Forgotten Lullaby

by Rita Herron

  “Grant, stop, please stop,” she said, the forgotten memories torturing her.

  “I thought you’d want to hear about the good times we had,” Grant said, obviously hurt.

  Emma turned to him, tears filling her eyes. “I did, but I don’t anymore. I can’t remember them and it hurts to hear you talk about them.”

  Grant’s face paled. “If we can’t share the past, where does that leave us? With nothing?”

  Emma shook her head, her voice lost.

  Grant stood. “I’m trying to do this, to live here without touching you, Emma, to be with you, but not be with you, and it’s driving me crazy. I want you so much it hurts.” He grabbed his jacket, his voice rough. “I love you, Emma, and I’m tired of you shutting me out.”

  “But you keep pushing me to remember,” she said. “And I can’t.”

  He stormed to the door and gripped the doorknob, then bowed his head, his words tortured. “God help me, Emma, but yes, I want you to remember. And I’m not sure how we’re going to make it if you don’t.”

  Chapter Ten

  He should have kept his emotions under control. Grant charged into his office, furious with himself for losing his temper with Emma. And for leaving her alone. Only, she wasn’t quite alone, he reminded himself. Martha was there and the cop was stationed outside his house. He was so frustrated with this damn mess—

  “Something happen at home?” Priscilla’s voice drifted past his fury, nagging at his confused emotions.

  He didn’t try to hide his anger before he faced her. “Last night someone tried to shoot Emma when she came out of the doctor’s office.” He explained about the flowers and the note.

  “Good heavens,” Priscilla said, pressing one hand over her heart. She gave him a sympathetic smile. “That’s awful, Grant. I can see why you’re upset.”

  “I should have been there,” Grant said tightly. “She could have been killed, Priscilla, because you forgot to tell me to pick her up.”

  “I’m sorry, Grant, I had no idea—”

  “No, maybe not.” He tried to calm his voice. “But now you know she’s in danger and I can’t take any chances, so don’t let it happen again.”

  “It won’t, Grant, I promise.” Priscilla reached out to pat his arm, but he pulled away. Once again he found himself omitting the details of Emma’s amnesia. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want the people at his office to know. Maybe Kate’s suggestion that Emma had forgotten him because she wasn’t happy with him still bothered him.

  “Do the police know who shot at her?” Priscilla asked.

  “Not yet.” His jaw snapped tight as Pete marched in, his face crimson.

  “You put those cops on me again, didn’t you, Wadsworth? You have to find someone to blame for your wife’s accident and you want it to be me!”

  Grant squared his shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Pete poked him in the chest. “You had the cops dig up all the gory details of my wife’s death, then they came over and drilled me for an hour, implying I had something to do with Emma’s accident.”

  “Look, Pete—” Grant held out his hand to calm him “—I didn’t send the police to your house. They came to me and told me about your wife. I don’t know why you never mentioned it before—”

  “I came to work here to get away from my past. I thought, new people, new place, maybe I could forget!”

  “Pete, calm down,” Priscilla said. “You’re making a scene.”

  Pete’s eyes grew livid. “My past is my own private affair,” he said, his nostrils flaring. “So stop trying to pin your problems on me, Wadsworth. You’re wasting your time.”

  “I’m sorry about your wife and baby,” Grant said, meaning it.

  “I don’t want to discuss them,” he said in an anguished voice. “Not ever. Now you can tell the cops to leave me alone.” Then Pete stormed out of the office, slamming the door so hard the window rattled.

  Grant stared after Pete, feeling sorry for him, wondering if his own life was falling apart. Not only had he almost lost his wife, but now the danger surrounding his family was affecting his work and co-workers. When would it all stop?

  “Don’t worry about him, he’ll get over it,” Priscilla said, once again stroking his arm. Grant glanced at her ruby fingernails, then into her heart-shaped face, and saw the subtle hint of sympathy, the slight offering of feminine comfort—and the haze of sexual awareness glistening in her emerald-green eyes. “Remember what I said, Grant. I’m here if you need me.”

  He forced himself to see Emma’s face in his mind. Her soft brown eyes, the honeyed strands of her hair shimmering in the sunlight, her slim enticing body lying on satin sheets…

  She let you hold her last night, sleep beside her, a little voice whispered.

  But his heart squeezed at the memory of her parting words. She didn’t want to hear about the past, about the wonderful memories they’d made. And memories were all he had.

  What if she didn’t want to remember him? And what if she never told him she loved him again—never let him in her bed as her lover, her husband? Was a platonic relationship all they would have together? And if it was, could he accept it?

  “I’M TAKING CARLY for a walk,” Martha said, setting up the infant stroller. “Thought I’d do it before it gets much later.”

  “I’m sure she’ll enjoy it.” Emma covered Martha’s hand with her own. “Thanks so much for coming, Martha. I don’t know what I’d do right now without you and Kate.” Emma noticed a long scar on Martha’s hand, reminding her of her own imperfect skin. “What happened to your hand?”

  Martha wrinkled her forehead, then made a tsking sound. “Oh, I cut myself slicing some zucchini. Bled like the dickens.”

  “It looks as if it’s healing nicely.”

  “Yeah. Now I’d better get going or it’ll be too chilly to walk the baby.”

  “I did some of those exercises the therapist showed me and I’m tired,” Emma said. “I think I’ll take a nap.”

  Martha bundled Carly into a thick sweater and cap and covered her with a blanket.

  Emma kissed Carly’s nose. “Enjoy your ride, sweetheart. Maybe soon Mommy will be able to take you out in your stroller.”

  After Martha left, Emma looked out the window and saw the officer standing guard.

  A few minutes later she stretched out on top of her comforter and closed her eyes, grateful she could lie down and feel safe. Grant’s scent still lingered on the pillow beside her and she hugged it to her chest, remembering how wonderful it had felt having him next to her all night. He’d been protective and understanding and he hadn’t asked for anything, hadn’t pushed her to make love. Part of her wanted the intimacy, but part of her was still afraid.

  Of what? Of Grant?

  Guilt suffused her for her lack of trust. This morning she’d reacted terribly when he’d started reminiscing. She should have let him talk, allowed him to share the past. One of the stories might trigger her memory. But it had all been too much, what with the threats, the amnesia, the new feelings she had for her stranger husband. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the events he’d talked about, their wedding, the night in the mountains, being snowed in, but soon the fatigue of the day drew her into blissful sleep.

  Sometime later she jerked awake, a strange sensation overwhelming her. Outside the sun had faded and darkness shrouded the room. She listened for Carly, for Martha, for the familiar family sounds, but only silence greeted her. She must have slept longer than she’d intended. Dragging herself up, she reached for the lamp and flicked it on, but nothing happened. The bulb must have burned out.

  Feeling jittery, she moved away from the bed, groping for the doorway, wanting to find Carly. She ran her hand along the wall and made her way into the hall, a streak of musty air teasing her neck and sending prickles down her spine. Panic arose in her, but she ordered herself to relax. She’d find a light in a minute and everything would be fine. Taking a calming b
reath, she pressed her hand on the wall for the light switch, but missed it completely and felt the stair railing at her fingertips. “Carly, I’m coming. Martha, are you still here?”

  Suddenly someone pushed her from behind and she stumbled, flailing her arms for control. Her foot hit the edge of the step and her injured leg gave way. She screamed as she lost her balance and went tumbling down the steps.

  DETERMINED TO RIGHT THINGS with Emma, Grant pulled into the drive, his heartbeat accelerating when he noticed the guard was nowhere in sight. He jerked the door open and ran up the drive, storming into the entryway. Then he spotted Emma, lying on the floor, the guard kneeling over her. Martha rushed in from the back of the house, looking down in horror, Carly cuddled in her arms.

  “Emma!” He raced over and dropped down beside her, his heart pounding when her eyes flickered open. “Oh, my God, are you all right?”

  She nodded weakly, her pupils dilated. “Sweetheart, talk to me. Where are you hurt?”

  “I’m okay,” Emma whispered faintly. “I fell down the stairs.”

  He squeezed her hand, glancing at the guard. “What the hell happened?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” the young man said, his face alarmed. “I heard a scream, then tried to get in, but the door was locked. So I jimmied the window on the side, came in and found your wife lying here.”

  Emma squinted at him in confusion. “Carly? Where is she, and Martha?”

  “They’re here,” Grant assured her. “They’re fine.”

  Martha slowly approached them, Carly wedged tightly in her arms. “Carly and I just got back from our walk. I came in the back door,” Martha said.

  “Ma’am, do you need me to call an ambulance?” the officer asked Emma.

  She shook her head and tried to sit, wincing. “No, I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine,” Grant said. “I think we should have you checked over by a doctor.”

  “No.” Emma accepted Grant’s arm and pulled herself to a sitting position.

  “Go slow now, take it easy, ma’am,” the guard said. “In case you get dizzy.”

  Grant ran his hands over her face, her hair, down her sides, checking for injuries. “Are you sure you’re okay, Emma? I don’t want us to take any chances.”

  “I’m fine, Grant, really.” Emma squeezed his hand. “Just bruised.”

  He nodded, his throat tight as he helped her to the sofa. “What happened?” He propped her leg on the ottoman, then knelt beside her.

  She steadied her gaze on Grant. “I woke up and it was dark. Something didn’t feel right.” She shivered. “The room felt cold and too quiet, and the light on the nightstand was burned out. I wanted to see Carly so I went into the hallway…then someone pushed me.”

  The blood drained from Grant’s face. “What?”

  Martha gasped. “Someone was in the house?”

  “Are you sure, ma’am?” the officer asked. “I’ve been outside the whole time and I didn’t see anyone come in.”

  Emma’s face crumpled. “I know someone pushed me. I felt it.”

  “I’ll search the house and the outer premises. You guys stay here.”

  Grant curved his arm around Emma while the officer hurried away. “Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay.”

  A few minutes later the guard returned, clearly puzzled. “Everything looks secure. I don’t know how anyone could have gotten in.”

  “What about the security system?” Grant asked.

  Martha cleared her throat. “I’m afraid I turned it off when I left for our walk.” Her voice quivered and she seemed visibly shaken. “And I forgot to turn it back on. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Grant said. “What about the back door?”

  “It was locked when Carly and I got back from our walk,” Martha said, holding up her key. “I wouldn’t have gone off and left Emma without locking all the doors.” Carly began to fuss and Martha took her away.

  “Ma’am, maybe you thought you felt a push,” the guard suggested to Emma. “People get skittish in the dark, especially with everything else going on. Then you got nervous and slipped.”

  Grant gave him an angry look, then asked him to leave the two of them alone. When the guard went back out to his car, Emma reached for Grant’s hand, rubbing it for warmth. “I know someone pushed me, Grant. I just know it.” She pressed her hand to her temple, massaging her head. “I’m not going crazy, am I?”

  “No, of course not,” Grant said, wondering if the stress could be getting to her. But one look at the fear in Emma’s eyes and he didn’t think she was imagining things. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” Guilt once again assailed him as he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “I’m so sorry, Emma. I shouldn’t have left earlier. I had no right to get angry with you….”

  She cupped his face in her hands. “No, you’ve been wonderful, Grant. It’s not your fault.” A faint smile curved her lips. “You don’t understand. I get so upset because I want so badly to remember and I feel like I’m failing you when I can’t.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “Sweetheart, I’m the one who’s failing you. You don’t know how helpless I felt when I saw them pull you from the wreckage. And then later in the hospital…” His voice trembled and he bowed his head. “I thought I was going to lose you. I thought Carly and I would have to go on without you and I…wasn’t sure I could.”

  “I’m sorry, Grant,” Emma whispered, squeezing his hand. “I wish this would all end. I keep hoping I’ll wake up and remember, not be afraid anymore.”

  “I don’t want you to be afraid, not ever again,” Grant said, his voice rough as he lowered his mouth to hers. She parted her lips, her shaky sigh an invitation, a declaration of her need. He drove his mouth over hers, plundering the warm recesses of her mouth with his tongue. Too long denied, he felt his control shatter. His hands groped around her, surging up her back, along her spine, pulling her tightly into his embrace. Her hands shook as they clutched his shoulders, but she kissed him back eagerly, her desire and passion as strong as his. Their hot breaths mingled, stoking the fire already burning between them. He swelled with arousal, aching with need. He cupped her breast and tasted the salty sweetness of the skin at her neck with his tongue. His urgency grew to a painful point from which he wasn’t sure he could return.

  One kiss led to another, their hands touched and comforted, their sighs and moans an expression of their pent-up needs, then he lowered his hand and caressed her thigh. Grant felt her sudden withdrawal. It was almost more than he could take.

  “I can’t,” Emma whispered.

  He remembered that Martha was still upstairs with Carly. “Maybe later tonight, Emma. We can be together. I can hold you and show you how much I love you, how much I want you.” His hand once again skated along her injured thigh, he hoped to soothe her, to assure her he wanted her. “I want to take off your clothes, look at every inch of you to know you’re still here, then make love to you until you’re never afraid again, until you know in your heart we’re meant to be together.”

  But the tension in her face answered him before she could even reply. He hugged her, telling himself to be grateful she was still alive.

  SHE WAS FALLING IN LOVE with Grant, Emma realized the next day. She had been ever since she’d come home from the hospital. A tear seeped from her eyes as she entered the doctor’s building. Kate had driven her here, and Martha would pick her up. Martha was going shopping with her daughter for baby clothes and furniture today. Another memory lost to her, Emma thought sadly.

  Last night had been another strained night, even more so after she’d stopped their lovemaking. Grant left her alone on the couch, his disappointment weaving through her like a thread of despair. She wanted him, wanted to feel him inside her, his love and passion making her whole. But the minute he’d touched her leg, an image of the jagged skin flashed before her eyes, and she’d panicked. Would he still love her? Would he still want her so passionately when he saw her scars? />
  She brushed at the tears, deciding she had to gain control of her life. And to do that she needed to face her fears. She prayed the police would find out who was harassing her soon. For she had to know if she was ever going to get her memory back.

  She felt a moment’s regret for not telling Grant about today’s visit, but she needed to face the doctor and his diagnosis alone.

  Five minutes later she was seated in Dr. Jacobs’s office, her hands knotted as she waited. When he walked in, his serious gray eyes sent dread mushrooming inside her. He took several minutes preparing her X rays.

  “I went over and over the tests we ran,” he said, his tone steady, his intent gaze resting on her face.

  “And?” Emma asked, unable to assimilate any more words.

  He positioned his glasses on the end of his nose and shook his head. “I’m afraid the news isn’t good, Emma. I’ll show you what we found.”

  “I don’t want to look at the X rays, Dr. Jacobs. I just want to know if my amnesia is permanent or due to psychological trauma.”

  In spite of her announcement that she didn’t want to see the X rays, he pointed to them. “You see this section of the brain. It houses memory cells.” He peered at her over his glasses and she nodded. “I’m afraid this section was damaged in the accident. The swelling has almost subsided, but there’s this tiny area that…well, sustained permanent injury.”

  “So the amnesia isn’t a result of emotional trauma?”

  “No.”

  Emma let out a deep breath. “And I’m not going to remember my past? Not even with hypnosis?”

  “I’m afraid not, Emma.” He made a sympathetic sound. “Cases like yours are rare, but it happens. The physical damage you incurred in the accident was simply too much.”

  “You can’t do surgery?”

  “No, I’m afraid it wouldn’t help.”

  Emma felt as if a vacuum had sucked the air from her lungs. Her mind reeled. Grant was so full of memories, had admitted he wanted her to remember. How could she tell him she never would?