His Forgotten Fiancée

by Evelyn M. Hill

  It worked to divert him. “Wait—you mean you were staying here all by yourself? How trusting are you? You need to be more careful in the future. Whatever happened to me last night, it seems clear there are dangerous people about. And for all you know, I could have been some kind of...unscrupulous man.”

  “You are the farthest thing from unscrupulous.”

  “I might have changed from the man you remember.”

  “People don’t change,” she said. “Not in essentials.”

  “Far too trusting. I am amazed that you’ve made it this far without being hurt. Staying all alone in a place. Smiling at a man. The world is not always a kind and safe place.”

  She was not going to budge him from his opinion of himself, that was plain. She got to her feet. “The McKays should be back today. I’ll tidy up, and we’ll be ready to go if the doc thinks you’ll be up for it.”

  “Go? Go where?”

  “Back to the claim.” She had been reaching for his plate, but she stopped, straightening to look at him. “You can’t stay here with the McKays. There’s no room, with the children and all. You can stay on our claim while you rest up and figure out what to do next.”

  Taking a deep breath, he said, “I need to make something clear.”

  She wiped her hands on her apron and sat down. “That sounds very serious.”

  “I do not want to be in any way unkind, but I want you to understand my position. I appreciate you helping me out last night and giving me a place to sleep and a chance to get cleaned up. I am in your debt. But that doesn’t mean I feel obliged to marry you.”

  The words fell like stones into the quiet room. He stretched his hands out across the table toward her in a plea for understanding. “To me, the man who asked you to marry him and the man who is right here in front of you are two different people. I am a stranger even to myself. I’m in no position to get married.”

  Her chin came up. “If you want to break off our engagement, that is your right.”

  “I cannot renege on an agreement I don’t remember making.”

  “I suppose I can understand that.”

  Liza went back to clearing the table. She needed to do something with her hands. He was rejecting her all over again. And he sounded so reasonable about it, so calm. As if he had never really cared that much for her in the first place. The love that had once blazed between them stronger than anything she had known...not even an ember still flickered beneath the ashes.

  Maybe he felt this way as a result of his injuries, but it still hurt.

  A wall. She pictured building a wall, brick by brick, around her heart as a barricade. She just needed his help on the claim. No emotional entanglements. Strictly business.

  “I—my father and I—need help to get the harvest in. If you would do that, then you could pay off your debt, as you call it. I don’t think you owe me anything, but you’d be doing me a great favor if you did.”

  “I will consider it,” he said slowly. “I am in your debt, without question. So long as you do not consider us engaged to marry.”

  There was that flick of pain again, like a little knife stabbing at her heart. “As if the man I promised to marry were a different person from yourself.” No matter how much it hurt, she would not be weak. She would use the pain to build another layer in the wall around her heart.

  “From my perspective, he is.”

  Add another layer of bricks. “Except I told Granny Whitlow that you were my fiancé.”

  “I’ll deal with the rest of the world later. Let’s get things straight between the two of us first.”

  She wasn’t sure exactly what that meant. She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask, either.

  Doc Graham arrived a little while later, his half-moon spectacles perched as usual at the tip of his nose, and his round face shining with perspiration, as if he’d been hurrying. Clearly, he had been primed with the latest gossip. His little blue eyes gleamed with curiosity as he escorted Matthew to the back room.

  When the doctor came back out some minutes later, he smiled at Liza. “Don’t look so worried. His injuries are quite superficial, apart from the cut on his head, and that should heal soon enough. Injuries can cause temporary amnesia—inability to remember. It’s not that uncommon.”

  Matthew had followed him out of the back room, shrugging on his coat. “Will my memories come back?”

  “The mind’s a tricky thing. Memory could come back in dribs and drabs, or all at once. Given a bit of time, the injury should heal.” He clapped Matthew on the shoulder cheerfully.

  Matthew hunched his shoulders. “So, I could do manual labor?”

  “Thinking of getting a job at the lumber mills in Portland, are you, until your memory comes back? I don’t see any reason why not. Far as I can see, the fainting last night was caused by lack of food—for several days, judging by the state of you. Before this morning, when was the last time you ate?”

  “I don’t remember,” Matthew said wryly.

  “Ah. Yes. Of course. Well, regular meals, light work for the next day or so. You should be fine.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Liza doled out some coins from her purse. She fought not to let her disappointment show. She had hoped the doctor could have given Matthew more help with regaining his memory. After she shut the door behind the doctor, she turned to face Matthew. “Have you made up your mind?”

  “Yes.” He looked grimly determined. “I will make a deal with you. You give me a place to stay while I try to get my memories back. Maybe you can help me to jolt my memory. In return, I’ll work to get in your harvest. Do we have a bargain?”

  He extended a hand. When she took it, he shook her hand with the brief, firm grip of a man sealing a business deal.

  Time was, he would have kissed my hand.

  “I accept,” Liza said.

  Chapter Two

  The McKays were due to return to the dry goods store sometime around noon, but half the town decided to show up earlier. Or so it seemed to Matthew as, one after another, he met the townsfolk. Doc Graham was better than a telegraph operator for spreading news. Matthew’s head ached trying to keep track of them all...

  And if one more person made a remark about his engagement with Liza, he was going to lose all patience.

  The dry goods store was far too small with this crowd pressing in on him. In reality, there were only a handful of well-intentioned townsfolk. But it felt like a crowd. Under normal circumstances, he would not have felt hemmed in, not had to fight down panic. It was the fundamental uncertainty of his life that made him feel so trapped. And these people kept asking him question after question.

  He still had that feeling of having fallen into deep water; he was in over his head and floundering. He desperately needed to find some solid ground to stand on. With no money and no memory, staying on the claim with Liza and her pa to help with the harvest was the only option that he could see. But these people were expecting more from him. They were going to be disappointed.

  Pretty as Liza was, he couldn’t imagine going through with an engagement in his current situation. He had no idea what had happened to him in the past year, since he and Liza had parted, and so he was in no position to make any long-term promises. For all he knew, he could already have a wife.

  He was not the man she had fallen in love with. He’d accept her help as a business arrangement, so long as she understood that that was as far as their relationship went. They would help each other to achieve their goals. Nothing romantic in the least. He needed to make this clear from the start, so that everyone knew where matters stood.

  A couple of women came up to him. He stood, offering his chair to the older of the two, Granny Whitlow. He wasn’t sure whom she was grandmother to; it seemed more a title of respect rather than an indication of a familial relationship. The other woman introduced herself as Mrs. Graham, the d
octor’s wife. They had both been living in town for some years, apparently, so perhaps they could tell him things about Liza. What was she like, this woman who had attempted to claim him? If he had to live with her and her pa, it would help if he had some of idea of who she was, what kind of woman he was dealing with.

  “Is it usual here for a woman to run a store all by herself?” He nodded toward Liza, who stood behind the counter helping a couple of children choose between the different sticks of candy.

  “If that’s the job that needs doing,” Granny said. “Not too many women keep a store open as late as she did last night, though. Our Liza is the independent sort, likes to do things for herself—but of course you’d know all about that.”

  “Um...yes. Quite.”

  Granny gave him an odd look. “You two are supposed to be getting married, was my understanding. Seems to me you don’t know much about the woman you’re planning to spend your life with.”

  “On that subject—” Matthew began.

  Mrs. Graham, the doctor’s wife, intervened. “He’s had a little problem with his memory, I understand.” She smiled up at Matthew, her weathered face creased in kindly wrinkles. “Liza’s been doing a fine job up here, helping her father on the claim and pitching in when other folk need things done, like minding the store for the McKays.”

  “Which she probably shouldn’t be doing, not by herself.” He wished he could remember something, anything, about the men who had jumped him the night before. It unnerved him, to think what might have happened if those men had followed him into the store.

  A younger woman, wearing a purple bonnet with feathers sticking out in all directions, came up to him. “I just heard you came all this way just to see Liza. You traveled up from California all by yourself?”

  “Apparently,” Matthew said.

  “Now, Mavis Boone,” Granny reproved her. “You keep batting your lashes at the man, he’s going to think you’re setting your cap for him. He’s promised, mind.”

  Mavis blushed scarlet. “I was doing nothing of the sort,” she said with some spirit. “I know full well he and Liza are getting married. She told me the story months ago. It just never seemed quite real. It always sounded more like a fairy tale, meeting a tall, handsome stranger on the trail.” She shook her head. The foolish feathers on her bonnet bobbed up and down and in all directions. “And I hear that you’re going to help Liza on the claim, too.”

  “Did Liza tell you that, too?” Granny asked her.

  “No. Well, not exactly. She told Becky Weingard, and she told Hannah Shute, who mentioned it to Mrs. Taylor, who told me.”

  He wasn’t even going to try to work that out. In a way, letting people continue to think he was engaged to Liza might protect him from flirtatious women. But it seemed this young woman was more interested in gossip. She wanted to know every detail of his life in California. He parried or evaded questions as best he could, but eventually he had to confess that there were gaps in his memory. That led to his recounting what he could remember about the men who had jumped him last night.

  He hated having the story dragged out in the open. That was putting it mildly. Losing his memory made him feel like a helpless fool. Until his memories came back, he might as well be a prisoner or an invalid, a man with very little control over his life. Well, he had a say in his love life, at least. And he would not make any romantic commitments until he could remember his past.

  * * *

  All morning, Liza had kept an eye on Matthew as she dealt with customers. There were more people in the store than usual today. Many of them, having made their purchases, stopped by the rocking chairs near the fireplace to speak to Matthew. Several of the townspeople had already taken the opportunity to play a game or two of chess with him. As far as she could tell, he won all of his battles easily. She almost wished that he would lose occasionally; it would give him something to think about besides his troubles.

  For he was brooding, she could tell. The tension in his shoulders and the way he set his jaw wouldn’t have been noticeable to someone who didn’t know him. He took the townspeople’s scrutiny calmly enough. Occasionally a muscle twitched in his jaw, but he was polite to everyone who addressed him, even when Mavis Boone, who really should have known to behave better, flirted with him shamelessly, batting her eyelashes.

  On the trail if something bothered him, he’d walked off his frustration. Here, she could see it building, with no way to vent. Oh, Lord, it would really help if the McKays could come back early! She could escape without having to introduce Matthew to Mr. Brown.

  Then, as if on cue, Mr. Brown came through the front door. He doffed his hat, holding it before him. “Good morning, Miss Fitzpatrick. Might I have a word with you in private?”

  “I can hardly leave all my customers.” Liza indicated the group by the fireplace with a wave of her hand. They weren’t actively shopping, but perhaps she could stretch a point and call them customers.

  “I can wait,” Mr. Brown said. Then he saw Matthew, standing between Mavis Boone and Mrs. Graham. His eyes widened, and he went very still.

  “This is Mr. Dean,” Liza said. “He’s—” she started to say that he was her fiancé, but she stopped, remembering Matthew’s request.

  Granny Whitlow, however, had no reservations. “Mr. Dean here is her fee-an-say, come all the way from California.”

  The corner of Mr. Brown’s mouth spasmed, as if he were holding back some strong emotion. “Indeed.”

  Matthew leaned back against the wall, folding his arms. He said nothing, merely raising one eyebrow. He returned Mr. Brown’s stare with a steady gaze. “You seem familiar, somehow. Have we met before?”

  Mr. Brown ignored the question. “I had heard that Miss Fitzpatrick’s fiancé left her to go to California instead. I didn’t get the impression that you’d been planning to come up here. Got tired of picking up all that gold?”

  Matthew smiled, very slightly. “I am not sure why this is your concern,” he said. He spoke in such a pleasantly neutral tone that Liza at first missed the sting underlying the words.

  “Miss Fitzpatrick is my concern.” Mr. Brown drew himself up to his full height. “I have a high regard for her, and her well-being is of the utmost concern to me.” He turned to Liza. “I think perhaps you are right. This is not the right time for a private chat.” He nodded toward the room. “Good day.” Then he turned and headed for the door.

  Mavis, never one to let go the chance to be the first to pass on gossip, added, “Mr. Dean was attacked last night. Right here in Oregon City!”

  Mr. Brown paused and turned back to Matthew. “Indeed? How distressing. And have the miscreants been arrested then?”

  Liza narrowed her eyes. There was an edge in Mr. Brown’s tone. For some reason, this was not an idle question. He really wanted to know.

  Mavis jumped in before Matthew could respond. “But that’s just it, Mr. Brown. He’s lost his memory as a result. It’s like a story out of Godey’s magazine! Just fancy!”

  Mr. Brown smirked. “It does sound rather...fanciful.”

  “No doubt my memory will return in time,” Matthew said smoothly.

  Something flickered in the other man’s pale green eyes, and his mouth pressed into a thin line. But he merely said to Liza, “I will speak to you another time.”

  When the door shut behind Mr. Brown, for a moment no one said anything. It was as if no one wanted to be the one to speak first. Predictably, Mavis broke the silence. She turned to Matthew with a smile. “Have you set a date for the wedding?”

  Matthew heaved a sigh, as if pushed beyond all endurance. “I promised to stay for the harvest. Nothing more than that.”

  Mavis’s mouth dropped to form an O.

  “Oh, my!” Mrs. Graham said hurriedly. “I hadn’t noticed that bolt of black trim that you have on the shelf. It must be new. What an unusual braided pattern.
Will you show it to me, Liza dear?”

  Liza fetched the bolt down from the shelf. She could feel her cheeks turning red, and she did not look in Matthew’s direction once. The other townsfolk murmured one excuse or another and made their way out of the store. Mavis hurriedly decided that she wanted to look at the fabric with Mrs. Graham. Only Granny Whitlow remained next to Matthew, her eyes intent on his face, as if reading all the stress pent up inside him.

  Matthew cleared his throat. “I, er, my headache seems to have returned. I think I’ll go lie down in the back room until it’s time to leave.” He shut the door behind him.

  There was an unpleasant moment of silence in the dry goods store. “Oh, my.” Mavis Boone clicked her tongue.

  “He’s lost his memory,” Liza said, a bit desperately. “It’s completely understandable. He was attacked. He was hit on the head. He was—”

  “He was quite definite,” Mavis observed, her small eyes alight with eager malice. “Perhaps this isn’t a fairy-tale romance after all.”

  Liza refused to allow her shoulders to slump. “He is ill,” she said, with all the firmness she could muster. “It is unfair to judge him by anything he says while he is unwell.”

  “Of course,” Granny said. “Mavis, Miz Graham, I think we have taken up enough of Liza’s time today. I’ve got chores that need doing, and I’m sure you do, as well.”

  The door closed behind them, and Liza was alone. She immediately went and knocked on the door that led to the back room. At Matthew’s muffled acknowledgment, she pushed the door open.

  Matthew was sitting on the bed, looking down at his hands. He looked up at her as she turned to face him, putting her hands on her hips. “Could you please not do that again? It is humiliating to have you go around telling everyone that I mean nothing to you.”

  His eyebrows drew together. “That is not what I said. I wanted to make it clear that I am not planning to marry anyone when I can’t even remember the first thing about myself.”