The Sheriff & the Amnesiac

by Ryanne Corey

  Downstairs on the front hall table was a little white business card with a number he didn’t want to call. He’d also told Jenny he would run the Harley’s plates, which would almost certainly result in a wealth of information he wasn’t sure he wanted. But what choice did he have? He had no more excuses. At some point he needed to remember who he was and what his professional obligations were.

  A heavy cloud of foreboding settled over him, playing with sickening fingers in his middle. He couldn’t ignore the facts, much as he would like to do just that. The woman he had met in Enchilada Ernie’s had been a defensive, prickly soul, wary of everything and suspicious of everyone. Tyler had been around enough to know that kind of reaction was usually the result of hard lessons learned from a less than wonderful past. But since he’d brought Jenny to his home, she’d allowed herself to relax somewhat, showing fascinating glimpses of an endearing, almost childlike soul. Part of that sparkling innocence was no doubt due to the pain medication, but underneath he caught a glimpse of a woman who was gifted with a warmly affectionate personality and a delightful, spontaneous sense of humor. Last night Jenny had been generous with her smiles, teasing with him, allowing him to get physically close to her without turning into a cactus and resorting to defensive, verbal jousting. Maybe he was being too much of an optimist, but he truly believed that behind her guarded walls, she was very, very human. Her shell was only skin deep. He would have bet his life on it.

  Still, with Jenny he never knew what to expect from moment to moment. A faint smile curled up the edges of his lips as he wondered who she would be today.

  Jenny wasn’t feeling very confident today.

  The problem was, she remembered absolutely everything about the night before. At the time, lost in a lovely cloud of fine medication and fine wine, her behavior had seemed perfectly logical. But in the harsh light of morning, it felt more humiliating than logical. And what about making Tyler read the bedtime story? Geez, that had been utterly ridiculous. At the time she was just searching for reasons to make him stay with her. She’d been so relaxed and so content with the moment. She was beginning to wonder if she’d had much happiness in her life before finding herself in Bridal Veil Falls. Last night’s blissful contentment had felt so alien, yet so wonderful.

  Still, one thing hadn’t changed with the dawn of a new day. Last night she had allowed herself to open up to Tyler, dropping her defensive attitude for a while and just enjoying his company. That had created a new intimacy that stayed with her. She couldn’t pretend that nothing had changed, much as she would like to. Something definitely had changed. Whatever had led her to lower her defenses couldn’t be reversed. It might have been wise and prudent to keep him at arm’s length, but it was a little too late for wisdom and prudence. To further complicate matters, she had the ominous sensation of impending change, as if she knew her memory was building on the horizon like a particularly nasty storm cloud. And when it all came back to her, when she remembered the whos and whats and whys of her past, it wasn’t going to be a relief. She knew that with a cold, flat certainty. She couldn’t escape the unsettling fear that whoever she was, it wasn’t who she wanted to be.

  In short, she was in a pickle. She was in a whole barrel of pickles.

  On the bright side, her ankle was feeling much better. She no longer needed pain medication, which gave a new clarity to her thoughts and feelings. Feeling oddly sensitive, she hobbled downstairs to meet Tyler for breakfast, hardly needing the single crutch she used. Her unique outfit had been a gift from the woman she had been before being hit by a Pontiac. She was dressed in low-slung hip-huggers and one of the four shirts she found in her duffel bag, a lightweight, cropped lavender sweater that revealed Jenny’s rather large, diamond-studded belly-button ring. She wasn’t sure if the diamond was real or not, but it certainly looked it. She decided there was something sort of catchy about her unique Gypsy flair—the silver hoops dangling from her ears, the men’s watch on her wrist inlaid with chunky turquoise stones, the eye-catching color of her toenail polish. The financial wisdom of investing heavily in a belly-button ring, however, was seriously debatable. At least she was an original amnesiac. There certainly weren’t many people who could say that.

  Tyler was seated at the kitchen table, reading the Sunday paper and basking in a hazy square of June sunshine. He had dressed down for his lazy day at home, wearing threadbare jeans and a simple T-shirt, white cotton printed with the faded slogan: Java-enabled. Jenny smiled when she saw his feet were bare, toes wiggling and reveling in freedom. She was witnessing the sheriff’s day off.

  “Good morning,” she said, feeling suddenly shy. She kept having flashbacks of the night before, very graphic flashbacks that made it a little difficult to concentrate. “I made it downstairs in one piece.” She smiled and shrugged. “Crutch-enabled, but I’m making good progress.”

  Tyler stood up immediately, which Jenny thought was actually kind of sweet. Standing up when a woman entered a room was a rarely seen expression of old-fashioned chivalry. A bright Sunday morning looked good on him. The bay window in the kitchen faced east, and the morning sun was playing with his layered, rainbow-brown hair. He looked endearingly earnest and guilt-ridden. “I should be shot. I was coming up to help you, I really was. I just thought you might need some time to fix yourself…” He rolled his eyes. “I am the soul of tact.”

  “To fix what?” Jenny prompted, fighting a smile. “To fix myself up a little?”

  “Well, women seem to…oh, hell. I was not implying you need to do anything with yourself. I mean, of all the women in the world who do not need any fixing up whatsoever, you are the most…look, we’re going to start over.” He smiled grimly, pulling out a chair for her. “Good morning, Jenny. Sit, please. Would you like coffee?”

  Jenny’s eyes sparkled. “I’m sure I use lipstick and mascara and perfume like everyone else. And good morning to…” Her voice trailed off. Without warning, she had a hazy, surreal memory of seeing her own reflection in a mirror, dabbing on some lip gloss and hastily combing her damp mane of hair with her fingers. She could even see the details of the mirror itself, the antique-white oval frame and a tiny chip in the glass near the bottom. That particular mirror was not hanging in the bathroom upstairs. Which meant it was somewhere else. Somewhere she had been before.

  The utter blankness of unclothed fear flooded her dark, expressive eyes. She knew if she focused and concentrated, she would see something more than just a white-framed mirror. She was certain of it. More details, more clues that would eventually lead her to the answers she lacked. But where there should have been excitement, inexplicable panic reigned. Jenny literally felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise up.

  “Tyler!” To her rather limited knowledge, she had never let loose with a hysterical war whoop. But that was exactly what it sounded like. She lost the crutch and grabbed for Tyler’s shoulders, her fingers digging into the hard muscles. It was all out there in a murky mist, the answers, the fear, the absolute terror. But before Jenny could steel herself to try and remember, a stabbing pain hit her at the base of her skull with all the force of a heavy blow. It was so violent, so unexpected that she lost color in her face as if someone had pulled a plug in her heel.

  “What?” Acting on experience, Tyler instinctively swept her off the floor and into his arms. Again. It seemed as if he had been carrying this woman around since the first time he’d arrested her. He was so shocked, so taken by surprise, he actually found himself in danger of hyperventilating. Never in his life had he seen a complexion the color of cream cheese, but Jenny’s was pretty close. “Jenny, tell me. Your ankle? Your head? Are you sick? Your heart? Good Lord, are you having a heart attack?”

  “Not my heart,” Jenny groaned, gathering her wits about her enough to send him an exasperated look. “What do you mean, am I having a heart attack? Do I look like I’m having a heart attack?”

  His mind spinning, Tyler defended his diagnosis. “Why not? It’s the only thing that h
asn’t happened to you yet.”

  “It’s my head. This pain suddenly hit me…I was starting to remember something, and this terrible pain hit me. Could you put me down somewhere? I can’t breathe.”

  Tyler realized he was at fault for her lack of oxygen. He was holding her close to his chest with all the strength in his body, and that was considerable. He forced himself to relax a bit, trying on a calm, reassuring smile. It didn’t fit. “I’m going to put you in a chair, all right? Can you sit up?”

  Jenny was holding her head with both hands, and barely heard him. “Whatever. It’s easing up, I think. It was so bad, I couldn’t see for a minute. It even hurts to think….”

  Tyler gently settled her in a chair, going down on his haunches beside her and murmuring reassuring words as his mind raced. A particularly nasty thought had penetrated his panic. It occurred to him that Jenny’s symptoms might be something completely unrelated to her accident. Perhaps she was ill, gravely ill. What if she needed some sort of medication? What if his reluctance to put an end to her dependence on him had put her life in danger? For the second time that day, he said, “I should be shot.” But this time he truly meant it.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Jenny said faintly, misunderstanding. “I guess…maybe I need to rest for a little while. Do you mind?”

  Tyler didn’t mind at all. He had business to tend to, and he couldn’t begin until he was sure Jenny was safe in bed. He helped her upstairs, promising to bring her some breakfast in a few minutes. He had a few calls to make, he told her, which was the truth. Police business, which was a lie.

  Downstairs again, Tyler grabbed the business card on the table in the hall, then went to the telephone on the kitchen wall. There were two numbers, one listed as Eliot Dearbourne’s office, one his cell phone. Tyler wasn’t particularly fond of lawyers as a species, but was willing to give Dearbourne the benefit of the doubt for Jenny’s sake. He punched in the cell phone number listed, and heard a carefully recorded, well-modulated voice making his excuses: “You’ve reached the mobile number of Eliot Dearbourne, Attorney at Law. Your call is very important to me, so please leave your message at the tone. Thank you so much and have a good day.”

  Like you care if I have a good day, Tyler thought, then left a clipped message. “My name is Tyler Cook and I’m the sheriff of Bridal Veil Falls in Montana. A woman you may know, Jenny Kyle, has had an accident within my jurisdiction. It’s vital that you get in touch with me. Vital. Please return my call immediately.” He then left his home phone, his office number, his cell number and, as an added precaution, Rosie’s number. He called the man’s office and left the same message there. He wasn’t taking any chances. He then called in the Harley’s plates and was told the motorcycle was registered to Jennifer Maria Kyle, with a California address and license. Tyler caught himself letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. A part of him had been afraid the Harley would turn out to be registered to a man. A boyfriend…or husband.

  The Los Angeles police promised to look into the matter and call Tyler when they found out anything. It shouldn’t be long.

  There was nothing left he could do. His little game of postponing the moment of truth had been stupid, an idiotic risk to take just because she was…

  Becoming necessary. Like oxygen.

  Tyler hated the feeling of being powerless. Throughout his childhood he’d been powerless when it came to earning his father’s approval. He’d been powerless to prevent his father’s death and, despite his best efforts, powerless to help his troubled teenage sister when he’d come home. Fortunately in the following years, the situation with his home and family had greatly improved. His own desire to earn some sort of absolution, however, remained in the back of his mind. It was too late to make peace with his father, but it wasn’t too late to do the right thing for Jenny.

  As he was standing in the kitchen staring off into space, pondering his next move, the phone rang. He jumped on it as if it were a fire alarm. “Yes?”

  “‘Yes?’” Grady’s surprised voice said. “That’s how you answer the phone these days? You’re an uncouth cowboy, Cook.”

  “Jenny has a headache,” Tyler snapped. “In fact, I was just about to call you and tell you.”

  After a short pause he said, “A headache. Thank you for letting me know. As her doctor, I should keep up on these things.”

  “Damn it, Grady, this is a bad headache. It came on very suddenly, like someone had conked her on the back of her head.”

  “Tyler,” Grady said in a long-suffering voice, “I thought we had a talk about this. Jenny needs time to heal. It’s not going to be an overnight process. In plain English, she’ll feel icky for a while. Do you understand?”

  Tyler wasn’t in the mood to be sensible. Or even polite. “Icky? Your professionalism astounds me.”

  There was a long silence, enough time for Grady to count to ten. “Yes. You’d be surprised how professional I can be. Over the years I’ve had a great deal of experience dealing with hysterical friends and relatives of the patient. In this case, that would be you.”

  Tyler knew he was somewhat hysterical—in a controlled, manly way, of course. So he didn’t argue the point. “Grady, shut your pie hole and listen to me here. Something’s wrong. Jenny was feeling much better, she was even starting to remember things. Then suddenly this pain hits her, right out of the blue. It didn’t seem to last long, but…what if this problem isn’t even related to the accident? What if she has some kind of medical condition we don’t even know about? She couldn’t tell us about it because she doesn’t remember anything yet.”

  There must have been something in Tyler’s voice that persuaded Grady to take his friend seriously. “That’s possible, I suppose, but what are the chances of that happening? I just can’t see it. You say she was beginning to remember things? And that’s when she suddenly got this headache?”

  “Yes.” Tyler shoved his hand through his hair, pacing a small track back and forth in front of the wall phone as if he were keeping guard. “I don’t know if that’s coincidence or if it means something. Hell, at this point I don’t know anything.”

  “Have you ever thought she might not want to remember?” Grady asked thoughtfully. “That this is her body telling her mind to back off? I mean, it’s a wild guess, but it would make a weird kind of sense.”

  Tyler’s skin felt chilled. His heartbeat became hard and uneven. “Are you kidding me? You mean, there’s something more painful for her to deal with than the amnesia?”

  “Don’t panic. I’m just throwing out ideas here. Look, if her headache gets worse, take her right to the emergency room. And if she seems really confused—”

  “Confused? Grady, she can’t remember anything! How much more confused could she be?”

  “Will you stop with the guard-dog thing and listen to me? Don’t leave her alone. Watch for any changes in her behavior. And for the time being, I think it might be prudent not to encourage her to think about her past. Distract her. I’m sure you can figure out ways to distract her.” Then, curiously, “Have you found out anything about her people yet, where she might live? They might be able to help us understand what’s going on here.”

  “I’m working on it. Thanks, Grady. This means…she means…”

  “Are you trying to tell me you care about her? Ty, I’ve known that since the night you brought her into the hospital. You looked worse than she did. Look, I know it’s important to you to look out for her, but there’s really nothing more you can do. For what it’s worth, one thing I’ve learned practicing medicine is that the worst-case scenario seldom materializes. Try to remember that.”

  Tyler smiled faintly, grateful for his old friend’s concern. He could have expressed his gratitude with a heart-felt speech, but Grady would have thought he’d had a mental breakdown. “Won’t it be wonderful when you stop practicing medicine and start being a real doctor?”

  “Have you any idea how many times I’ve heard that stupid joke
? It’s one of the drawbacks of practicing—of dispensing my medical expertise in the same town where I grew up. I get absolutely no respect. Call me if you need me today, all right? If I’m not home, my service can reach me. Good luck, buddy.”

  Jenny was sitting up in bed when Tyler came upstairs bearing a breakfast tray. She was idly rummaging through a stack of reading material she’d pulled off the bedside table. Comic books. Coloring books. And one glossy magazine that seized her attention in the same way a sudden earthquake might have.

  “It’s you,” Jenny said stupidly, jabbing her finger at the cover. “Ohmigosh, it’s you.”

  Tyler glanced at the cover of American Cowboy and shrugged. “Oh. That.”

  “Yes, that.” Jenny couldn’t take her eyes off the sunlit face on the magazine. Sheriff Tyler Cook, looking for all the world like some fantasy out of the Old West. He was gorgeous, too gorgeous to be an actual walking, talking, horse-straddling, bull-riding, money-winning cowboy, but who said life was fair? His dusty beige hat was pushed back on his head, his summer-blue eyes sparkling wickedly beneath the tangled fringe of sweat-darkened hair across his forehead. The pure and simple joy of his wide grin stole the breath from her lungs. Whatever he’d been doing when that photograph was taken had obviously been something he’d gotten quite a kick out of. The caption was simple: Rodeo’s Tyler Cook—Next Best Thing To Superman. “This is a national publication! You never told me you were famous.”

  “I wasn’t famous,” Tyler said carelessly. “Not unless you were a member of the PRCA that year. I’m famous now, though—best and only sheriff in Bridal Veil Falls. Sit back, I’ve got some food here for you. You like hash browns?”