Max 2 - A Love Remembered

by Annette Broadrick

  He had almost reached the top of the stairs when her voice stopped him.

  "Tim?"

  He turned and found her standing at the bottom of the stairway alone.

  "Yes?"

  "Did Granddad say... Did the two of you talk about—What I mean is—"

  "We'll discuss it later, Elisabeth. I still have many questions. I hope you'll help me with some of the answers."

  She nodded, looking almost unsure of herself for a moment. From everything he had learned about her today, it was no doubt a rare moment, and as such, should be savored.

  ❧

  They ate at a small table set into the alcove of the large dining area. As many times as Tim had visited Charlie he still hadn't gotten used to the sense of stepping back in time whenever he was there.

  Since Mrs. Brodie continued to check on them periodically, Tim had no desire to start an intimate discussion with Elisabeth over dinner. Therefore he kept the conversation casual.

  "I was surprised to find such an up-to-date medical facility in a town as small as Cripple Creek," he commented after a particularly long silence had stretched between them.

  Elisabeth smiled. "Yes. Well, that's because Granddad donated most of the money for it. As a matter of fact, that was one of the arguments he used to convince me he'd be better off staying there than at home. Since he'd put so much money into it, he deserved to be their star patient."

  Tim laughed. 'That sounds just like him."

  Elisabeth smiled her agreement, her eyes filled with sadness. "I don't want to lose him."

  "I can understand that. He's really something."

  ''How long have you know him?''

  "I'm not sure. Ten years, maybe. We met in Washington."

  ''He thinks a great deal of you."

  Tim picked up his cup and sipped the steaming coffee before he answered her in a deliberate tone. "He must, to have allowed his adored granddaughter to marry me."

  Elisabeth glanced toward the kitchen door before looking at him. "I suppose," was all she replied.

  After they finished their meal, Elisabeth suggested they cross the hall to what at one time would have been called the parlor. A cheerful fire danced in the fireplace, giving the large room a cozy appearance.

  "How's your head feeling?" Elisabeth asked after they sat in matching chairs across from each other.

  "Better."

  "Did you take the medication prescribed for you while you were upstairs?"

  "No. I've switched to aspirin. Even though it doesn't take the pain away, it manages to dull it somewhat without knocking me out. We need to talk."

  She glanced at her hands clasped in her lap but did not respond.

  "Why didn't you tell me this morning that we were married?"

  Elisabeth raised her head and looked at him, obviously surprised at the line of questioning. For reasons he didn't quite understand, Tim discovered their marriage was at the top of his list of needed answers.

  ''I wasn't deliberately hiding the information, you know. I just wasn't sure how to explain... how much you remembered about everything."

  "It didn't occur to you that I might have been more than a little unnerved to discover that I was sleeping with Charles Barringer's granddaughter? With no memory of a ceremony I drew an erroneous, although perfectly natural, conclusion that was more than a little disconcerting."

  She grinned, and he was surprised to see the mischievous light that appeared in her eyes. "Were you afraid that if Granddad knew about it, he would get out his shotgun?" she teased lightly.

  "Knowing Charlie the way I do, I was more than a little afraid he'd use the shotgun on me rather than listen to any explanation I might offer. Given the fact that I couldn't remember a thing, I couldn't even come up with an explanation."

  "You poor dear."

  "Yes. You can understand my concern."

  "Without a doubt. Granddad's temper is legendary."

  "You don't seem to find it troublesome, though."

  Her smile seemed to recall certain memories that Tim suddenly wished he shared. "Well, I've had considerable practice dealing with his temper."

  "So he said. He's rather impressed with your temper, from what I gathered."

  Her smile grew. "Nonsense. He just enjoys maligning my character, which doesn't surprise me in the least."

  "Are the doctors giving him much more time?"

  She shook her head. "They don't understand how he's hung on this long. They've given up cautioning him about his routine. He thrives on visitors, enjoys berating the nurses and gives the doctors fits. Yet all the tests show that his heart is worn out. He could go any time."

  ''He suggested that we marry, didn't he?"

  Her gaze searched his face as though looking for something. He didn't know what it was. When she spoke her voice was lightly casual. "He's always worried about me and my welfare. It's a habit that he can't seem to break."

  "What I don't understand is why you were willing to go through such a thing just to appease him."

  "Don't you?" Her gaze wandered to the fire and she studied it for several moments in silence. "I would probably do anything I could to help him rest more and worry less."

  That made sense to him. A lot of sense. Charlie might see her as an independent, modern female. Perhaps she was, in many ways. But her love had willingly placed her in emotional chains. The question was, for how long?

  "I'd appreciate it if you would fill me in on our agreement."

  Her green-eyed gaze turned slowly to meet his once more. "Our agreement about what?"

  "The marriage. I'm sure I explained to you that with my work and general life-style, marriage doesn't really fit in to my plans." When she didn't comment, he went on. "I can understand that neither one of us wanted him upset. Now he can go, knowing that I'll be here for you." He thought about that for a moment. "And I intend to be, don't get me wrong. I know it isn't going to be easy for you to get through the next few months. He filled me in on Jason's and Marcus's probable reaction. You won't have to face them alone."

  Her tone was level when she said, "I'm not afraid of Jason or Marcus."

  "Well, that's good. Then you won't mind my admitting that although I'm not actually afraid of them, I'm not looking forward to making their acquaintance."

  ''Don't worry. I'll protect you, if need be."

  She had spoken so quietly that for a moment he didn't believe he'd heard her correctly. She hadn't changed expression as she made her outrageous comment.

  Tim couldn't help it. He began to laugh. Dear God, but she was adorable. This was the woman Charlie had thought needed protection? He almost felt sorry for her brothers. Almost, but not quite. She watched him, a slight smile appearing on her face.

  'Thank you," he managed to say after a moment. "You don't know how much that relieves my mind. I know I'll be able to sleep better at night."

  She chuckled but did not reply.

  "Speaking of sleeping. I'm surprised that we're sharing a bedroom, under the circumstances. Since Charlie isn't here he wouldn't need to know our sleeping arrangements."

  "He'd find out."

  "From Mrs. Brodie, I suppose."

  She shrugged. "Who knows how Granddad learns about things? For all I know he has this whole house wired for sound."

  "That's a thought."

  "Would you prefer the privacy of your own bedroom?" she asked.

  "Not necessarily," Tim drawled. "I rather enjoyed waking up to find Sleeping Beauty in my bed this morning."

  He was delighted to see that his remark caused her color to heighten. She wasn't nearly so bold nor so brave as she would like him to think.

  "Can you give me some of the details of our marriage?"

  She made a slight movement, almost as though she had flinched, but since her gaze remained calm and perfectly steady, Tim decided he must have imagined a reaction.

  "What sort of details?"

  "Oh, the usual. When... where... who was there. You know the sort of thing.''r />
  "We were married May second in a private ceremony in Granddad's room at the hospital. Because of the suddenness of the decision, two of the nurses witnessed it. The judge who married us is a long-time friend of Granddad's.''

  Tim found all this very disorienting. He also realized, with something like dismay, that he had no idea what day it was.

  He rubbed his forehead, frowning.

  "You're in pain, aren't you?" Her voice sounded soft and concerned.

  "I'm more confused than anything. What's today's date?''

  ''It's Friday, May twentieth."

  He'd been married for almost three weeks and had no memory of it. None whatsoever. He leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.

  "Why don't you get some rest, Tim? You've done too much today, you know."

  He opened his eyes and met her gaze. Ignoring her comment, he asked, "Who found me?"

  "Found you? What do you mean?"

  ''When I got my concussion."

  "Oh! One of the ranch hands and I. We'd taken the dogs with us."

  "Would you be able to find the spot again?"

  She thought about that for a moment. "I suppose. If you think it's necessary. Sam guessed that your horse may have been spooked when you weren't prepared for it, and that you were thrown off."

  "Sam's the ranch hand?"

  "Actually, he's the foreman, I suppose."

  "I don't know him?" That was a safe bet if Sam thought Tim could fall off his horse.

  "No."

  "Do your brothers know we're married?"

  Elisabeth started to answer, then stopped for a moment as though puzzled. "You know, I'm not sure. They haven't heard it from me, but I don't know if Granddad told them or not."

  "Do they know he's in the hospital?"

  "Yes. I called them."

  "Have they been to see him?"

  She nodded. ''Jason flew out in his company's jet after Granddad's heart attack. Marcus was unavailable at the time, but I think he's called and talked with him."

  "What do your brothers do?"

  She grinned. "I've never known anyone with so many questions. I almost feel as though I'm on the witness stand. You leap from one subject to another without warning."

  If she could only understand how he felt. For every question he verbalized, five more popped up in his head. It was as though he had walked into the middle of a movie with no idea of the plot or who the characters were. Worse than that, he felt as though he was supposed to be a part of the story and had no clue as to what his lines were.

  When he didn't respond, she sighed. "Tim, please go to bed. I promise to answer more questions tomorrow. But you really need to rest."

  "Will you come tuck me in and tell me a bedtime story?" He couldn't resist teasing her.

  "Was that part of our agreement?"

  "How the hell should I know? Our agreement, as you call it, could have been anything." He knew he sounded irritable, but it wasn't half what he was feeling at the moment.

  She eyed him for a moment in silence, then got up. "All right. Here's what I'll do. Why don't you take a nice, hot shower and try to relax your neck and shoulder muscles a little. Afterward I'll give you a massage. That should help you sleep."

  Slowly Tim came to his feet. "Why would you do that?"

  She shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first time."

  ''You mean since my concussion."

  Her color heightened slightly. ''No. Before."

  "You're in the habit of giving me massages?"

  "I wouldn't call it a habit."

  Why was she being evasive? Though he tried, Tim could not read anything in her expression.

  What sort of relationship had evolved between the two of them during the two weeks after their wedding and before his injury? From the evidence it would seem that they shared the same room and bed.

  Tim had trouble with that one. Perhaps he would agree to a sham marriage if he felt strongly enough about the reasons for it, but would he needlessly torture himself by spending night after night next to this warm, attractive, intelligent woman?

  He felt that he knew himself fairly well and yet that appeared to be wholly out of character for him. Chivalrous? Perhaps. Martyr material? Not likely.

  So what was the answer? He wasn't even sure of the question. And if he could formulate it, to whom would it be directed? Elisabeth didn't know him well. How could she possibly explain his motivation?

  Elisabeth walked over to him and companionably linked her arm with his. "Come on. I'll walk you upstairs."

  He had a hunch that she had used that particular form of cajoling with her grandfather with almost certain positive results. However, he wasn't her grandfather and his reaction to her soft breast pressing lightly against his forearm was anything but familial.

  If he didn't know better, Tim decided, he'd swear he'd been out of his mind for much longer than a few days. How else could he explain his recent actions? Or perhaps the knock he'd gotten on his head wasn't the true cause of the amnesia. Blanking out his memories was probably the only way he knew to survive their current sleeping arrangements without a complete loss of sanity.

  Now he was going to begin more memories. Tim had always considered himself to be a survivor.

  Would he be able to survive his celibate role under these conditions?

  Only time would tell.

  Chapter 4

  The sound of a phone ringing late at night was ominous to Tim, probably because good news never seemed to travel in such a manner. Only the urgency of bad news gave impetus to the need to arouse others from their sleep.

  Elisabeth answered the phone on the first ring, turning on the lamp beside her. Tim raised himself on his elbow, running his other hand through his hair, while he tried to understand the message she was being given.

  He already knew.

  She had her back to him and was giving monosyllable replies as she continued to listen. The soft light highlighted the long waves of hair that fell across her shoulders and along her back.

  He didn't remember her getting into bed with him. The last he recalled was the quiet strength of her warm hands kneading the muscles in his back and shoulders, relaxing him, soothing him, easing the pain that seemed to slowly recede in his head.

  Tim glanced at his watch. It was almost four o'clock ... the darkest hour... just before dawn.

  Elisabeth murmured something, then carefully replaced the receiver, turned out the light and rolled onto her back, staring into the darkness.

  "Charlie?" Tim felt a need to get her to talk to him.

  "Yes."

  "Who called?"

  "Neil Swanson, Granddad's attorney." Her voice showed no emotion whatsoever. "Granddad had left strict instructions at the hospital. Whenever he went, he wanted Neil to be the first one notified. Neil knew what Granddad wanted done."

  ''Which is?"

  She sighed. "He didn't want me having to call and tell anyone or having to worry about the details. Neil said he'd call back later and let me know the time set for the services." She sounded empty somehow.

  "He was trying to take some of the burden off you."

  "Yes."

  They lay there in the dark, together and yet apart. Because of the size of the bed there was no reason for then to touch, and Tim hesitated to encroach on her space, but he had such a fierce need to comfort her, if only she would allow it.

  Slowly he moved his hand until it brushed against her arm. He gave her the opportunity to withdraw, and when she didn't he took her hand, threading his fingers between hers.

  "I'll never forget the first time I saw him," she said several minutes later. ''My mother had died the week before. She'd been the ranch cook as far back as I could remember, and now that she was gone, the owner wasn't really sure what to do with me."

  "'Where were you living?"

  "In Arizona. When my dad was alive they lived in Tucson. After his death she needed to find a place where she could look after me as well as w
ork. Since she'd been raised on a ranch, it was what she knew best."

  ''Then Charlie showed up."

  He could almost hear the smile in her voice. "Yes. Such a big man, with a booming voice and a no-nonsense manner. He was at the ranch house one afternoon when I got in from school. Said he'd just gotten word about my mother. Said he was my grandfather."

  When she didn't say anything more Tim prodded her, knowing it would help her if she talked. "Were you surprised?"

  "I told him I didn't know what he was talking about. My grandfather had been dead for years. That's when he said he was my dad's father, and nobody had ever accused him of being dead. Nobody had better try." Her voice caught at the words, and he knew she was trying to choke back a sob.

  Tim moved toward her and pulled her into his arms. She gave no resistance, allowing herself to be turned like a limp rag doll.

  "You know, I've known for some time that he was going." Her words were beginning to blur with the sound of tears. He tucked her face into his shoulder and began to stroke her back, molding her to his broad frame. "Losing my mom was such a shock because it was so sudden, with no warning. She woke up one morning not feeling well, and by night she was gone. I thought that was why it hit me so hard. Losing her was so unexpected. She was all I had."

  She sniffed, and Tim rolled them both so that he could reach for a tissue from a box beside the bed. She lay partly sprawled across him, without awareness of the intimacy they shared.

  He handed her the tissue.

  ''It doesn't really help, though, knowing you're going to lose them. No matter how prepared you are, you're never ready." The tears were coming fast.

  Tim didn't say anything. He reached for more tissue and continued to hold her to him, lightly pressing her to him to remind her that she wasn't alone.

  ''Dear God. I loved him so much." The dam broke, and her sobs shook her. Her arms came around his neck, and she clutched him convulsively to her.