a great deal more about him than he did about her. The sum of his knowledge had been contained in Jane’s letter.

  He saw no point in contending Vikki’s assertion. Not in front of a third party. “Let’s table this for now, okay?” Raising an eyebrow, he looked in Rebecca’s direction. “So, pizza sound good to you?”

  She had no idea whether she liked pizza or not. She only knew that she was hungry.

  “Food sounds good to me,” she confessed. The hamburger he’d gotten her had finally managed to settle in her stomach, and now it wanted company.

  Angus walked into the small, narrow kitchen and opened the side-by-side refrigerator. A pizza box, marked extra large and wedged in slightly askew, took up the entire second shelf. Easing it out, he set the box on the only clear space on the counter and opened it. There were only two slices left.

  He looked at his daughter. Coming up to his waist, she was barely forty-five pounds. “It’s a wonder you don’t explode. Where do you put it all?”

  “Jenny ate most of it,” she said defensively. “She said she needed energy so she could ride her bike.” A broad, proud grin chased away the defensive look. “She took me for a ride.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Tonight?”

  Vikki nodded.

  Damnit, it was one thing for Jenny to risk her own scrawny neck, he thought, struggling to bank down his anger. It was another when she risked his daughter’s. He’d warned Jenny the last time it had happened about taking off with Vikki like that. When it came to his daughter, he wanted to play it safe.

  Looking down at her face, he had a feeling that Jenny alone didn’t shoulder the blame for this joyride she’d taken. He’d already learned that Vikki was an expert when it came to coercing and manipulating.

  “Vikki, you know what I told you about riding a motorcycle.”

  Rebecca’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That old lady rides a motorcycle?” She’d thought Jenny was kidding about the biker club.

  Angus grinned at her stunned expression. “Better not let her hear you calling her that. Jenny’s liable to leave tire marks up and down your body to show you just how young she is.” He was exaggerating, but not by much.

  Vikki was less interested in defending Jenny than in setting the record straight about the older woman’s mode of transportation.

  “It’s a hog,” she informed Rebecca proudly. “Jenny says she’s taking me to San Francisco the next time she goes up there.”

  Maybe he was being overly cautious, but if he didn’t say something, he had the uneasy feeling that he’d come home one night to find that his daughter and his neighbor had just taken off.

  “Well, unless she’s planning a trip in about fifteen years, I’d say you’re going over my dead body. Now wash your face, brush your teeth and get into bed,” he instructed. “You stayed home from school because you were sick, remember? That means you need your rest.”

  Vikki frowned, but she knew it was useless to protest. Angus could only be pushed so far. She knew the limits.

  “Okay.” Dragging her feet, Vikki started toward her room. Pausing, she looked over her small shoulder. “’Night, Angus. ’Night, Rebecca.”

  Rebecca smiled. “Good night, Vikki.”

  “Good night, Vik.” Angus took out two plates from the cupboard overhead. “I’ll be in in a few minutes to tuck you in.”

  Vikki didn’t want Rebecca to think she was a baby. “You don’t have to.” With that, she disappeared.

  “I want to,” he called after her. Angus shook his head, closing the cupboard door. “She’s every bit her mother.”

  And he’d loved her, Rebecca thought with a touch of envy. What did that feel like, having someone love you? Loving someone in return. Did she know? Was there someone she was in love with? It didn’t seem like the kind of thing a person would forget, and yet she’d forgotten everything else.

  Rebecca swallowed her impatience. It wouldn’t do any good to torture herself like this.

  She nodded toward the rear of the apartment. “She’s very bright.”

  She’d get no argument from him on that score. Vikki, with her old eyes and her even older deportment, had astounded him from the first.

  “That, she is.” Opening a drawer, he looked for two sets of knives and forks. The rest of the silverware, along with a number of dishes, were in the sink. Jenny’s neighborliness didn’t extend to doing dishes. Not that he blamed her. It wasn’t something he relished doing, either. He usually got around to it when there was nothing clean left.

  “Why does she call you Angus?” Picking up napkins from the counter, Rebecca followed him to the small table that stood in front of the window. Black venetian blinds were tightly drawn, keeping out any prying eyes. “Shouldn’t she be calling you Daddy?”

  He laughed as he tried to imagine that. The word belonged in the mouth of a little girl comprising sugar and spice, not hot chili peppers.

  “I doubt that’s ever going to happen. Vikki calls me Angus because that’s the way her mother referred to me. I don’t think she’d be comfortable calling me Daddy yet.” He shrugged. “Maybe someday. Besides, I’ve got a feeling that calling me Angus makes her feel that Jane’s still around in some way.”

  Rebecca studied him for a moment. For the first time since she’d walked into his office, she really looked at the man she’d sought out. There was a kindness to him, a kindness that went beneath the good looks and quick, ready grin. It wasn’t just in his eyes, but all through him.

  “That’s very understanding of you.”

  Angus shrugged again. “I don’t know about understanding, but I’ve got great survival instincts.” His eyes swept over her. It amused him that right at this moment, they both had the same amount of information on her. That gave them a bond, however slim. “My hunch is, so do you.” She’d run from her assailant, whoever that was. And had hidden well enough to give herself time to come to him.

  He blew out a breath ruefully as he looked at the bandage. “I should have realized that was made by a bullet.”

  Someone had shot at her, Rebecca thought yet again. Even though they had missed, the realization chilled her. What could she possibly have done to make someone want to come after her and shoot her? Another wave of gratitude washed over her, drenching her in the emotion. She was here, with him. Safe, instead of at a homeless shelter where whoever it was who had robbed her of her memory could get another crack at her—and maybe, this time, succeed in killing her.

  She repaid him the only way she could, by absolving him of any guilt or embarrassment. “Why? Do people shoot at you often?”

  The question made him laugh. “No, not at all, much to Vikki’s disappointment.” Vikki would probably take him in for show-and-tell if he showed up with his arm in a sling and a fresh bullet hole somewhere on his person. “I grew up on a military base. My father was an avid gun collector. There was nothing he loved more than hunting, except for maybe the militar
y.”

  Hungry for a feeling of family, she crept a little further into his life. “Did you go hunting with your father?”

  “No.” It had been a major bone of contention—his refusal. But it was something Angus had staunchly stood by, even when it meant being ridiculed. “I couldn’t see how shooting small animals could be called a sport unless they were armed as well.” A quirky grin flittered across his lips. “That didn’t sit too well with my father. I think he would have related quite well to Vikki’s bloodthirsty streak.” Angus rolled the thought over in his head. “It’s probably where she gets it from.”

  Rebecca looked down at the pizza on the plate he set in front of her. “I can’t eat two slices.”

  He had a hunch she could eat not only two, but several more as well. “Lady, I didn’t want to say anything, but I’ve heard your stomach rumbling more than once since we left the police station. Trust me, it can handle two slices of pizza easily.”

  Trust him. Yes, she realized, she did. She really did. Was that a mistake?

  Her head began to ache again.

  Rebecca looked at his plate as he threw out the empty pizza box. “What are you going to eat?”

  Setting the box by the trash container, Angus took another look inside the refrigerator. Success. He lifted a carton and held it aloft for her benefit. “Leftover Chinese food.”

  “Don’t you have anything fresh?”

  “A can of tuna,” he recalled. Or at least, he thought the can was still in the tiny pantry. “I’m not sure how old it is, but it hasn’t been opened.”

  Rebecca shook her head, amused. “I mean like vegetables, fruits, things like that.”

  “Why?” He sat down across from her again. Ignoring the plate, he started eating straight out of the carton. “Do you remember being a vegetarian?”

  “No. Maybe.” She shrugged, frustrated. “I don’t know.”

  He saw the furrow forming along her forehead. Without thinking, he leaned over and smoothed it with the tips of his fingers. He saw something flitter through her eyes, but couldn’t identify it. He smiled, dropping his hand.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll come to you. Just give yourself some time. Right now, I think you need to eat and then just relax. Get a good night’s sleep. From all indications, you’ve had one hell of a day.”

  Realizing he’d forgotten them, Angus rose to get two glasses. He wondered if Jenny and Vikki had consumed all the soda in the refrigerator, or if he had just missed seeing the cans when he’d looked inside.

  “Could have been worse,” she allowed.

  Opening the refrigerator, he glanced back at her. “How?”

  The slight smile on her lips went very quickly and very unexpectedly straight to his gut.

  “I could have not had your name in my pocket.”

  Chapter 4

  Angus turned around slowly and looked at Rebecca, her words playing themselves over in his head.

  Though the sentiment behind them touched him, it also put the burden of discovering who she was squarely on his shoulders. It wasn’t that he minded the burden. Technically, he’d already accepted it when he’d decided to bring her home with him. But what if he failed? What if he couldn’t discover who she was? What if he couldn’t unite her with the life she’d misplaced? What then?

  Suddenly, though he’d always been able to philosophically shrug things off and roll with whatever punches life delivered, Angus wanted very badly to succeed.

  But until he did, he didn’t want Rebecca pinning any wings on him. Not when there was a chance that those wings might ultimately fall off.

  Setting the soda-filled glasses on the table, he straddled his chair and faced her. “Yeah, well, I’d hold off counting my blessings on that score if I were you.”

  Was he being modest, or was it that he was just uncomfortable accepting her gratitude? Rebecca couldn’t tell. Maybe she wasn’t any good at reading people, she thought. It was frustrating, not knowing even that much about herself. But that wasn’t his fault. If he’d turned her away, God only knew what she’d be going through this evening.

  “How can you say that?” She set the last slice of pizza down and looked at him. “You’ve already taken me in, fed me.” A glimmer of humor entered her eyes. “Given me your shoes.”

  Rebecca glanced down at her feet and wiggled one foot back into one of the large running shoes that seemed determined not to stay on.

  Angus watched as the shoe swallowed up her foot. “You do look a little like you’re auditioning for the Ringling Brothers circus.” He laughed to himself. “I have to admit, I never thought of my feet as particularly big until now.”

  Compared to hers, his were huge. Cinderella, that’s who she made him think of. Cinderella without the glass slipper. Except he meant to reunite her with more than just her shoe.

  “We’re going to have to do something about that in the morning.” They weren’t that far from a small shopping mall. She’d undoubtedly feel better about herself if she looked less like she’d been on the receiving end of an accident.

  Where did she begin to thank him? she wondered. He seemed to be thinking of everything, and acting as if it were no big deal. Though she really couldn’t remember, Rebecca had a feeling that Angus was not typical of his gender.

  “See, that’s what I mean. You’re taking care of me and you don’t have to. I’m very grateful to you for that.” The smile in her eyes reiterated her words.

  Listening to her, he’d finished off the last of the takeout without realizing it. Angus laid aside his fork and pushed the small carton closed.

  “You do have an upbeat way of looking at things.” Leaning back, he paused to measure his distance from the trash container, then tossed the carton. It sank in easily. “Maybe you’ll rub off on Vikki.”

  “Why?” The little girl hadn’t struck her as particularly unhappy. “Is Vikki usually down?”

  “No, not down,” he amended. “Just old. Very old.” He thought about the life she’d had before she had entered his. Jane had traveled on both sides of the Great Divide, working at a number of casinos in Atlantic City and Las Vegas. “She hasn’t had much of a childhood, moving from place to place with Jane.”

  In an absolute sense, Angus supposed that Vikki’s childhood echoed his. He’d had no roots, either, no sense of belonging to anyone or anything. It wasn’t really accurate to say that he’d had the Colonel. He’d only been one of the Colonel’s accessories, less valued than his medals and certainly less liked than his prized gun collection.

  “Everyone should have a crack at being a kid once,” he said softly.

  There was something in his voice, she thought. Sympathy? Or was it something else? Wistfulness perhaps? She couldn’t quite pin it down, but somehow it generated an intimacy between them, a closeness she couldn’t explain even to herself.

  “Especially when they’re the right age for it.” She knew she was prying, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted at least some of her questions answered. “Was there any reason Jane moved around so much?”

  Rebecca was asking him something he’d asked himself a dozen times or more. Always with the same answer. He didn’t know. Jane had made her living as a blackjack dealer by choice. The same choice that could have led her in a host of other directions. Most notably into his life and into his arms. But that was the path she had chosen not to take.

  He shrugged carelessly now. “A fever of the blood, I guess.”

  “Restless feet—” she agreed, then stopped as abruptly.

  He saw the look that crossed her face. Was she remembering something else? “What?”

  “Someone said that to me once.” Each word emerged slowly, as if it were being held up and carefully examined before being released. Rebecca raised her eyes to his face. “Someone I knew.”

  She looked too tired to be prodded at length. Angus lifted an eyebrow, silently posing the question.

  Rebecca understood and shook her head. “I don’t know who.” She sighed, wrappin
g her hands around the glass of soda. Some of the fizz drizzled lightly on her hand. She hardly noticed. “You have no idea how frustrating it is, not knowing anything about myself.” Her eyes met his. again as she sought to make a connection. Being here with him made her feel not quite so alone. “It’s like I’m locked up in this little room and I can’t even find the door, much less the doorknob.”

  She was right, Angus thought. He had no idea how frustrating it was, but he could guess. “It’s a little like—”

  Rebecca nodded, anticipating the comparison. “Alice in Wonderland.” Surprise shot through her. “Don’t ask me how I know that.”

  “I won’t.” He laughed and then it was her turn to silently ask for an explanation. “I was just thinking that the state you’re in is like having a box of surprises left on your doorstep. You just never know what might pop out next.” And the irony of it was that she was as much of a surprise to herself as she was to him.

  That was one way to look at it, she guessed. It occurred to her that he seemed like somewhat of an optimist himself. She liked that. “More answers, I hope.”

  He hoped so, too. He saw doubt begin to creep back into her expression and instinctively tried to block it. “It’ll happen.”

  If he said so, she thought. It was all she had to hang on to.

  It smelled like him, Rebecca thought.

  As soon as she had entered Angus’s bedroom, she’d detected the faint, pleasant scent of his aftershave floating through it. The scent had a soothing quality.

  Soothing, and yet, in a way it stirred her.

  Or maybe that was just her state of mind, she reasoned. If she let go of the tight hold she had on things, agitation immediately threatened to take over. She wanted all the pieces to be fitted together. She had no patience with waiting while minute fragments were being slipped into place.

  With nothing to base it on, she still had a hunch that she’d never had patience in an abundant supply.

  Rebecca turned around as Angus went to take something out of one of the bureau drawers. She was beginning to grow fidgety. As soon as he left the room and closed the door behind him, she was going to be alone again. And she didn’t want to be alone. But she couldn’t very well ask him to remain, either. Not without sounding as if she was making him an offer.