A Child on the Way

by Janis Reams Hudson

  “You wouldn’t have. It wasn’t plowed yet.”

  “Where does it go?”

  “To the cemetery.”

  Lisa blinked. “You have your own cemetery?”

  “You bet. It goes back five generations. Well, three, since none of us has died yet.”

  “What a thing to say.”

  “Well, we haven’t, so there are only three generations there.” He thought a minute as they neared the road. “Actually there are four generations. Cathy, Ace’s first wife, is buried there.”

  “Is it very far?”

  “Just over the hill. You wanna stop?”

  “Could we? I have a thing for cemeteries that dates back years and years. There’s something about them that always makes me feel a connection with those who came before. Does that sound silly?”

  Jack slowed and turned onto the road to the cemetery. “No,” he said. “But it does sound like you just found another piece of your memory.”

  “Good grief.” Lisa hugged herself and smiled. “It just felt so natural to say that, to think it. I might not have realized it was a new memory if you hadn’t pointed it out.”

  But then she was hugging herself not from pleasure, but from dismay. The more of her memory that returned, the sooner she would remember Roger Hampton. She didn’t want to think about that man. It would ruin her day.

  She wanted to hear Jack’s voice again. The sound of it would keep her grounded in the present. “Do you visit the cemetery often enough that you have to keep the road plowed in the winter?”

  Jack took the hill slowly. “Not the way you mean. I’ll show you when we get up there.”

  The plowed road led up and around one low hill, then another. These weren’t the small hills she’d seen in other parts of the ranch. Here there were rocky outcroppings, sharp drops into gullies and ravines. Piñon grew here, and deciduous trees that she couldn’t identify in their winter bareness.

  Lisa didn’t know for sure, but this area looked more suitable for goats than cattle.

  Then they rounded a bend and came out on what looked to be the highest point of land until the foothills to the west, a mostly bald top swept free of snow by the wind.

  The small cemetery, hosting maybe two dozen graves, was enclosed by a tall barbed-wire fence.

  “You’re afraid someone might try to leave?” Lisa asked, her lips twitching.

  Jack rolled his eyes. “The fence is to keep out the cattle and horses, and hopefully the moose, elk, deer—”

  “I get the picture.” She loved the look of it, lonely and windswept, yet with a peacefulness about it. The dozen or more granite headstones, several tilted at odd angles, looked as cold as the winter sky, but that didn’t put Lisa off.

  Jack parked the truck and came around to help her out. He led her through the gate and into the graveyard.

  The piñons growing in two corners looked as if they’d grown there naturally, but surely someone had planted the tall pine near the gate. The only other pines were high in the mountains.

  “Are your parents buried here?” she asked Jack softly.

  “Yeah. Over there.” He pointed and led her in that direction.

  “I’m sorry they’re dead, but it must be comforting to know they’re here, that you can come visit them, talk to them, whenever you want.”

  “Where are your folks?” Jack asked her. He, too, spoke softly, as if reluctant to disturb the quiet.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never known. They disappeared when I was three. They were presumed dead, but their bodies were never found. Oh, my God,” she added, stunned. “I remember that!”

  “Remember what, specifically?”

  “Oh, not being three, but I remember that I’ve never known my parents.”

  Jack thought if he could keep her talking, instead of thinking, she might accidentally remember even more. “Did you live with relatives after your parents disappeared?”

  “I…I lived…ah, damn!” She pressed her fingertips to her forehead and grimaced. “I had it. Dammit, I had it. It was right there, then it was gone.”

  “It’s okay.” He took her hand from her forehead and held it in both of his. “It’s okay. Don’t—”

  “Push it. I know, I know. But why won’t it just come?”

  “I don’t know.” He cupped her cheek in one palm and ached at the pain he saw in her eyes. “If I could bring your memory back for you…”

  He let his words trail off, unfinished. He didn’t want her to go through this agony. He wanted her to regain her memory. But if he could, he would block whatever she might remember about Roger Hampton. Whoever the man was, he had hurt her in the past. Instinct told Jack that given the chance, the man would hurt her again.

  Hell, Jack thought. He’d brought her out on this drive to get both their minds off Hampton. With an effort he pulled back and took her by the arm.

  “Here,” he said, taking on the tone of a tour guide, “is the original owner of this land. At least, the original white man to have title.”

  “Conner?” Lisa read on the headstone.

  “That’s right, Jeremiah Conner, for whom the phrase ‘bet the farm’ must have been invented, because he did. Literally. He lost the deed to this land in a poker game with that fellow over there.” He pointed to another grave ten feet away.

  “The English baron?”

  “Uh-huh. John Wilder. The first Wilder in Wyoming.”

  “But obviously not the last,” Lisa noted.

  “Not by a long shot. Next to him is his wife, Elizabeth Comstock Wilder of the New England Comstocks, or so the story goes.”

  He went on to show her the graves of the rest of his ancestors: John and Elizabeth’s only son, Earl, and Earl’s wife Suzannah, then Jack’s father and stepmother, King and Betty Wilder, and Ace’s first wife, Cathy.

  “Who’s buried over there?” Lisa asked, fascinated by the history, the continuity of family, one generation into the next, into the next and into the next.

  “Some of the men who’ve worked here over the years, who died here and had no place else to go.”

  One grave, however, stood out. “Why is that one decorated while the others aren’t?” Lisa asked.

  “That’s our mystery. That’s why we plow the road up here in winter, so we can check to see if she’s been here.”

  “She?”

  “Or he.” Jack shrugged. “Whoever it is who parks somewhere on the county road along the south side of the ranch and hikes anywhere from two to five miles to get up here, sometimes in the dead of night, to leave fresh flowers or pine boughs several times a year.”

  “You mean you don’t have any idea who’s doing it? Or who’s buried here?”

  “Nobody knows. The deceased is a stranger my dad found out here somewhere before I came to live here. The body was never identified or claimed, so it was just buried here.”

  “How sad, but fascinating. Do you think whoever leaves these things here knows who the man was?”

  “I’d have to say yes, since, as far as we know, nobody else in this part of the state gets mysterious decorations on their graves. Once it was a bottle of scotch. Seems like an odd thing for a woman to leave, but we’ve tracked her a time or two, and it’s either a woman or a man with pretty small feet.”

  “Or a boy?”

  “Possibly, but I’m guessing it’s an adult. Hell, it’s been going on for so many years now, we might be into the second or third generation of them.”

  “I think it’s romantic. To care that deeply about someone even after they’re gone. A friend probably wouldn’t go to so much trouble. It must be family.” She turned and looked around at all the graves again. “It must be comforting to know that even in death you’ll be surrounded by family.”

  Jack saw the wistful look in her eyes, heard it in her voice. She was thinking again that she had no family.

  He wished…

  Ah, hell. He wished Belinda would call and put an end to the mystery of Roger Hampton.

&
nbsp; That night after supper the call from Belinda finally came. Stoney and Trey had already left the house, the kitchen was cleaned up, and Jack was in the mudroom putting on his boots so that he, too, could leave, when the phone rang.

  Stooped over in the act of tugging on his left boot, Jack froze and looked up at Lisa. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, stock-still, like a deer caught in headlights. For a long moment neither moved. Somehow they knew that this was the call that would answer the question that had been eating at both of them. And somehow, both were unsure if they were ready to hear the answer.

  Then the phone rang a second time and broke the spell. With a curse Jack jerked his boot in place and grabbed for the phone.

  “Belinda? It’s about damn time. Yeah, she’s here. Just a minute.” He held the phone out to Lisa. “She wants to talk to you.”

  Lisa stared at the phone as if it were a snake. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Do you want me to—”

  “No.” Lisa squared her shoulders and reached for the phone. She had to start standing on her own and stop expecting Jack to take care of things for her. “No, I’ll do it.” She took the phone from Jack and put it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Hey, girlfriend,” came a friendly female voice. “What’s wrong? You didn’t up and have that baby before we got home, did you?”

  Lisa gripped the receiver more tightly. That voice! Something about that voice pulled at her. “No,” she answered. She had to hear the woman talk. “How’s Hawaii?” Say something, say anything. Just let me hear your voice again.

  The woman on the other end of the line let out a husky laugh. “How is it? Well, I’ll tell you, Lisa my friend, they don’t call it paradise for nothing. But I don’t imagine that was the emergency, was it? I ask again, what’s wrong? You know you can’t keep a secret from me. Spill it.”

  Oh, God. Lisa didn’t know if she could go through with it. She didn’t know if she could get any words out past the huge lump in her throat. Whenever she looked in a mirror, she didn’t recognize herself. A man told her he was her husband, but she didn’t know him. Now, hearing the voice of a woman who was supposed to be her best friend and not remembering that voice—it was too much. Just…too much. A sob tore from her throat.

  Alarmed, Jack grabbed the phone from Lisa and shouted into it, “What the hell did you say to her?”

  “Jack? Nothing. I didn’t say anything. What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  Jack reached for Lisa. “We need some time here. Call back in five minutes.”

  “I will not,” Belinda said hotly. “You talk to me, Jack Wilder. What’s happened to Lisa?”

  But Jack wasn’t listening. He couldn’t worry about Belinda when Lisa was falling apart before his eyes. He hung up the phone and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. He didn’t know what had set her off, but he wasn’t about to let her go through this alone.

  In a plush hotel room on the Kona Coast on the island of Hawaii, Belinda Wilder listened, dumbfounded, to the dial tone in her ear. “That son of a…”

  “What happened?” Ace asked, puzzled.

  “I’m going to kill him.” She put the phone down and started pacing. “He’s dead meat.”

  “Slim?” As her husband, Ace felt it was his duty to keep his wife from serving time. “You wanna think about that a bit?”

  “We’ll tell the kids he moved away. We won’t need a funeral, because no one will ever find all the body parts.”

  “I assume you mean Jack.”

  “Of course I mean Jack!”

  “What did he say?”

  “He didn’t say anything. He hung up on me!” she said incredulously. “Lisa started crying, then Jack took the phone before I could find out what was wrong. That sorry SOB hung up on me!”

  Back in Wyoming, Jack felt like a sorry SOB. He wanted to do something, wanted to help, wanted to make Lisa’s tears dry up and bring a smile to her face, and damn his hide, he didn’t know what to do. All he could do was hold her, with her baby safely cradled between their bodies, and let her cry it out.

  “That’s it,” he crooned. “You’ve been holding this in for a long time. Just let it out, cupcake, just let it out.”

  And she did. She held on to him as tightly as she could, got as close as the baby would allow, with her face buried against Jack’s shoulder, and cried her heart out.

  It tore Jack up inside to know she hurt so much, but he was glad she was finally letting go of it. She hadn’t shed a tear since that first day, when she had admitted she had no memory.

  Gradually her sobs dwindled to sniffles.

  “That’s it, cupcake. You’ll feel better now.”

  Sniff. “Cupcake?” She raised her head and gave him a watery wobbly smile. “Why did you call me that?”

  “I don’t know.” He reached for a tissue from the box on the counter and blotted her tears. “You’re sweet, you’re round…”

  Lisa half-laughed, half-choked. “You’re terrible.”

  “That’s me.” Jack wrapped his arms around her again and rocked her gently from side to side.

  She sniffed and patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry I got you all wet. I’m sorry I fell apart like that.”

  “Don’t apologize to me.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head. “If anybody’s ever earned a crying jag, you have.”

  She looked over his shoulder and saw that he’d hung up the phone. “What must Belinda think?”

  “Odds are she thinks I’m a jerk for hanging up on her.”

  “You hung up on your sister-in-law?”

  He smoothed a hand over her cheek and waited until she met his gaze. “You were more important.”

  Lisa ducked her head. “I don’t know what happened. I heard her voice and I didn’t recognize it. She’s supposed to be my best friend and I didn’t recognize her voice. All of a sudden it was just…too much.”

  “You don’t owe anybody any explanation,” Jack said.

  “I owe Belinda one.” She stepped out of Jack’s arms and pushed her hair off her face with both hands. “She must think I’ve lost my mind.”

  “She’ll understand,” Jack assured her.

  “Not if we don’t call her back.”

  The phone rang.

  Jack grinned. “No need. That’s her.”

  Lisa closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  “I’ll explain—”

  “No.” Lisa opened her eyes and met his gaze. “Thank you. But I can’t keep letting you handle my problems. I have to stand on my own.”

  Jack saw she was determined. “All right.” He picked up the receiver on the third ring and handed it to Lisa.

  The first thing Lisa did was apologize profusely. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to explain what just happened, but I’m through feeling sorry for myself.”

  “Are you all right?” Belinda asked. “The baby?”

  It struck Lisa then that Roger Hampton, who claimed to be her husband, had not asked about the baby. “We’re both fine. I had an accident—”

  “Were you hurt?” Belinda demanded.

  Lisa smiled. Belinda generally demanded rather than asked.

  I know that! she thought, thrilled. I know Belinda demands, instead of asks.

  “Lisa! Dammit, girl, answer me.”

  “I’m sorry. Except for a bump on my forehead, I’m fine. But…oh, hell, I have amnesia.”

  There was a short pause before Belinda spoke. “Explain.”

  Lisa’s lips twitched. “Amnesia, the loss of memory.”

  “Very funny. You haven’t forgotten that little tongue-in-cheek habit of yours. What have you forgotten?”

  “Everything. Everything about myself, my life. I had to look on my driver’s license to find out what my name is.”

  This time the pause was longer. “You’re pulling my leg, right?”

  “I’m afraid not. I don’t…I don’t recognize your voice, yet Jack says you’re my best friend.”

 
“Maybe I won’t kill him, after all.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. You just sit tight. We’ll get the next flight off the island and be home as soon as—”

  “Don’t you dare!” Lisa cried. “Don’t you dare cut your vacation short because of me. I’d never be able to look you in the face again.”

  “That’s about the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

  “I’m sorry.” Lisa took a deep breath. “I just need some information from someone who knows me.”

  “Well, of course I know you.”

  “Do you…can you tell me…am I married?”

  An even longer pause this time. “Oh…my…God. You mean it, don’t you? You really don’t remember.”

  Chapter Nine

  Lisa swallowed so hard she was sure that Belinda could hear it over the phone. “I really don’t remember. A man came to the ranch the other day. He said he was Roger Hampton and he was my husband, and he tried to get me to leave with him.”

  “He what?” A string of curses followed. Then, “That creep. That arrogant, overblown piece of frog bait. That bastard! That…that lawyer.”

  Her last word was delivered with such venom that it surprised a laugh out of Lisa.

  “That no good pile of human refuse,” Belinda said heatedly, “is your ex-husband, and good riddance to bad rubbish.”

  Lisa swallowed. Her gaze whipped to Jack. “My…my ex-husband? I’m divorced?” The relief that flooded her was almost overwhelming.

  “You bet your hind end you are, and very happily, I might add. You divorced him after barely a year of marriage because he cheated on you from the beginning. Now he’s trying to coerce you into marrying him again. That’s why you came to the ranch, to get away from him.”

  With her gaze still locked on Jack, Lisa gripped the phone tighter. “Oh, God.” It was coming back. All of it, in huge, solid waves. “I remember.”

  The enormity of the onrush made her stagger. She reached out to catch herself, and Jack was there, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder.

  She spoke into the phone, but her words were for Jack. “I remember.”

  On the other end of the line Belinda let out a loud yell. “You remember something? What? What?”