by Linda Ford
“Nothing.” He jerked his gaze to the basin of potato peelings.
Mrs. Whitley chuckled. “He’s pretending he hadn’t noticed that you are, indeed, beautiful.”
Heat stole up Emily’s neck and stalled at her cheeks. “I’m a mess, and I know it. My clothes are grubby and no doubt my hair is untidy. I can’t remember who I am.” A sob choked off the last of her words and she clamped her lips together. She would not cry. It made her look weak and needy.
“Everything will be okay.” Jesse sounded so reassuring she allowed herself to believe him. Any minute she would wake up and remember exactly who she was and where she was going.
She pushed aside the swirling darkness her thoughts caused, finished peeling the potatoes and handed the pot to Mrs. Whitley.
The older woman thanked her. “Jesse, why don’t you take Emily and Mikey outside? Sitting in the sun will do them both good. A change of scenery might help her feel better. Take Muffin with you, too. She needs to go out for a bit.”
“Good idea.”
Emily wondered if they’d had the same thought as she…something outside might trigger her memory.
The dog had already rushed to the door at the mention of her name. Jesse reached out a hand to invite Mikey along. He waited at the door for her to join them.
Emily got to her feet, pleased that she felt no dizziness, and went to his side. He took her hand. He might have done so to make sure she didn’t fall. She might have let him for the very same reason or it might be she found courage and strength in the way he held her as he led her to a bench by the side of the house. She hadn’t been able to see it from the windows. Nor had she seen the little shed at the end of the wide stoop.
He sat beside her.
Mikey chased Muffin across the small patch of grass, giggling with joyful abandon.
She took in the flowers against the weathered picket fence, the shade-providing trees, the vegetable garden and the bushes, and relaxed with a sigh. “Everything about this place is serene. Your grandmother has a special touch.”
“My gram is a special person.”
“I can see that. So…you live with your grandmother?”
*
Jesse startled at her question. People didn’t often ask him about why he lived with Gram. Those he considered friends knew. But he didn’t mind telling her. In fact, with her eyes closed, he found it easy to talk of his past. “I was told that my pa died when I was two, and that Ma couldn’t deal with it and started to wander. She left me with Gram. That was before we moved to Bella Creek. We saw Ma maybe two or three times a year. And then we didn’t. I was eleven when we learned she had died.” And when he’d learned the truth about his parentage.
“How sad for you. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how I would react to such news.”
He chuckled in a self-mocking way. “I got angry. I wondered why I couldn’t be enough reason for her to stay around. And I don’t refer to her death.”
Emily said nothing, but he sensed her waiting and he continued.
“I always believed she had died in an accident, but one of the bigger boys—a bully—told me she died in a house for soiled doves. At first, I thought that was a place for unhappy women, but that misconception was soon cleared up for me. Turns out she didn’t even know who my father was.” He thought of that troubled time in his past. “I thank God that someone cared enough to set me on the right path.”
“Your grandmother?” She studied him, her eyes shadowed with pain.
“You should be resting, not listening to my personal history.”
Her eyelids fluttered closed. “Who knows what will make my memory return? Besides, your voice eases my headache. Please continue.”
“Very well.” He returned to their conversation. “My grandmother was doing her best with me, but was on a losing track until Grandfather Marshall came to visit. His wife had been Gram’s best friend. He saw how things were going with me and suggested she move to Bella Creek. Said there was need for a good seamstress. But he knew I needed a change of scenery…a chance to direct my energies in a positive direction.”
“It seems to have worked. Right?”
Another mocking laugh. “Not at first. The then-sheriff found me setting a fire behind the hotel. He led me to the jail. I thought he was going to lock me up, but instead he gave me a job cleaning his office and running errands. He spoke slowly and carefully. And I listened.” Jesse lowered his voice to imitate Sheriff Good’s way of speaking. “He said things like, ‘Every decision you make takes you down a road. Make sure you choose a road you want to be on at the end.’ ‘A man is only as good as his word.’ ‘When it comes to right and wrong, there is no compromise.’ ‘Avoid all appearance of evil.’”
He leaned back. Thinking of Sheriff Good always filled him with pleasure. “He was a fine man.”
He had taught Jesse to be proud of himself, and he still was. His smile turned downward. Not all people valued him as he’d like. Four years ago, Agnes Breckenridge had moved to town with her family and she’d made it obvious she liked him. They courted. But when he mentioned marriage, she’d demurred. Said she wanted more than the small town of Bella Creek could offer. He’d said he would go elsewhere if she desired it.
Knowing he must be honest about who he was, and uncertain what she’d heard around town, he had told her the circumstances of his birth. That’s when he learned that she wanted a man with more than he could offer. Not a man who didn’t know his father’s identity. She left town to return to an old beau and abandoned him to nurse his pain. His experience with women after that had been equally unsuccessful.
He knew he wasn’t enough of a man for any woman to love, despite his grandmother’s insistence that he was a fine man. He hadn’t been enough reason for his ma to stick around and he hadn’t been enough for Agnes.
He had no intention of risking his heart again and likely again being rejected. No, sir. He would stick to what he knew he could do well—be a sheriff.
He brought his thoughts back to the present. “Gram has put up with me all these years.” He gave a mocking chuckle. Seems she was the only one willing to do so.
“I’m only guessing, but I think that might have been more a pleasure than a hardship.”
Her response eased some of the strain from him and he grinned at her. “I’ve been trying to make up for the misery I put her through for a few years.”
She looked deep into his eyes, searching for something. He wished he knew what she sought and could provide it.
She sat back with a sigh.
“You remembered something?”
“Only a feeling.”
“Tell me about it. Talking might help.”
“It might.” She remained silent a moment as if collecting her thoughts. “I remember looking into someone’s face, searching for something. I feel like I didn’t find what I looked for. But that’s all there is. No name. No face. Nothing.” Her breathing came too fast. She pressed her hand to her eyes.
Jesse squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t try so hard. Let your memory come back when it’s time. It might take a day or two. You know, until that bump goes away.” He brushed the side of her head.
She filled her lungs slowly and leaned back. “I’ll try to relax.” She glanced about the yard. “The flowers are beautiful.”
“Gram likes to grow enough to take bouquets to the church every Sunday.”
Emily inhaled deeply. “I smell sweet peas.” She closed her eyes. “I see myself with my arms full of the flower. I’m happy and laughing.”
She broke off and he waited, wondering if this was the beginning of her memory returning, but she shook her head.
“I can’t see anything more.”
“Stay here. I’ll get you some raspberries.” He strode toward the bushes. The flowers had triggered a flash of remembrance. Perhaps raspberries would do the same. If not, she could at least enjoy the sweetness of them.
*
Emily watched Jesse cross the yard, mo
ving like a man with no worries, no hurries. She knew that couldn’t be true. Especially as a robbery had been committed, two men murdered and he had in his care a woman who couldn’t tell him anything about herself.
He cupped his hand and filled it, then returned to her side and offered the raspberries to her.
“Thanks.” What a kind, generous man. She took one and sniffed it, finding the scent familiar and full of pleasant memories. “My grandmother had a big raspberry patch. She let us kids pick the berries and eat them.” She popped the berries into her mouth one by one and let the taste explode in her mouth.
He sat quietly at her side, perhaps letting her remember and talk.
She finished the fruit. “I don’t recall anything more. Not where she lived nor how many children I shared the experience with.” How could her mind be so stubborn?
“Let it be.” He stretched his legs out before him. “I might wish I could forget a few things, but I’d want to choose which they were.”
“Like what?”
“Being a rebellious young man, as I told you. Knowing what kind of life my mother lived. So sad. It’s hard to forgive her.”
Emily jerked to her feet and took three steps. Her lungs had forgotten how to work.
Jesse hurried to her side. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know but something you said made me feel—” She couldn’t say what she felt. “I’m afraid of who I might be.”
He turned her to face him and kept his hands on her shoulders. “Emily, I don’t know who you are or what you’ve done, but I can’t imagine it’s anything you should be afraid of.”
She shook her head, ignoring the pain the movement brought. “But you don’t know. I don’t know.”
He led her back to the bench and waited for her to sit, then sat beside her and took her hands. “Emily, let me pray for you.”
She turned her palms into his and held on tight. “I’d like that.” She bowed her head.
“Father God, You know the beginning from the end. You know everything there is to know about Emily. Bring those memories back to her and help her to be calm and patient until You do.” A moment of silence surrounded them. Birds sang overhead. Leaves rustled. The scent of flowers filled the air. And sweet, blessed peace filled her soul.
“Amen,” he said.
She slowly brought her gaze to his. “Thank you. I will trust and not fear.”
“Good to hear.” He slipped away and returned with a handful of sweet peas in pink, purple and white. “Enjoy one of the many of God’s gifts to you.”
She took the flowers and buried her nose in them. “Thank you. God’s gifts? I think having you and your grandmother take me in is one of them.” She lowered her gaze lest he think her too bold.
Bold? The word hammered inside her head. Had she been too bold in the past? I will trust and not fear. She dismissed the thought. In God’s time all things would be brought to her memory.
She hoped God’s time would be sooner rather than later.
Chapter Four
Jesse watched Emily inhale the scent of the flowers. Several times she had mentioned concern about a checkered past. He didn’t know if it indicated that she’d had one or if it was simply a fear born of not knowing. Perhaps he would ask Dr. Baker his opinion. But not now. He sat back, content to enjoy Emily’s pleasure in the flowers and Mikey’s play as he and the old dog romped about on the lawn. He wouldn’t have thought Muffin had that much energy left in her.
He used to do the same with Muffin, only he would have been much older. Someone had left Muffin at Marshall’s Mercantile as a pup and Gram had brought her home. The playful dog had provided Jesse with many hours of fun and unconditional affection. Nice that Mikey found the same.
Poor boy. Jesse needed to find the couple who were going to adopt him and see if he could discover who Aunt Hilda was. Hopefully that would give Mikey a home and Emily her past.
He picked up a bit of wood and joined Mikey and Muffin. He tossed the wood. “Fetch.”
Muffin raced after it and brought it back.
Jesse gave the wood to Mikey. “You throw it for her.”
The toss landed three feet in front of the boy and Muffin brought it back to him.
Mikey bounced up and down, squealing in excitement. He threw the wood again. “Go.” He giggled so hard that he fell to the ground.
Emily joined Jesse. “He’s sure having fun.”
Jesse pulled her hand around his elbow, telling himself it was to make sure she didn’t have a dizzy spell. But it was more than that. He wanted to keep her close, protect her.
How foolish could he be? He knew nothing about this woman. Her name but not her past. Not whether she was married, though he’d again studied her ring finger and seen no evidence of any recent wearing of a ring. Unless she was like his mother. She certainly didn’t look the part. Not that it mattered. He was only doing his job as a sheriff.
The door opened and Annie rushed out, bearing a shopping basket full of clothes. “I believe I have everything you’ll need for a day or two.” She set the basket on the stoop and proceeded to pull out three outfits for Emily’s inspection. A brown skirt, a navy one and two shirtwaists—one white, the other pink—and a dress that seemed a little fancier. There were more things, but she didn’t reveal them. Jesse guessed they were of a personal nature.
“Aunt Mary had them tucked away,” Annie said. “She’s put on some weight and couldn’t wear them.” That would explain the slight mothball smell. Annie’s aunt Mary and uncle George ran the Marshall’s Mercantile store.
Emily touched the garments. She looked troubled.
He moved a step closer, waiting for her to explain what bothered her.
“Thank you,” she said to Annie. “I’m grateful for your help. I just wish…” She fluttered a hand. “I feel like such a nuisance.”
“Even if you had your memory, it wouldn’t change that your belongings are missing.” Jesse touched her elbow as he spoke, relieved when her clouded expression cleared.
“It’s strange that they would take everything,” Annie said. “What use would they have for a woman’s or a child’s things? Well, unless one of them was, indeed, married with a child. Or was it sheer meanness?”
“I aim to find out the reason for what they’ve done, and I will find them and bring them to justice.”
Emily grew thoughtful. “I fear I am keeping you from pursuing them. Please don’t let me stand in your way.”
“I won’t.” Except she was. He could have continued his search this afternoon, but when he found the satchel he had brought it back to town hoping it would stimulate her memory. He couldn’t deny he felt overly protective of Emily, given her situation. But then, keeping her safe and connecting her to her friends and family was also part of his job.
Annie folded the items back into the basket. “I need to get back to my family, but don’t hesitate to let me know if I can help in any way.” She patted Emily’s arm. “You can find me in the manse behind the church. Just turn left when you leave this house and go until you reach the church. We live right beside it. Jesse’s office is straight across the street.”
“Thank you again,” Emily murmured.
Annie hesitated, as if wanting to say more. Instead she looked at Jesse. “Take good care of her. And if you need anything, you know where to find me.” She called goodbye to Mikey and left.
Emily twisted her hands together.
He caught them and stilled them. “You’re worrying again. I know it can’t be easy.” He feared she might overtax her brain and get dizzy. “Let’s sit again.”
“I can’t. I need to move.”
So they walked to the back gate. There she stopped.
If he talked, it might help her to quit fretting about her loss of memory. “Annie is like a sister to me. She’s a Marshall. Grandfather Marshall is responsible for the existence of Bella Creek. When the mining town to the northwest of here sprang up, it was…and still is…a rough place. Gran
dfather decided it wasn’t suitable for decent folk. He has two sons—one is George, who runs the Marshall’s Mercantile store. If you need anything, put it on my bill there. I’ll explain the circumstances to him.”
She turned, a protest forming.
He resisted the urge to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. She hadn’t looked in a mirror or she would have noted the dust marring her face and how untidy her hair was. He was half tempted to pull out his handkerchief and wipe her cheeks but didn’t want to frighten her. “Now don’t fret. Things will work out soon enough. I’m sure of it. I was telling you about the Marshalls. Bud is Grandfather’s other son. He is one of the owners of the Marshall Five Ranch about five miles west of town. He has four children. You’ve met Annie. She has three brothers, all tall, blond and blue-eyed, like she is. Dawson, Conner and Logan. Conner has been my best friend for a long time.”
Seeing that she listened, her own troubles momentarily forgotten, he continued to tell about the Marshall family—how all four of them had married in the past year. “There was a fire in town a year and a half ago. Took out a whole block of buildings. They’ve all been rebuilt.” He told of how the Marshalls had been responsible for bringing in a new teacher and doctor. “You met him. Doc Baker.” He related how the community had worked together in making a fair successful in order to purchase a bell for the church. “It can also be used to alert the citizens to an emergency, like a fire.”
She chuckled. “Sounds to me like this should have been called Marshallville.”
He laughed. “In a way, it was. Bella is Grandmother Marshall’s name.”
“She must be pleased.”
“She passed away years ago.”
Emily grew thoughtful. She looked untroubled so he stayed quiet. After a few minutes, she sighed. “It all sounds so…idyllic, peaceful. As if nothing would ever go wrong here.”
“There’s been a stagecoach robbery and a double murder, so I wouldn’t say it has been trouble-free.”
His arms were crossed and she rested her hand on his forearm. “I’m keeping you from your task of finding those men. Please don’t feel you need to watch over me.” She lowered her head, making it impossible for him to see her eyes. “Though I confess I find a great deal of comfort and encouragement in your presence.”
