by Linda Ford
Jesse held his hand out to the boy. Mikey hesitated.
“It’s okay,” Emily said. “Go along with the nice man.”
Mikey nodded and obediently took Jesse’s hand.
Jesse paused at the door and looked back at her. She sat on the edge of the table, much as Mikey had, and looked every bit as apprehensive. Jesse wanted to offer her some kind of assurance. But before he could speak, she looked in his direction, correctly read his concern and smiled.
“I’m okay. Don’t worry.”
Ironic that she felt she had to reassure him when he had wanted to reassure her.
He pulled the door shut behind him. Father in heaven, help her remember who she is. This woman deserved to be with those who loved her. Parents. A brother or a sister. An aunt or an uncle. Perhaps even a husband, though she wore no wedding ring.
Did that mean she was unmarried?
Perhaps she’d be able to tell him after the doctor did his examination.
Jesse sat down.
Mikey pulled a children’s book from the nearby table and handed it to Jesse. “Read me.” He waited for Jesse to take him on his knee.
Jesse lifted him up and turned the pages of a brightly colored book. “Ball. Cat. Dog. Apple.” He read the words and pointed out the pictures without paying attention as he tipped his head toward the door, listening to the murmur of voices.
Mikey repeated each word.
The outer door squeaked and young Clarence poked his head in. Clarence often helped Jesse. “Didn’t see anyone waiting for the stagecoach. Asked at the store and at the hotel.”
“Thanks.” Why was no one waiting for her? What had brought her to town?
He jerked toward the inner door as it opened.
“Mikey, can you read the book by yourself while I talk to the sheriff?” the doctor asked.
“’Kay.”
Jesse rose, transferred the boy to the chair, settled him with the book, then followed the doctor into the examining room. “Is she alright?” he asked.
Doc Baker nodded. “A concussion is the only injury I found. It’s responsible for her loss of memory.”
Emily looked ready to cry and Jesse went to her side. He didn’t reach for her hand. He had no right. But she took his and squeezed with a strength that surprised him.
“What if I don’t remember?” Her voice shook with tension.
“Now don’t you worry, miss. You’ve been in an accident. You’ve banged your head. Your memory will return in its own good time. Don’t push it or fret. That only interferes with healing.”
Her grip tightened. Jesse squeezed back.
“What’s going to happen to me? To him?” She nodded toward the room where Mikey waited. “If he’s my son, wouldn’t I remember? But if he’s not, then why do I have him with me?”
Doc patted her hand. “You aren’t wearing a wedding ring so I would think you are unmarried. As to who Mikey is to you…well there could be any number of explanations. Perhaps he’s a nephew or the child of a friend you planned to meet.”
Jesse could have informed the doctor that he didn’t sound at all convincing.
“But what are we to do?” Emily wailed.
“I’ll take you home to my grandmother.” Jesse had already told her that, but perhaps she hadn’t thought he meant it. Or had she forgotten that, too?
“There you go.” Doc stepped back, his job done. “Mrs. Whitley will take good care of you. As will Jesse.” Doc gave Jesse a look that informed him he better do so.
“I sure will.” It was all he could do not to wrap his arm about her shoulders and hold her tight. Her situation made him feel protective. “It’s my job.”
He helped Emily to her feet. In the waiting room, he scooped Mikey into one arm. As they stepped outside, he offered his elbow to Emily and she clung to it. Whether out of fear of her unknown future or out of lingering dizziness, he couldn’t say. In either case, he meant to make sure she was okay before he let her out of his sight.
She shivered and he pulled her tighter to his side. Then he realized she shivered from cold, not concern. Dark, rain-filled clouds scudded across the sky.
If he didn’t get back to the stagecoach before the rain came, any trail the thieves had left would be washed away.
But he couldn’t go until he had Emily and Mikey in his grandmother’s care.
The wind picked up in velocity. The sky darkened. He hurried them toward home. He reached the gate and nudged it open.
Emily held back, studying the house.
He followed the direction of her troubled gaze. “The house is twelve years old. It was built when old Mr. Marshall started Bella Creek so people wouldn’t have to live in the rough mining town of Wolf Hollow if they didn’t want to.” His home was two stories. Four bedrooms upstairs. The main floor had a room used for Grandmother’s seamstress business, as well as a welcoming kitchen and a cozy living room. At least, that’s how he viewed them.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you to my grandmother.” He put Mikey down and held out his hand to invite her to join him.
She held back. “She doesn’t know me.” Her eyes came to him. “I don’t know me. Maybe I’m someone you wouldn’t want to know. Maybe I’ve done something wrong.”
“Have you?” Maybe the direct approach would unlock her memories.
She held his gaze for a moment, then her eyes darkened. “I—I think—” She shook her head.
“Remember what the doctor said. Don’t try too hard.”
She nodded, relief clearing her eyes.
Was it possible she did have a checkered past? Was she running from someone or something?
It was his duty to find out who she was, and if her past involved breaking the law, he would deal with that according to his sworn duty. He would not be fooled by her innocent looks.
Chapter Two
Emily reluctantly allowed Jesse to draw her toward the house. He’d asked if she’d done something wrong. The question had triggered a response in her brain—one that made her stomach clench. She swayed a little with dizziness, grateful that Jesse held her arm so she wouldn’t fall.
She tried not to think of all the things she might be guilty of, but it made her head pound. “Jesse, wait.” She pulled him back.
Jesse faced her, his expression so kind that she couldn’t swallow. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“I don’t know that. Just as I don’t know who I am or what I’ve done. I don’t even know who Mikey is. My son? A friend’s son?” A word hovered in the back of her mind. A word that described Mikey. She almost captured it, but then it slipped away. The wind stung her eyes and made her shudder. Not knowing was the worst feeling in the world.
“Emily, I know you’re frightened. Remember the verse you quoted? ‘What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.’ Do you believe it?”
She didn’t have to think to nod a yes.
“That says to me you are a child of God.”
She nodded again. “I belong to Him. Have since I was a child.” How did she know that and yet couldn’t recall her name or her relationship to Mikey?
“God will not abandon you now. Do you believe that?” His gaze held hers, full of assurance and faith.
“I do.” She sucked in air until her lungs would hold no more. “I’m ready.” She gripped his hand with all her strength as he led the way up the path to the front door of a welcoming-looking house. He opened the door and called, “Gram, I got company for you.”
A dog barked from somewhere inside.
Mikey pressed to Emily’s legs. He vibrated and she squeezed his shoulder. “We’re going to be just fine, Mikey.” The doctor had assured her that her memory would return, though he couldn’t guess as to when. In its own good time, he’d said. Be patient, he’d warned. Not that she saw she had much choice.
They stepped through a tiny entryway with oval-shaped glass in both the outer and inner door. The beveled edges of the glass would refract the light and make rainbow colors on the f
loors and walls that children would admire.
She gave the room a sweeping glance, hoping something would trigger her mind into remembering. The front room in which they stood was welcoming. A dark green couch had a knitted afghan in variegated greens on one arm, and an overstuffed armchair sat on either side of the couch. A yellow canary sang in a cage close to a window.
Mikey noticed it and pointed. “Bir, bir.”
“Bird. That’s right,” she murmured as she continued her study. One big window overlooked the street, another on the far wall revealed a wide-branched tree with a garden table and two wrought-iron chairs beneath its leafy arches. A fine place to sit and read or sew. A fireplace, a full bookcase and a china cupboard of knickknacks all combined to make the room warm and welcoming.
But nothing triggered a sudden remembrance of who she was.
Three doors led from the room. One revealed a set of stairs, the second gave a glimpse of a kitchen. The third flew open and a small, older woman flew out, a little brown dog that looked to be part Chihuahua barking at her heels.
“Muffin, be quiet,” the woman ordered, and the dog immediately settled down. “Company. What a pleasant surprise. Do come in. I prefer to serve tea in the kitchen.” She hesitated. “But if you prefer the living room, that is fine with me.”
Jesse chuckled. “Gram, I’d like you to meet Emily and Mikey. Emily, Mikey, this is my grandmother, Mrs. Whitley.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Emily offered her hand.
The petite woman had twinkling brown eyes and white hair in a loose bun. Something about the spry lady brought a smile to Emily’s lips.
Mrs. Whitley took Emily’s hand between her own. “It’s my pleasure, for sure.” She touched Mikey on the head and dropped her hand again before Mikey could respond. She shifted her gaze to Jesse. “Bring your guests to the kitchen, then you can tell me what’s going on.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The note of fondness in his voice eased the strain gripping Emily’s heart. She knew that Jesse was the sheriff and this lady was his grandmother. From their short interaction, she knew nothing more except they were genuinely fond of and respected each other. It was enough to know she would be safe here until her memory returned.
They made their way to the kitchen.
She studied this room as carefully as she had the other. A worn, wooden table sat by big windows that gave a view of the backyard with a garden in its full glory, a row of raspberry bushes along the fence and flowers blooming in a riot of reds and pinks and white in wide rows. Vegetable plants were visible beyond the flowers.
Another window over the kitchen sink looked out on the side yard and the same leafy tree as she’d seen from the living room. There were also generous cupboards and a polished stove.
Emily held back a frustrated sigh that, although she knew the name of everything in the room and what its use was, nothing triggered her memory.
Mrs. Whitley bustled about preparing tea. She served milk and cookies to Mikey and waved Emily to a chair. Jesse sat beside her.
In a low voice he explained about the stagecoach robbery and accident.
Emily shuddered.
“I’m sorry. I know this is difficult for you.” He patted her arm.
Mrs. Whitley touched her arm on the other side. “You must feel all out of place, not knowing who you are, but not to worry, my dear. You’ll soon be right as rain in June. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.” She shifted her attention to Mikey and brushed his hair off his forehead. “It will be nice to have a little man around again. It’s been some time since Jesse here was small.” The glance she gave Jesse revealed a wealth of love and affection.
Emily turned from watching them to study Mikey. She felt a fondness for him that soothed her, but shouldn’t she know if he was her son? She couldn’t imagine forgetting a child she’d carried for nine months.
She didn’t realize how long she’d been looking at the boy, nor how worried she’d become, until Jesse touched her shoulder. She jolted as if he’d awakened her from a dream. If only he had.
“Don’t fret. Remember what the doctor said.”
“I know. Don’t push it.”
“Grandma, Emily, I hate to rush out but I must get back to the stagecoach and look for clues before it rains.”
“You go do what you need to,” Mrs. Whitley said. “We’ll be just fine. Won’t we?” She directed her question to Emily as Jesse waited at the kitchen doorway, preparing to leave the house.
Emily murmured, “Of course,” though she felt like nothing in her world was fine at the moment. Except, she amended, that she was sitting at a table with a kindly grandmother. She’d been rescued by a kind, handsome man whom she felt she could trust. After all, he was the sheriff and his grandmother adored him.
Was that enough basis for trust? A dark cloud hovered at the back of her mind making her feel guilty. What had she done? Had she been involved in the planning of the robbery in some way? Surely not. And yet that dark cloud of suspicion lingered just out of reach. Why would she feel this sting of guilt unless she had done something wrong?
“Would you like to see your bedroom?” Mrs. Whitley’s question sent a shudder across Emily’s shoulders.
How long had she been staring into space, searching her mind? She jerked her attention to the woman, pushing back the wave of dizziness the movement gave her. “It’s most generous of you to take in a pair of strangers, especially when you know nothing about us.”
The woman chuckled softly. “I suppose I know as much about you at the moment as you know about yourself, but we aren’t going to worry about that. Your memory will return when it’s time and we’ll be patient because, my dear, these things are in the hands of a loving, caring God.”
Tears sprang to Emily’s eyes. She blinked them back. “I know it’s so. Thank you for reminding me.” She held out a hand to Mikey and they followed Mrs. Whitley out of the room. Her head hurt with the movement but taking her mind to other things was preferable to sitting and fretting.
“You’ve seen the living room. I hope you will make yourself at home. There are books to read if you care to. This is my pet canary, Dickie.” She tapped one of the wires of the cage. “Dickie, say hello to our guests.”
The bird made a clicking sound followed by a chirp.
“Good boy.”
Mrs. Whitley led them up the stairs. “The first room is Jesse’s. He often has to be up at odd hours taking care of things.”
Emily caught a glimpse as they passed the door and saw a room much like her first impression of Jesse—masculine—with a quilt made in dark browns and greens covering the bed, a heavy wardrobe with the door closed and a table beside the bed on which rested a Bible and a lamp. Seeing evidence of the man’s faith increased her courage.
“The room across the hall is mine.” Mrs. Whitley paused before the open door.
It was decorated with a frilly lace bed skirt, lacy curtains, a white crocheted spread, pictures of flowers and a shelf full of dainty china. Emily chuckled. “His room is so masculine. Yours quite the opposite.”
Mrs. Whitley gave her a cheery smile. “You’d wonder how such different people could live together in complete harmony, and yet we do.” She led the way to the end of the hall where two more doors stood across from each other. She opened the one on the left. It was a tidy little room with a double bed covered in a crazy patchwork quilt, a dresser and a table, and on the table was a Bible. The window, Emily knew, would look out on that leafy tree. It would be a pleasant place to spend the night. And then? Hopefully her memory would have returned and she could get on with her plans. Whatever they were.
“You can put your things in here.” Mrs. Whitley pressed her fingers to her mouth. Her eyes widened. “Oh, my dear. I am so sorry. You have no belongings. Now I wonder what use a woman’s and a child’s luggage would be to three robbers.” Jesse had told his grandmother the details of the robbery. Mrs. Whitley patted Emily’s arm. “Never mind. Je
sse might find some of your things. If not, we’ll soon have you fixed up. I’d offer you something of mine but I’m afraid it would be too small. The people of Bella Creek are kind and generous, though, especially the Marshalls.” As she talked she opened the fourth door into a room similar to the one she’d shown Emily. “Mikey can sleep in here. Would you like that, young man?”
Mikey stood in the doorway, studied the room a moment then turned to face the women. “Mem, mem, mem, mem.”
“What is he saying?” Mrs. Whitley asked.
“I don’t know. Perhaps he’s asking for his mama.” Emily knelt to face Mikey. “Honey, I don’t know what you mean.”
He nodded and stuck his thumb in his mouth. His wide blue eyes studied her.
She got the feeling she had disappointed him. But she had no idea why. She rose. “We’ll be very comfortable. Thank you.”
Mrs. Whitley nodded. “If you need anything, just let me know.”
Emily knew the woman couldn’t give her what she needed the most—answers about who she was.
“Now, come along and I’ll show you my favorite room of the house.” They followed her back down the stairs and across the living room to the door from which she had burst not long ago.
Emily followed her into a room full of fabric and a large table on which Mrs. Whitley had been cutting out a garment. An open cupboard held various colored threads and several pincushions. In the corner stood a dress form. Emily circled the room, touching several things. “This feels familiar.”
“Good. Feel free to explore. It might help you remember.”
Emily lifted a big pair of cutting shears, balancing them in one hand and then the other. She had handled a pair like this. She could see herself sewing a seam, feel the pride she took in her tiny, even stitches. But nothing more would come and she set the scissors aside with a sigh.
“Anything?” Mrs. Whitley asked.
“I’m afraid not.”
“Well, not to worry.” She turned to Mikey. “I think I might have a few toys around. Would you like to help me find them?”
Mikey smiled. “’Kay.”
Emily followed them from the room, pausing at the doorway to look back. The sense of familiarity lingered, but nothing more came.
