“I swear it. She was here. Right there in my arms, and I fell in love. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers.
“You fell in love with a dream. Have a cup of coffee and forget it. And remember what too much champagne does,” Griffin said.
“I’ll never drink again,” Beau said seriously.
“I hope not. It’s not worth it the next morning, is it?”
When he went back to the bedroom he found one of the teardrop earrings lying on the floor beside his boots and he knew down deep in his heart that it wasn’t a dream. He remembered that someone said her name was Amelia Jiminez and she was from down in the valley. He talked to several people who had been at the wedding and one lady thought she remembered one of the Jiminez girls’ daughters being there, but she couldn’t recollect where all those girls had ended up after they were married. Seemed as though one of them was out in California and one of them in Mexico City.
The next month he went to Oklahoma when his aunt called. He’d worked hard at the ranch and met Amanda.
She wasn’t Amelia, but then maybe Amelia was a just a dream and the teardrop earring was left in the room by another woman. He really believed it until right now, when he opened one eye and there was Amelia bent over him, showing him the way to eternity. He closed his eyes and got ready for the trip.
Milli wiped the blood with the tail of her cotton shirt, then ran back to Wild Fire and grabbed a cell phone from the saddlebag.
“Granny, I need help fast,” she said when her grandmother answered the phone. “Out in the east pasture. Right by the fence those silly kids cut last week. Where Beau keeps his bull. He’s had an accident. Send in an ambulance. I’m afraid to move him.”
“No, not the bull. It’s Beau. He’s turned over on one of those three-wheelers and hit a rock. His arm and leg are pinned. Call the closest hospital and send me an ambulance. He opened one eye but he’s unconscious right now.” She flipped the phone back together and tossed it back into the saddlebag.
It was the longest thirty minutes she’d ever spent in her life. Buster arrived first on a four-wheeler, leading the ambulance down the cow path to the scene of the accident.
“Ammmmm,” Beau muttered when they lifted the machine off his arm and leg, and loaded him into the ambulance.
“I’ll ride with him,” she said. “Buster, will you see to it Wild Fire is taken back home?”
Buster nodded. “Yes, ma’am, Miss Milli. I’ll be over to the hospital soon as we can. When he wakes up, tell him I’m on the way.”
“Ammmm,” he tried to say her name but his tongue was too thick. He felt a sharp prick in his arm and everything went dark again.
He was evidently trying to call for Amanda and Milli’s heart was a heavy piece of lead. But why shouldn’t he call out for Amanda? He had just asked the woman to marry him, and even if she was a purebred witch, evidently Beau loved her with all his heart.
They wheeled him into the emergency room and she answered questions while they took him straight back through a set of double doors. Then she sat down in the waiting room and wished she were anywhere in the whole world right then but where she was. Amanda would be coming through the doors any minute in one of her fancy little short-tailed suits and highheeled shoes. Her blonde hair would be picture perfect and her big, blue eyes would be filled with tears. And Milli sat there looking like the last rose of summer. She’d lost the clip holding her hair back and it looked as if it hadn’t been combed in weeks. Beau’s blood stained the front of her shirt, and there were wet grass stains on the knees of her faded jeans.
She heard the whoosh of the doors as they opened and looked up, expecting to see Amanda with that smug, better-than-you look in her eyes she had in the restroom at the Spencers’ barn dance. But it was Mary who rushed to her side. She took her granddaughter’s hand in her wrinkled one.
“What happened?”
“Looked to me like he hit a rock with the front wheel of the three-wheeler and it threw him. Pinned his arm and leg when it rolled on him, and he hit his head on another rock when he tumbled. There’s a gash on the back of his head, and the EMT said he could have a concussion. He kept trying to say Amanda’s name. I guess somebody should call her.”
“Well, I’m not calling her,” Mary declared. “Buster or some of the ranch hands can take care of that. I’m not wasting my quarter.”
“Granny!”
“Well, that’s a fact, honey, and I ain’t apologizing, either,” Mary said bluntly.
Buster was the next one to arrive. He plopped down in a chair beside Mary. “How’s he doing? Got him sewed up yet?”
“Don’t know,” Mary said.
“He tried to say Amanda’s name. He said Ammmm, at least. I figure he was trying to say her name.”
Buster rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “I ain’t using my quarter to call that woman. I sure don’t want to have to sit in this little room with her for very long.”
Mary patted his shoulder. “My sentiments, exactly.”
A doctor stuck his head through the doors. “Anyone out here by the name of Amelia Jiminez?”
“Amelia Jiminez?” Mary asked.
“Yes, Beau Luckadeau keeps demanding someone by that name come hold his hand. He’s got a concussion and we can’t quieten him…”
Someone said you are Amelia Jiminez.
“Maybe I can help.” Milli stood up slowly. He must have only remembered Amelia… not Camillia… when he awoke the next day, and somewhere back in the dusty attic of his brain he remembered Amelia Jiminez and that night.
Both eyes were open and the blood had been washed from his face when she peeped through the curtain. “Amelia. I knew you was more than a dream.” He held out his hand and she took it.
“We’re going to put a few staples in the back of your head where you hit the rock. You are a lucky man that your arm and leg are just bruised and not broken,” the doctor said.
He winced when the staples went through his skin, “Where did you go, Amelia?”
“Home,” she said.
“Now we’re going to get you settled into a room for tonight. You can probably go home tomorrow if everything looks good. You’ve got a concussion and you’ll have a big headache. Head wounds bleed a lot, but I don’t think you need blood.” The doctor filled a hypodermic with clear liquid. “This is going to make you sleep for a while.”
He searched the room frantically until he brought her back into focus. “Amelia. Don’t go home again. Stay with me this time. They said you were a dream, but I kept the earring. It’s on my key chain in my pocket.”
She patted his arm and touched his unshaven cheek “Just shut your eyes and go to sleep. It’ll be all right. When you wake up everything will be fine.”
“You’ll be right here?”
“Just shut your eyes,” she said again.
He awoke late that afternoon, to the tune of a bass drum doing double time behind his eyes and a whole orchestra playing some kind of horrid rock music - off key, an out of tune. Amelia was gone and some brassy woman with blonde hair sat in a chair next to his bed. She was using an emery board to file her long nails, which looked like hawk talons. The grating sound raked across every nerve in his ears.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Amanda. Your future wife.”
“Where is Amelia?”
Her eyes narrowed down to slits as she eyed him, lying there with bruises and scrapes all over his arm and face. “Who is Amelia?”
“My dark-eyed lady. Where is she?”
She opened her purse and put her emery board away before she stood up. “That two-bit, wet-back hussy from the dance? Is that who you’re talking about? The hired hand from over at the Lazy Z who found you and brought you in this place?”
“That’s not Amelia… that’s Milli, Jim’s granddaughter,” he argued.
“Well, that’s who found you and called the ambulance. She was still sitting here when I arrived, but I informed her that she could leave and n
ever come back.”
He turned his head toward the windows. “Go away.”
Amanda suddenly saw a secure financial future slipping from her hands. “Oh, darling, I was so worried, and so angry with all those people for not calling me sooner.” She willed a trained tear to escape from under her heavily made up eyelashes.
A tall, darkhaired doctor breezed into the room. “And how is our patient? Looks like he’s awake and talking, at least. Getting hungry? Supper trays should arrive soon, and since you’ve not had nausea, you can go ahead and eat real food.”
Amanda quickly faced the windows and dabbed the tear off her cheek, and by the time she turned back to face the goodlooking doctor she had a sweet smile plastered on her face. “Doctor, he doesn’t know me.”
“That’s not a surprise. He’s had a concussion. But if I had a girlfriend as pretty as you are, I think I’d remember you in a hurry.”
She opened her blue eyes even bigger and tucked her chin in a bashful pose. “Well, thank you. But I’m not his girlfriend. I’m just a caring friend.”
“Well, now, that’s interesting.”
Amanda checked his finger for a wedding band and seeing not even a line where one once was, she carefully removed her engagement ring and dropped it in her pocket. “Are you new in Ardmore?”
“Yes, I am. Did my internship at Baptist just last year and started as an ER doctor here last month. Ardmore is a nice little town, but quite a social change from the big cities.”
“I’m sure. Well, I’m glad you’re taking care of my friend, Anthony.”
“I didn’t catch your name,” the doctor said.
“Amanda… Amanda Whitman… like the writer.”
“And you’re from Ardmore?”
“Oh, yes. I teach school in Wilson. But I could never live in a town that small permanently,” she told him.
Beau was tired of the games the two people played. It was evident they were flirting, but who cared. He didn’t even know the tall blonde in the room with him. Maybe she was one of those women from the office who took down his, medical history. The man seemed to be a doctor and said he could go home tomorrow. Home. That’s where Amelia said she went. He distinctly remembered her saying she was going home. And tomorrow he was going home… and she would be there.
“Where is Amelia?” he asked.
“Your lady friend left a while ago. She stayed with you until your friend arrived,” the doctor said.
“Okay,” he nodded and shut his eyes. Home where he was going tomorrow.
Amanda walked to the door with the doctor.
“So Amanda Whitman, are you listed in the phone book?”
“Yes, I am,” she flirted. A doctor! That meant social standing and as much or more money than the Bar M, without black cows and stupid barn dances.
“And would Amanda Whitman care if Dr. Jason Orbach called her sometime this week?”
“She would love for you to call,” Amanda blushed again. She couldn’t believe Anthony was snoring. Evidently, he really was out in a foggy land somewhere and didn’t know who she was. If he’d been awake, he would have been standing in the middle of the bed with his fists up like a boxer, ready to duel with the doctor for her.
“Well, then, I’ll hope to talk to you later tonight.” The doctor went on to the next room.
She picked up her purse and started to kiss Anthony on the forehead. But why waste the energy and lipstick? And who was Amelia, anyway? Some past love he’d never mentioned? The woman who brought him in was Milli, evidently Milli Torres, if she was Jim’s granddaughter. He just thought she was someone named Amelia. Maybe Amelia was his mother. She’d heard that often a concussion sends a person back in time, so perhaps he was calling out for his mother.
She shut her eyes dramatically and whispered, “It really doesn’t matter. Because I think I’ve found someone who can appreciate all I can bring into a relationship so much more than you. Of course, you need me more, but this is not about what you need. So get well and we’ll talk later, after I get to know this doctor a little better this week. I hate to break your heart, darling, I really do. I didn’t set out to cause you grief and sorrow. But now I really must go and wait for his call. I cannot compete with your mother. Because it is her you beg for, not your only true love, Amanda.” She sighed deeply and rushed out of the room, hoping to catch one more glimpse of the handsome doctor as she left the hospital.
Beau opened an eye to see if she’d gone yet.
Holy smoke, who is that woman? And what was all that about anyway? She sounded like she was deranged. I’m glad she left. What was she talking about my mother for anyway? I didn’t ask for Momma.
At midnight he sat straight up in bed and looked around the room. Everything was as clear as a summer sky without a cloud in it. He’d topped the hill and hit a rock with the front wheel of his vehicle. He remembered it flipping over and something about a buzzard, then a darkhaired woman was bending over him. He knew this was a hospital room. He found the right button on the side of his bed and pushed it.
A nurse poked her head in the door in just moments. “Yes, sir. Oh, Mr. Luckadeau, I believe you’re awake.”
“Yes, ma’am, I am. What did I break?” He looked at both his legs and checked his arms.
“Nothing, lucky for you. You’ve got sutures in the top of your head. Had a lot of blood on you when the lady brought you in, but head wounds bleed quite profusely.”
He felt the top of his head and winced when his hand found the staples. “How many?”
“Seven,! think. The doctor will remove them in a few days, and your pretty blond hair will grow back soon.”
“I’ve had a few stitches before. Milli brought me in?”
“No, I think her name was Amelia. That’s what you kept calling her, anyway. Amelia Jiminez. I had just come on the shift, so I might be wrong. I wasn’t in the emergency room. The other nurse just told me about it.”
“It was Milli Torres. Amelia isn’t a real person. She’s just a dream I have sometimes.”
“Can I get you anything?” the nurse asked.
“Just Amelia,” he said. He could have sworn she was a real person, but then two years ago he had thought she was real, too.
SEVEN
************************************************************************************************
BEAU WALKED THROUGH THE LIVING ROOM OF THE long, rambling ranch house and back down the hail toward his bedroom. The house was built the same year Alice Luckadeau married Tony Martin, in 1955. Both of them were thirty years old and expected to fill the four extra bedrooms with lots of children. But the bedrooms waited in vain because children never came to the marriage. Tony was killed when a horse threw him and several years later Alice was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Beau had been named Anthony Beau Luckadeau - the Anthony for her late husband - and was her favorite nephew. When the doctor told her she had Alzheimer’s, she called Louisiana and told Beau that she was deeding everything to him, then she checked herself into a nursing home.
Beau emptied his pockets on the oversized oak dresser, bent down, and rolled his eyes upward to check the staples on top of his head. The doctor said he would take them out in a few days, and they weren’t really sore, but Amanda was going to cringe when she saw the shaved spot on the top of his head.
“That’s why Milli looked so familiar. She reminds me of Amelia. Same long, dark hair. Same big brown eyes. But that’s where the resemblance ends. Amelia was soft spoken, a woman built to love and be loved. Milli is as mean as a constipated cougar with a toothache.”
Beau sighed. He loved a phantom; was engaged to a shrew. He had talked to Amanda on the phone the past two days, but something was missing even in conversation. Tonight was his engagement celebration and he didn’t give a damn if Amanda was beside him or not. Surely it was the by-product of the accident. He loved the woman. He’d asked her to marry him. What in the devil was wrong with him?
He was tired of pampering her twenty-f
our hours a day, and the comments about ruining her figure with a baby weighed heavy on his mind. But more than anything else, he was tired of that recurring dream about a darkhaired lady. He wouldn’t break the engagement because a man was judged by his word, and he’d keep it, but he’d always wonder if Amelia was more than just a dream.
He opened the closet door and took out a pair of starched Wranglers with a perfect crease. Then he picked out a white western shirt and a bolo tie with a silver slide in the shape of a steer’s head. Maybe he’d feel better when everyone arrived and the band started playing. Maybe held dance with Milli again and everyone would make a circle around them and applaud… but he shouldn’t be thinking about Milli Torres, no matter how well she fit into his arms. This was a party to celebrate his engagement to Amanda, and in spite of all she’d done to aggravate him recently, he had proposed to her and she’d accepted. All he could do was hope that she would change once they were married.
Milli shucked out of her work jeans and boots and slung open the closet doors. God, but she hated the idea of watching Beau dance with Amanda. No, Beau wouldn’t dance with that bitch. Anthony would. That was the difference. Amanda was going to marry Anthony. A husband with a name like Beau would never do for her.
Milli all but snorted as she flipped through hangers. If that snooty blonde-haired witch looked down her skinny nose at her one more time, she was going to have to pick herself up off the ground, and Milli hoped she fell in a nice fresh cow pile… face first.
The next hanger held the off-white lace dress she had worn to the wedding where she met Beau. She wouldn’t have brought the dress, but it was hanging in a garment bag with several shirts and she had picked up the whole thing without realizing it was there. Now wouldn’t that be a hoot. See if it could jar his memory into remembering that’s where he met her. Be good enough for him on the night of his engagement party, and after the way Amanda had ordered her out of the hospital.
He’d finally remember and know she was just an easy one-night stand, and then he could get right on with his life with his precious snotty Amanda. She hoped Amanda was as warm in bed as a well-digger’s brass buckle in Anchorage in the middle of a winter blizzard. There was no way a woman with that much ice dripping off her could ever enjoy a rousting night of pure old unadulterated sex. Not like she and Beau had shared on a steamy Louisiana August night.
Lucky In Love Page 8
