“I stared at myself in the mirror for quite a while,” she said with a smile. “I look a lot like my twin. Except for the pregnant belly.”
For a moment, a hot surge of panic hit him. He thought she’d regained her memory—and that she’d tell him she wasn’t going anywhere with him. But he could tell by her warm, open expression that she had no memory of how she and Jenna had always talked of being pregnant at the same time, new mothers together, new aunts to each other’s babies together.
She didn’t remember any of that.
He slung her bag over his shoulder. “Ready to go?”
“Ready,” she said.
This had to be so strange for her. Following him blindly, not recognizing a thing about him or her past or anyone.
He put the bag down and looked directly at her. “Maddie, I want you to know that I love you very much. I’ve loved you since we were both five years old, and I’ll love you when I’m ninety-two. Anything I can do to make you more comfortable, you just say the word, okay?”
He’d caught them both by surprise with that. She stared at him for a moment, then her expression softened. “I appreciate that. And did you say since we were five years old?”
“That’s how long we’ve known each other. My family moved next door to yours.”
“That’s some history we have,” she said. “I wish I could remember it, Sawyer.”
“In due time, you will.”
Inside his SUV, they buckled up, and he headed for Wedlock Creek, a half hour from Brewer. Maddie asked some questions on the way—if they went to Brewer, a bigger town, often (no); did they have favorite restaurants (yes—Mexican in Brewer and several in Wedlock Creek); what kind of music they liked (Maddie liked her top-forty hits and ’70s music, and Sawyer had long been all about the Beatles and had a fondness for country).
Finally, they pulled into town, Maddie staring out the window.
“Wow, this town is so pretty,” she said. “All the shops and restaurants decked out for Christmas. Wedlock Creek looks like a postcard. Ooh, look at that,” she said, pointing.
Sawyer glanced up at the Wedlock Creek Wedding Chapel, built a hundred years ago. Even on a weekday at 5:17 p.m., there were tourists walking around the grounds, several brides in white gowns, the food trucks and carts at this end of Main Street doing brisk business even on a cold December day. Annie Potterowski, the elderly officiant and caretaker of the chapel along with her husband, was walking the pretzel-stealing beagle, who had a rap sheet for that kind of behavior. Wedlock Creek residents loved the chapel’s mascot dog, but his habit of jumping up and swiping food out of people’s hands was cute only the first time it happened to someone, then they were less inclined to laugh about it. The beagle was wearing a red-and-green Christmas sweater, and Sawyer had to admit it added to his mischievous charm.
“That’s the chapel your mom was telling you about,” he said, “with the legend of the multiples.” A big green wreath with a red bow was on the arched door, which was dotted with white Christmas lights.
“Did we marry there?”
He nodded. Please don’t ask what I know you’re going to ask next, he thought.
“But no little multiples of our own?”
There it was. “No. Ah, this is us,” he rushed to add, turning onto Woods Road. He pulled into the driveway of the last house on the dead-end street, an antique-white arts-and-crafts-style bungalow—or at least that was what she’d called it. To him it was just home.
She stepped out of the car, stopping to stare up at the house. “Wow, we live here? It’s gorgeous. And the sparkling Christmas lights around the front trees make it look like an enchanted cottage.”
They day he’d hung the lights, they hadn’t been speaking. He’d needed something to do, something for her, something for them, so he’d spent an hour wrapping the strands around the trees and the porch. Maddie had broken their mutual silent treatment by thanking him. It’s Christmastime, she’d said. We’ve got to get through this so we can have a good Christmas. But they’d done exactly that for a few Christmases now, and Maddie had sounded so unsure of herself.
“You fell in love with this house when you were a kid,” he said now, handing Maddie her set of keys. “It was built in the early 1900s. You saw it on your paper route and said, ‘Sawyer, one day, I’m gonna live in this dream house.’ And you do.”
She smiled, seeming lost in thought for a moment. “How long have we lived here?”
“I bought it for us as a surprise the day I proposed to you,” he said. “My offer was accepted on the house, and I raced over to your condo to ask you to marry me. That offer was accepted too.” He smiled, remembering how she’d flung herself into his arms, kissing him all over his face, completely forgetting to say yes. In fact, it wasn’t until he’d told her he had another surprise for her and driven her over to the house with the Sale Pending sign in front that he reminded her she hadn’t. She’d been sobbing happily over the house and unable to speak for ten minutes and finally took his face in her hands and said, “Sawyer, yes. Always yes.”
Always yes. Except recently, when there had been so much no between them that their history together hadn’t been able to protect them.
She took all that in, then glanced at the key chain. “I’m seeing a pattern here. There’s a little ceramic Woodstock on here, and there were two ornaments on the little Christmas tree in my hospital room.”
“You like birds. And you love Woodstock. Always have. For your birthday every year when we were kids, I would get you something Woodstock. Woodstock erasers, Woodstock socks, Woodstock key chain. In fact, the one in your hand I gave you on your fourteenth birthday.”
She smiled. “Really?”
He nodded. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s head in.” He gestured for her to lead the way because he wanted her to feel that this was her house, even if she didn’t remember it.
She used her key and opened the door, slowly stepping inside. “I like it!” she exclaimed, nodding at the colorful round area rug in the entryway and vintage Le Chat Noir poster with the black cat on the wall.
“Oh my, who’s this?” she asked as a German shepherd hurried up to her with mournful whines. The dog sat at her feet.
“That’s Moose, retired K-9. We worked together for years when I was a detective, but for the last three years he’s been enjoying a life of leisure. He’s eleven years old and adores you.”
“Aw,” she said, kneeling down to pet him. “Hi, Moose.”
“He missed you the past couple of days.” And so did I. Praying you’d wake up. That’d you’d be okay. Bargaining.
“I’ll take your coat,” he said, removing his and hanging it up in the hall closet. She unzipped her down jacket and handed it to him, and he hung it up with her red-and-pink scarf, a gift from her knitting-crazy twin.
He watched her walk around the living room, looking at objects and peering at photos. She picked up their wedding photo off the mantel, one of her favorites because that devilish chapel beagle had photobombed him dipping Maddie in a kiss near the steps.
Her shoulders slumped, and she put the photo back. “I can’t remember my life.” She shook her head. “And it’s clearly a wonderful one. Loving family. Handsome, devoted husband. Lovely home all decked out for Christmas. A sweet dog named Moose.” Tears shone in her eyes, and she dropped down onto the sofa, Moose padding over and putting his head on her lap. She leaned over and buried her face in, hugging the dog.
Well, if it makes you feel any better, things weren’t all sunshine and roses.
Badumpa. Not.
He sat down beside her, hands on his knees. And before he could even think about it, he blurted out, “It’s my fault you got into the accident, Maddie. I said something that upset you, and you got in your car and peeled out fast to get away from me.”
She turned to him. “What did you say?”
“That maybe we should separate.” He closed his eyes for a second and let out a breath. He’d hated saying that. The first time and now.
“The emphasis on should makes me think someone else suggested it first. Me?”
He shook his head. “Right before the accident, we’d had our weekly appointment with a mediator slash marriage counselor. We’d been going to her to help us deal with a stalemate. She said it seemed to her that neither of us was willing to budge and that maybe we should think about separating. I got so upset, I stalked out. You followed and we argued outside. And then I said it—maybe we should separate.”
“What could have possibly come between us to that degree?” she asked.
He took a breath. “Starting a family.”
“Ah,” she said, looking at her left hand. Her bare left hand. “Now things are making sense. Before I got in my car and huffed away, did I yank off my wedding ring because I was angry about that and about you saying maybe we should separate?”
“That’s exactly right. You took it off and handed it to me. I have it in my wallet.” He’d never forget how that had made him feel, like his entire world was crumbling and he couldn’t catch the pieces.
“So I assume it’s me who wants kids?” she asked.
He nodded.
“And you’re content with things as they are. Wife, dog, job.”
He nodded again.
“Married seven years, thirty-two years old, seems like a reasonable time—past reasonable time—to start a family,” she said, a prompting lilt in her voice.
Acid churned in his gut. “I never wanted kids. You always did. And you counted on me changing my mind. You had no doubt I would, even though I cautioned you about that. You never really believed deep down that I wouldn’t want a ‘little Wolfe, a little us’—as you used to say.”
She tilted her head. “And you still don’t?”
He got up and walked over to the windows, looking out at the snow still clinging to the bare tree limbs. “The past two days, while you were lying in that hospital bed...and I had no idea if you’d wake up...I made so many bargains. If only you’d wake up, I’d agree to ten kids. As many as you wanted.”
“So we’re going to have ten kids?”
He turned around to face her. “If that’s what you want.”
“Because you bargained?”
He nodded. “The most important thing to me was having you back. I have that. So yes. Ten kids.” He’d almost lost her. He’d said, prayed, that he’d give anything to have her back. And he’d meant it.
She stared at him, lifting her chin, and he had no idea what she was thinking. Her expressions, the way her mind worked now—all that was new to him. “Well, the only thing I want right now is my memory back. Maybe just being here, in my home, with you, will jog something, trigger something.”
He hoped so. Until then, they had this rare chance to be together without the past stomping on their marriage. He had the unfair advantage of knowing everything about them while she knew nothing, and there was no way he’d take it. He’d always be honest with Maddie. And what was most true this minute was that he loved her more than anything, would do anything for her. Ten children. Twenty.
All that mattered was that she’d survived, that she’d be all right, that she was home.
Copyright © 2019 by Melissa Senate
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Teresa Southwick for her contribution to the Montana Mavericks: Six Brides for Six Brothers continuity.
ISBN-13: 9781488042317
Maverick Holiday Magic
Copyright © 2019 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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Maverick Holiday Magic (Montana Mavericks: Six Brides For Six Brothers Book 5) Page 21
