by Rita Herron
Joel? He must be the new man of the month. Emma wound the phone cord around her fingers. Since her father’s death, her mother traded travel companions as often as she traded cars. Emma and she had never been close. If Emma had to forget something, why couldn’t she forget that part of her life?
“Is it true, dear—you’ve lost part of your memory?”
“Yes,” Emma said slowly, realizing her mother sounded more embarrassed than worried. “I remember Kate and high school and you and Dad.” And the awful divorce before he died. Instinctively Emma knew she never would have entered into marriage lightly; she had always promised herself to take commitment seriously.
“Emma? Are you all right?”
Emma sighed. “Yes, Mother, but I don’t remember anything that’s happened in the last few years.” And I have no idea why someone would want to kill me.
“What a shame,” her mother said. “After the way you pitched a fit to marry Grant, now you can’t even remember him. That seems odd, doesn’t it?”
Emma bristled at her mother’s condescending tone, wondering why her mother didn’t approve of Grant. “I’m sure it’ll come back to me,” she said in defense of Grant. “The doctor said the concussion probably caused my memory loss.”
“I see,” Mrs. Baker drawled. “Well, dear, how are you and Kate getting along?”
“Great,” Emma answered.
“Really? Hmm.”
“What is it, Mom?”
“Oh, nothing, dear. Sometimes you and Kate, well, you haven’t always been amicable. Sibling rivalry and all that.” Her mother was right. She and Kate had fought over the same boy in high school several times. Kate had been jealous of her; she’d always wanted the guy Emma was dating, no matter who it was. But she and Kate were older now, more mature. Surely Kate had changed.
“Mom, all sisters have squabbles.”
“Well, yes. I hope you’re both putting that money thing behind you.”
“What money thing?”
“Oh, dear, that’s right. I forgot you have amnesia.”
“Mother, what are you talking about?”
“It’s nothing, dear. You and Kate had a small spat about some of your father’s inheritance, but maybe it’s a blessing you’ve forgotten. You and Kate shouldn’t allow a little argument to come between you. Now I’ll say goodbye.” Almost as an afterthought she added, “That is, unless you want me to come there.”
“No,” Emma said immediately. “Kate’s being great.”
“I could hire a nurse to care for you and the baby. I know Grant can’t afford it.”
“No,” Emma repeated more forcefully this time, knowing instinctively Grant wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. “I’ll be fine. Besides, Grant hired a housekeeper to help out. I just need to rest.”
“Okay, well, Joel’s arranged a five-day cruise for us. I’ll call you when we dock.” Her mother hung up, leaving Emma confused. Although she didn’t remember Grant, she’d felt compelled to stand up for him. The feeling was strong, as if she’d done it before.
“She offered to come?” Kate asked in a bewildered tone.
Emma nodded. “I don’t think she really would have, but you know Mom—always does the socially acceptable thing.”
Kate chuckled. “Well, you haven’t forgotten everything.”
“I lost my memory, not my mind.”
Kate laughed. “I wish I had the nerve to talk back to her the way you do. She’s pressing me to go to New England on a buying trip.”
“You can go, Kate.”
“Are you kidding? I dread it, meeting with all those stuffy old dealers, digging through dust and cobwebs to find an old piece of furniture to resell.”
“If you hate it so much, why don’t you quit?”
“I’m considering it.” Kate patted Emma’s hand. “But I’m not leaving until you’re comfortable with Grant. It must be really weird not remembering him or Carly.”
“It is.” Emma stared at the bassinet. “Kate, when I was talking to Mom, I had this feeling I should defend Grant to Mother. Have Mom and I had a falling-out or something?”
“Let’s just say you speak your mind, and Mom wants docile and obedient.”
“I guess I’m not docile or obedient, huh?”
Kate laughed. “You’ve got your pride. And you’ve always been…well, independent. Except where Grant’s concerned.”
Emma massaged her leg. “You mean I don’t stand up to Grant.”
Kate simply shrugged. “Every couple has their differences, Emma. Heaven only knows, after my catastrophe of a marriage, I’m no expert.”
Emma frowned, sensing Kate knew something more. “What do you have against Grant, Kate?”
Kate’s eyes widened in surprise. “Nothing,” she answered quickly. “I think he’s a great guy. But I think every man should respect a woman’s independence.”
“Did we…did Grant and I get along, Kate? Were we having problems?”
Kate chewed her lip and Emma thought she wasn’t going to answer. “You’ve been a little frustrated since Carly was born.” She shrugged. “Probably normal postpartum stuff. Grant was spending a lot of time at work, having a lot of dinners with clients and Priscilla.”
“Priscilla?”
“She works with Grant. They studied architecture together, then she hired on at the same firm.”
“I was upset about Grant working with her?”
Kate hesitated again, fidgeting. “Look, Emma, you were lonely. Staying home with a baby was an adjustment. It would be for anybody.”
Emma wondered if there’d been other problems. But fatigue was settling in. Her leg throbbed, her muscles ached, and her eyelids felt heavy again. She leaned her head back and sighed. “Kate, why can’t I remember Grant?”
“Give it time, sis. The doctor said to relax, not to push yourself.”
Emma pressed her fingers to her temple. “I know. Every time I try to think about it, my headache comes back. It’s pounding like a drum right now.”
“Then don’t think about it,” Kate said. “Think about that precious little girl you have in there. You’re married, you have a baby—”
“But I don’t remember Carly, either.” Emma could barely force the words out as fresh tears stung her eyes. “What kind of wife and mother am I?”
Kate grabbed Emma’s hand and forced her to look into her eyes. “You’re a great mother and wife. I envy you. I married Todd because he was in banking, traveled in the right circles, and Mom approved of him. But you went after what you wanted. Even when Mom didn’t approve.”
“Like when she didn’t want me to marry Grant? What does she have against him, anyway?”
Kate paused. “You know how Mom is—he didn’t come from the right sort of family and all that rubbish.”
Emma sighed. “I’ve always thought her notions about people’s backgrounds were ridiculous.”
Kate laughed. “That’s exactly what you told her on your wedding day.”
Emma chuckled. “I bet she loved that.”
“Almost as much as your not having a big wedding.”
“Did we elope?”
“No.” Kate said, “You were married at this quaint little chapel in Raleigh. You thought Grant and his parents would feel more comfortable with that.”
“Why would I think that?”
“Well, Grant’s parents are more…you know, lower class.” Kate twisted her hair around one finger. “It turned out to be a lovely wedding. Simple, but elegant.”
“And you—what do you think of Grant?”
“There’s no denying Grant is attractive. A woman would have to be blind not to think so. But…” Kate hesitated.
“But what?”
Kate unwound her hair and finger-combed it. “It’s nothing. Besides, I really don’t want to interfere, Emma.”
Earlier Emma had sensed tension between Grant and Kate. Now she knew she was right. What was Kate hiding from her?
“HOW ABOUT ANOTHER SCOTCH? That one�
��s getting watery.”
“No, thanks.” Grant pushed away the nearly full drink and tossed a five-dollar bill on the bar. One sip had been all he could stomach. He didn’t want to get drunk; he wanted to be home with Emma. The heady sultry taste of the scotch had only fired his need for his wife. Dammit, he refused to let Kate run him out of his own house. Emma needed him now. And he needed to be with her, to see for himself she was safe.
Whether or not she remembered the details, she had promised to love, honor and cherish him and he’d made the same promise to her. They’d squabbled over her sister before, and if he had to, he’d remind her of the devious things Kate had done in the past. Like the fact that Kate had frivolously spent her inheritance, then hounded Emma for money, even forged Emma’s name on a couple of checks. She’d even had the audacity to argue when Emma refused to cover for her.
Yeah, Kate had her secrets, and she hadn’t always been so buddy-buddy with Emma. In fact, she’d been openly jealous. Now she intended to take advantage of Emma’s amnesia to worm her way back into Emma’s good graces. But he’d stop her.
If he had to, he’d remind Kate that he knew about a few of her underhanded tricks and he’d tell Emma the truth about her. He climbed in his car and headed home. He’d do anything to keep his wife safe, anything at all. Even if it meant keeping her away from her own sister.
“I FEEL MUCH BETTER,” Emma said after a bath. She relaxed on the couch, her hair wrapped in a towel. Kate brought her a comb and Emma worked through the tangles, sweeping her honey-golden strands over her shoulders.
“Okay, now for the surprise.” Kate popped a video in the television, adjusted the volume and settled down beside Emma. Within seconds soft piano music filled the room. Emma covered her mouth in astonishment as she recognized the wedding march. She was watching her own wedding.
She leaned forward, soaking in every detail. She wore a beautiful ivory antique wedding dress that swept the floor with its scalloped train. An antique-style hat trimmed in lace adorned her head, and she carried a bouquet of white roses and peach-tipped carnations in one hand. Kate was dressed in a peach-colored tea-length dress with baby’s breath and tiny peach carnations tucked in her shoulder-length brown hair. Emma’s uncle escorted her down the aisle, and even though she couldn’t remember it, she knew she’d been missing her father that day. She’d always dreamed of him walking her down the aisle. Her wedding day must have been a bittersweet time for her.
She recognized other family members and a few friends. Still, several strangers sat interspersed among the crowd. Frustration clawed at her. Were those people she knew but couldn’t remember?
She refocused on the wedding scene. As she watched herself near the end of the chapel aisle, the camera zoomed in on Grant.
What a handsome man. So tall and impressive. His black tuxedo framed his broad shoulders and accentuated his dark hair. Pleated dress pants enhanced his muscular build, making him look dark and rakish next to her petite feminine body. The contented expression on his face tore at her heart. A dimple appeared in his left cheek and he winked at her as she walked down the aisle, his deep-blue eyes dark with desire—for her.
An ache settled in her chest as his gaze raked over her. Passion and heat burned in his hungry eyes. She was mesmerized as the camera returned to her, and the photographer captured the radiant glow in her smile as she looked at Grant.
“We were really in love,” she said in awe.
“Yes.”
Emma glanced up at the sound of Grant’s voice. How long had he been standing there?
He walked slowly over to the sofa and stared at the TV. A muscle worked in his jaw as he watched the video.
“I’m going to bed now,” Kate whispered, tiptoeing from the room. “I’ll sleep on the cot in Carly’s room.”
Grant gave Kate an odd look, seemingly surprised at her retreat, then lowered himself beside Emma, his knee brushing her leg as he sat down. They watched the remainder of the video in silence. When the minister asked them to repeat their vows, Grant took her hand in his and declared his love with such tenderness that moisture pooled in her eyes. Emma repeated the vows in a voice filled with emotion.
While Grant slipped the wedding ring on her finger in the ceremony, Emma fingered her wedding band, admiring the small tear-shaped diamond and the thin gold band.
“I wanted to buy you a bigger stone,” Grant said. He took her hand and pressed it over his heart.
“This is lovely,” Emma whispered.
Tenderness softened his features, and he gently reached out to cup her face in the palm of his other hand. “I promised to love, honor and cherish you, for better or worse,” he said huskily.
“I think these past few days have probably been the ‘worse’ part,” Emma said quietly.
“For better, for worse, forever.” Grant traced her lip with his fingertip, drawing circles around her mouth. Then he touched the bruise on her cheek and planted a soft kiss on the tender spot. A mixture of emotions welled up inside her.
“I must look terrible.” Emma lowered her head, but Grant cupped her face in both hands this time.
“You’re beautiful. You can’t imagine how I felt when you had that accident. I was so afraid when I saw you trapped in that car.”
His warm strong hands caressed her jaw. Emma felt protected and needy, as if she wanted to crawl in his arms and let him hold her until everything was normal again. His breath feathered against her cheek, and his masculine scent wafted around her as his body drew closer to hers. She recognized the faint scent of liquor, but found it oddly stimulating.
He lowered his head and with a rough sigh touched his lips to hers. “I’ve missed you so much, Emma. I’m glad you’re home.” He drew her close, brushed his mouth over the seam of her lips, pressed his hand against the small of her back, then moved his lips softly over hers, down the side of her face, down the column of her neck. She arched her back and groaned, shocked at her own response. Her mind whirled with misgivings while her body screamed with desire. He deepened the kiss, his hands inching up her spine, caressing, stroking, until his fingertips curved underneath her breast. His tongue probed her mouth, urging her to open it, and Emma did, almost succumbing to the pleasure, but then a sharp pain shot through her chest and she winced. Her sore ribs served as a definite reminder that she’d been in an accident—and that Grant was a stranger.
Grant plundered her mouth for several seconds before he realized she’d stopped responding. He stilled, then raised his face to search her eyes. “I’m sorry, I got carried away.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Emma said, hating the uncertainty in her voice. “But it’s…” She struggled for words. “I can’t do this. I…barely know you.”
Grant automatically dropped his hands, the desire on his face fading into disappointment. “I forgot. I’m a stranger to you.” Emma drew back, her lips trembling. “But I know you, Emma. I know you and I miss you. And this is damn hard,” he finished in a strangled whisper.
He pushed himself up from the sofa and stood, putting some distance between them. Emma clenched her hands by her sides, trying to steady her breathing. When Grant faced her, he squared his shoulders, his expression unreadable. “Do you want me to help you to bed now?”
Emma shook her head, avoiding his hard perusal. “No, I can manage. If you’ll hand me those crutches, I’ll check on Carly and go to bed.”
“You’re my wife, Emma. I’m going to help you.” Grant grabbed the crutches, curved his arm around her waist and lifted her to her feet. Emma clung awkwardly to him for support, her insides quivering again as she felt his heart beating beneath her hand. His chest was warm and solid, his shoulders broad, his arms strong. But his face looked utterly tormented.
“I won’t touch you again,” Grant said, his calm voice belying the turmoil in his expression. “Not until you ask me.”
“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered, her heart in her throat. “I’m so sorry.” Then she turned and hobbled off to bed.
GRANT GRIPPED THE SOFA edge and closed his eyes. He’d acted like a jerk. What had come over him? He’d kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough. He’d hoped that she’d feel the passion they’d once shared, that she’d remember him. But she hadn’t.
That damn video. He’d been shocked to see Kate showing it to Emma. Was Kate actually trying to help Emma remember him?
After seeing the sentimental reminder of their wedding, he’d inhaled the sweetness of Emma’s flower-scented shampoo, and it had reminded him of their honeymoon night. Carnations always reminded him of Emma. She liked roses, but she said carnations were heartier, they lasted longer, just as she wanted their marriage to last a long time.
He’d thought it would last forever. Now he wasn’t sure.
When he’d seen her wearing that silky blue robe with her golden hair curled around her shoulders, still damp, her eyes glued to the video of their wedding ceremony, her fingers touching her wedding ring, desperation and desire had overwhelmed him. After almost losing her, he needed to hold her, needed to feel her come alive in his arms, needed to reassure himself he hadn’t lost her. He’d wanted her as badly as he had the first time they’d made love. Maybe more. But she didn’t want him.
A sickening pain churned through him—disgust at his own impatience, disappointment for what he’d lost, fear that he’d never have her again. First the accident, then amnesia, now problems with his job. Last week he’d been on the top of the world. He’d thought he had everything. A beautiful wife, a darling daughter, a pathway to partnership. Now his whole life was falling apart. No matter what he did, his dreams were crumbling right in his hands. He’d promised to provide for Emma and Carly, to give them the best. He’d silently vowed never to let his family suffer the way his own father had allowed him to. It took hard work to make a good life. Even with insurance, he’d have medical bills to pay, and possibly therapy if Emma’s condition stemmed from emotional trauma.
He picked up a sofa cushion and crushed it in his fist, his temper flaring at the whole situation. The doctor had told him to be patient. He’d agreed, at the time not realizing how difficult it would be to have his own wife push him away. How could he live here with Emma and not touch her? How could he bear for her to treat him like a stranger?
