The Forgotten Cowboy

by Kara Lennox

  Cal took a bite. “Oh, honey, this is great. Better than what they serve at Tres Rios.” Tres Rios was an upscale Mexican restaurant in Mooresville that had always been one of their favorite places. All right, so Cal was laying on the praise a little thick, but he was always very appreciative of everything she did for him. “Now, spill it. What’s the occasion?”

  “Texas Horse magazine called today. They want to do a story and a big photo spread on you.”

  “On me? You’re kidding. I mean, of course you wouldn’t make up something like that. That’s terrific! How did they hear about me?”

  “I sent them a press release.”

  “You did?”

  She nodded. “They want us to pick a time when they can come and watch you work. They’ll send a photographer and a writer. And if it turns out really well, it’ll be the cover story.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Would you stop saying ‘you’re kidding’?”

  “I’m just so surprised. There must be dozens of other, more established trainers they could profile. Why me?”

  “Because you’re unique. You’re not just a trainer, you’re The Animal Analyst.”

  Cal laughed. “You are terrific, you know that? Press releases. I never would have thought of that. You know who reads that magazine?”

  “Every show horse owner in Texas,” she said. “I studied their demographics.”

  “This could be a huge help.”

  “Why do you think we’re celebrating?”

  “I should be taking you out to dinner, not making you cook.”

  “You’re not making me do anything. I’ve discovered I love cooking. In college, I never did much more than heat up a can of soup. But I seem to have a knack for it. I guess I learned from Nana through osmosis.”

  “Maybe you should open a restaurant. Or a catering service. Does that sound like something you’d like to do?”

  A heaviness settled around Willow’s heart, dampening her euphoric mood. She saw what Cal was trying to do, and she adored him for it. “It’s too soon, Cal,” she said, her voice thick.

  “Okay. But this thing with you being my partner—I don’t want you to feel like it’s a noose around your neck. When you feel ready to do something for yourself, something that makes you happy, I’ll support you just like you’re doing for me.”

  “Being your partner makes me happy.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

  Willow smiled, but she wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. Living one day at a time was hard for her. If she couldn’t see a future for herself mapped out until retirement, she got a little nervous. Cal’s business was her future. She’d quickly become an essential part of his achieving his goals, and she could actually see herself doing this for the long haul. It was the first time in her life she’d envisioned a future that didn’t involve being a doctor, and it wasn’t so horrible.

  Not when Cal was part of the picture.

  “Oh, you got a bunch more messages,” she said. “Someone named Victor Quayles has, of all things, a pet hog named Petunia that he’d like some help with. Seems the cute little piglet his daughter brought home has turned into a two-ton monster. But his daughter is so attached he can’t get rid of it. Can you work with pigs?”

  Cal shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

  “Cindy Lefler—you know, she owns the Miracle Café?”

  Cal nodded.

  “She wants to know if you can help with a cat that claws furniture.”

  “You don’t see any claw marks on my furniture, do you?” he said smugly.

  “Good point. She also wants to know how much it costs.”

  “A couple of hours of my time if she’s willing to do a lot of the work herself. Otherwise, I’ll have to bring the cat here and work with it, maybe a week or two.”

  Willow nodded. “Okay, I’ll tell her. You also got two horse calls. One is eating his stall. The other is a hunter-jumper named Juniper that’s suddenly developed an irrational fear of white fencing.”

  Cal raised his eyebrows. “That sounds interesting.”

  “I told those two you’d call them.” She realized Cal was looking at her strangely. “What?”

  “Do you realize you just remembered a whole string of messages, including first and last names of the owners and the animals?”

  Willow put down her fork. “I did? You’re right, I did. How odd. Well, it must be a fluke. Oh, let me get some more tortillas. They’re warming in the oven.” She jumped up from the dining room table and fled to the kitchen, needing to be alone for just a minute or two to process in her mind what had just transpired.

  She’d remembered a whole long list of items and details. And she bet if she went into the office and checked the message log, she would discover she hadn’t forgotten a single one.

  She’d seemed to be operating more efficiently this past week. She’d spent less time picking up the phone only to forget who she’d been about to call, or walking into a room and forgetting why. She’d been cooking without having to constantly check and recheck the recipes, and she didn’t consult her necklace notebook nearly as often.

  But she’d chalked it up to being in a less stressful environment than the rodeo camp had been. Working alone in a quiet house, it was easier to remember things. Dr. Patel had told her that stress would make her memory problems worse. Naturally, a calming environment would improve her performance slightly. So she hadn’t given it a lot of thought.

  But Cal had noticed.

  “Don’t go getting all excited,” she muttered to herself as she pulled the warm tortillas out of the oven. It was just a fluke, as she’d said. But her heart beat a little faster.

  Chapter Twelve

  Willow chewed her fingernails almost to the quick waiting in Dr. Patel’s office while he went over her memory performance tests. She hadn’t told anyone she was coming here, not even Nana or Cal. But she needed to know whether her memory was actually improving or she was merely imagining things.

  She still carried the notebook around her neck. She made notes and consulted them frequently, as always, but she found she was simply double-checking things she already remembered. Yesterday, she’d forgotten her list when she went to the grocery store. That was typical. Yet the fact she’d still remembered every single item she needed was odd.

  What was even more exciting was that she’d recognized Suzy Keenes, the checker, without even glancing at her name tag.

  She couldn’t see what Dr. Patel was writing. His face showed no emotion—or maybe she simply couldn’t decipher the expression, and her impairment was bad as ever. She really didn’t know what to expect.

  After a few more excruciating minutes, Dr. Patel picked up the pile of papers he’d been studying and tapped the edges against his glossy desk to straighten the stack.

  “Well, Willow, I must say, this is a surprise to me.”

  “Then I’m better?”

  “Your scores on the short-term memory drills are fifty-six percent higher than the last time we tested, which is more than significant. What’s even more remarkable is your performance on the face recognition test. You correctly identified eighteen out of twenty celebrities. That’s a higher-than-normal score.”

  “Higher than normal for me?”

  “Higher than normal for anyone except a hardcore People magazine junkie.”

  Willow quickly covered her mouth to hold in the shriek of joy that almost came out.

  “Most of the time, prosopagnosia from head trauma is not reversible except in children,” he continued. “But apparently you’re young enough that your brain is still developing and changing. Either the injury repaired itself, or another part of your brain has taken over the job of face recognition. The brain is still the most mysterious organ of the human body. Have you thought about going into neurology?”

  Willow let out a whoop that shook the rafters and threw her arms around the reserved doctor. “Thank you. That’s the best news I’ve had all day—all
year.”

  He more or less wiggled out of her grasp. “I’d like to use a new imaging process on you that would let me see which areas—”

  “No. No more tests, no more brain scans. It’s working, that’s all I care about. I’ve got plans to make.” She picked up her purse and made good her escape before Dr. Patel could stick any more needles in her. As she left the office, she waved airily at the receptionist. She didn’t have the money to pay the bill, anyway. Her savings were down to nil.

  She didn’t care. Her goals were back on track. She could still become a doctor. Thank goodness she hadn’t called the school and officially withdrawn.

  She couldn’t wait to get back to Cottonwood and tell everyone—Nana, her parents, Cal…

  Cal. Well, that poured a bucket of cold water on her fomenting plans for the future.

  She pulled into a roadside park and shut off her car’s engine. What was she going to do about Cal?

  She hadn’t told him anything about her memory improvements. Other than two days ago, when he’d noticed—the night she’d really started to wonder if her improved memory was more than wishful thinking—they hadn’t talked about it. In fact, she’d gone out of her way to act a bit more scattered and dependent on her notes and lists than she actually was. She’d told herself she hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up before she knew for sure.

  But that wasn’t really true, she thought, getting out of the car so she could pace. Just as she’d wanted strict control over who knew of her impairment, she didn’t want anyone to know of her improvement until she was very, very sure what she would do with her future.

  And, for the first time in her life, she wasn’t a hundred percent sure she wanted to be a doctor, not if it meant giving up Cal.

  Oh, hell. She hadn’t planned to, but she’d fallen in love with him all over again. Maybe she’d never stopped loving him. As her grandmother had once pointed out to her, there was a fine line between love and hate.

  Willow plunked down at a picnic table. No one else was using the park; no one else was brave enough to face the late afternoon heat. This time of year, few Texans gave up their air-conditioning even for a few minutes of solitude and quiet.

  The quiet wasn’t really helping. The more she thought about her dilemma, the more daunting her choices looked. Her lifetime dream versus her lifetime love. She had to consider what was best for her in the long run.

  “Oh, you selfish witch,” she mumbled. She was not the only person her decision would affect. What about Cal? He needed her. His fledgling business needed her. Not that he wouldn’t eventually get it off the ground without her, but by handling business plans and billing and scheduling and marketing, she was speeding up the process considerably.

  She had taken on Cal’s challenges and goals as exuberantly as if they’d been her own. And in the process, his dream had become partly hers, too. The idea of abandoning Cal now, when the venture was at such a crucial stage, was physically painful, almost as bad as when the option of med school had been snatched away from her.

  She would talk to him, she decided. She would tell him everything and let him help her decide.

  Oh, but she knew what he would say. He would tell her that he could survive without her, that she should carry on with her original plans. Cal wasn’t needy or selfish in the least.

  He might even insist.

  So, no, she wouldn’t tell him, she decided. Not until she’d had time to think about it some more.

  She was starting to perspire, so she climbed back into her Escort and cranked up the air. Her watch told her Cal would be home soon. She didn’t want to have to explain where she’d been, so she challenged the speed limit all the way back to Cottonwood.

  TONIGHT, IT WAS Cal’s turn to surprise Willow. He’d come home early from work, disappointed to find she wasn’t at his apartment. But that was okay. At least she hadn’t started dinner yet. He intended to take her out some place nice to celebrate his good news.

  He’d brought home a dozen yellow roses, Willow’s favorite. He was short on vases, so he put them in an old watering can and set them on the coffee table, where Willow would see them first thing when she walked in. Then he took a shower, shaved and dressed in a pair of khakis and a crisp white cotton shirt.

  He heard Willow’s car in the driveway just as he emerged. Perfect timing. He stepped out onto the balcony and waved at her, but she was paying him no mind. She was staring at his brand-new truck. And it was hard not to stare. It was a dark purple-gray frosty color on the upper half, fading to a true silver on bottom.

  “Hey!” he called to her.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “My new truck. The insurance company finally came through.” He trotted down the stairs and joined her in the driveway.

  She turned to kiss him, turned back toward the truck, then did a double take. “Who are you, and what did you do with my boyfriend?”

  “Ah…you are joking, right?”

  “Yes. If I hadn’t recognized you right away, the kiss would have done it. No one kisses like Cal Chandler. Is this really your truck?”

  “Yeah. The one that got totaled was almost brand-new. Then I got a really good deal on this one. It’s used, but you’d never know it.” He opened the keyless entry. “Pretty slick, huh?”

  “Wow, it even smells new,” she said, admiring the interior. “And it’s purple.”

  Cal cringed melodramatically. “Please. Indigo-silver frost is what they call it. It’s not a sissy truck, is it?”

  “Definitely not. Macho, very macho. So? Are you going to take me for a ride? What’s with the fancy clothes, anyway?”

  “The answer to both those questions is, we’re going out to dinner. We have something to celebrate.” Something more than the truck. But the rest of his news could wait.

  “I’ll say. I’ll need to stop by Nana’s and gussy up first. Can’t have my boyfriend looking prettier than me.” She walked around to the other side of the truck. Fortunately Cal had already stuck his keys in his pocket, so he climbed in and cranked her up. After some initial confusion with the seat belt, they were off.

  Belatedly, he remembered the roses. Well, she would see them when they got back.

  “You know, you could leave a few extra changes of clothes and cosmetics and things at my place.”

  “I wouldn’t want to presume,” she said primly.

  “Well, then, why don’t you just move in with me? You’re there all the time anyway. It would save a lot of driving back and forth.”

  He glanced over at her, wondering if he shouldn’t have just blurted out his thoughts like that. But he’d been thinking about asking her, almost since the day she’d started working at his apartment.

  She looked everywhere but at him. “Wow.”

  “Okay, maybe that was a little sudden.”

  “No, it’s okay. I mean, from a practical standpoint, you’re right.”

  “But?”

  “I haven’t even told my parents we’re seeing each other. And I doubt Nana would have mentioned it. She wouldn’t want to open that can of worms.”

  “You think they’ll disapprove? After all this time?”

  “They have memories like elephants.”

  “I understand.” He understood that if Willow didn’t want to move in with him, if she wasn’t comfortable with that level of commitment, her parents’ disapproval provided an easy out.

  “Let me think about it, okay?” she said, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

  He reached over and took her hand. “Sure.”

  “Man, this truck rides smooth. It glides like a Cadillac.”

  Nana came out to admire the new truck while Willow changed clothes. “Now this is a truck!” she said, walking all the way around it. “I’ve never seen a pickup that color.”

  “What color do you think it is?” he asked, afraid he’d bought himself a lavender truck.

  “Um, violet?”

  “Indigo-silver frost,” he corrected her.
>
  “Of course, what was I thinking? Let’s get out of this heat. Want something to drink, Cal?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Are you going to marry Willow?” She asked the question in such a light, conversational tone that Cal thought he must have misheard her at first. But he went over the words again in his mind. Yep, Clea had asked him if he was going to marry Willow.

  “We’ve only been dating less than two weeks,” he hedged.

  “Yes, but you’ve got a cook, housekeeper, secretary and lover, all free. That sounds like a wife to me.”

  Cal was bowled over. He could easily imagine Willow’s parents coming out with something like this. But Clea?

  “Clea, Willow is a full partner in my business. She’ll get fifty percent of the profits as soon as there are some. As for the other stuff, the cooking and…whatnot…she’s doing it because she enjoys it, not because I’m pressuring her to do it. And anyway,” he added, lowering his voice almost to a whisper, “I do want to marry her, but if I mentioned marriage now, she’d run for the hills. She has too many changes to adjust to right now. I don’t want to throw anything else at her.”

  Clea looked down at her lap. “Forgive me, Cal. I don’t know why I suddenly snapped at you. I’m just so worried about her.” She cast a cautious glance toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. “She’s had to give up a lifelong dream, and that can’t be easy. I’m worried that she’s just thrown herself into the first distraction that came along so she won’t have to think about what she’s lost, that’s all.”

  “You’re partly right. She doesn’t seem able to talk about her own dreams or her own goals, even when I prod her. She says it’s too soon. Meanwhile, though, I don’t think it’s a bad thing for her to discover there are other pursuits she can enjoy besides a medical career. I think in time she’ll settle on a new career for herself. And I won’t hold her back.”

  The sound of Willow’s heels clicking against the hardwood floor put a halt to their conversation. When she appeared in a little red dress that showed her long legs to perfection, she took his breath away. She always did.

  She’d taken her hair out of its braid, and it hung in shimmering ripples down her back and around her shoulders. Her feet were encased in red sandals that laced around her ankles.